Eve pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped the chocolate residue from her fingers. “I’ve got a first-class system. Once I arm it, no one can get in without me—and the police—being informed.”

“But that wouldn’t prevent someone from leaving another bomb on the property.”

There was that.

“If this person comes back, I doubt they’ll try the same technique twice.”

At least she hoped not.

“You’re probably right. But I do hope you’ll be careful.”

“That’s my plan.”

“Well . . . you have work to do and I have a soap to watch.” She winked and rose. “If I can ever be of help, though, don’t hesitate to call. I may not move as fast as I used to, but I can dial 911 as quick as anyone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind—and thank you.”

“No thanks necessary. This is what neighbors do. Enjoy the rest of those brownies—and keep your phone close at hand when you’re outside . . . just in case.”

With that encouraging thought, her neighbor lifted a hand in farewell and recrossed the lawn.

Eve glanced around her backyard, a tiny tingle of trepidation prickling through her.

She didn’t need Olivia’s warning to remind her to be on red alert. Ever since she’d found the fake bomb, she’d been looking over her shoulder and jumping at every tiny noise—not how she’d ever intended to live her life.

So while reasonable precautions were prudent, she’d carry on as usual otherwise . . . although that would be much easier to do if the police identified the person who’d left the fake bomb.

She picked up her cell. Weighed it in her hand.

Brent Lange had said to call him anytime. All she had to do was scroll through her address book, press his number . . . and ask for an update.

However . . . if he had anything to report, he’d have called her—as he’d promised. The detective struck her as the kind of guy who kept his word.

She set the phone on the table and sank back in her chair.

Bothering him at work simply to hear his resonant, reassuring voice was selfish. For all she knew, the man could be at a crime scene.

So she’d wait for him to call her.

And until then, she’d continue to do what she’d been doing—and what Olivia had advised.

Be super careful.

Because even though her life had been quiet since Friday night, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was another threat hovering in the wings.

“Until next time, this is Carolyn Matthews signing off.”

Carolyn ended the podcast with one keystroke, sat back in her chair, and took a sip of water.

That had been an excellent program.

Excellent enough to deserve a slot on real radio.

Yet no matter how hard she’d pushed Doug, he’d given her no specific promises.