“You know, you really don’t need to keep carrying around that mace. If I had sinister intentions, I probably would’ve acted on them by now.”

Wilder Monroe perched far too comfortably on the arm of Sydney’s faded navy blue couch. As if he hadn’t just barged into her life and dropped a bombshell.

A bombshell that couldn’t possibly have any truth to it. She shook her head. “Nope, I’ve watched enough episodes of Dateline to know the smarter the criminal, the more they’re willing to take their time, wait for the perfect opening or opportunity to carry out whatever dastardly deed is on their agenda for the day.”

Wilder popped the tab on the Diet Coke she’d given him after finally allowing him inside. Considering the way he kept rubbing his knee, she probably should’ve handed him an ice pack.

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. You think I’m smart.” He took a swig. “Also, I like your use of the phrase ‘dastardly deed.’ If I ever do become a lawbreaker, I’m going to use that in my job title. Doer of Dastardly Deeds. Sounds fancier than plain old criminal.”

Mace canister still clutched in her right hand, Sydney freed herself of the tie that had been strangling her all day and toed off the clodhoppers that were part of the restaurant’s dress code. She’d never really appreciated them until today’s unwelcome run.

Possibly a very unnecessary run if Wilder Monroe really was who he said he was. And she was getting the discomfiting feeling that might actually be the case.

She dropped onto the blush-colored recliner she’d picked up at the Thrift Mart years ago—the first piece of furniture she’d ever owned. The first thing to make her smile after being forced to drop out of college at the end of her freshman year. “Look, it’s been a long day, Mr. Monroe—”

“Wilder.” Another long gulp of his pop.

“If you could just explain yourself—and the quicker the better—I’d appreciate it.”

“A straight shooter. I like that.” He set his pop can on a coaster on the coffee table and slid onto a couch cushion. “Hey, you put down the mace.”

“Yeah, but it’s still within easy reach.” Next to her cell phone on the end table. She might’ve let the man into her apartment, but if things went awry, she could always mist the guy with one hand and tap out a 9-1-1 call with the other.

“Got it. Listen, this is weird, I know. I approached you all wrong. I get that. I apologize—again. And I probably need to be honest with you and say right up front that this is all conjecture at this point.” He rubbed his cheeks with both palms and sighed. “But I made the mistake of telling Maggie I had a lead, and the next thing I know, she’s begging me to go to Chicago and fetch you.”

Maggie—her supposed grandmother. Impossible. “Fetch me?”