Her voice trailed off and Avery’s heart twisted. Nana and Pop had been married for almost sixty years. His death two years ago had been hard on her. Avery’s dad had been their only child, which made the two grandchildren all the family Nana had left. It was one of the many reasons Avery and Savannah had decided to return home. Nana had helped raise them. They both wanted to support and be there for her.
“I’ll take a quick look in the shed,” Avery said. Finding the notebooks could unlock the case. It didn’t make sense to wait. “Be right back.”
Weston stood. “I’ll come with you.”
They grabbed their jackets and flashlights, heading out the back door. Nana lived in a neighborhood, but all of the properties consisted of two acres or more. The sheds were close to the fence line.
“You have a great family,” Weston said.
“Thanks, I think so too.” Grass crunched under Avery’s shoes and her breath puffed out in front of her. “Sorry about all of the questions. Nana and Savannah could get jobs with the CIA as interrogators.”
Weston chuckled. “I suppose it’s only fair that I take a turn in the hot seat. I must’ve asked you dozens of personal questions today in your office.”
He had. And Avery had to admit sharing so much about her life with a stranger had been a bit off-putting. But Weston didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. Over tonight’s dinner she’d learned a lot about him. His father was a pilot, his mother a nurse. He had one younger sister. Weston had played football for most of his life, gaining a scholarship to college, then going professional right after graduation. Later, he joined law enforcement working his way to becoming a Texas Ranger.
They reached the shed. Avery retrieved the key from its hiding place under a nearby rock and opened the padlock. The doors creaked on their hinges. It smelled of wood chips and sawdust. She fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on. Tools sat precisely in their place on the peg board, frozen in time, as if waiting for her grandfather’s return. Her heart twisted painfully.
Weston picked up a piece of wood. Half of it was whittled into an elephant. “This is beautiful work. His pieces are the one I saw in the living room.”
“Yes. Grandpa was a carpenter. He liked to say it brought him closer to Jesus.”
“That’s a nice sentiment.”
“I always thought so.” Avery gestured to the cabinets. “If Grandpa kept my dad’s notebooks, they’d be in there.”
They dug around inside the storage shed and chatted. The conversation was light. Avery asked Weston about football and he had her in stitches discussing some of the antics of the coaches and players. Thirty minutes later, they hadn’t found her father’s notebooks.
Avery closed up the shed and locked it. The cold bit into her cheeks. “Thanks for helping me look.”
“It was worth it.” Weston elbowed her. “I got to regal you with my best stories.”
“Confession time. I don’t follow football at all, so I had to search for you on the internet. The few articles I read said you were excellent.”
He shrugged. “It feels like a lifetime ago. But I enjoyed it. Running down the field, pushing yourself to the limits, and making a touchdown in front of a crowd…it’s a unique experience. But law enforcement fits me better. It gives me purpose.”
“My dad used to say it was a calling. I believe that.”
“Me too.”
His answer didn’t surprise Avery, but hearing the words still touched something inside her. She felt a camaraderie with Weston. He understood how much she valued her job, because he placed the same importance on his.
They started back across the lawn. Weston shone his flashlight into the trees. “I’m going to say my goodbyes now. We’ll stick to the plan. I’ll do a perimeter check of the neighborhood and wait for you to leave, then follow you home.”
They’d taken separate vehicles for this specific reason. Weston was hoping to flush out the killer. It wouldn’t peg him for the murder, but catching him in the act of stalking Avery would give them a good starting point.
A cold wind fluttered a leaf across the grass. The night was inky black beyond the flashlight’s beam. Was the killer out there? Was he watching? The hair on the back of her neck rose, but a steely resolve straightened her spine. If Weston’s theory was correct, it was better for the killer to be hunting her than some other unsuspecting woman. Especially since Avery had Weston as backup.
Come and get me, you monster. Step out of the shadows and show us who you are.
If the killer was stalking Avery, he hadn’t followed her to dinner.
Weston did two rounds of the neighborhood, then killed his headlights and let his truck drift to a stop on the side of the road where he had a clear view of the house. Wind snaked into the vehicle through the open window. In the distance, lightning blazed across the sky. More rain was coming. Somewhere an owl hooted and another answered.
His phone beeped with an incoming text message. He opened it and the image of a chubby-cheeked newborn filled his screen. Luke’s baby. They’d named the beautiful little girl Ava Marie Tatum. Weston’s mouth curved into a smile, but somewhere deep inside a jolt of pain ricocheted through him.
He sent a congratulatory message to Luke, then leaned his head against the back of his seat. His hand drifted to the chain around his neck. Weston pulled out the wedding rings from beneath his shirt. That initial jolt of pain spread into a familiar ache. Before Melissa was diagnosed, they’d talked about having a family. His finger traveled the edge of his wife’s band. It was half the size of his own. Toward the end of her cancer treatment, Melissa had lost
