Page 19 of Tactical Revival

My cell rings, so I withdraw it and breathe a sigh of relief at the name on the screen. “Thanks for calling me back,” I answer.

“Yeah, of course,” my old partner, Alaric Newman, replies. We’d worked side-by-side for nearly a decade before I left LA behind to move out here and join Knight Security. “How are things in your tiny town?”

“Busy. You?”

“Not bad,” he replies. “Wrenley is pregnant again, this time with twins, so we’re prepping the house.”

I laugh. “You did always say you wanted a soccer team.”

“You ain’t lying, my friend. I’m well on my way there.” He laughs. “So what’s up? Your message sounded urgent.”

“We’ve had a two of hearts playing card left taped to a gate at the scene of an attempted break-in.”

Alaric mutters something under his breath. “Copycat?”

“I don’t see how. Unless Morah has had visitors in prison or managed to recruit someone before we caught him.”

“I can look into that for you. Pull visitor’s logs and everything at the prison. How many bodies?”

“None so far. We only found the one card, but we had a possible kidnapping victim who was found unconscious on the side of a road in some brush and an attempted break-in.”

“Which is where you found the card.”

“Yeah.” I’m operating on the understanding that Kleo was likely victim number one. Maybe he got interrupted before he could grab her. Or maybe she was a way to draw me out—I’m not sure. But I can’t help but believe they are connected.

They have to be.

“No bodies, this isn’t like Morah.”

“I don’t think whoever is doing this is trying to kill anyone. Not yet, anyway. I think they’re toying with me.”

“Brought some LA to small-town Maine, huh?”

My stomach twists. “Apparently.”

“Well, listen, I’ll look into it for you and let you know what I find.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks. Good to talk to you.”

“You, too. Try to call me for something other than a case now and then, yeah?”

I chuckle. “Sure thing. Talk soon. Tell Wren I said hi.” I end the call and take a deep breath before climbing out of my truck and locking the door, then unlocking the front door of the B&B. Since it’s well past eleven at night, Margot has closed everything down, so I’m quiet as I make my way into the kitchen.

A bright green sticky note stuck to the counter catches my eye. With a grin, I lift it, reading Margot’s familiar handwriting.

You didn’t make it home for dinner, so there’s leftover spaghetti in the fridge. I also grabbed a pie from Kira’s Bakery and managed to save you a piece. Enjoy! -Margot

The stress of the day melts away at the mere idea that she was thinking about me after what happened this morning with Bradley. And, with a smile still on my face, I head down the hall and toward her office where I still see a light.

My affection for her grows when I move into her office space and see her sleeping at her desk, her head down, the black-rimmed glasses she occasionally wears partially off of her face. Her hair is braided over her shoulder, and she’s wearing green flannel pants and a sweatshirt.

She’s beautiful.

Perfect.

It nearly hurts me to see. Moving forward quietly, I stop beside her, then glance down briefly at what she was working on.

I see a manila folder open with the papers Chad brought to her, as well as a list of bills written on a tablet, alongside a bunch of outstanding notices beside her. My heart aches when I note the total cost circled at the bottom. Twelve thousand dollars. Is she struggling more than she let on? She’d had to let go of what little staff she had, I knew that, but is it worse than I thought?

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