Conor was quiet for a minute. He’d be at the bar at this hour, but from the lack of noise behind his voice, he was probably sitting in the tiny back office with the door closed. Though on a weekday between lunch and dinner, the tavern would be fairly quiet. His siblings would be preparing for the evening rush. “You really think this museum robbery could be connected to Nathan’s disappearance?”

Through the windshield, Danny scanned the quiet street. Solid homes, mature trees, and well-tended yards should give him a case of the warm and fuzzies. But the bright sun shining down on Huntsville couldn’t chase away the bad vibes buzzing through the fresh air. “I can’t figure out how Nathan could possibly have pulled it off, but I do. Don’t forget he’s had four months to get his act together. Something bad is going to happen here.”

And there it was. Danny had said it. He hadn’t experienced this sense of impending doom since he’d left Iraq, where people were trying to blow him up every minute of every fucking day.

“How are you?” Conor asked the hard question. “Maybe you need to come home for some more therapy.”

Danny thought about it. “It’s not post-traumatic stress. This is different. The best way I can explain it is that my PTSD is like a nightmare, and I’m wide awake. There’s danger here. How are things there? How’s Jaynie?”

“She’s holding up.” The heavy breath on the other end of the line signaled he’d hit the mark. Conor was giving in. Jayne did a damned good job of putting on a happy face, but behind the mask, fear lurked. The three Sullivan brothers had a pact to take care of their sister. “What do you want me to do?”

“Can you go to Bangor and see what’s what?” Danny started the engine. “I’m still nosing around here.” He told Conor about the disappearance of the fisherman and his son.

“So, you burned down Reed’s house, and a couple of people vanished?”

“Yeah. That sums it up.”

“I can clear my schedule tomorrow and head to Maine the day after. Does that work for you?”

“Thanks, Conor.”

“Be careful, Danny. It would kill Jaynie to lose you.” Conor tossed Danny’s strategy back at him.

“Is Reed there?”

“Yeah. Let me get him.”

Danny apologized for setting Reed’s house on fire, but his almost-brother-in-law wasn’t angry, just worried. They sorted through a few insurance details, and Danny told Reed about his meeting with the detective. Reed wasn’t happy but thanked him for the information. He punched END.

Danny hadn’t exaggerated to his brother. He’d simply verbalized the persistent itch between his shoulder blades. There was no need to convince Reed that Jayne was still in danger. The former cop’s instincts were in line with Danny’s.