Page 96 of Before the Night Falls
The missing guard weighed heavily on Tyson’s conscience. Had Olivia’s attacker taken him? Killed him and hidden the body?
Or—a more disturbing thought—had Donald somehow been involved?
“Sir, if I may?” Hobbes hesitated, uncharacteristically uncertain. “Perhaps it would be prudent to consider relocating. At least temporarily.”
“Olivia suggested the same thing,” Tyson murmured. “She wanted to leave—without me, however.”
“Leaving is a sensible instinct, if I may say so. But I wouldn’t recommend she do so alone.”
“Running won’t solve this, Hobbes. Whoever is behind this has proven he can get to Olivia regardless of security measures. It’s better she’s surrounded by people who can protect her.”
Better she’s with me. Tyson didn’t say the words, though the thought resonated through him.
The older man studied him a moment. “You’ve grown fond of her.”
It wasn’t a question, and Tyson didn’t bother denying it. “This isn’t about feelings, Hobbes. It’s about keeping her safe.”
“Of course, sir.” But Hobbes’ expression remained knowing. Then he shifted and changed the subject. “I’ve prepared a light dinner. Should I bring a tray up to Ms. Montgomery?”
“I’ll take it.” Perhaps Tyson said the words too quickly. “I need to check on her anyway.”
As Tyson grabbed the tray from the kitchen, another idea filled his mind.
An idea that held the most promise.
An idea that could keep Olivia safe—and under his watchful eye.
But he had to convince her it was a good idea.
That might be the biggest challenge of all.
CHAPTERFORTY-NINE
Tyson knocked softlyon Olivia’s door. “Olivia? It’s Tyson. I’ve brought some food.”
After a moment, the door opened.
Olivia stood in front of him, somehow looking smaller with her hair damp from a shower and the oversized joggers and sweatshirt she wore.
But the haunted look in her eyes was what cut him to the core.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She glanced at the food he held before stepping back to let him in.
“I wanted to.” He set the tray laden with vegetable soup and homemade bread on her nightstand. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been drugged and left to die in a root cellar.” A ghost of her usual humor surfaced briefly before fading. “Sorry. Defense mechanism.”
“No apology needed.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in her lap and ignoring her food. “Any word on Donald?”
Tyson shook his head. “Not yet. I actually just got an update before I came up here. The police are still searching. However, they fear . . . they fear Donald might be the one behind this.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
He nodded grimly. “They found a mask in his house.”
Her breath caught. “And roses?”
