“Nathan, seriously, what brings you by?”

“I have two weeks off now, instead of just the one. I’m supposed to rest and recuperate and watch my dad waste away in a hospital bed. I want to stay hopeful, but I have to prepare myself for the fact that he might not ever wake up. Even if he does, who knows if he’ll be able to communicate.” Nathan rose, fisted his hands, and paced the porch.

“And you need to know what cold case he was looking into when he was shot.” She lowered her voice. “I was up in the attic earlier to see if I could find the originals or even copies of the articles Dwayne had given him.”

“And?”

“Nothing yet.”

“There’s something else,” he said.

“Go on. I need to know everything.”

“Brace yourself.” Nathan stopped pacing and stood next to her. He gently guided her off the porch and around the house to the backyard until they stood by the freshly planted pansies, away from anyone who could possibly overhear them.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

He leaned closer and whispered, “Your mother suggested that someone could have intentionally taken out the dam.”

Erin took a step back. “What? Are you serious?”

Nathan held her gaze. “Dead serious.”

She pressed her palms against her eyes. Her mother was losing it. Either that, or she had already lost it.

Lord ... help me.

Erin dropped her hands. “Are you dismissing her suggestion?”

“I saw Henry today and asked if he thought the dam breaking could have been deliberate.”

Hugging herself, Erin waited for the rest.

“He threatened to give me three weeks. I mean, who under normal circumstances wouldn’t want three weeks off, as long as they’re getting paid?”

“Someone who wants answers. I think your father never got the chance to tell you the most crucial information that he wanted kept secret.” Still ... Erin measured her next words. “That said, when someone is under tremendous pressure, they often give something away. Hint at what’s bothering them, or what they’re hiding, without realizing it. So think back and try to remember everything he said. How he said it, that sort of thing.”

Nathan stared through her as he swatted away a buzzing insect. “I considered telling Henry about what Dad said, then realized Dad didn’t tell me much, and now they’re already looking into his past cases to see if there’s anything that could be tied to this shooting. But if Dad was right and there was some sort of cover-up, we might never know the truth, especially since I overheard Henry telling Dad’s boss that nobody would be digging into things here.”

Nathan’s dark-brown eyes had grown even darker. Erin chewed on that information for a few moments. What could that mean? Sheriff Henry Gibson was one of the good guys. They had to be missing something.

Lord, how do I help him? “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going home to pack. I’m taking the first flight in the morning to Boston. Going to go into my dad’s house. I have his key.” He dangled the key ring from his finger.

The news shouldn’t have surprised her. But fear for his safety squeezed her heart. After all, his father had been shot and possibly for what he knew. She’d even encouraged him in this quest. But now she regretted it.

“Nathan . . . I . . .” She stepped forward, intending to dissuade him.

“How’s your mother doing? Is she okay?” He’d redirected the conversation, the look in his eyes a clear warning she shouldn’t try to change his mind.

Erin shrugged. “I think so, but she has her moments. She still doesn’t remember downing the bottle of pills. We don’t talk about it because it disturbs her too much, and that’s understandable.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

Nathan swallowed and stared at the grass, then glanced back up at her, myriad emotions surging in his gaze. “Are you going back to Seattle at some point?”