Page 65 of The Deadly Shallows

“In an old boathouse—large enough to store several boats, but none were in it. It’s about a mile and a half from where she entered the road.”

“What did you find there?”

“The only things in the building were a small table and a knocked-over chair.” Mason was silent a moment. “There was blood on the chair.”

Noah shut his eyes, trying not to envision what they’d done to the woman he loved.

“I’m sorry,” Mason said.

Noah nodded, but words strangled in his throat.

Thankfully, Mason continued on. “Finn took samples. We’ll need a sample of Brooke’s to compare.”

“Okay.”

Brooke was studying him, but he’d hold off on telling her until he finished his call and could give her his undivided attention. “I’ll have someone here take the sample. Send Em over to pick it up ASAP. She’s running water samples from Caleb and Austin’s chemical dumping case, but I want this to be priority one.”

“Chemical dumping?” Mason said, surprise clinging to his voice.

“Long story. They’ll explain at case board tonight.”

“Roger that. I’ll call Em now.”

“Any other evidence?”

Mason exhaled. “Finn’s working the rest of the building, but so far not a thing. Whoever these guys are, it seems they got in and out with barely a trace.”

“Finn said he’ll bring the crime-scene photos and an up-close pic of the man we assume to be Saul to case board. Hopefully, Brooke can ID him.”

Noah prayed the same, prayed she’d be able to ID him from the photograph. Seeing the man who’d nearly killed her in the flesh at the morgue would surely be far more disturbing.

“Thanks, Mason,” he said. “We’ll see you at case board.”

The call disconnected, and Noah turned to find Brooke still studying him.

“Evidence of what?” she asked. “What did Mason find?” She clutched the blanket between her fingers.

Noah reached out, and she placed her hand in his.

“He thinks he found where they held you.”

She looked at the window, but he didn’t miss the tear running down her cheek. She swiped at her face with her free hand.

“Hey.” He caressed her palm with the pad of his thumb. “We’ll get through this. I’ll be here every step of the way.” And then? The thought of not . . . of Brooke not being permanently in his life. Of her not being his and he not being hers . . . it was too painful to think on. He loved her, and she needed him, so he’d be there as long as she wanted him, and if after learning the truth about his past and his future . . . if she walked away then, he’d understand. It would kill him, but he’d understand.

Tears tumbled down Brooke’s cheeks.

He ever-so-gently cupped her unbruised cheek. “I’ve got you.”

She nodded.

He took a stiff inhale, hating to pull her back to the painful conversation, but she needed to be aware. “Em’s going to need to come get a blood sample to compare to what they found.”

“Sample?” She furrowed her brow. “I heard you mention needing to take a sample, but what did they . . . oh . . .” Her lips tightened. “Blood?”

He nodded, fighting back the hot tears pricking his eyes. He couldn’t let her know how much what she’d endured—what they’d put her through—ate him alive.

THIRTY-FOUR