“Marcus, it’s Mitch. I got your message about Sally Lane. Call me back as soon as you get this.” He hung up and tried again immediately. It still just went to voicemail.
Frustrated, Mitch checked the time. Marcus was probably asleep. Or working a case with his phone off. Either way, there was nothing Mitch could do but wait.
He sat at the kitchen table in the dark, turning everything over in his mind.Could it really be Sally?His brow furrowed, and while he didn’t want to believe it, Mitch knew better than most that people could do terrible things when operating on emotions. He gave his head a small shake as he still couldn’t believe it was Sally. Yes, she’d been possessive when they were dating. She hadalways wanted to know where he was, who he was with. Then she always showed up at places she knew he’d be. He’d chalked it up to her being interested, maybe a little insecure after her divorce. Which she’d told him was nasty, and then a few months later, her ex-husband had passed away. Mitch had known that the man’s death had shaken Sally, as her eyes always darkened with a flash of emotion when she mentioned him. But she’d gather herself fast and regain her composure so quickly that Mitch never wanted to pry into it. Besides, it wasn’t really any of his business. He had known after the first month of dating Sally that the relationship would go nowhere. She wasn’t his type and the spark, for him anyway, just wasn’t there.
He glanced at the message Marcus had sent him once again, his brow creasing deeper. While he knew she could be scathing, he didn’t think Sally would stoop to this. Hiring a firm to harass Lori?
What would drive her to that? Jealousy? The fear of losing him to someone else?Mitch blew out a breath. Marcus had found a connection between the beige windbreaker guy and Sally. Mitch knew that even if his gut didn’t think it was her, the evidence was pointing to a possibility that it could be. Until it led elsewhere—Mitch knew he had to follow the evidence.
Right now, there were too many unanswered questions, and it was putting people’s lives at risk. He gently touched the back of his head and winced slightly when he pressed too hard. He’d already been hurt, and he was a highly trained operative. He suppressed a shudder, thinking about the people around him who weren’t trained like Piper, Lori, and Tessa.
After doing one last round of the perimeter of both properties, Mitch finally went to bed around midnight, but sleep didn’t come easily. His head ached where he’d been struck, and everytime he closed his eyes, he saw Lori’s face as she’d looked at him in the kitchen. Worried. Determined. Beautiful.
He woke at five-thirty to sunlight streaming through his bedroom window and the dull throb of a headache. The first thing he did was check his phone.
There was still no callback from Marcus.
Frustrated, Mitch got up and headed downstairs. The house was quiet. Piper would sleep for another hour at least. Ryan was at Seabird with Lori and Tessa. The morning felt strange and empty.
He started coffee and began pulling out eggs and bread for breakfast. The routine helped calm his racing thoughts. Scrambling eggs, making toast, trying not to think about Sally or surveillance or the fact that someone had attacked him on the beach three nights ago.
Trying not to think about the way Lori’s hands had felt against his skin last night.
A sharp knock at the front door made him look up and glance at the kitchen clock. It was six-fifteen. Too early for visitors. Maybe it was Ryan?
Frowning, Mitch wiped his hands on a dish towel and headed to the door. He opened it and found himself face-to-face with Marcus Hayes.
Marcus stood on the porch with an overnight bag in one hand and a thick folder tucked under his other arm. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a business meeting despite the early hour, his suit pressed, his silver-streaked hair neatly combed.
“Marcus? What are you doing here?” Mitch gaped at him. He must’ve been on an airplane from DC the previous night, and that was why Mitch couldn’t get hold of him.
“I got your messages on the ferry from Boston.” Marcus’s smile was easy, familiar. “As you got hurt, and I’ve dug up some disturbing information, I figured I’d take some leave and come help you with this mystery.”
“You flew up from DC?” Mitch said, still surprised and pleased to see his old friend.
“Yeah, I took the red-eye. It landed about an hour ago.” Marcus stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, the ease of old friendship and years of working together making it natural. “Is that coffee I smell?”
“Yup.” Mitch was still processing. “You didn’t have to fly all the way up here. We could have talked on the phone.”
“Not about this.” Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Mitch, when I heard you’d been attacked, I started digging deeper into everything. And what I found about Sally Lane...” He shook his head. “I knew while you were recovering from a head injury, you needed someone else besides Ryan to have your back.” The look in his eyes made Mitch’s skin crawl. “That firm that Dane works for…” He gave a low whistle. “The place has a nasty reputation. They take the cases that no one else will touch.”
Before Mitch could respond, he heard footsteps on the stairs. They were quick and light, and Mitch knew that Piper was awake.
“Grandpa?” Her voice carried down from the second floor. “Who’s here? I heard someone banging on the door.”
She appeared at the top of the staircase in running shorts and a faded t-shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Then she saw Marcus, and her whole face lit up. “Uncle Marcus!”
She flew down the remaining stairs and launched herself at him. Marcus dropped his bag, and shoved the folder at Mitch just in time to catch her, laughing as he swung her up.
“Piper! Look at you!” Marcus said. “You’ve got so tall kid.”
“I guess,” Piper said with a shrug as Marcus put her down.
“And I didn’t bang on the door,” Marcus told her. “I rapped lightly.”
“It echoes through this old house like a gong,” Piper told him.
Marcus couldn’t answer.
