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T he next evening, shortly after Celia and Anne had closed down the kitchen, Noah walked into The Trailhead in his sheriff’s department uniform, holding a thin newspaper. He waved it at Anne and Celia. “Local newspaper came out today,” he said. “Big write-up on the wedding.”

“Yeah? Let me see it.” Anne took the newspaper from Noah’s hand, and Celia moved closer to her sister. The pages crackled as Anne thumbed through it. “Got some nice photos,” Celia said, studying the double page spread.

“Let me see.” Hiram took the paper out of Anne’s hand. He studied the photo on the front page. “Nice shot,” he said, and Celia went on tiptoe to see over his shoulder. The front page had a huge photo of Anne and Noah, both of them beaming with happiness, but she barely caught a glimpse of it before Hiram turned the page. Celia watched as Hiram thumbed through it. Finally he said, “Huh. Looks like they got everything right.”

“’Course they did,” Noah said. “ The Independent Record is a quality rag. They do their research.”

Hiram closed the paper and studied the front page. Celia craned to see over his shoulder. When she spotted the picture, her stomach twisted into a knot. Noah and Anne looked so happy. So in love. But as she studied the photo, it felt as if she’d swallowed barbed wire. Anne looked almost exactly like her. Anyone who didn’t know them well would probably assume that it was Celia on the front page.

Celia wanted to snatch the paper away from Hiram, tear it up and toss it in the trash. But that was stupid. There were plenty of copies of that newspaper floating around Helena. Sitting on shelves in the stores, waiting for someone to pick them up. Read the story and look at the pictures. Trying to get rid of all the copies would be as useless as bailing water as the Titanic went down.

Anyone who didn’t know her and Anne well would look at that photo and not be sure who was in the picture. Was it Anne? Celia? Hard to tell.

Anne took the paper from Hiram and studied the front page. “They did a nice job on the photo,” she said.

“Yeah, they did,” Noah said. “You look gorgeous.” He wrapped his arm around Anne’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

“And you’re very handsome,” Anne said, kissing him back. “Can you get me a few more copies of the paper?”

“Of course,” Noah said, brushing his mouth over his wife’s. “I’ll pick up several copies tomorrow.”

Celia’s fingers and hands were twitchy. “Can I see the photos?” she asked.

“Of course, Cece,” Anne said, passing her the newspaper. As Celia studied the front page, her stomach clenched with anxiety. “You look an awful lot like me in this photo,” she finally said.

“That’s because we do look a lot alike,” Anne said.

Celia looked up at her. “What if Bobby Doyle saw a copy of this? He’s gonna assume that you’re me. He’ll send one of his hitters here. That’s bad enough. But what if they shot you instead of me? I would never forgive myself.”

Anne grabbed the newspaper out of her hands and tossed it onto the desk. Then she took Celia’s hands. “First of all, how would Bobby Doyle see the local Helena newspaper? He has no idea you’re here.”

“He clearly thinks that Nick might be here, because he sent Troy Murray to look for him.”

“And Murray left because he didn’t find Nick,” Anne pointed out. “So why would Doyle come to Helena?”

“He wouldn’t have a reason to come here,” Celia said, swallowing. “He thinks I’m dead. But seeing these pictures of you in the paper makes me nervous. We look too much alike.”

“Yeah, but there’re a lot of differences between you,” Noah pointed out.”

“That’s true,” Celia conceded. “But if a guy didn’t know I had a sister, thinking that’s me would make sense.”

“You want me to buy every copy that’s for sale in Helena?” Noah asked. He studied Celia, and she realized he was serious. “I’ll do that if it would make you feel more secure.”

“Of course not,” she said, but part of her wanted to tell him yes. “How long does it take for all the copies to sell out?”

“Not long.” Noah shrugged. “A few days, maybe a week. Lots of people have subscriptions and get it in the mail. Everyone else buys it and reads it the first few days, then they toss it into their recycling. So all the copies will be gone soon.”

Celia handed the paper back to Anne. “Okay, Noah. I’ll try not to freak out. I’ll be rational. Logical. No way will Bobby Doyle see this newspaper all the way down in Las Vegas.” But she wished Nick was here. She needed to hold his hand. Feel the bond between them to reassure herself.

“You’re right,” Noah said. “He won’t. Why would he?”

Celia looked down at her hands and wiped away the red sauce she’d been stirring. “No idea. Gut instinct, I guess. Bottom line? I don’t like knowing that newspaper’s on sale in every store in Helena.”

“Don’t worry, Cece,” Noah said. “They’ll all be gone in a few days.”

* * *

Nick came in for their after-work happy hour that evening, looking forward to seeing Celia. He’d had a busy day, but his need for her was always there, humming in the background. And when he was done working, he couldn’t wait to get over to The Trailhead and see her.

He had it bad, and he knew it. But he was pretty sure Celia had it just as bad for him. So he worked out for a while, then showered and changed his clothes before walking over to the bar. Just like every night, he couldn’t wait to see Celia. Sit beside her and talk to Hiram, Anne and Noah. When they left The Trailhead, they’d talk about each other’s days before they went to bed.

When he walked into The Trailhead, everyone waved at him. Welcomed him. Anne motioned him over and handed him a copy of The Independent Record, the local newspaper. “They did a nice write up of the wedding,” she said.

Nick stared at the photo of Anne and Noah on the front page of the paper. The two of them beamed with happiness. But Nick couldn’t take his gaze off the photo of Anne.

She looked exactly like Celia. And Celia, sitting beside him, looked terrified as she looked away from the front-page photo.

“You okay?” he asked.

She shook her head. Reached for his hand and clutched it tightly. “Look at the picture,” she whispered.

A knot formed in his gut as he stared at the photo. There was no way his father would ever see this photo. Why would he? He was very certain his father had never heard of The Independent Record from Helena.

But there were a lot of photos of Anne and Noah in the story. And Anne and Celia looked so much alike. Despite the very long odds of his father ever seeing this newspaper, the story made him itchy. Uncomfortable.

Knowing he was overreacting, he smiled at Anne and told her how gorgeous she looked. Nudged Noah and told him he wasn’t completely ugly. Then he turned back to Celia.

Pale, washed out, she looked as if someone had drained all the energy from her. When he looked more closely, he saw her fingers were twined together on her lap, so tightly that her fingertips were white.

He put his hand over hers. “You’re not okay with this, are you?” he asked quietly.

She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. “I don’t like those photos in the paper,” she whispered. “They make me really, really nervous.”

He wanted to reassure her, but he forced himself to tell her the truth. “Me, too,” he murmured. “I hate that they’re in the newspaper for everyone to see. There’s practically no chance my father would see this paper, but all these pictures? Including the one on the front page? They make me itchy, too. Uncomfortable.”

Hiram set a glass of wine in front of Nick and said, “A toast to Noah and Anne. Beautiful wedding. Great life ahead of them.”

Everyone raised their glasses, but Nick noticed that Celia barely took a sip. He curled his hand around hers. “My dad isn’t going to see this newspaper,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. “Not in Las Vegas.”

“Yeah, I know.” Celia swallowed. “It just… worries me.”

“Jake has already gone back to Washington, DC,” he told her. “I talked to him right before he left. He’s going to show everything to his boss, see if they can expedite a warrant to arrest Bobby Doyle. Jake knows they need to get him in custody ASAP so he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“You trust Jake?” Celia asked.

Nick nodded. “He seemed like a straight shooter. Didn’t over-promise, but told me he’s going to push hard for my father’s arrest.”

Celia swallowed, and he realized she hadn’t taken a drink of her wine. “Fingers crossed,” she murmured.

“We’re not going anywhere besides our apartment and The Trailhead,” Nick promised. “Until Bobby Doyle’s in custody, no walking the trails around Helena. If we need food, we’ll have it delivered. No more anything besides the apartment and The Trailhead.”

“Yeah. Okay. That’s good,” Celia said. But she was going to worry until she heard Doyle was locked up. He was too powerful. Had too many connections. Too many ways to wiggle out of charges.

“Until he’s locked up, everyone needs to keep an eye on everyone else,” Nick said. He met everyone’s gaze. “My father’s ruthless. Cruel. And if he knew I was here, he’d send his hitters after me. Celia, too. So please, everyone be careful.”

Noah jerked his chin at Nick. “I know you can take care of Celia. But I have… tools that you don’t have. I’ll walk Celia to work every morning. Come get you in the evening and walk both of you home at night. And I’ll have my gun with me at all times.” He studied Nick for a moment. “You have a gun?”

“After living in my father’s house? Damn straight I do,” Nick said immediately.

“Keep it with you at all times.”

“Have been since I found out Troy Murray had been in Helena.”

“Good,” Noah said. “That makes me feel a little better.”

But it didn’t make Celia feel better. Until she knew Bobby Doyle was locked up somewhere, she’d be worried about him. On edge. But she wouldn’t tell Nick. There was nothing he could do, and no reason for him to worry. She’d worry enough for both of them.

* * *

Troy Murray crossed the border from California into Nevada and merged onto I80 through Idaho, eventually picking up I15 north to Helena, Montana. He hadn’t found any trace of Nick in San Francisco, and he’d been thorough. He’d talked to more realtors than he could count. Almost as many rental agencies. Headhunters. No one had recognized the pictures of Nick that Murray had shown them.

Before he’d left Vegas almost two weeks ago, Murray’d gone to all the car dealers, shown pictures of Nick and asked if he’d bought a car there. When he got to the Subaru dealer, one of the salesmen told him he hadn’t sold that guy a car, but he was pretty sure one of the other salesmen had. A guy who looked a lot like that had been at the dealership for a long time, and after he left, their inventory was down a car.

Troy had slipped him some cash and asked if he could find out what model of car was missing. The guy’d come back twenty minutes later and told him it was a red Subaru Forester.

It was the first solid information Troy had. He’d turned north and headed for California. He saw a few red Foresters in San Francisco, but Nick wasn’t driving any of them. After finding no signs of Nick in the city, he headed back to Helena, cursing himself as he drove, because Helena was the last place Nick had been seen. He should have gone to Helena first.

No way would he tell Bobby Doyle he’d found no trace of his son. Bobby’s temper was legendary, and Troy couldn’t tell him that he’d failed to find Nick. God knows what his boss would do. Bobby Doyle got real ugly when he didn’t get what he wanted. And until Troy figured out where Nick had gone, he’d stay away from Bobby.

Murray reached Helena late that evening. He checked into the same hotel he’d used the last time and fell into bed. Tomorrow was soon enough to start searching for Nick.

The next morning, Murray got into his car and began cruising the streets of Helena. Helena was a decent-sized city, and he wanted to scope it out. Find out where the gyms were -- he knew Nick belonged to a gym in Vegas. The grocery stores -- the kid would need to buy some necessities. He knew the chances of actually spotting Nick were low, but it would be a good idea to get a feel for the city in case he ended up needing to chase Nick down.

He’d crisscrossed the city, trying to scope out likely places where Nick might live. There were a few apartment complexes, and he spent a fair amount of time driving through them, looking for a red Subaru Forester.

He’d had no luck, and it was almost five in the afternoon. So he headed toward his hotel. Maybe he’d have better luck tomorrow.

But he’d never liked sitting around and waiting for the world to come to him, so after he parked his car, he headed toward The Trailhead. He was smart enough not to go inside. He didn’t trust the old guy who owned the place -- he was the suspicious type. He’d given Troy the stink-eye the last time he was there. He especially didn’t want the owner’s ex-SEAL buddy to know he was in town. That guy had an itchy trigger finger.

So he went into The Rodeo, which was across the street from The Trailhead, and slid into a booth beside a window. Ordered a beer and settled in to watch who went in and out of The Trailhead.

He drank three beers and ordered a burger and fries, and while he was eating, picked up the newspaper someone had left on the table. He froze when he saw the picture on the front page. It was the SEAL from The Trailhead, and a woman who looked almost exactly like Celia.

But Celia was dead. Was it possible this was her sister? He’d heard someone had called the house looking for Celia after they’d killed her. Identified herself as Celia’s sister. Odd that Celia’s sister lived in Helena.

He scanned the article and blew out a breath when he saw the bride’s name -- Anne Remington. Had to be Celia’s sister. But living in Helena, Montana?

He didn’t know enough about Celia to know where she was from. He’d make a point of finding out, though.

When he looked up, his waitress was giving him the ‘get out of my section, loser’ look, so he threw down a fifty, stood up and left.

He was walking toward his hotel when he spotted Nick Doyle rounding a corner in front of him. Holy shit! What were the odds of that? Smiling, he turned his back, pretending to study the bookstore window, until Nick was past him, then followed the kid and saw him stop at a door next to a huge sporting goods store. He unlocked the door, disappeared behind it, then re-locked the door.

Is this where Nick lived? Above a second-rate sporting goods store?

Grudgingly, Murray admitted it had been a smart choice. He wouldn’t have looked twice at an apartment above a retail store.

When he saw the light go on upstairs, he pulled out his lockpick and opened the access door. The mailbox at the foot of the stairs had two names on it -- Preston and Cooper. Huh. Nicky must be using a different name. And it looked as though he had a roommate, too.

No matter what name Nicky was using, Murray had found him.

His first impulse was to call Bobby and let him know. But after a few moments, he realized that wasn’t the best move. Better to keep an eye on Nick and have more information for Bobby when he talked to him.

He’d go back to The Rodeo tonight and watch The Trailhead’s door. See who went in and came out. Now that he knew where Nicky lived, he’d spend a little time doing reconnaissance before he did anything else.