Charlie cocked his head and offered a sly smile. “Only for the bad guy I’m chasing.”

As she rounded the corner of the house, Lane let out a hushed cry. “Wha—” She knelt to the ground and looked at her gardenias. The ones Charlie had given her. The white petals were scattered across the ground.

“Did an animal do that?” Charlie knelt down and fingered the splintered branches.

“A deer could, but they tend to stick to the tree line outside of town.”

Lane didn’t know why the sight of her flowers torn from their stems and pressed into the soil upset her so much. It was silly. They were just flowers. But they weren’t. Not to her. Unintentionally, Lane had assigned symbolism to these simple white blooms when she planted them. Hope. Promise. Expectation. It was irrational, she could see that now, but it felt purposeful at the time.

“I’ll get you a new one.” Charlie’s hand went to the small of her back. “To replace it.”

“No. There are still some buds on this one. It’ll survive.” Lane rose and pointed to a metal box attached to the house. “That’s the panel. Though, I’ll be honest, I don’t really know what I should be looking for.”

“We just need to find the wire to the security system. It should be marked.” Charlie opened the box. “Yep, right here. Hmm.”

“What is it?” Lane stepped closer. Warmth radiated from his skin and Lane forgot about her flowers. The beat of her heart filled her ears so loudly she was certain Charlie could hear it. She started to step back when something in the corner of the metal box caught her attention. Triggered something.

Charlie played with some wires and the house went silent. “You’ve got some frayed wires. Like something started chewing through it. I can’t imagine what since the box was closed but”—he looked up at her, the edges of his blue eyes crinkled—“what?”

Lane licked her lips, wrenching her eyes away from the toothpick. It wasn’t a coincidence, was it? The man who had come into her café was chewing on a toothpick. Had it been him the other evening too? Why had he returned?

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Charlie’s fingers brushed a piece of hair from her face, careful to avoid her bruised cheek. “What is it?”

Fighting to ignore the way his touch rattled her nerves, Lane shook her head. “Nothing. Probably nothing.” The words came out like they were stuck. “It’s . . . it’s a toothpick.”

Confusion drew Charlie’s brows together.