Jeremiah slowed.
“Yeah,” Jude said gravely, “it’s a rental. I’m going to call Groomsport PD.”
Jeremiah parked the Ferrari while Jude identified himself to the police over the phone. He explained that Anton Quintrell, a suspect in the murder of Alexis Camden, was at 312 Chestnut Lane. Potentially armed and dangerous and in the company of others. “Please notify Detective Phillip Holland. My brother and I are going in, but we need your help as soon as possible.”
Remy is inside this house with the man who killed Alexis, was all Jeremiah could think, over and over.
Jude slid his gun into the back waistband of his jeans.
They set off across the deep, tree-filled lawn toward the front door.
“Look relaxed,” Jude whispered sharply.
Jeremiah slowed his pace and did his best to do what his brother asked, but his face felt like a hardened mask.
The garage came into view. Its door was open and only one car sat inside. Anton’s car.
“Camille’s car isn’t here,” Jeremiah said, low.
All of the best-case scenarios—Remy not yet having arrived, Camille being here—ripped away.
Ever since Anton had moved into this house, Jeremiah had let himself inside without knocking. He followed that pattern now, turning the knob and entering the foyer. “Hello?”
“In here,” Anton’s voice replied.
Jeremiah cut through the sitting room overlooking the front yard. Most of the wall between the sitting room and den was open. When he and Jude reached the mouth of the opening, he saw a thousand things in a glance.
Remy sat to the side, head tilted quizzically, wearing a cable-knit sweater and jeans, hair half up and half down.
He loved her.
She was so beautiful to him, and he’d missed her so much and, at last, he was close to her. But Anton was here, too. On his feet, facing them. Outwardly, Anton’s expression was calm, but Jeremiah knew him well enough to see the tension underneath.
From the position where Anton stood, he had a clear view through the windows. If he'd watched them approach, then he would have noticed the stress in Jeremiah’s body language. Also, the timing and Jude’s presence might have him worried. Jeremiah was here earlier than scheduled and Anton hadn’t been expecting Jeremiah’s FBI brother to come with him today.
“Hi.” Jeremiah greeted Anton, then gazed at Remy. “Camille told me you were having lunch with her here today. I came by to let you know there’s an emergency with Wendell. We need to leave.”
Instantly, her features revealed concern. She rose to standing. “Is he okay?” Her face, her voice, her hair were achingly familiar.
“He will be, but we need to go. We’ll drive you there.”
Remy moved forward.
Anton put out an arm, barring her progress. “What kind of emergency?”
“He fell and broke his leg.”
“Excuse me,” Remy said to Anton, starting forward again.
Anton’s fingers curved around Remy’s upper arm, keeping her in place.
Hot denial scratched up Jeremiah’s throat. Below that heat, though, spread freezing realization. Anton was not going to allow her to walk out of here.
“Let me go,” Remy ordered.
Jeremiah met Anton’s eyes. He knew just how serious and determined his former friend could be.
“Release her right now,” Jude said. “And we’ll leave.”
