June 15th, 3:47 PM. Subject leaves cottage, walks to Main Street. Enters Lila's Sweet Treats. Exits 4:12 PM with coffee and pastry bag.
Brian's blood went cold.
June 16th, 8:22 AM. Subject observed on morning run. Route: White Gull Lane to pier, pier to Main Street, Main Street to cottage. Duration: 34 minutes.
Page after page. Weeks of observations. Every movement Tessa had made since arriving in Copper Moon was recorded in that neat, clinical handwriting.
"This wasn't just a break-in," Diaz said grimly. "This was a message. They wanted you to find this. They wanted you to know you've been watched."
Tessa's hand found Brian's and held on tight. Her fingers were ice cold.
"Who?" Brian's voice came out rough. "Who else was helping Webb?"
"That's what I'm going to find out." Diaz slipped the notebook into an evidence bag. "But whoever they are, they're escalating. The break-in, leaving this behind, it's not random. It's calculated. They want Dr. Callahan scared."
"Well, they failed." Tessa's voice was steady now, the tremor gone. "I'm not scared. I'm angry."
Diaz looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Good. Hold onto that. Because we're going to need it."
The crime scene tech arrived, a young woman with a camera and a kit full of dusting powder. Brian and Tessa retreated to the porch again, giving her room to work.
"We should call Hank," Brian said. "Let him know what happened. He'll want to help."
"At eleven at night?"
"He'd be pissed if we didn't." Brian pulled out his phone again. "Besides, Colby's probably still awake. He keeps odd hours since he started working on that Indian Scout restoration."
He made the call. Hank answered on the first ring, as if he'd been waiting.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone broke into the cottage." Brian gave him the short version. The porch light. The open cabinets. The notebook. "Diaz is here. Crime scene tech, too. But I wanted you to know."
"We're on our way."
"Hank, you don't have to?—"
"We're on our way," Hank repeated, and hung up.
Fifteen minutes later, Hank's truck pulled in beside Diaz's sedan. Bree was with him, and so were Colby and Sabrina. Sabrina was wrapped in a cardigan that looked like she'd grabbed it on the way out the door. They piled out and crossed to the porch, faces grim.
"Tell me everything," Hank said.
Brian did. By the time he finished, Colby was pacing, his jaw tight with barely contained fury.
"Webb has a partner," Colby said. "That's the only thing that makes sense."
"That's what Diaz thinks, too." Brian scrubbed a hand over his face. "Someone who's been watching Tessa. Documenting her movements. Waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Sabrina asked quietly.
"We don't know yet."
Hank turned to look at the cottage, his expression hard. "You're not staying here tonight."
"Hank—"
"I'm not asking. You're coming back to our place. Both of you. Guest room's already made up from when Bree's parents visited."
