Page 50 of Crosshairs

A deep sigh came through the phone. “My husband leaves for work at six thirty. Can you be here at the house around seven?”

“I’ll be there. Thank you, Mrs. Dyson,” Ainsley said.

“It’s Hanover,” she said. “Caleb Dyson was my first husband and Hannah’s father.”

After ending the call, she turned to Linc and repeated whatConnie Hanover said, including that Hannah and her mother’s last names were not the same. “Not sure why, but she doesn’t want me to come until after her husband leaves. I’m going to call Sam to meet me there at seven, but you’re welcome to tag along.”

While Ainsley didn’t want to be taken off the case, she didn’t have a death wish—she wasn’t too proud to ask for help and protection.

“Of course.” Then he laughed. “If you hadn’t asked me, how did you plan to get there?”

She had to get her windshield fixed.

Gran texted that she was already in Cora’s ICU room, and this time Linc left his vest in the lobby before they took the elevator to the waiting room.

Linc squeezed her hand, sending a tingle up her arm. “Do you think it’d be okay for me to step in and say hi to Cora after you’ve had some time with her? Say in about fifteen minutes?”

“She’d love that.” Ainsley should’ve thought of that and invited him to see her aunt. “You want to come now?”

“No. You visit first.” He made a shooing sign with his hands. “Go on and see her. I’ll find a corner and take a quick nap.”

Ainsley didn’t remember this Lincoln Steele. Kind, caring, considerate ... Had he changed that much or had she been so focused on her dream that she really hadn’t known him at all? “Thank you,” she said softly, then turned to leave.

With a lighter heart, she walked to the double doors and pressed the button. Almost immediately, the doors opened and she hurried back to Cora’s room.

Gran looked up as she entered the room. “She dropped off to sleep, but she’s been asking for you,” she said, worry furrowing her brow.

“Do you know why?”

“No. She keeps mumbling something about diaries, but I can’t unscramble her words.”

Ainsley took Cora’s hand gently in her own. Her aunt stirred,and suddenly her eyes flew open. She clutched Ainsley’s hand, her bony fingers squeezing tight. “What are you doing in my house? No!”

“Aunt Cora, it’s me, Ainsley.”

At first she didn’t respond, then turned her head. “Ainsley? Oh good. You’re here.” The fear in her voice was gone.

“Yes ma’am. Who was in your house?”

Confusion clouded Cora’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You said someone was there.” Ainsley leaned closer as her aunt searched her face.

Tears formed in her eyes. “I ... don’t remember.” She sighed. “It’s like fog has rolled into my brain.”

“It’ll get better.” At least Ainsley hoped it would. “Linc’s going to pop in for a few minutes.”

Cora loosened her death grip on Ainsley’s hand. “That boy,” she said affectionately. “Don’t know why you let him get away.”

She supposed to her aunt, Linc was still a boy, but he was thirty-four, just like Ainsley. “He thinks a lot of you,” she said. “And he told me about the book he’s helping you with.”

“Book ...?” Her aunt squeezed her eyes shut.

“The one about your great-grandfather.”

Recognition lit her eyes. “Oh. Yes. How did I forget that?” She frowned, her face a picture of concentration. “There’s something I wanted to remember...”

“Could it be about diaries?”

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