The others walked a ways behind them, close enough for Jenna to hear Noah’s voice, but not be able to understand what he said. Zia responded, causing the others to laugh out loud. The first such sound that night. Jenna said, “This is exciting. Despite everything.”
Amos chuckled. “You should have been a cop.”
“Thanks, but I’m happy with my chosen profession.”
They did not speak again until they stood by Jenna’s car. Amos said, “If you change your mind . . .”
She patted his arm. “Not happening.”
The farewells took forever. When they were done, Jenna was stationed by Noah’s side, their arms tight around each other. She could feel the day’s tension still held him, that and the decision he had made about the boat. The night enveloped them in a warm silence. The wind had stilled, and the sky overhead was a silver wash. When the headlights drifted away and the valley was still, Noah said, “It’s not too late.”
“You don’t really mean that.”
“Don’t I?”
“No, it’s regret talking.”
“Do you have any?”
“Of course. I probably always will. But you were right, what you said.” She swept a hand out, taking in the valley and all their departed friends. “What we have here is far too precious to risk over a boat.”
“Whatwehave.”
“Yes.”
He held her a moment longer, then said, “Coming close to losing you was what made me realize there was really no choice here. This is all too valuable. Too precious. I’ve been given a second chance at life. I need to do my best to work things out right this time.”
Which left Jenna with such a grand feeling she lifted her face and kissed him. Again. “One voice, two hearts. That’s how it feels, listening to you talk.”
CHAPTER37
Lane Pritchard arrived precisely at four the next afternoon.
He traveled in the same dark Mercedes S-Class, driven by the same immobile driver hidden behind the same heavily tinted windshield. Lane rose from the rear seat, stretched, and took a moment to survey the scene. Three police cars were parked to either side of his vehicle, plus Noah’s pickup and Jenna’s car. Amos stood on the platform, his back to the farmhouse. At the boat’s stern, Aldana and Ryan sorted piping and bathroom fittings on a trestle table. There was the sound of a precision saw and quiet conversation. Jenna stood alone by the porch stairs. Waiting.
She had not slept more than a couple of hours. Her eyes felt grainy. Her upper body ached from tension she could not release. She had spent most of the night reliving the attack, feeling the helpless terror sweep over her. Whenever she managed to push that away, there they were. The faces of her former patients. All the way back to her late sister. The one whose dream she was about to let go.
Time and again she started to call Amos. Tell him she wasn’t the one to handle this situation, meet the man representing the unseen killers. Ask the professional law-enforcement officer to take over. The electric thrill she’d felt walking the valley road alongside Amos was gone now. She felt childish for even having volunteered. As if she’d been buoyed by the presence of three cops, people who spent their entire adult lives dealing with such hazards. But every time she reached for her phone, something held her back. She could not explain it. Only that it remained important for her to be the one.
Lane approached Jenna and offered a meaningless smile. “We were not properly introduced.”
“Jenna Greaves.”
“Of course. You served as nurse to the boat’s original owner. Wallace spoke very highly of you.”
“I prefer the term caregiver.”
“Terms are so very important, are they not? The late gentleman’s family uses other terms to describe you.”
She decided there was nothing to be gained by continuing that line of conversation. “Work on the wiring has reached a critical point. Noah asked me to greet you.”
“I am honored and grateful both. Wiring?”
“They’re finished with the flying bridge.” She pointed to where two shadow figures worked. “The second set of controls, in the pilot’s cabin on the main deck, have to work in precise tandem. They’re calibrating the two systems.”
“Are you a boat person, Ms. Greaves?”
“I better be. I own a 42.5 percent share. Same as Noah.”
