Whoever it was didn’t waste a second before they took off in the opposite direction of Lane and Noah.

“Hey!” Lane yelled, the echo of her voice filling the street. A man carrying a bag of groceries farther down the street stopped and turned. A mom driving a minivan full of kids turned the corner, pausing when she saw Lane and Noah still standing in the middle of the road.

Lane gave an apologetic wave and pulled Noah the rest of the way toward the café. What was that person doing? Was it the same man as before? Or someone else?

“Who was that, Momma?”

“I don’t know, buddy.” Lane unlocked the door of her café and flipped on the lights. Everything was as quiet as it was when she left it earlier. The only thing unsettled was her nerves—and the cure lived in the house behind hers.

TWELVE

“SO, THAT’S ATLANTA FALCON CLUB SEATS. Golf package at Turtle Cove in Hilton Head. And what’s in that box?”

Lane heard her sister’s voice, but it was muted. Fuzzy. Like it was when they were little girls and they tied paper cups to a string so they could talk to each other at night. But today it wasn’t a playful memory blurring the words or Lane’s thoughts. It was the man.

The stranger she had seen outside her café last night brought back the face of the man who’d been asking her about Mathias and Noah, haunting her fits of sleep. Was it the same person? Or maybe it was just someone looking to see if the café was open? A stranger, yes, but maybe not the man from before. The town was seeing an uptick in new faces as the investigation into Sydney’s death continued. She was just being paranoid, right? Or maybe she was looking for a reason to invite Charlie over. His presence seemed to be a balm to her soul, restoring peace to her life.

“Helloooo, Lane.” Meagan snapped her fingers in front of Lane’s face. “I’d really like to get these items recorded before the kids get out of school.”

“Sorry.” Lane dropped her gaze to the thin cardboard box in her lap. “This one doesn’t have a label.”

“Let me see it.” Meagan leaned over and picked up the box to inspect it. “If I didn’t know better I’d say it’s a man that’s got you all dreamy-eyed.”

“What?” Lane pressed a hand to her face. Was she smiling again? She’d caught herself more than once thinking about Charlie, and if her four-year-old was keen enough to see a change in his momma’s face, no doubt Meagan would zero in on it too.

Meagan’s hazel eyes met hers and then a coy smile spread across her lips before a squeal emerged. “It is a man?”