However . . . there was still an unknown person out there who wanted Grace gone and who’d found another method to deliver increasingly upsetting messages.

Which brought him back to his earlier question.

Where did he go from here?

Nate had no idea.

At least the security cameras Grace was installing at her house would give her an additional layer of protection.

A good thing.

Because even if the Fred and Mavis investigations petered out, he had a gut-churning feeling the danger for Grace was ramping up.

17

AT THE KNOCK ON HER BACK DOOR, Grace set the kitchen knife on the counter, rinsed her sticky fingers, and twisted the knob.

“I’m ready to give you my recommendations, if you have a minute.” The security company rep lifted his clipboard.

“Sure.” She shaded her eyes against the sun, still high in the sky on this early Monday evening. “Come on in. It’s too hot to talk out here.”

He followed her into the kitchen. “If we’re in agreement about where to place the cameras, I’ll put together an estimate and email it to you tomorrow.”

Her phone began to vibrate on the counter, but she ignored it. “That works. Have a seat.” She motioned to the kitchen table, moving aside the vase of flowers from Kimberly.

She listened as he walked her through his rationale for the suggested placements.

“You also asked about interior cameras, but after assessing your existing setup and factoring in the visual surveillance I’m recommending”—the man indicated his diagram—“I think that would be overkill. If anyone tries to get in, we’ll capture an image from one of the exterior cameras.”

It was hard to argue with his conclusion, even if her inclination was to put a camera in every room and spring for full coverage of the yard.

“What you’re proposing makes sense. How soon can you install?”

“By the end of the week.”

Not as fast as she’d like, but she couldn’t expect same-day service.

“That’s fine. I’ll watch my email tomorrow for the bid.”

“I’ll leave this with you, in case you want to study it further in the interim.” He handed her a copy of the schematic, along with a card. “Anything else I can do for you today?”

“No. I appreciate you coming by so fast.”

“If people have security concerns, there’s often a reason for them. We may sell hardware and monitoring systems, but our real business is peace of mind.” He stood and inclined his head toward the vase. “Pretty flowers. Are you a gardener?”

“No. They’re from an acquaintance.”

“Impressive bouquet.” He fingered one spiky blue spray. “You don’t see many delphiniums in Missouri. Climate’s not conducive to them. Your friend must have a green thumb. I’ve never had any luck with these.”

“You garden?”

“Every spare minute I can squeeze in. This”—he lifted the clipboard—“is my job. Gardening is my passion. And I appreciate people who don’t settle for ordinary plants. Your friend grows quite a few flowers I don’t see often, including several old-fashioned varieties. Like this one.” He touched a stalk covered with purple, bell-shaped blossoms.