“Well, digital recordings. I had some cameras put in a few weeks ago. There’s one at the dock. Above my front door, the back of the main house, and on the rest of the buildings on the island, as well. I can give you my security company’s name. They can send the files to you. I think they keep the footage for at least thirty days. Or, I can log in from here if you’ll trust that.”

Parker let out a breath. “Thank God. Not to be a prick, but you’re new around here, and I know folks will want to point the finger at you before they’re willing to look at one of their own.”

“I get it. I really do. But I might’ve brought this trouble to your doorstep just the same.” Guilt gnawed at my belly, burrowing deep and making itself at home.

Parker’s expression hardened. “This isn’t on you. And someone using your work to create pain and suffering pisses me right the hell off. We don’t know each other, but I look out for the residents of this county. I’ll do everything I can to find this sonofabitch.”

His vow should’ve made me feel better. And maybe Parker would find whoever had done this. But I couldn’t help but wonder if that only meant there’d be space for someone else to pick up the mantle.

23

Shay

Brody stared off into space as he half-heartedly poked at his dinner. He’d been like this ever since Parker had taken off. I hated everything about it. This sedated version of a man who was usually so vibrant and full of life.

I’d done what I could to bring him out of it. To be a comfort. I hadn’t shied away from his holding me, the brush of his hands, even though they were as dangerous to me as walking through a minefield without a map. Dangerous for my heart currently heading towards a cliff with a lethal drop-off. But when I knew Brody needed me, someone to tether him to the present, I couldn’t resist.

“What do you think? Yahtzee or a movie?” I asked.

“Huh?” Brody said as if just realizing I was there.

“Yahtzee or a movie when we finish dinner?”

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I’m not really in the mood for either.”

I set down my fork and scooted around the breakfast nook’s banquette so I was right next to him. I laced my fingers with Brody’s under the table. His palms were rough, his fingers callused. But the coarse skin only made him seem more real. “I’m worried about you. I want to help, but I don’t know if what I’m doing is making things worse—”