Frank nodded. “Or find the evidence I still have. When I left Seattle, I took copies of key documents. It was insurance in case Sterling buried everything else.”
“And they know you have this evidence?”
“They suspect I have more information. Dave’s visit confirmed it.” Frank ran a hand over his face. “But approaching Tommy... I never thought they’d go that far.”
Isabel reached across the table and took his hand. “You need to contact the FBI again, Frank. This has gone beyond intimidation.”
“I know,” he admitted. “I just wanted to keep Tommy safe, to give him some normalcy after everything he’s been through. I thought I could handle this myself.”
“You don’t have to,” Isabel said firmly. “Not anymore.”
As their eyes met across the table, something shifted between them—an understanding, a commitment, a partnership formed in crisis but built on something deeper that had been growing for weeks.
“I’m calling Marcus in the morning,” Frank said. “And then Agent Ramirez. You’re right—I can’t risk Tommy’s safety any longer.”
Isabel squeezed his hand. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”
The word hung in the air between them, weighted with meaning.
Isabel looked away from him. “Being anything other than friends terrifies me, Frank. I was married to James for so long that it feels wrong even thinking about anything happening between us.”
He took a deep breath. “I understand. After Theresa died, I felt the same way. I haven’t wanted to date another woman or even spend time with someone else—until you. It’s not the right time for either of us, but I want you to know I care about you more than you could imagine.”
“I care about you, too,” Isabel said softly.
“I should check on Tommy,” Frank said eventually, though he made no move to release her hand. “Do you want to stay the night? I have a spare bedroom and I’d sleep a lot better knowing you’re here and safe.”
Isabel was silent for a few seconds before nodding. “I’ll stay. I don’t think any of us should be alone right now.”
Frank was grateful beyond words. As they moved through the quiet house, checking locks and drawing curtains, he noticed how naturally they worked together, how much Isabel had become part of his life.
When he looked in on Tommy, Frank felt Isabel’s presence beside him in the doorway. Whatever came next with Sterling, Dave, and the FBI, he knew Isabel would be right beside him, facing everything together.
CHAPTER 20
Isabel woke with a start, disoriented by the unfamiliar ceiling above her. Sunlight streamed through curtains she didn’t recognize, casting patterns on walls decorated with fishing prints instead of the family photos that filled Kathleen’s guest room.
Then the events of yesterday came crashing back—Tommy’s disappearance, the frantic search, finding out about Frank’s past with Sterling Industries, and staying the night in Frank’s home.
The house was quiet except for the gentle hum of the refrigerator. Isabel checked her watch. It was just past six in the morning.
She made up the spare bed and smoothed her rumpled clothes.
A soft creak from upstairs told her someone was awake. Probably Frank. She doubted he’d slept much after yesterday’s scare. She moved to the kitchen, about to put on the coffee, when a flash of light outside the front window caught her eye.
Isabel approached the window cautiously, drawing the curtain aside just enough to peer out. The driveway was empty except for Frank’s truck. Nothing seemed amiss, but something made her open the front door and step onto the veranda.
The early morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and freshwater from the lake. Isabel scanned the front yard, seeing nothing out of place. She was about to turn back when a white rectangle beside the welcome mat caught her eye—an envelope, unmarked except for Frank’s name written in bold black letters.
Isabel glanced around the property, searching for any sign of who might have left it. Everything was still and quiet. Whoever had been here was long gone.
She picked up the envelope carefully, holding it by the edges as James had taught her to do with potential evidence. It wasn’t sealed, just tucked closed, and something about its weight and the way the contents shifted made her think there might be photographs inside.
“Frank?” she called, stepping back into the house and closing the door firmly behind her. “Frank, there’s something you need to see.”
Rapid footsteps sounded from the hallway, and Frank appeared. His hair was disheveled, but his eyes were alert despite the shadows beneath them. He wore the same clothes as yesterday, confirming her suspicion that he hadn’t gone to bed.
“What is it?” His voice was tight with tension as his gaze fixed on the envelope in her hand.
