Brian looked at her. The copper light was catching her hair, turning the blonde to gold. Her eyes were bright, hopeful, a little nervous. She was asking for something normal. Something good. Something that had nothing to do with stalkers or fear or the weight they'd both been carrying.
"I'm not much of a dancer," he said.
"Neither am I. We can be bad at it together."
He took her hand and let her pull him to his feet.
They found a spot at the edge of the makeshift dance floor, away from the couples who actually knew what they were doing. The song was slow now, something sweet and aching, and Brian pulled Tessa close without thinking about it. Her arms went around his neck. His hands settled at her waist. They swayed more than danced, but it didn't matter.
"This is nice," she said against his shoulder.
"Yeah." He tightened his arms around her. "It is."
"I keep waiting for something bad to happen. For the other shoe to drop." She pulled back enough to look at his face. "Is that crazy?"
"No. It's survival mode. Your brain's been in it so long, it doesn't know how to shut off." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "But sometimes, the shoe doesn't drop. Sometimes, you just get to dance."
She smiled, soft and genuine. "When did you get so wise?"
"Somewhere between the first motion light going off and last night's Scrabble game." He'd won by two points. She'd demanded a rematch. "You bring it out in me."
"I think Copper Moon brings it out in both of us."
The song ended, and another began, but they didn't stop moving. Brian was vaguely aware of catcalls from Colby's direction, but he ignored them. Let him tease. Let the whole town watch. He had Tessa in his arms and the stars coming out overhead and music filling the air, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt something close to peace.
"Brian," Tessa said, her voice suddenly tight.
He followed her gaze over his shoulder. At the edge of the crowd, half-hidden by the shadow of a food truck, a figure stood watching them. Gray cap. Sunglasses, despite the fading light.
Marcus Webb.
Brian's body went cold, then hot, adrenaline spiking through him like electricity. He pulled Tessa behind him instinctively, putting his body between her and the threat.
"Don't," Tessa said, gripping his arm. "Sergeant Diaz said not to engage."
"I'm not engaging. I'm looking." He kept his eyes locked on the figure. The man hadn't moved, hadn't approached. Just standing there, watching, like a predator assessing its prey.
Then Hank was beside him, materializing out of nowhere with Colby a step behind. "What's going on?" Hank's voice was low and calm, but his eyes were already scanning.
"Two o'clock. By the food truck. Gray cap."
Hank looked. So did Colby. The figure seemed to sense the attention, because he took a step back, then another. And then he was gone, melting into the crowd like smoke.
"I'm going after him," Colby said.
"No." Brian caught his arm. "He's already gone. And if he's the guy we think he is, he's dangerous. We call Diaz. We don't play hero."
Colby looked like he wanted to argue, but Hank put a hand on his shoulder. "Brian's right. This is police business now."
Tessa already had her phone out, Sergeant Diaz's number pulled up on the screen. Her hands were shaking, but her voice was steady when the sergeant answered.
"He's here," she said. "At the concert. We just saw him."
Brian watched her talk, giving the location, the description, answering questions with the same calm competence she'd shown when bandaging his feet. The doctor in her, taking over when things got hard.
Around them, the concert continued, oblivious. The Shoreline Drifters played on. Couples danced. Children ran through the grass with sparklers someone had handed out. A perfect summer evening, marred by the shadow of a man who wouldn't let go.
Bree appeared with Sabrina, both of them flanking Tessa like bodyguards. "We're taking her back to the blankets," Bree said to Brian. "You stay with Hank and Colby. Watch for him."
