“Maddie?” He stood in front of her now with his back to the front yard. His hands held her forearms in a gentle touch. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on?”

That familiar trapped sensation overtook her. The energy racing around inside her had her scooting away from him. She fumbled with her keys. The jangling rang out in the silence as she strained to get each lock opened and step inside.

“Wait here,” she shouted as she ran into the house without him.

“I don’t understand.” He followed her to the doorway and stopped, staring at her all wide-eyed and concerned.

He moved fast but she moved faster. Nothing hampered her movements and panic fueled her. She’d left all the lights on, so she could see every inch of open floor from the living area through to her dining room and kitchen.

She tore around the small space, grabbing supplies. “I need to save the evidence for fingerprints, even though there won’t be any.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” She brushed by him again, moving outside to pick up the letter by the corner with her now gloved fingers. “It doesn’t matter.”

He could have pummeled her with questions or taken over. Instead, he watched her, sticking close enough to put his body in front of hers, if needed, but letting her lead. “It clearly does.”

Within seconds, she grabbed the envelope before it could blow into the wet grass or tumble into the darkness where she couldn’t find it. Her hair fell out of its holder and swooped in front of her face. The sleeve of her oversized jacket slipped down over one shoulder.

She couldn’t imagine the sight she presented. A frenzy of action and fear. Even now she could feel her heart thudding as she concentrated on calming her breathing.

The truth hit her with a wallop—he needed to go. She couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to him because he’d tied himself to her. She’d started all of this with the idiotic break-in. Without that, they likely wouldn’t have met and he’d be chatting with Ben or Sylvia right now, safe somewhere, and not watching a wild woman drip water all over the entryway of her house.

“It’s late.” A ridiculous excuse to kick him out, but she didn’t have the energy to come up with anything else.

“It’s not even nine.”

“You don’t understand.” She had to stop pretending the threat was meant to scare her. This, another note so close to the first, felt like an escalation. This was serious, scary stuff and she didn’t know where the danger would come from next, or if the words would turn into the promised deadly action.