Gabe leaned against the bakery’s front door. “I’ll ask Kevin to send me a copy of the latest police report.”
“Good idea. I’ve got to go, but if you see anything out of the ordinary, call the police.”
“I will. I’ll talk to you next week.” Gabe ended the call. If the police didn’t find the stalker soon, he would have no choice but to hire a bodyguard. He wouldn’t risk anyone else’s life. Not again.
* * *
Flames leapedaround the meat on the barbecue. Gabe turned another sausage and prodded the steak. So far, so good. He hadn’t burned down the veranda or filled the cottage with smoke. Sherlock had taken up guard dog duties beside the picnic chairs. Whether that was to stop anyone from burning themselves or to be first in line for the food, Gabe wasn’t sure.
“Here’s a bowl for the onions.” Caleb left the dish on the table. “What do you think of your new barbecue?”
“It’s better than the one dad used to have.”
Caleb grinned. “I hope so. You won’t need to order takeout ever again.”
Natalie walked around the edge of the cottage. “Who’s eating takeout?”
Gabe sighed. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way his heart pounded whenever he saw her.
“Not Gabe,” Caleb said quickly. “From now on, this is a takeout-free zone. I can’t believe he’s never owned a barbecue.”
“Gabe isn’t the only one.” Natalie grinned at Caleb. “I probably had barbecued food three times while I was in Europe.”
“I’m surrounded by philistines,” Caleb groaned. “You can’t cross the threshold into adulthood without burning at least one sausage.”
Gabe waved the metal tongs over the meat. “I refuse to burn the first meal I’ve cooked on the grill.”
Natalie placed a bowl of salad on the table and opened the bottle of wine she’d brought. “I’m pleased to hear it. Thanks for inviting me over. I should have finished painting an hour ago.”
Caleb handed Natalie a wine glass. “I hope you don’t mind the snooping we did to find out who you are.”
“It happens all the time. That’s why I don’t have any personal social media accounts. Would you like a glass of wine?”
She filled Caleb’s glass, then looked for Gabe’s.
“Not for me.” Gabe cleared his throat. Now was as good a time as any to tell Caleb and Natalie the other reason they were here. “I need to tell you both something.”
Caleb groaned. “You’re putting us in your book, aren’t you?”
“I wish it were that simple. A few days ago, I told Natalie that someone has been stalking me. I moved to Sapphire Bay, hoping he would lose interest and go away. He hasn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Caleb asked. “I might have been able to help.”
“The police are doing all they can. What Natalie doesn’t know is that a couple of days ago the stalker recreated a murder scene from my first book. No one was hurt, but the police are worried the stalker will eventually kill someone.”
Natalie sat on the edge of a chair. “Are the police any closer to knowing who he is?”
“Not yet.”
Caleb frowned. “Why would he recreate a murder scene from your book?”
“I’ve got no idea. Maybe he’s living his life through my characters. If the police don’t find any new leads, I’m hiring a bodyguard.”
“I know some people who might be able to help,” Caleb muttered.
Gabe’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“I work with people who use high-level personal protection services. If the police aren’t able to find the stalker, let me know. I’ll call a company I’ve worked with in the past.”
