Page 20 of Plot Twist in Pelican Point
"Yeah?"
"Keep it between us."
"Always."
I end the call and lower the phone slowly, eyes returning to the dark outline of Kate’s cottage across the lawn. The windows are quiet, but I can imagine her inside—curled under a throw blanket, laptop glowing in her lap, hair twisted into that messy knot she pretends isn’t sexy as hell.
This stopped being about missing blueprints the second she got involved. She saw more than I did. And now I can’t stop seeing her.
She saw someone, and I believe her.
By the time the sun rises, I haven’t slept a damn minute. The scent of sawdust and oil still clings to my hands, and my shoulders are locked so tight it feels like I’ve been bracing for a fight all night. I’ve already walked the property—twice—rechecked every door, every window, like a man ready to tear someone apart if they so much as breathe in the wrong direction.
I ripped out the old hardware on the side door and replaced it myself. Wired in a motion sensor I’d been saving for the next security phase. Not because I had to—because I don’t trust anyone else to do it right. Because if I’m not reinforcing the walls around her, I’m going to start thinking about how close the threat really is.
The cameras show up by courier mid-morning. I don’t wait. I install them myself, every last one. Eyes on every angle. No gaps. No mistakes.
Not on my watch.
I don’t like what I think this is turning into. And I like even less how much of it revolves around Kate.
When I see her crossing the lawn with that familiar determined stride and another basket in her hands, I brace for it. She makes it halfway before I call out, "You know muffins aren’t going to make me talk."
She grins. "That’s a lie and we both know it." She tilts her head, all mock innocence. “You’re a sucker for warm carbs and sass. Admit it.”
"What’s the flavor this time?"
"Blueberry lemon. Thought you could use a little brightness with your brooding."
Her eyes flick to the camera I just finished mounting. "So... you believe me now."
"I always believed you."
Her brows arch. "Could’ve fooled me."
"I didn’t want to scare you."
Her voice isn’t accusing. It’s soft. Knowing. Like she sees the cracks I don’t show anyone else. She steps closer, basket cradled between us. Her voice drops. "But you are scared."
I meet her eyes. "I’m cautious. There’s a difference."
"Not from where I’m standing."
The wind shifts. A strand of her hair whips across her cheek and I have the stupid, reckless urge to brush it away. Instead, I step back.
"You got a minute?" I ask.
"Sure."
"Come inside."
The moment we step into the study, she walks straight to the desk and peers down at the partial set of blueprints I left out.
"These the ones they didn’t take?"
I nod. "Secondary layout. Not much use without the annotations. But someone out there knows exactly what those missing notes mean. And I’m running out of time to stay ahead of them.”
She traces a line with her finger. "And you think someone wanted the originals for a reason."
