“He retired two years ago. Sadly, he passed away about six months after.”
Everything felt wrong about this. She couldn’t believe someone actually thought Tyler was guilty. Adam, sure, but his obsession was unnatural. But to have someone else think Tyler was responsible for the death of his wife and child...
“I need to get back to work.”
“Brooke— ”
“Thank you for telling me. I need to think.”
Joe touched her arm, his expression concerned. “Be careful. Please.”
Brooke walked back inside the kitchen. The noise hit her immediately—espresso machine hissing, customers talking, Becky calling out orders. It should’ve been familiar and comforting. Instead, it felt overwhelming.
She pulled out her phone again. Still nothing from Tyler.
The evidence Joe had presented was circumstantial, and all of it could be explained. Tyler being at the bank didn’t mean anything; he could’ve gone for any reason. Missing darts didn’t prove anything either—plans change. And the connection to both victims through high school was unavoidable in a small town where everyone knew everyone. Even Monique working practically next door to Tyler didn’t have to mean anything.
But taken together, it painted a picture. A pattern.
And Brooke had ignored patterns before. Had explained away concerns, made excuses, and trusted when she shouldn’t have.
With Kelsey, that trust had nearly cost her her life. It had put Nick, Gina, and Joe in danger. It had destroyed a friendship and left scars that still hadn’t fully healed.
What if she was doing it again? What if Tyler was guilty and she was too blind to see it?
But they’d been seeing each other. Something real was building between them. Her brother said Tyler was innocent when his family died and believed he was innocent now. She believed it too.
But was that belief based on truth, or was it based on wanting so badly to be right this time, to prove her judgment wasn’t fundamentally broken?
Brooke didn’t know anymore.
She stepped out of the kitchen and into the coffee shop. Customers came and went. Becky handled orders with practiced efficiency. The morning rush continued without pause. She pasted on a smile and moved to the counter.
“I can get the next person here.”
Chapter 24
Tyler
The shop felt different on Monday morning.
Tyler noticed it the moment he walked through the bay door at seven thirty. Robert was already there, standing at the workbench with a parts catalog open in front of him. He glanced up when Tyler entered, nodded once, then went back to the catalog.
No greeting. No small talk about the weekend. Just that single nod.
Tyler took his lunch bag to the break room and grabbed his work gloves. Two cars were scheduled for the morning—an oil change and a transmission diagnostic. Simple work, the kind that let his hands stay busy while his mind churned.
He started on the oil change first. It was a Honda Civic, maybe ten years old, with a dent in the rear bumper and a cracked taillight. The owner had left a note about a squeaking noise when braking. Tyler made a mental note to check the pads.
Robert moved to where Tyler was working and stood there watching for a minute without saying anything.
“Everything okay?” Tyler asked, not looking up.
“Fine.” Robert’s tone was flat. “Got a call from the sheriff’s department yesterday afternoon. They wanted to verify your alibi for Saturday morning.”
Tyler’s hands stilled. “What’d you tell them?”
“The truth. That you were here when I got here, and you were still here when I left for the day. They asked if I was certain about the time, if maybe you could’ve come in later.”
