Shay swallowed hard as if she saw the scene right in front of her. “An ambulance came, and when they asked her what’d happened, she said that Michael had stepped on her fingers and she’d lost her grip. He insisted that it was an accident and started to cry. But when they loaded her into the ambulance, I looked at him, and he was smiling. On the way home, he said, ‘I guess she won’t be playing with us anymore.’”
I pulled Shay closer to me. I couldn’t imagine trying to wrap your head around that as a child. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s not the half of it. One friend I made, who was terrified of snakes, found one in her locker at school. Another had her bike smashed with a bat. At some point, I just stopped trying. It was easier that way.”
“But you were alone.” I wanted to erase it all. Every painful moment. I wanted to paint over her past so there was no more hurt or loneliness. But I couldn’t. And as much as I wanted to, those experiences made Shay who she was today. And that was a woman I was falling in love with. So, how could I wish her away?
“I was. But I got used to it. And once it becomes your normal, it’s really hard to break.” She tipped her head back so her gaze met mine. “It’s not always that I even want to push people away. It’s just habit. But with you…I’m scared. If anything happened to you. If Michael hurt you—”
“He won’t.” I pressed my lips to hers. “He doesn’t know where you are. He has no clue who I am. We’re safe here.” Or as safe as we could be when there’d been a murder just ten minutes away. But I wasn’t about to let my worries and fears fuel Shay’s.
“I just want you to understand why it’s hard for me. I’ve never been able to have this before. For a million different reasons. And it’s hard for me to trust that I’ll be able to have it now.”
My fingers tangled in Shay’s hair, tipping her head back. “You’re going to have it all. Everything you want. A big, beautiful life full of friends and music.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I knew I was right because I planned to make it so. I studied her face before I spoke. “Don’t be mad…”
Shay grimaced. “Just the sentence every woman wants to hear.”
I chuckled. “I hired a P.I. to do some digging into Michael.”
Shay sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist. “You did what?”
I pushed myself into a sitting position. “I hired a private investigator. Someone who has done some incredibly sensitive work for Carson. I trust him implicitly. And I’m having him look into Michael. Keep an eye on things.”
“You should’ve asked me first. This could lead him straight to you if he figures out someone’s watching him.”
I took Shay’s hand in mine, tracing circles on her palm with my finger. “I probably should’ve. But you were so locked up. I didn’t want to push, and I needed to know you were safe. That Michael was where he was supposed to be.”
“Is he? Where he’s supposed to be, I mean?”
“Dante ran surveillance last week. So far, everything adds up, but he had to leave for another job. I’m going to get him to do a deeper dive when he’s finished.”
“Brody,” Shay cut in.
I squeezed her hand. “I need it. I’ll have him check out Michael, and then I’m going to have him look into things on Anchor.”
Concern filled Shay’s expression. “You’re worried this person is going to kill again.”
My jaw worked back and forth. We hadn’t learned much about the murder that had taken place a few weeks ago, but the man that was killed didn’t have a shortage of enemies. Parker had filled us in that he was an avid gambler and a heavy drinker. He owed a fair number of people significant money. Parker’s working theory was that someone who wanted to kill the man had seen news coverage of my case back east and used it to cover up a revenge killing.
It was a fair theory, but something still had me on edge. Maybe it was simply because I’d been down this road before, and it had wrecked my life—and that of so many others. “I want to be sure. Having Dante look into things will give me peace of mind. And maybe it’ll give the same to you.”
Shay tugged her hand free of mine and framed my face. “How did this happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“What were the chances that you would decide to move here of all the places in the world? That you would buy the island that I was working on? That I would find you. And that you would be just what I need?”
A burn started low in my gut. “Shay—”
She put a finger over my mouth and pressed her lips to my temple. “Thank you.”
I sat in one of the Adirondack chairs on the front deck and watched Shay move from the chicken coop to the greenhouse. It had been hard for me to let her go this morning. But she’d looked at me with a stern expression and told me that this shift in our relationship couldn’t change her job. I understood that. She was holding onto a piece of normalcy she so desperately needed when the rest of her world was changing.
I’d give her that. So much of what she did was things she loved. The chickens, the gardening. I grinned as I thought about her cussing up a storm while trying to fix our generator. Maybe that wasn’t her favorite. But I knew she took immense pride in mastering it. So, things would stay as they were in that arena. And I would just have to trust in the security system I’d had installed. And in the other measures I was taking.
I pulled out my phone and hit a contact from my recent calls. The phone rang twice before someone answered. “Dante.”
“It’s Brody.”
“You’ve got good timing,” he said, the growl of an engine turning over sounding in the background.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m just leaving a meeting with the parole officer.”
I sat up straighter. “You’re in Seattle?” He was supposed to be booked up for at least another week.
“Finished up that job in Montana and something pulled at me to do another assessment of this guy.”
“And?”
“Everything’s good on paper.”
My hand tightened around my phone. “Why doesn’t that sound like a good thing?”
Dante chuckled, but it wasn’t a particularly pleasant sound. “You’ve been in what amounts to prison for ten years. You just turned twenty-one and have your first taste of freedom. What would your first stop be?”
I had to think about it for a minute. “A good meal. A beer. Seeing the people I care about.”
“He hasn’t done any of that. I mean, he eats, but he doesn’t go to bars. Doesn’t get laid. Doesn’t see anyone from his old life. As far as I can tell, he goes to work at this computer help desk place and then comes home to his shitty studio apartment. He doesn’t see a soul. No calls to or from his cell, other than to order takeout. I don’t like it.”
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. “This guy isn’t exactly normal. From what his sister has told me, he doesn’t have it in him to care about other people.”
“I know what you said. And I’ve been doing a little reading on the subject—the condition this guy has. Something tells me this is all a show he’s putting on for anyone who might be watching.”