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The routes will vary.

No one will be told the address of the auxiliary station until we are moving.

It’s careful.

Organized.

Believable.

It also makes the threat feel more real than ever.

Ben takes my arm before we leave the evidence room.

“Wait.”

The others move into the hallway.

He waits until we’re alone.

“What Grandpa wrote in your card…” he begins.

“I know.”

“He sounds like a smart man.”

“He was.”

Ben lifts our joined hands between us. “Do you want me to let go?”

My chest aches.

“No.”

“Good.”

He steps closer.

The evidence-room lights are too bright, the hallway is filled with officers and someone has stolen a piece of a lighthouse lens from my cabin.

None of it matters for one quiet second.

Ben touches his forehead to mine.

“I’m not going anywhere, Calle.”

I close my eyes. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can promise I won’t choose to leave.”

The distinction matters.

Maybe more than a perfect promise ever could.

I rise onto my toes and press my lips to his.

The kiss is brief. Soft. Nothing like the heat that has flared between us before.

This kiss is trust.