"I recognize you, too," she said."That's what makes this dangerous."
"Why?"
"Because the last time I trusted someone who understood what I was going through, he ended up dead in a parking garage."Her voice was steady, but he could see the pain underneath."I don't want that for you."
"I'm not Isak."
"No.You're not."She studied him in the dim light—the line of his jaw, the way he stood with his weight evenly distributed, ready to move in any direction."You're something else entirely.And I don't know what to do with that."
Neither did he.That was the problem.
"Get some sleep," he said, his voice rougher than he intended."Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"Caleb."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you.For not telling me I'm being stupid.For not trying to talk me out of this."
"Would it have worked if I tried?"
"No."
"Then what would be the point?"
She held his gaze.In the dim light from the Sandbar's porch, her eyes were nearly black.Then she turned and walked toward her bungalow, and he watched until she was inside, until the light came on, until she texted the all-clear.
He walked back toward town, the sound of the waves fading behind him.
Chapter 6
Inlet Drive was darker than Harper expected.
The streetlights ended where First Street curved east, leaving the narrow road lit only by porch lights and the occasional glow from curtained windows.Live oaks lined both sides, their branches meeting overhead to form a tunnel that swallowed the last of the evening light.Harper's footsteps sounded too loud on the pavement, each one announcing her presence to anyone who might be listening.
She'd parked three blocks away, at a small lot near the inlet where fishermen left their trucks during early morning runs.The walk gave her time to check for surveillance—a car that pulled out after her, a figure in a doorway, anything that felt wrong.Nothing did.The neighborhood had settled into the drowsy stillness of a weeknight evening, television light flickering behind blinds, the distant sound of someone's sprinkler system clicking through its cycle.
That should have been comforting.It wasn't.
412 was the third house from the corner, exactly where Caleb's aerial photo had shown.White siding, green shutters, a small front porch with a swing that moved slightly in the breeze.The lights were on inside, warm yellow behind thin curtains.An old Honda Civic sat in the driveway, salt-faded and practical.
Harper stopped at the edge of the property.7:52.Eight minutes early.
She sent Caleb a single word:
Arriving.
Then she walked up the cracked concrete path and climbed the porch steps.The swing creaked.She knocked.
Footsteps inside.A shadow crossing the peephole.The click of a deadbolt.
Geri Crane looked older than she had at the library—or maybe just more exposed, the professional composure stripped away.Her gray hair hung loose around her shoulders instead of pinned back.She wore a cardigan buttoned to the throat despite the warmth, arms wrapped around herself.
"Ms.Warren."Her voice was barely above a whisper."You came."
"You invited me."
"I know.I just—" Geri's eyes darted past her, scanning the empty street."Come in.Quickly."
