“We’re calling the police,” she said.
Eli stiffened. “Grace?—”
“No.” She shook her head, already reaching for her phone. “This is my house. You don’t get to decide what risks I take.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. Then he looked at the broken window again—and nodded.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay.”
Grace dialed with fingers that trembled despite her effort to keep them still. As the phone rang, she stared at the shattered glass, at the empty street beyond the door, at the place where safety had cracked without warning.
She didn’t know what trouble her brother was in.
She only knew that whatever this was—it had found her.
"—andyou're sure you didn't hear anything before the glass broke?"
Grace forced herself to meet Mercer's gaze without flinching. "I was asleep. The sound woke me up."
He nodded slowly, pen tapping against his notepad in a rhythm that felt deliberate. Skeptical. "Right. And your brother just… showed up a few days ago. Out of the blue."
"He's family," Grace said evenly. "He doesn't need a reason."
Mercer's mouth curved—not quite a smile, more like he'd just proven a point to himself. "Course not."
He was standing in her kitchen, his heavy boots crunching over glass she hadn't been allowed to clean yet. The broken window gaped behind him and the cold air that made her want to wrap her arms around herself. She didn't. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her rattled.
Eli sat at the table, silent and still in a way that made her nervous. He'd answered Mercer's questions with the bare minimum—yes, no, don't know—and now he was just… waiting.Watching. Like he expected this to go badly and was already three steps ahead.
Mercer flipped a page in his notebook. "You get a lot of visitors lately, Miss Hart? Anyone unusual hanging around?"
Grace thought of the dark sedan. The tinted windows. The way it had been parked just a few doors down before disappearing.
She should tell him.
She opened her mouth?—
"No," Eli said.
Both Grace and Mercer turned to look at him.
"No one's been hanging around," Eli continued, voice flat. "It's probably just kids. Bored teenagers looking for trouble."
Mercer's eyebrows lifted. "Kids who write threatening notes?"
"Kids who think they're being edgy," Eli shot back.
The silence stretched.
Mercer's gaze slid from Eli to Grace and back again, something calculating settling behind his eyes. "You know," he said slowly, "it's funny. Vandalism's been pretty quiet in Crystal Lake since you Harts moved out. Now you're back—" He gestured vaguely at the broken window. "—and suddenly we've got property damage again."
Grace's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying my brother did this to my own house?"
"I'm saying," Mercer replied, tone pleasant but sharp underneath, "that trouble follows certain families."
Eli stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.
Mercer didn't move. Didn't even blink.
