Page 92 of Taken Away

“He is,” Bennett said. “He thinks you’re part of the perimeter now.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the soft hum of the fridge and Moose’s slow breathing. Sitting inches apart in the dark, the air felt thick. In her soft sweatpants and oversized tee, she looked more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her, and his gold-flecked eyes tracked every flicker across her face with an unreadable focus.

“It was different today,” Aubrey said finally, her voice low. “Hearing Burke say it out loud. ‘Homicide.’ Seeing them in her room. The cameras. The bags.”

“Yeah,” Bennett said. “It was different.”

He stared out at the glass for a beat. “I keep replaying it,” he went on. “Finding her. Thinking she… went in her sleep. Kincaid saying natural causes. Moose losing it outside the door. And I still walked out of there and told myself it was fine.”

“You couldn’t have known,” she said, a little too quickly.

He gave a small, humorless huff. “Maybe not,” he said. “Doesn’t mean it sits easy.”

Aubrey’s fingers curled in Moose’s fur. “I keep thinking about that window,” she whispered. “The latch. If he was there for me too. If Moose hadn’t barked, or if the storm had been louder…” Her throat closed around the rest.

Bennett’s gaze shifted to her, sharp and intensely steady across the expanse of the cushions. “He didn’t get you,” he said. “You’re here. He doesn’t get you.”

There was no bravado in it, just a flat certainty that settled somewhere deep under her ribs.

She swallowed. “Do you really think I’m safe here?” she asked. “Or are we both pretending so we don’t go insane?”

Bennett looked around his own house, like he was taking inventory. “I built this place to be hard to get into,” he said. “I know every inch of the land around it. Moose knows every scent that doesn’t belong. Burke’s got a patrol car swinging the ridge road. Is it perfect? No. But it’s a hell of a lot better than you alone in that house tonight.”

Aubrey nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said. “That’s… something.”

She shifted, the sofa creaking under their combined weight and the enormous dog between them. “I really did think I was coming down here to sign some papers, tell everyone thank you, and go back to Philadelphia,” she said. “Now I’m hiding on a mountain because my aunt was murdered in her bedroom and I apparently have a target on my back.”

Bennett let out a humorless breath. "Hell of a homecoming," he said.

She shot him a look.

He held her gaze for a long moment before his eyes drifted, almost against his will, to her lower lip.

"You can still go back," he added. "When this is done. When it's safe."

“Can I?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze settled on her mouth for one beat before rising back to her eyes.

“Tonight you can sit on my couch,” he said at last, his voice dropping into a rougher, lower register. “That’s as far ahead as I’m planning.”

Moose shifted again, resettling his head heavily on Aubrey’s lap. Her hand went automatically to his fur.

“You should try to sleep,” Bennett said, pulling back his professional distance with an effort. “You’ve got a homicide investigation, a winery, and three spreadsheets yelling at you in the morning.”

“You’re really not going to let that cork discrepancy go, are you?” she murmured.

“Three grand is three grand,” he said. “Murder or not.”

Despite herself, Aubrey smiled. “I’ll try,” she said.

She didn’t move, though. Neither did he.

After a while, Bennett pushed himself to his feet, his frame cutting off the light from the island. “I’ll leave the light on over the island,” he said. “In case you decide this is more comfortable than the guest bed.” His gaze flicked to Moose. “Looks like you’ve already been claimed.”

Moose thumped his tail once without opening his eyes.

“Goodnight, Aubrey,” Bennett said.