“No, I just . . . Never mind.”

She suspects something. You can’t let her leave now.

“I have to!” he exclaimed. “I’m not going to hurt anyone!”

Tessa edged closer to her purse, which she’d set on the office chair. “Why would you hurt anyone?”

“I’m sorry, no.” He stumbled for the right thing to say. “I need to leave.”

++++

Okay, at this point the guy was seriously weirding her out, but oddly enough, Tessa got the sense that he was more frightened than she was.

As she was sorting through whether to say something to him or just take off, she heard shouting coming from beyond the door in the main part of the bookstore.

“Where is he?” It was a woman’s voice.

“Who?” Rebekah asked.

“Timothy Sabian.”

Tessa edged the door open and peeked out. A desperate-looking, disheveled, middle-aged woman stood near Rebekah with her hand suspiciously stuffed into her purse.

From living with Patrick this long, Tessa had learned that a hidden hand is a bad sign since it might very well conceal a weapon—especially if it’s in a situation when you would expect the hand to remain visible.

She’s reaching for something. Pepper spray? A gun?

“He left already,” Rebekah told her.

“No! I know he’s here. He’s supposed to be here!”

The woman started searching the store.

Something’s really wrong with her. You need to get him out of here.

Tessa urgently asked Timothy, “Did you leave anything out there?”

“Just the journal I was reading from.”

“I’ll get it for you after you’re gone.” She took his hand. “Follow me.” Quickly and quietly, she led him toward the back exit.

Behind them, she heard the woman shrieking, “He killed my daughter. He killed her! That detective told me his name. Where is he?”

Tessa threw the back door open, and she and Timothy escaped into the night.

“What was that all about back there?” She was filled with a disorienting rush of nerves and adrenaline. “What did she mean by that stuff about you killing her daughter?”

“I didn’t. I swear.”

“But you do know what she’s talking about.”

“A young lady disappeared after my last signing. That woman must think I had something to do with that. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I would never hurt anyone.”

More shouts came from inside the bookstore.

“You should get out of here,” Tessa told him.

Spur-of-the-momently, she slipped the church bulletin out of her book and scribbled her contact info on it, then handed it to him. “Drop me a note and tell me a snail mail address. I’ll send your journal to you.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, now go.”

Timothy tucked something into her palm, thanked her effusively, and then hastened off into the night.

Tessa looked down and found that he had given her a letter opener that she hadn’t even seen him holding.

++++