Page 94 of Crosshairs

She stared at him. “Go on.”

“You think he wants that diary, so what if we set up a situation for him to get it?”

“What do you mean? How?”

“Why don’t you call him tomorrow, and while you’re talking to him, casually mention you’re moving the diary to a lockbox Monday morning.”

Ainsley’s muscles tensed. She saw through what Linc was trying to do. He didn’t think her father would show up to steal thediary. Could she pull it off? Of course she could. She’d worked more than one undercover operation that required her to snow the suspect. “Where is the diary?”

“In the Tahoe,” he said. “Locked in the console. I meant to put it in the safe when I came to pick you up, but you were at Rose’s ... and once I saw you, everything else left my mind. Be back in a sec.”

As hot as her face was, she was glad he’d left the room. What she wasn’t glad about was the way her attitude toward Linc was softening. But his plan made sense.

If her father was guilty, he would be here tomorrow night to get the diary, and if he was innocent ... she could apologize for real, but she didn’t think she’d be doing that.

48

Ainsley closed the safe and twirled the knob. Since her father knew the combination, she would remove the diary in the morning and take it with her.

Linc took her hand. “Are we good now?”

This was where she should tell him they didn’t have a future. That as soon as this case was over, she would be heading back to East Tennessee. But when she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “We’re good.”

Linc brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes that had escaped the band she’d used to put her hair in a ponytail while the medics dressed the wound. He pulled the band off, allowing her hair to fall around her shoulders.

“You never wear your hair down,” he said, winding a strand around his finger.

If she didn’t shut this down, she’d be in his arms again. “It’s usually too hot in Natchez,” she said, taking a step back.

Disappointment glinted in his eyes. “The style becomes you,” he said softly. Then he sighed. “You’re tired and need to get some rest. I’ll bunk down in the extra bedroom again.”

Tension eased from her shoulders, and she smiled. What was that Scripture verse? Something about two being better than one...

“What are you smiling about?”

“A verse Gran always said... two are better than one so if one fell down the other could help him up ... I can’t remember it exactly.”

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor,” he recited. “If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.”

“That’s it,” she said. “You read your Bible much?”

“Most days ... lately on my phone, though.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb as desire lit his eyes. He took a step back. “With that, I’m saying good night.”

She listened as his footsteps echoed on the stairs leading to the second floor. Linc had a peace she didn’t. Was it God? And reading the Bible?

Ainsley picked up Cora’s Bible on her desk and took it to the recliner. She wouldn’t even know where to begin. She thumbed through it, stopping where the ribbon bookmarked a page. It was probably the last passage Cora had read.

Her aunt had underlined verses in the fourteenth chapter of John, and she read it. Could she really have the peace it promised? She read it again, the words soothing her mind. When had she stopped believing God would help her? With a sigh, she closed the Bible and returned it to the desk. Linc said he read his on his phone. Maybe tomorrow she would download an app.

After sleeping fitfully, Ainsley dragged herself out of bed at eight o’clock. She’d heard Linc’s footsteps on the stairs and had purposely not gotten up. But now, the tantalizing aroma of coffee beckoned her. Cinching a robe at her waist, Ainsley trod the ancient oak floors to the kitchen that was miraculously empty except for bright sunlight.

A mug sat beside the pot of coffee along with her favorite hazelnut creamer. Seconds later, she lifted a cup of the strong brew to her lips. “Thank you, Lincoln Steele,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome.”

Ainsley jumped, almost spilling the hot liquid. “I thought you’d left,” she sputtered.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you sore?”

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