“If so, how do we know the object hasn’t been moved or thrown away?”
“We don’t. But if the clueisin the form of an object, I’m guessing Dad would have had the foresight to choose an object he believed wouldn’t be removed.”
“Can we go tomorrow?”
Tomorrow was Saturday. “I can’t. I’m spending the day in Franklin with Bridget, Meadow, and Meadow’s daughter.”
Disapproval rumbled in his throat. “Next Saturday, then?”
“Yes.” She hadn’t been sure at the start if she’d like having Luke as a treasure hunt partner. It turned out that she did like it. A lot. It was good to have an ally. It was also frightening to have this particular ally.
She was inexplicably drawn to him. So much so that she’d experienced actual jealousy over him today.
It wouldn’t do.
These feelings belittled what she’d had with Chase and cheapened her plan to assist in the Restoration of Luke.
He was only staying in Misty River until they solved the hunt. He’d just said he wasn’t interested in a relationship. And she’d said it was best for him to concentrate on getting back on his feet. Which was true. She deeply wanted for him to reenter society wholly. To let go of his past and his guilt so that he could embrace God and life.
What was best for Luke must—and did—come before her passing fancies.
Aman watched from his car as Luke and Finley walked past. At the corner, they turned right.
Smoothly, he let himself out of his vehicle and followed on foot.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
This was what he’d wanted his Saturday to look like, Luke reminded himself the next day. He was stretched out on his sofa, watching sports, feeling the way new mothers probably feel when they finally get to pass their demanding babies off to a babysitter. He planned to pick Agatha up at the last possible moment. Until then, he simply wanted to eat, nap, sit in front of the TV, and eat some more.
So why couldn’t he make himself relax?
For one thing, it frustrated him that he and Finley weren’t traveling to the train depot today. Ever since he’d spent eight days wondering if Ethan was alive or dead, he didn’t coexist well with doubt. Little things like this—not knowing whether they’d find a clue at the depot—caused him low-level stress.
For another thing, while he was really glad to have a day off from Agatha, concerns about the puppy kept sliding into his head. There were plenty of things in the world that people should be anxious about. A puppy in the care of experienced volunteers was not one of them.
He shifted, set one foot on his coffee table, and crossed the other ankle on top.
Worry needled him.
With a growl, he picked up his phone. He’d give Trish a quick call.
“Hello?” she sang into the phone.
“It’s Luke. How’s Agatha doing?” He sounded like a world-class idiot to his own ears.
“Oh! Very well. She’s such a little dear.”
He hoped that was a lie because he was going to be angry if she behaved like “a dear” for Trish and like a demon for him.
“I’ve been enjoying lots of cuddles today,” she added.
“Has she been eating? Because she doesn’t like to eat out of a bowl. She likes for people to hold her food in their hand. Then she’ll eat.”
“Well, hang on a minute, and I’ll go check to see how much food she’s had today. If she hasn’t eaten much, I’ll be certain to try your technique.”
“Fine. Thanks.”
“I’ll tell her Uncle Luke called to check on her—”
