But he wouldn’t physically stop her. He followed as she entered the room—without him even having to show her which one. She stood in the center of the room, taking in the destruction, a look of horror on her face, then she sank down on the edge of the bed and held her chest.
Cressida’s face was panic-stricken as she shared a brief glance with him, then sat next to Evelyn on the bed. “Evelyn, are you okay?”
Braden moved to stare out the still-open window and shut it so the rain wouldn’t blow into the room. He hated touching the window, but the rain would wipe away the evidence just the same. He would preserve what he could. When Trent got here, Braden would take to those woods and search, though whoever had been inside this room was long gone.
Evelyn knew something. She hadn’t struck him as the type of person to hold on to a secret that could prove dangerous to others, if that’s what was happening here. Then again there was the matter of her shushing him when he brought up another boat. The intruder’s actions here today made it clear that someone was desperate to uncover—or bury—a secret.
The dangerous truth that Evelyn referred to, even leading them to believe the possibility her hired investigators had been killed.
Like Cressida’s father?
While Cressida comforted Evelyn, he watched out the window, thinking through all he’d learned today. Evelyn hadn’t actually told them anything. She raised questions that he sensed she wanted answers to herself but was afraid to send anyone into that danger.
What in the world?
Indeed. Whatever this was about was big. After all, Octavia Dane had sent him here in the first place.
International.
An abandoned salvage ship.
Murders.
Cressida’s father and his research.
And now, Evelyn Monroe—the heir to the Harborstone Shipping Company fortune—in danger in her own home.Harborstone.Where had he heard that name before?
Braden would give anything to get Cressida out of this,but his hands were tied. If he told the truth, he wouldn’t be able to protect her. She would ghost him like she’d done her mother, who’d had to resort to sending a covert spy-protector.
He tasted acid.
He hated himself.
But he would use the time he had to get to the bottom of this.
A shadowy figure stepped out from the edge of the woods near the cliff’s edge and looked at the window where Braden stood—through a rifle scope.
25
Cressida wasn’t sure what to do. Her instinct was to pat the woman’s back and reassure her. Evelyn seemed to have been holding so much inside—for years, as she’d mentioned earlier—hoping someone would ask. Well, Cressida was here to talk and listen. She wanted all the answers Evelyn was willing to give, and even those she wasn’t.
But that would have to wait.
Evelyn held her chest, not as though she was extremely grieved but as though that grief might have sent her into some kind of cardiac incident.
“Please tell me what I can do to help.”
Before Evelyn could respond, Braden headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, “Stay here. Stay down. Stay away from the window.”
“But I need your help.”
Without looking back, he exited. He hadn’t even heard her. His tone left no doubt something else was up. Male voices echoed in the hallway. She recognized Deputy Riker’s voice along with Braden’s.
The intimidating woman next to her suddenly seemedfeeble. Concern for her ratcheted up. Was she sick? Having a heart attack?
Evelyn fumbled for Cressida’s hand, found it, and squeezed.
She spoke so softly Cressida leaned closer so she could hear the words, but she still couldn’t understand. “Excuse me?”
