Natalie chose her next words carefully. “You might be overreacting.”
“I’d sooner be prepared than leave anything to chance.” The headlights of a big truck swung across the living room walls. “That’ll be Caleb.” Gabe strode across the room and opened the door.
If someone had told Natalie six months ago that she’d be talking to a New York Times bestselling author in her grandparents’ cottage, she would have laughed. But there wasn’t anything funny about the predicament they were in.
She’d thought coming to Sapphire Bay would solve a lot of her problems but, so far, it had created a whole lot more.
* * *
Gabe crossedhis arms in front of his chest. “You’re not staying here on your own. We still don’t know if the stalker was the person who broke into your cottage.”
“And we might never know.” Natalie raised her chin and glared at him. “Detective Jameson said it’s going to take a few days to compare the fingerprints from the break-in to what they found in the warehouse. Even if they are the same, they might never find the person.”
“Fletcher Security is sending the police the photos of the burglar,” Caleb said. “If it’s the same person, they could use facial recognition software to identify him.”
Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “Only if he’s been arrested before. But I’m not worried about the fingerprints or the security camera. I’m worried about Natalie and her mom.”
“We don’t need you to look after us.”
Natalie’s defensive tone and clenched jaw wasn’t helping their discussion. It was at times like this that he realized just how stubborn she could be.
Caleb cleared his throat. “There is an alternative solution.”
Gabe glared at him. For the last half hour, they’d done nothing but go around in circles. Natalie refused to see how much danger she could be in and Caleb thought he was worrying about something that might not happen.
“What’s your solution?” Gabe asked.
“You could all stay with me. It would be a tight squeeze, but it would only be for a few days.”
“Mom’s going home tomorrow afternoon, but I still don’t like leaving the cottage. My paintings are here along with all my art supplies.” Natalie looked straight at Gabe. “You could stay with Caleb until the reporters have gone.”
Gabe ran his hands through his hair. At the rate he was going he’d be bald by the time Natalie left Sapphire Bay. “If the fingerprints belong to the stalker, you could be in danger.”
Natalie pulled the printout of Caleb’s spreadsheet closer. “So far the stalker has recreated most of what has happened up to chapter five of your book. He hasn’t done anything for…” she checked the date on the last column, “…six days. That’s the longest break he’s had from contacting you or doing anything crazy.”
“That we know about,” Gabe muttered. That earned him another frosty glare.
Natalie ran her hand down one of the columns. It listed the exact timing of each event in his book. “Zac Connelly, the hero of your series, has been tracking the person who killed the woman in the warehouse. If the stalker is following the book’s timeline, you’ll be sent a photo of the murder scene in the next few days.”
Caleb typed something onto the keyboard of his laptop. “According to my calculations, there’s a ninety-eight percent chance the photo will be sent to Gabe’s agent in the next twelve hours.”
Gabe studied the spreadsheet. After the photo came a confrontation. And it didn’t end well for Zac. “There are two things wrong with your prediction. First off, the stalker must know the police are tracking his emails and letters. Why would he keep sending them? And secondly, the stalker doesn’t know if my agent is sending me the letters.”
“You disappeared from Brooklyn.” Natalie glanced at Caleb, watching his reaction as much as Gabe’s. “I’d say that was a big clue as to whether you know about the stalker. What if the break-in was his way of telling us he knows where you’re living?”
Gabe sat back in his chair. “Then he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. We know what he looks like and the police are comparing the fingerprints they found. Sooner or later, he’ll be arrested.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened. “I hope for your sake it’s sooner rather than later. For the record, I’m with Natalie. I don’t believe she was the target. Even after the burglar triggered the alarm, they had time to grab a couple of paintings. But they didn’t take anything from the studio or the rest of the house. Either they were looking for something specific or they realized they were in the wrong side of the cottage.”
“Or they didn’t expect the house to have an alarm,” Natalie said. “If the burglar was looking for high-value art, they wouldn’t have found any. The canvases on my side of the cottage are at least ten years old. They aren’t something a collector would want.”
“Have you had the paintings valued recently?” Gabe asked.
Natalie shook her head. “They’re not as good as the ones I paint now.”
“When an artist sells their work for more than fifty thousand dollars, even the earlier paintings can reach high prices.”
Heat scorched Natalie’s face. “How did you know how much I earn?”
