Page 79 of The Reaper
“Jesus, Meggie.”
Caleb’s voice was low. “This was left here sometime after close last night. No sign of forced entry. No cameras on this hall yet.”
Dean’s gaze snapped to him. “Yet?”
“They’re going in this week,” Caleb said evenly. “First priority was outside coverage. Now I’m rethinking that. Maybe we need cameras everywhere.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You said you were handling it. You didn’t say she’d be getting—” He cut himself off, looking at me. “—this.”
I stood, frustration bubbling up hot in my chest. “I didn’t exactly ask for it, Dean.”
“That’s not the point,” he shot back. “The point is somebody out there has pictures from thirty years ago and knows enough to put them under your door in the middle of the night.”
Caleb’s hand settled at the small of my back—steady, grounding. “We don’t know if this is about her, her parents, or the restaurant. Could be all three. Which means we work from every angle until we know.”
Dean gave him a look I couldn’t read—half skeptical, half considering. “What’s the plan?”
Caleb glanced at me. “First, get this scanned, bagged, and somewhere safe. I’ve got contacts who can run the handwriting. Then I want the lock on this door changed. Maybe I can get more cameras installed inside today.”
Dean grunted, but it wasn’t disagreement. “And finding out who the hell’s been walking into your life like they own it?”
Caleb’s voice went flat. “That’s already in motion.”
Dean set the photograph back on the desk like it might shatter. “Whoever this is, they’re getting too close. I don’t like it.”
“No one likes it,” I said, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The office suddenly felt smaller, the air too warm, like the walls had shifted in overnight to box me in. “I can’t even walk into my own restaurant without wondering if something’s waiting for me. I feel like I’m—” I broke off, searching for the right word. “—cooped up. Pinned down.”
Dean’s gaze softened in that gruff way of his. “You’ve been running yourself ragged between this place and whatever the hell this is,” he said, motioning toward the photograph. “You’re allowed to take a breath.”
“I don’t need a breath,” I lied. “I need to figure out who’s doing this and why.”
Caleb’s eyes were steady on mine. “You need both.”
Dean crossed his arms. “Here’s what I’m thinking. You finish dinner service tonight. I’ll stick around after close, keep an eye on Promenade—make sure nothing comes or goes that shouldn’t. You two—” his gaze flicked to Caleb, then back to me “—take a night out. Somewhere with noise and people. Somewhere you’re not looking over your shoulder every five seconds.”
I blinked at him. “You’re suggesting I go on a date while someone’s slipping notes under my door?”
“I’m suggesting you let someone else have your back for a few hours,” Dean said. “If you stay glued to this place twenty-four-seven, whoever’s behind this will start to think they’ve got you exactly where they want you—on edge and predictable.”
Caleb’s mouth tugged in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I like your uncle.”
Dean ignored that. “Go to a bar, a late dinner somewhere. Hell, get on a boat and float around the harbor for all I care. Just get out.”
I hesitated, because it felt backwards—running toward normal when my instincts were telling me to lock the doors and hole up somewhere no one could find me. But the truth was, the thought of staying here after close, pacing the empty dining room while the shadows crawled over the walls, made my skin crawl.
And there was another truth, one I didn’t want to admit in front of either of them: part of me wanted that night out with Caleb. Away from the notes. Away from the way my hands shook when I found the last one.
I sat back in my chair. “You’d really stay here?”
Dean shrugged. “I’ll bring a book. Trish can either stay here with me or camp out at the hotel. She’ll be fine, either way.”
Caleb glanced at me, his voice low. “It’s not a terrible idea.”
I looked between the two of them—Dean, solid and unflinching, Caleb, steady and watchful—and for the first time since I picked up that envelope, the knot in my chest loosened just enough for me to breathe.
“Fine,” I said. “One night out. But I’m not getting on a boat.”
Dean’s mouth curved just slightly. “Fair enough.”
