“Because it was the surest way to keep you safe.” He found the date in question when her notebook disappeared, scrolled back through the video on the front door, saw light sweep the garage doors in the lower corner of the screen, heard a car door slam. After that, nothing. He switched to the rear angle.
A shape moved out of the shadows on the house’s north side, wearing a dark coat, a cap, dark clothes. Conn registered jeans, boots, and gloves. The light was too dim to make out much more than a pale face, heading purposefully under the deck until reaching the doors into the walkout basement, where Cady’s studio was. A quick glance back toward the woods, then another to the south side, which framed the face perfectly in the moonlight falling on the yard.
Emily.
Cady’s breathing went shallow. Her hand covered her mouth as she watched Emily slide a key into the lock and open the door. Conn sped up the playback, compressing several minutes to just a few seconds, slowing back to real time when Emily appeared again. Cady’s notebook was in her hand.
Of all the people he suspected, Emily’s name wasn’t even on the list, but in hindsight, he saw everything he’d missed. None of the attacks were personal, not because the attacker was a diabolical evil genius intent on destroying Cady’s peace of mind, but because Emily didn’t really want to hurt her. The signs of a stealth attacker weren’t anything more than ease of access, using the key Cady kept in Patty’s house.
Cady’s face looked like every abandoned house he’d ever seen—empty, forlorn, like it was about to collapse from the inside. She stared at the frozen frame of her sister, the person she loved more than anyone else in the world, leaving with her notebook. Emily had reached in to dig a knife into Cady when she was at her most fragile.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She looked at him, her shoulders tense, her jaw set, fury seething in her eyes. “Sorry?” she repeated. “You’re sorry?”
She snatched up the car keys from the coffee table. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” She stopped. Rubbed her forehead with her thumb. The single word was so drenched in meaning and confusion, making him ache inside. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, look at him, just stood in the doorway. He could see her entire body trembling with rage. All she’d wanted was to come home, relax, rejuvenate, find her footing in the world again. Instead, in the space of one afternoon, he’d cost her what she valued most: relationships.
“I’m coming with you,” he said.
“No. Just … no.” She gripped her keys, her knuckles turning white from the strain. “We were wrong. There’s no real threat. Just my sister. It’s not a police thing. It’s a family thing.”
He’d known the hit was coming. The hit always came, but it hurt this time, more than it had ever hurt in his life. He nodded, closed the laptop, and watched her walk out of his life.
Conn stood inside by the big tree he’d cut down, the scent of pine and sap strong in his nostrils, and listened to the silence left in Cady’s absence. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. He’d done his job. But it had cost him everything. His career.
His chance with Cady.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The gates to Whispering Pines were barely open when Cady jammed the shifter into first and floored it. The tachometer leapt around the dial, the engine revving before she downshifted and pulled out onto the highway.
Twin streams of fury seared down her throat, into her stomach. Conn, who should have known better, installed security cameras on her property without her knowledge or permission. His high-handedness enraged her, but it was nothing compared to the hell she was about to rain on Emily’s head.
Her sister was home, using the two days the school provided seniors to study for finals. Cady braked to a halt outside her mother’s house, slammed the car door hard enough to rock the frame on the axles, and stormed up the walk. Her hands were shaking too much to get the key in the lock, so she banged on the door with her fist.
Emily opened the door, a lollipop in one hand. “Cady! What are you doing here?” She peered over Cady’s head. “Where’s your big lug of a shadow?”
She was going to brazen this out? No. Hell, no. “Give me my notebook.”
The words flew out like a slap, freezing Emily’s face midquestion. For a minute she thought about lying; Cady could see the deception cross her face, then crumple under the weight of Cady’s fuming thundercloud of anger.
“I can—”