Page 5

CHAPTER 5

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Wednesday, March 30, 7:25 p.m.

“This isn’t what I meant by lying low,” Tino grumbled, sitting on a stool at Charlotte’s kitchen island as she organized ingredients.

Charlotte knew he was irritated by her refusal to give up her evening plan of cooking for her neighbors. She hadn’t remembered about Kayla, though. Not until Mrs. Lewis texted, asking if it was really okay if Kayla came over for a cooking lesson.

Charlotte and Tino had been at the hospital, sitting at Dottie’s side. Charlotte had responded with Of course! to Mrs. Lewis’s text, not letting Tino know until they’d left the ICU because she’d known he’d argue. She did not want Dottie worried that her niece might not be safe.

“Look, I did what you suggested,” she said, keeping her hands busy and her back to his disapproving face. “I got a hotel for tonight—a suite with two separate bedrooms so you don’t have to sleep outside the door again. But I made a promise, Tino. A promise to a scared thirteen-year-old girl. She’s coming over any minute. We will cook, and then you and I will see Kayla home, and then we’ll deliver the food to the other families. The Lombardis and the Fadils both live near Aunt Dottie’s house, and the Lewises are in Point Breeze. And then we’ll go to the hotel.”

That the families who owned the shops in Rittenhouse Square didn’t live there was no surprise. Rittenhouse was a pricey neighborhood, but the areas where the families lived weren’t bad. Charlotte hadn’t been nervous about going there before, but she hadn’t known a psycho might be following her then.

And it wasn’t like she was going alone. Tino had already said he wasn’t leaving her side.

“And if your aunt’s attacker is waiting outside your apartment for you to leave?” Tino demanded. “He’ll just follow you.”

“He may have done that already,” Charlotte said, trying not to sound as frightened as she felt. The whole situation was surreal. Abruptly, she stopped reorganizing the ingredients she’d already organized twice and bowed her head. “I’m scared, okay? I don’t want to believe this has anything to do with me—either the murders or Dottie’s assault. But if it does? I’m scared. And when I’m scared, I cook.”

She heard the stool on which he sat scrape over the floor, and then strong hands were on her shoulders, warm and steady. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

She leaned back into his touch. “I know.”

“But I didn’t fully consider how this was affecting you, and for that I’m sorry. I’ll back off, but I’m going to call in some reinforcements. Gino was a bouncer part-time for a while. He’s a big guy, intimidating. I’m going to ask him to follow us tonight when we leave here. Just to be safe.”

“Thank you.” She laughed shakily. “I never meant to be so much trouble, but it seems to follow me.”

“None of this is your fault. Even if there is a connection, it’s not your fault.”

“I guess that depends on why this hypothetical stalker is after me. Maybe I made him angry. Maybe I gave his restaurant a bad review. Maybe I cut him off in traffic.”

He gave her a gentle shake. “Still not your fault. Normal people don’t use violence in those situations.” He ran his hands down her arms, making her shiver. Then he stepped around her to study the ingredients she’d laid out. “What’s for dinner?”

“I’m making roast chicken and a beef stir-fry. I’ve got enough to make meals for all three families and also some for your brother and sister-in-law. Sophie’s not going to be able to cook, and Vito’s not going to have time. Someone has to feed their kids.”

Tino turned to her, his eyes warm and full of gratitude. “Thank you.”

She opened her mouth to tell him it was no trouble, but as their gazes held, the gratitude in his eyes shifted to...heat. Desire.

She drew in an unsteady breath, leaning toward him before she realized she was doing so. He cupped her cheek and it felt so good. Then he leaned closer, his mouth an inch from hers.

“Charlotte,” he murmured.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. If only he’d call her Charlie again, it would be perfect. “Can you?—”

The moment was broken by the ringing of the doorbell. She lurched back, his hand falling from her cheek to his side.

He inhaled sharply, looking away. “It’s probably the girl. Kayla. Go answer it.”

She started for the door, glancing over her shoulder to find him on her heels. He wasn’t going to let her answer the door alone.

It made her feel better.

She checked the peephole to make sure it was Kayla, opening the door when she was sure that it was. “Kayla, come in.”

Kayla entered a little warily, looking from Charlotte to Tino. “Are you okay?” she asked Charlotte.

Charlotte wrapped her arm around Kayla’s shoulders. “I am fine. Let’s get started, because this is a school night and you have an early day tomorrow.” She handed Kayla an apron when they got to the kitchen. “You can keep this one and use it at home when you make this yourself.”

They set to work, Kayla a quick learner. The girl was so good at slicing vegetables for the stir-fry that Charlotte knew she’d had some experience cooking.

“I cut up vegetables for my dad when he cooks,” Kayla said when Charlotte mentioned her skill. “I never really paid attention to the cooking part, though. I was always ready to be done, to go do things with my friends.” She paused, her expression miserable. “I should have spent more time with my dad. What if he dies? I should have stayed with him when he made dinner and not run out to hang out with my friends.”

Charlotte dried her hands and smoothed a hand over Kayla’s hair. “Honey, I don’t know your dad very well, but he is so proud of you. Everyone who walked in his store knew that. He told me that he wished that he didn’t have to depend on you kids so much for help stocking shelves, that he wanted you to have normal childhoods. I’m sure he didn’t mind that you went to hang with your friends as long as you did your chores.”

“I did. I always did.”

She lifted Kayla’s chin with her finger. “Then don’t be sad about wanting to spend time with your friends. Now, are you ready to season the chicken?”

Kayla forced a grin, but the shadows in her eyes remained. “Do I have to stick my hand up inside it?”

Charlotte chuckled. “No.”

“Then I’m ready.”

“Good. The chicken is the easy meal. We just drizzle some olive oil on it, then rub this seasoning mix into it, and then put it in the oven with some veggies. I’m sending home a bag of the seasoning mix with you, and I’ll email you the recipe, along with written instructions for everything we’ll do tonight.”

“And the beef and broccoli? Is that easy, too?” Kayla asked.

“It is. I normally use a wok for that, but I’m going to start you with a skillet. Maybe next time we can play with the wok.”

Kayla’s smile bloomed, sweet and genuine. “Next time?”

“Do you want more lessons?”

“Yes, ma’am. I do.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

They worked together well, Kayla soaking up the attention. Tino stayed quiet behind them, only leaving his seat at the island to grab vegetables to snack on. Most of the time he was bent over his sketch pad, his pencil flying, and Charlotte remembered the boy he’d been, always drawing something.

Usually me.

“I kept them for a long time,” she murmured while Kayla was occupied with adding oil to a skillet for the stir-fry. “The sketches you made of me.”

Tino looked up, his eyes meeting hers, dark and intense. “You did?”

“Until my ex found one. He was angry. Said it was like I was cheating on him. In a way, he was right. He was...well, he wasn’t you.”

Tino sucked in a harsh breath. “You wanted him to be me?”

Her smile was sad. “By then I’d realized what I’d given up.”

“Then why didn’t you come home?” he whispered.

To me went unspoken.

“I was embarrassed,” she whispered back. “And afraid. I figured I’d burned the bridge with you and you’d never forgive me.”

“I did. Eventually,” he added wryly. “Took a while.” His gaze flicked behind her, and she turned to find Kayla quietly waiting.

“I finished adding the oil,” Kayla said. “But I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Charlotte knew she was blushing. “You’re not interrupting. We were just...talking.”

Kayla’s lifted eyebrows spoke volumes about what she thought of Charlotte’s lame attempt at denial.

“Fine,” Charlotte said. “We were reminiscing. We dated in high school.”

Kayla’s expression morphed, going all heart-eyed. “That’s so cute!”

Tino chuckled. “Here. Give this to your mom.” He tore off a sheet from his sketch pad and held it for her to see. He’d drawn Charlotte and Kayla prepping the vegetables, both wearing expressions of concentration. “This way you can include her in the experience, even if she’s not here with you.”

Kayla looked stunned. “You’re so good. That looks just like us.”

“He’s a sketch artist,” Charlotte said, hearing the pride in her voice and not caring if she sounded like a sappy fool. “He works for the police. He sketched the man who hurt my aunt.”

Kayla turned to Charlotte. “You didn’t say that your aunt was hurt.”

Charlotte hesitated, because she hadn’t intended to say it now, but it had slipped out. “You’ve already got enough on your mind with your dad. No reason to add to it with my issues.”

Kayla frowned. “But you’re dealing with my issues and yours. I can do the same for you, Charlotte.”

Tino cleared his throat. “She’s right.”

Charlotte threw an irritated glance at Tino before returning her focus to Kayla. “You’re right. My aunt was beaten in her home.”

She wasn’t sure if she should add that the police thought that Kayla’s father’s assailant might be the same man who attacked Dottie, but Tino took the decision out of her hands.

“My brother is a Homicide lieutenant,” he said. “He’s exploring a possible connection between Charlotte’s aunt’s assault and the shootings on this street.”

Kayla stared at Charlotte. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What purpose would it serve?” Charlotte asked. “You’re worried enough about your father. You’re trying to keep your family fed. Trying to help your mom. There isn’t anything you can add to the investigation. I’m sure you told the police everything you knew, which couldn’t have been much because you weren’t there that night your dad was shot.”

She expected Kayla to nod briskly and get back to the food, but the girl stood in the middle of her kitchen looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Kayla?” Tino asked softly. “You weren’t there that night, were you?”

Kayla swallowed and turned for the skillet. “What do I add next?”

Charlotte took the skillet off the burner and set it aside. “Kayla. Were you there?”

Kayla hung her head, like she was too tired to hold it up any longer. And then she nodded.

Charlotte carefully turned the girl to face them. “Why were you in your dad’s store in the middle of the night, honey?”

Kayla’s eyes had filled with tears. “I was out with my friends.”

At two a.m.? Charlotte wanted to demand, but that wouldn’t help Kayla. “And?”

“We got hungry. I didn’t know Dad was there. He wasn’t supposed to be.”

“His regular night clerk was sick,” Charlotte said.

Kayla blinked, sending tears down her cheeks. “Jason is the night clerk. He’s twenty-one, and some of my friends think he’s hot. He always lets us get snacks and never tells my dad. So when we’re out, we always stop at the store. But it wasn’t Jason. It was Dad at the counter. He was so mad at me. My friends ran. Left me there. He was yelling at me, saying this was why I was failing math, because I was out so late.” A little sob bubbled up. “I didn’t go out on school nights. Just Saturdays. Mom and Dad were always sleeping by then, so it was easy to sneak out.”

“And then the man came in with the gun?” Tino asked softly.

Kayla nodded miserably. “I’d backed away from the counter when he came in. I was in the snack aisle, trying to get away from my dad, because he was yelling at me. The man had the gun in his hand when he ran in, and my dad had us trained on what to do if that happened. I ran out the back door and called 911.”

Charlotte frowned at Tino. “Wouldn’t your brother have the 911 transcripts? Wouldn’t he have known Kayla was a witness? That she called it in?”

Kayla looked away. “It’s a burner. All my friends have them. Our parents monitor our phones, so we get burners. I just gave 911 the address. I didn’t give them my name. I panicked and hung up.”

“Oh,” Charlotte murmured. “What happened after you called 911?”

“I ran through the alley to the front of the store. I figured the guy would clean out the register, and then he’d run. Dad would be shaken up and I wanted to help him. But then police and ambulances came and blocked the road, and I couldn’t get closer.”

“Mr. Lombardi at the pizza place managed to call 911 before the man shot him,” Tino said. “I read that online. He was the first person shot. The police were already on their way to the neighborhood when you called, Kayla.”

She nodded, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “I know.”

Charlotte stroked Kayla’s hair, then cupped her face in both hands. “Then what, honey? What did you do when the police came?”

“I got scared. I ran.” Kayla pressed her face to Charlotte’s shoulder. “I ran like a coward while my dad was bleeding.”

“The medics had arrived,” Charlotte said, trying for logical pragmatism. “They were able to help him. There really wasn’t anything you could have done.”

Kayla yanked her head back to glare up at Charlotte. “I could have held his hand so he wasn’t alone!”

Charlotte bit her lip. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Because that was exactly how she’d felt about Dottie. “I understand. I wanted to be with my aunt, to hold her hand. To let her know she wasn’t alone.” She wiped Kayla’s cheeks with her thumbs. “But I think your dad would have been happier to know you went home where you’d be safe.”

“I was a coward.”

“You were human,” Charlotte countered, looking at Tino for help.

Tino came around the island and bent so he was looking Kayla in the eye. “You feel guilty that you weren’t with him to hold his hand. And maybe because you haven’t told the cops that you were there?”

Kayla exhaled heavily. “Yeah. The cops never asked me if I saw anything, so I didn’t say anything.”

“Because they thought you’d been home at the time,” Tino said. “But you saw his face,” he added in a careful tone.

She shook her head. “Only for a second, when he first came in. He wore a hoodie and it hid his face the rest of the time.”

But a glimpse just might be enough , Charlotte thought.

“Can you describe him for me?” Tino asked, keeping his voice calm.

Kayla closed her eyes. “I don’t want him to know that I saw him. He kept screaming, ‘Where is she? Where is she?’ when I was running to the back door. He knew I was there. If he finds out I told...”

Tino’s jaw tightened. “Did he see you?”

“I didn’t think so, but he must have. He was yelling like he had.”

Tino straightened and met Charlotte’s gaze. “He was looking for a ‘she.’”

For me , Charlotte thought, panic closing her throat. She could only nod, but inside, she was screaming. No, no, no. It cannot be me. I can’t be the connection.

Because two people were dead and two others were in critical condition.

How could she survive being the reason for that?

Tino returned his attention to Kayla. “If you can tell me what you saw, I can draw it. You can tell me if it’s close.”

“There were cameras,” Kayla protested. “They’ll be better than drawings.”

“None of the cameras caught him full in the face.” Tino hesitated. “Kayla, knowing if this man is the same one who hurt Charlotte’s aunt might help the cops catch him. You can help your father that way. Will you tell me what you saw?”

Kayla straightened her shoulders. “Yes.”

* * *

Mount Airy, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Wednesday, March 30, 9:55 p.m.

“Is she okay?” Gino asked as Tino closed the bedroom door behind him.

Tino had been checking on Charlotte frequently, worried at the way she’d turned in on herself when he’d finished the sketch of the man Kayla had seen the night of the shootings.

“Not really,” Tino murmured, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “She fully cooperated with Vito when he asked her questions, but down deep she’d convinced herself that she wasn’t the common denominator. She wanted to believe that the man who’d attacked her aunt was different than the man who’d shot three shop owners on her street.”

“But it’s the same guy,” Gino said, retrieving the hazelnut creamer that Tino preferred.

With a weary smile of thanks, Tino doctored his coffee, adding enough sugar to make Gino wince. Which was how it had been for decades.

“The same.” Fear had kept Kayla silent in the days after her father was shot, but Charlotte’s arm around her shoulders had given her the courage to tell Tino what she’d seen. “I thought Charlotte would pass out when she saw the sketch.”

She hadn’t passed out, but she’d gone numb. And silent. She hadn’t said a word when Vito had come to her apartment to get Kayla’s statement.

She hadn’t said a word when Tino had packed up Mrs. Tripplehorn’s food and litter box, stowing the cat in a carrier. Nor when he’d put the cat carrier and her suitcase in the back of his car and buckled her into his front passenger seat.

She hadn’t even commented when he pulled into the driveway of the house he shared with Gino. He’d planned on going with her to the hotel she’d reserved, but he needed his home Wi-Fi connection for what he planned to do next.

Hotel Wi-Fi was not secure, and he didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing—especially not Philly PD. What he needed was in the home office that he and Gino shared.

So the home office was where he went, with Gino trailing after him, sipping his own coffee. It was late for Gino. He was typically an early riser, where Tino was a night owl. They rarely shared the same space, which was probably why their living situation had been so successful for so long.

“Could you have been followed?” Gino asked.

Tino sat at his desk. “No. I drove all over the place before we came here. She just stared out the window like a zombie.”

“I get it,” Gino murmured. “She’s blaming herself for the bloodshed. That can’t be easy to accept.”

“No,” Tino agreed. He got it, too, and it was breaking his heart. So he’d tucked her into his bed where she could get some rest. Now he was doing something about this mess. “Oof,” he grunted when Charlotte’s cat jumped onto his lap.

It appeared that Mrs. Tripplehorn needed some comfort, too.

“We should get a cat of our own,” Gino said as he pulled up a chair and sat beside Tino, looking at his computer screen. “What are you doing?”

“No, we should not get a cat. If we get one, it’ll be yours. I travel too much to take care of a pet. And I’m helping Vito solve this thing,” Tino said grimly as he stroked Mrs. Tripplehorn’s back. “Hopefully he’s already got someone in his department doing this, but I need to do something or I’ll lose my mind.”

Gino leaned closer, his brows lifting as he realized what Tino had begun. “How did you get such a realistic-looking photo from your sketch?”

“AI,” Tino replied. “Easy to do. I already converted the sketch I did from Mrs. Johnson’s description and gave it to Nick Lawrence, but Kayla’s description was sharper than Mrs. J’s. I got a better sketch. Younger eyes, and Kayla wasn’t being beaten up at the time like Mrs. Johnson was.”

“How is Mrs. Johnson?”

“Improving. Still in the ICU, but hopefully they’ll move her in the next day or two.”

“That’s really good to hear.” He pointed to Tino’s screen. “Does Vito have this photo?”

“Yep. Sent it to him before I left Charlotte’s place. I’m able to render it into a photo on my phone, but for the next step, I need my desktop computer.”

Gino tilted his head, frowning. “Maybe it’s my imagination, but there’s something about that guy that’s familiar.”

“I thought the same, but Charlotte didn’t recognize him.” That had been the last sentence he’d extracted from her before she’d gone silent. “She was in shock, though, so after some sleep, she might be able to look again.”

“And now what are you doing?” Gino pressed.

“Facial recognition software.” Tino set up the parameters to the program, then started the process.

“I didn’t know that you knew how to do that.”

“Learned from a tech guy who works for a PI. I got called in to do a sketch for one of their clients, and their tech guy matched the face with a name using facial recognition software. He showed me how to do a search of various databases to match my sketch to a person.”

Gino narrowed his eyes. “Various databases? Which various databases?”

And this was why Tino had needed to come home to run this program. He had his internet routed through several proxy servers—another thing the PI’s tech guy had taught him. He didn’t want anyone to know which databases he had access to.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Was this tech guy a hacker?”

Tino smiled. “A really good one. I can check against mugshots and even DMV photos.”

“And nobody’s going to trace it back to our house, right?”

Tino gave him a look. “Would I put you in danger?”

“Yes,” Gino said immediately. “You did it all the time when we were kids.”

Tino snickered. “You were such a goody-goody. ‘Oh no, Tino,’” he said in a falsetto, “‘you’re gonna get us in trouble.’”

“He wouldn’t have been wrong,” a voice said dryly from the office doorway.

Charlotte stood there, looking lost. But she was trying to rally.

Gino stood. “Charlotte. What can I get you?”

“That coffee smells good,” she said. “Maybe a cup?”

Gino smiled at her gently. “Of course. Sit down. Take my chair.”

She obeyed, taking the chair he’d vacated so she could see Tino’s computer screen. “I always knew you’d be a bad boy. Hacking into databases, Tino? Really?”

Tino grinned. “Really.” Then he sobered. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said honestly, then smiled up at Gino when he gave her a cup of coffee. “Thank you. And thank you for letting us invade your space. Even Mrs. Tripplehorn.”

Gino laughed, taking the cat from Tino and cuddling her up against his chest. “She’s a nice cat.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “She’s nice to you two. She’s a monster to everyone else. She only tolerates me because I feed her.” She sipped at the coffee, returning her gaze to Tino’s screen. “Tell me that we aren’t breaking any laws?”

Tino waggled his hand back and forth. “Maybe one or two.”

“Tino,” Charlotte sighed. “Vito’s going to be doing this, too, you know. Why risk it?”

“Because I can be faster, and because he might not be able to share with us whatever he finds. His goal is to catch a killer. My goal is to keep you safe. Period, full stop. I want to know who we’re dealing with.”

Her eyes filled with gratitude. “How long does it take?”

“Could take all night. Could be hours or even minutes.” The laptop dinged loudly. “Or it could be now.” Tino tapped his keyboard and heard Charlotte’s indrawn breath at the mugshot that filled his screen. “This was faster because this guy served time locally. I started with the local law enforcement databases.”

Gino pulled up another chair. “Kevin Hale,” he murmured, reading the screen.

“Served time for armed robbery,” Tino said. “Arrested at eighteen and served nine years of his fourteen-year sentence. Was out for less than a year before he got locked up again for another robbery. This time he served the full fourteen. Got out less than a month ago.”

“He robbed a liquor store the first time and then a corner store the second time,” Gino said. “And now he’s allegedly robbed a pizza place, another corner store, and a dry cleaner’s. At least he’s consistent. He could have stepped up and robbed a bank.”

“The bank didn’t have Charlotte’s address,” Tino said lightly, then noticed a detail that had his full attention. “Look at his past addresses. When he was arrested the first time, he lived in our old neighborhood. The second time, too. He must have moved back home after getting out.”

Charlotte reached for the mouse with a trembling hand, scrolling down the screen to see more of Kevin Hale’s biographical information. “Oh my God. Tino. He went to our high school.”

Tino clicked a link, bringing up the man’s first mugshot, taken twenty-three years ago. But he still didn’t recognize him.

Gino snapped his fingers. “ That’s why he looks familiar. I graduated with that guy. He would have been a year behind you guys. He was in my shop class. Kind of a loner, as I recall.”

Tino frowned. Charlotte was even paler than she’d been before. Her hand covered her mouth, and her eyes were wide and haunted. “Charlotte? What’s wrong?” He tugged her hand from her mouth when she didn’t answer right away. “Charlie?”

The old nickname got her attention, and she drew a deep breath. “I tutored him, Tino. In history. To get my volunteer hours for my college applications. I didn’t remember.”

“Why would you?” Tino asked, keeping his tone soothing. He still held her hand and didn’t want to let it go. “What do you remember now?”

She swallowed hard. “He was a loner, but he...liked me.”

“Everyone liked you, Charlotte,” Tino said. “You were one of the popular girls.” He’d been a popular guy, and together they’d been high school royalty. Prom king and queen. Then what she’d said fully registered. “He liked you or he liked you?”

“The second one,” she said quietly. “He asked me to prom. I...I wanted to let him down easy because he seemed so lonely. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“What did you tell him?” Gino asked.

“That I’d already agreed to go with Tino, but that if I hadn’t had a steady boyfriend, that I would have gone with him. I mean, I knew I’d go to senior prom with Tino back in the ninth grade when I first met him, but this guy didn’t know that.”

Tino squeezed her hand. “I knew the same. So, have you heard from him since high school?”

She shook her head, then sucked in another harsh breath. “Oh my God. What prison was he in?” She leaned closer to the screen to read the answer and her whole body stilled. “Oh my God.”

“Charlie,” Tino murmured, and she met his gaze, hers filled with tears. “Did he contact you?”

“Someone did. I got emails for a while saying that a prisoner wanted to email with me. I just deleted them.”

“When did they start?” Tino asked, pulling out his phone. He was going to have to call Vito with this information ASAP.

Charlotte sat back in her chair, her whole body trembling.

Tino set his phone on the table and put his arms around her. “Hey,” he whispered. “Talk to me.”

“It’s my fault. Dottie and Mr. Lombardi and Mrs. Fadil. Mr. Lewis. They’re all on me.”

“No,” Tino said firmly. “They are on Kevin Hale, if he’s the one who did this. You are a good person, Charlotte Walsh. You would never hurt anyone. Not knowingly.”

She pressed her face into his neck, and Tino immediately felt the moisture from her tears. “I hurt you.”

He stroked her hair, remembering all the times he’d done so in their past. “Breaking an eighteen-year-old kid’s heart because you don’t want the same things out of life is not the same thing as assault and murder. Not even in the same universe. You know this, Charlie.”

She shuddered in his arms and began to sob. “You called me Charlie again. Three times.”

“Should I not?”

“No, no. Please. I...needed that. Needed to know you still see me.”

“I’ve always seen you,” Tino whispered.

“No. See me like you did before. Before I broke your heart.”

This was why he’d steadfastly called her Charlotte. “I’ve always seen you,” he repeated, because it was true.

Because he was helpless to stop himself from falling for her all over again.

She slid her arms around his neck and held on. Watching as Gino slipped out of the room, Tino rubbed her back, letting her cry it all out. Sometimes a person just needed a good, cathartic cry.

Finally, the sobs slowed to hiccups and she sagged against him wearily. “I’m sorry.”

He tightened his hold. She was sturdier now than she’d been at eighteen, her shoulders rounder, her figure curvier. But she was far more fragile at the same time. “Hush. No saying you’re sorry. Not to me.”

She pulled away and he missed the feel of her in his arms.

Gino was a hero and was ready with a cold cloth for her swollen eyes. “We’ve got bags of frozen peas if you need something colder.”

She laughed wetly. “The cloth will be fine, thank you.” She took a moment to collect herself. “The emails started when I was in college. I kept the email address I had in high school for a few years.”

“When did you get rid of it?” Tino asked.

“The summer between my sophomore and junior year, when my parents got divorced and sold the house. Canceled the internet. My email address was attached to their cable service.” She met Tino’s eyes again. “But I think it was more that I was hoping you’d contact me.”

Tino felt sucker punched. “You told me not to.”

“I know. I thought it would be easier.”

“For who?” Tino asked, acutely aware that his brother wasn’t even pretending not to listen.

“I said it was for you, but I think it was more for me. If you’d asked me to come home, I probably would have. And I wasn’t ready yet.”

Tino didn’t understand, but this wasn’t the time for the conversation they desperately needed to have. “All right. The emails from the prison system started in college.”

She flinched at his brusque topic change but nodded. “My freshman year. I just kept deleting them, thinking that everyone got them. Finally, after two years of it, I told my RA—my resident advisor—and she told me to change my email address. I had one at school that classmates and teachers used and my folks weren’t big emailers. They preferred to call me on the phone. That was right about the time they got divorced and sold the house. They both moved. Mom went to Jersey and Dad went to Michigan.”

“Why were they together when they died?” Tino asked, then wished he hadn’t when her eyes filled with pain.

“They were coming to see me. It was after the car accident I had with my ex, which caused the injuries that made me need the cane. Mom and Dad flew in on different flights and met up at the airport. They were in a rental car and got hit by a semi that was dodging a car that zipped in front of it.”

“Oh, Charlie,” Tino murmured. “You felt guilty, didn’t you?”

“Surprisingly, no. The driver of the car who did the stupid move in front of the semi was charged. I had someone else to blame besides myself. This is different, though, Tino. This guy yelled ‘Where is she?’ right before he shot Mr. Lewis. Kayla thought he was looking for her, but we both know he was looking for me. Me , Tino.”

Tino nodded. “I’m certain he was looking for you.” And he was so glad that the asshole hadn’t known Charlotte’s home address. “But that still doesn’t make it your fault. Were you kind to Kevin Hale back in high school?”

“Yes, but no more kind than I was to anyone else who wasn’t you. He must have thought I meant it personally.”

“See?” Tino said. “Not your fault. You were kind, Charlotte. You didn’t lead him on. That wasn’t your way. If he’s obsessed with you—and it sounds like that’s what’s happening here—it’s on him. Not you.” He could see that he wasn’t getting through, so he let it go for now. “Let’s call Vito and bring him up to date.”

And then Tino would get busy finding out everything there was to know about Kevin Hale.

“How are you going to explain the facial recognition software and access to databases you shouldn’t know how to get into?” she asked. “Because Vito will ask.”

He glanced at Gino. “I could tell him that Gino recognized him from school.”

“Not a total lie,” Gino said cheerfully. “I’ll be a fucking hero.”

Charlotte smiled at Gino before turning back to Tino. “Then let’s call Vito.”