“We need to keep her safe.”
Sullivan studied him. “Getting attached to a civilian consultant is dangerous, Detective. Especially in a case like this.”
“Professional concern.” Even to his own ears it sounded hollow.
“Right.” Sullivan’s tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “Well, professionally speaking, Miss Hawthorne should be warned to be careful. The Aldriches have eliminated threats before. They won’t hesitate to do it again.”
After the meeting, he sat at his desk reviewing the day’s finds, but his mind kept returning to her pale face and cold skin, the way she’d trembled from the intensity of her experience. He’d seen witnesses traumatized by crime scenes, informantsterrified of retaliation, victims struggling with PTSD. But he’d never encountered anyone who absorbed others’ fear and pain so completely.
His phone buzzed with a text message.
Vivienne Hawthorne
Recovered. Thank you for getting me back safely. If you need more information about the location or the Aldrich family’s history, I’m available tomorrow.
He stared at the message, recognizing her determination to continue helping despite the physical toll. He should tell her to stay away, to let the professionals handle it from here. But her insights had been invaluable, and her family’s knowledge of Westerly Cove’s hidden history might be crucial to finding Melissa Clarkson.
Brooks:Get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.
He secured everything and prepared to leave for the night, thinking about Traci and the last case they’d worked together. He’d ignored her instincts then, dismissed her concerns, insisted on following procedure over intuition. It had gotten her killed.
Now he worked with someone whose entire approach relied on intuition, whose methods defied every principle of logical investigation he’d ever learned. Yet those methods produced results. She had led them to proof, identified patterns the official investigation had missed, connected historical crimes to present-day cases.
Maybe this time, he needed to trust something he couldn’t fully understand. Maybe this time, listening to impossible insights would save lives instead of costing them.
He locked up the station and headed toward his car but found himself driving past The Mystic Cup first. The lights inher apartment stayed on, warm against the October darkness. He sat in his car for a moment, making sure she was safe before heading home.
Tomorrow they would continue. Tomorrow he would have to decide how much he was willing to believe, how far he was willing to go to find the truth. But tonight, he just needed to know that the woman who’d risked her wellbeing to help find Melissa Clarkson was safe and recovering.
Professional concern, he told himself. Nothing more.
But as he drove away, he knew he was lying.
NINE
vivienne
The bellabove The Mystic Cup’s door chimed at nine-fifteen. Vivienne looked up from the ledger where she’d been recording yesterday’s inventory, expecting a customer. Instead, Dawn, her cousin, stood in the doorway, backpack slung over one shoulder, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt.
“Dawn?” Vivienne came around the counter. “What are you doing here?”
Her cousin pulled her into a fierce hug. “You texted me three days ago saying you were helping investigate a missing person case. Then nothing. I got worried and drove down.”
“I’m sorry. Things have been hectic.” Vivienne locked the shop door and flipped the sign to closed. “Come upstairs.”
In the apartment, Dawn settled at the small table by the window while Vivienne put the kettle on.
“So. Tell me what’s happening.”
Vivienne took a breath. “The Aldriches are behind it. The missing historian, Melissa Clarkson. We found evidence yesterday that she’d been held at the hidden cove. And we found Lily Morgan’s remains in the coastal caves.”
Dawn’s voice went sharp. “The Aldriches killed Lily?”
“Winston Aldrich himself. And I think they killed my mother too.” Vivienne poured hot water over tea leaves. “Brooks—the detective—he’s starting to believe me. We’re building a case, but we need more than visions.”
“Then let me help.” Dawn leaned forward. “I can go to the town hall, research their business dealings. No one suspects a tourist asking questions about local history.”
Vivienne studied her cousin’s determined expression. “It’s dangerous.”
