Chapter Four

      Caleb was pacing. An action he actively tried to avoid doing.

      For one, people who paced were not in control of their current situation. Hence the nervous movement edged with anxiety and uncertainty. His career—and his personality if he was being frank—had made his desire to be in control, well, desirable. So he wasn’t a fan of walking back and forth trying to burn anxious energy. Second, pacing usually meant someone was waiting for something to happen, and patience was also not Caleb’s strongest suit.

      Yet here he was, moving back and forth just inside the entrance of the courthouse on repeat. Burning a hole in the lobby’s faded carpet.

      It had been three hours since the fire alarm went off. Since there was no fire in the building, or even smoke, Caleb had put his bet on the culprit being a punk kid or a disgruntled attendee. Someone who wanted to break up their day with a little excitement. That is, until he’d seen the alarm that had been pulled.

      Smashed beyond recognition. Obliterated. It had been a miracle the sirens had managed to keep blaring after the alarm had been pulled and then destroyed. They’d had to wait for the fire department to shut it all down. One firefighter had whistled low at the broken shell of the alarm and asked what was the point of pulling it and breaking it.

      Caleb hadn’t had an answer. He’d officially gone on alert, a feeling of foreboding lying heavy in the pit of his stomach. Hours later, that heaviness hadn’t gone away. Not when deputies had come over from the sheriff’s department next door. Not when they had gone through the entire building, room by room, looking for anything suspicious. And not when the security footage hadn’t been helpful, thanks to a gap in the recording, which was due to poor funding.

      “It happens sometimes,” the other deputy had said with a shrug. “The courthouse isn’t the only place in town waiting on funding to come through to get a better system.”

      “Sounds like an excuse,” Caleb said beneath his breath. The deputy hadn’t heard him, and he wanted to keep it that way.

      Again, he didn’t know how Carpenter, or Riker County, truly worked. He didn’t know their struggles or their points of pride. Jumping to conclusions about a broken fire alarm at an underfunded courthouse wasn’t something he needed to do. He certainly didn’t need to overstep his job description by trying to investigate a situation that probably wasn’t anything more than someone caught in the heat of the moment and deciding to break something.

      At that thought, Caleb’s body went cold.

      His hands balled into fists.

      His thoughts turned tumultuous in a fraction of a second. Memories of what he’d done flew through his head.

      “Foster! Stop! Dammit, Foster! STOP!”

      But Caleb hadn’t stopped.

      And now he was in Riker County because of it.

      He began to pace again.

      * * *

      ALYSSA WAVED GOODBYE to Robbie and Eleanor. They drove away from the courthouse in Robbie’s little red pickup, both smiling as they disappeared down the street. Alyssa couldn’t help but smile too. There was nothing like spending a few hours at Danny’s—a local café with the best cake, according to Eleanor—with the couple to get her back into a good mood. Them laughing and smiling at each other had been contagious. Being with them always reminded Alyssa she was missing something they had been lucky enough to find. A partner. A best friend. Someone who would buy her morning cake without flinching.

      Being that close to such a strong couple brought out a sense of peace in her too. Like the sight of calm waters after looking over the edge of your boat.

      It had helped that, despite it being the day of the trial, they had sidestepped any talk of the Storm Chasers. It was a groove that had become familiar with them over the last year. A rhythm that had become second nature. They talked about happier topics, even mundane ones. Anything that filled the time.

      But now Alyssa was back, staring at the front of the courthouse.

      How she wished she could go inside, tell the jury what she’d seen and then watch as Dupree and Anna were led away in cuffs. Forever.

      Alyssa let out a long sigh. She still had a few hours to go before she could get her wish.

      “I might as well go soak in a bath,” she muttered to herself. If there was ever an answer to quell unwanted anxiety, a quiet, citrus-scented bath had to be at the top of the to-do list. She had started to walk around the building, mind already made up, when the sound of footsteps sounded behind her.

      “Excuse me!”

      Alyssa turned to see a man jogging toward her. He was brandishing a set of keys.

      “You dropped these,” he explained, motioning to where she’d been standing when she was dropped off.

      “Really?” Even though they were clearly hers—the wineglass pendant Gabby had given her was glinting in the sunlight—Alyssa still opened her purse to look inside and confirm they weren’t there. “Wow. I don’t know how I did that. I could’ve sworn they were buried in my purse.”

      The man pushed his glasses up his nose. Alyssa mimicked the motion on reflex. Gabby always made fun of her for the “nerd” move, but when Alyssa was around her own glasses-wearing kind, she was happy for the little inclusion.

      “You must have been thinking of other things,” he offered. “This Storm Chasers business has a lot of people around here distracted.”

      Alyssa took her keys and tried on a polite smile. Though she didn’t like the way the man had said “here,” she agreed with him.

      “Yes, it definitely has the attention of the entire community. It’ll be nice when it’s all over.” She jingled her keys, wanting to end the conversation. “Thank you for being less distracted than me.”

      The man grinned.

      “No problem,” he said. “Have a nice day.”

      The way he said the last part, just like the word here, was so odd that it caught Alyssa a little off guard. She hesitated a few seconds too long. His smile wavered.

      “Thanks again.” She tried to recover, heat exploding into her cheeks. She turned away and hurried to her car. When had she dropped her keys? And how?

      She tried to mentally retrace her actions, and none of them included her opening her purse, let alone taking her keys out.

      “Maybe I am way more stressed than I originally