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And that had to scare the hell out of our stalker.

Chapter Thirty

The gravel driveway to the Wylies' property crunched under my tires as I pulled up behind their modest farmhouse. Seven-fifteen in the morning, same as every day for the past week. Miss Laverne would already be up, probably helping Delilah cook breakfast despite the woman’s insistence that Miss Laverne was the guest.

The routine gave me something to focus on besides the constant worry gnawing at my gut. First, I checked in on Miss Laverne, made sure she felt safe and cared for, then I headed back to coordinate security measures with the team.

Evie and Aiden’s house was isolated enough to provide Joy with a semblance of security but close enough to civilization that help could reach her quickly if need be. Also, Aiden had installed quite the kick-ass security system at some point. Simon said it had something to do with the colorful family background he came from. There was definitely a story there, but I’d think about that later. Right now, I was just happy he had it.

While I was making my morning rounds, Jase was there with Joy, so everything was good.

I parked beside the house where the wooded area provided natural cover from the road. The Wylies lived on twenty acres of rolling Tennessee countryside, their nearest neighbor a quarter mile through the trees.

Peaceful.

Safe.

The kind of place where an old woman could recover from hip surgery without worrying about the outside world.

I grabbed the bag of groceries from the passenger seat and headed for the front door. Miss Laverne had texted last night that they were running low on coffee, and I'd picked up her favorite brand along with some licorice.

“Graham, sweetie!” Miss Laverne's voice carried through the screen door before I could knock. “Right on time.”

I stepped inside, immediately hit by the smell of bacon and fresh biscuits. Delilah Wylie was at the stove despite her recent surgery, moving carefully but determinedly around her kitchen.

“Mrs. Wylie, you shouldn't be cooking. I’m here every morning to be Miss Laverne’s helper.”

“Pish posh.” Delilah waved a spatula at me. “A hip replacement doesn't mean I've forgotten how to make breakfast. Besides, Laverne's been waiting on me hand and foot. Least I can do is feed everyone.”

Miss Laverne appeared from the hallway, fully dressed with her silver hair perfectly styled despite the early hour. “Don't argue with her, Graham. I learned that lesson forty years ago. When Delilah is in this kind of mood, there’s no stopping her.”

“What you can do is go holler for Jerome. He’s watching the news, and his biscuits will get cold unless you can pull him away.”

“Yes’m.” I went down the hall to the small living room and found Jerome in his recliner watching the news. They were doing a sports recap. “According to your wife, if you don’t come to the kitchen soon, your biscuits will get cold.”

He looked up at me and grinned. “She always says that, but that woman has been making sure my biscuits stay hot for over forty years.”

I laughed. That was the life. I wanted to be able to say the same thing about Joy forty years down the line. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He winked at me, and I wandered back to the kitchen.

Miss Laverne pressed a cup of coffee into my hands, and I sat down at the kitchen table. I loved this part of my day, with these thirty minutes of normalcy, surrounded by people who reminded me that good still existed in the world.

“How's our Joy doing?” Miss Laverne settled into the chair beside me at the table.

“Better today. Sleeping in for once.” I sipped the coffee, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. “She's been having nightmares since the SWATting.”

“That poor child.” Delilah shook her head as she loaded a plate with scrambled eggs and bacon. “What kind of monster terrorizes an innocent girl?”

“The kind we're going to catch,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

Miss Laverne studied my face with those sharp blue eyes that missed nothing. “You look tired, sweetie. Are you taking care of yourself?”

“I'm fine.”

“That's what men always say.” Delilah set the plate in front of me with motherly authority. “Eat. You're too skinny.”

I chuckled. I couldn’t think of a time since I started playing football in high school that somebody had called me skinny.