Silence returned, but not the kind that settled. This one shifted and tugged at the edges. Then, as they hit the long, flatstretch outside Waverly Junction, Graham spoke again. “How are the girls? I read about Olivia, Sophie, Izzy, and Ruth in the papers.” A pause. “I’m sorry, Char.”
She kept her eyes on the road, blinked once to clear the sting behind them. “Molly didn’t make the papers. Thank God. She had her own hell.”
“Are they okay?”
“They’re scarred. But they’re survivors.”
She felt him nod beside her before saying, “Well… look at their mom.”
That hit harder than she expected. She swallowed against it.
“And though I never met Chuck,” he added, “I’m sure they’ve got some of him in them too.”
Charlotte’s mouth lifted, just a little. “We were in the middle of planning Liv’s wedding when this all started.” Her voice softened. “She’s engaged to a fire captain. Jackson Reynolds.”
“Brave guy,” Graham said. “Coming into the family of the Everhart ladies.”
She nodded once. “The girls and I were out to dinner when another tidbit happened. Flowers showed up at the table. A card. White gardenias.”
Even without looking, she felt the way he went still. “Damn it,” he muttered.
Then: “Why don’t you have a protection detail?”
She didn’t answer.
He turned toward her, voice harder now. “You ditched your detail.”
Charlotte didn’t deny it. Just kept her eyes forward and gave a half shrug.
He made a low sound—half frustrated, half exhausted—and started singing “My Way” under his breath.
That got a smile out of her. Barely. But it was something.
“Talk to me, Char,” he said after a moment, quieter now. “If I’m doing this with you, I need to know what I’m walking into.”
She hesitated. Then, slowly: “Molly’s married to Ethan Hayes. FBI. Resident agency head. They’ve got a son, Wyatt.”
“Okay.”
“Izzy’s engaged to Brad Killian. District Commander, Highway Patrol.”
He gave a short exhale.
“Ruth’s with Noah Kaldor. Assistant U.S. Attorney.”
Charlotte saw him glance at her from the corner of her eye.
“So you’ve pissed off two federal and one state agency,” he said.
She didn’t respond. Just kept driving. The silence grew heavier. And then, the question came, same as it always had with him—blunt, well-aimed. “Char… who are you really worried about upsetting?”
Her grip tightened on the wheel. He still read her like a damn book. Even after fifteen years.
She took a breath, long and steady, and let it out. “Alex Marcel.” The name tasted different coming out now. She hadn’t said it out loud since she left the house. “He’s another Assistant U.S. Attorney,” she added.
“Does he know where you are?”
She shook her head. “No.”
