Zach sat heavily and for the first time put words to the terrible thoughts in his head. “I’m not sure. But look at this.” He tossed down the photos he’d taken of the razed properties.

Aidan shifted through the pictures. “Who ordered the demolitions?”

“I’m working on that.”

Aidan finished his beer, silent.

“I know. I’m crazy.” Zach shoved his fingers through his hair. “I feel crazy.”

“No.” Aidan shook his head. “Someone is systematically destroying evidence. Tommy either knows this, or…”

They stared at each other at the unspoken implication that Tommy could be behind any of it.

“You’re not crazy,” Aidan said. “And you need to get to Phyllis before someone convinces her to destroy any more evidence we can use.”

“We?”

“Partners,” Aidan said. “For better or worse.”

LONG AFTER Aidan had left, Zach stood on his back deck, staring out at the night, his mind whirling.

Arson.

Brooke.

Restlessness…

He was surrounded by the life he’d chosen, a life both exhilarating and challenging. He loved it. And yet there was no denying he’d shut himself off from the very thing that people would say mattered most.

Love.

Had he really done that because of losing his family so long ago? Or had it just been an excuse, a handy reason not to let himself get hurt? If so, that had backfired, because he’d gotten hurt, anyway. Whether he was ever with Brooke again almost didn’t matter—his emotions were involved.

She hadn’t come to him tonight, either. That left him two choices: be alone, or go to her.

Easy enough choice. He went inside and grabbed his keys, and then whipped open the door—to find Brooke standing there, hand raised to knock.

12

BROOKE STOOD on Zach’s front steps, having gotten his address courtesy of Dustin. One minute she’d been at her grandmother’s, absorbing the sensation of feeling at home inside a house for the first time in…well, ever, and the next, she hadn’t been able to stop her mind from wandering to Zach. She had no reason for being here. None.

Okay, that was a lie. She knew. And her body’s reaction to the sight of him, all big, bad and slightly attitude-ridden, cemented it.

She was here to, what had he said? Take it as far as they could.

He wore a T-shirt and jeans, no shoes, no socks. Simple clothes.

Not such a simple man. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” He let out a breath and hooked his hand around her elbow, pulling her up the last step and closer to him. In the dim light he was all lean lines and angles and hard muscle as he jangled his keys in his other hand. “I was just coming to see you.”

Her heart skipped a beat or two. “You were?”