Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The concert was Tessa's idea, and Brian had almost said no.
Three days had passed since Sergeant Diaz's visit.
Three days of jumping at shadows, checking locks twice, watching the motion lights like they held the answers to everything.
The Chicago PD had confirmed that Marcus Webb hadn't checked in with his parole officer in two weeks.
His apartment in Wicker Park sat empty. No one knew where he was.
Which meant he could be anywhere. Which meant he could be here.
Brian had wanted to stay in. Lock the doors, keep the curtains drawn, wait for Sergeant Diaz to call with news. But Tessa had looked at him with those green eyes and said, "I can't let him take everything from me. Not again."
So here they were, spreading a blanket on the grass near the harbor as the sun began its slow descent toward the water.
The charity concert was drawing a decent crowd despite the circumstances of the week.
Families with coolers and lawn chairs. Couples with wine and cheese boards.
A group of teenagers sprawled on beach towels, already singing along to the sound check.
Brian scanned the crowd out of habit. No gray caps. No sunglasses. Just ordinary people enjoying an ordinary evening.
"You're doing it again," Tessa said, settling onto the blanket beside him.
"Doing what?"
"Looking for threats instead of looking at the sunset."
He forced himself to turn toward the water.
She was right. The sky was putting on a show, bands of orange, pink, and gold streaking across the horizon, reflecting off the bay in ribbons of liquid color.
The copper light that gave this town its name was in full effect, turning everything warm and soft.
"Sorry," he said. "Old habits."
"I know." She leaned into his side, her shoulder warm against his arm. "I do it too. But we're here. We might as well try to enjoy it."
The band took the stage, a local group called the Shoreline Drifters that Hank had recommended. They opened with something acoustic and mellow, the kind of music that invited swaying rather than dancing. Brian felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease despite himself.
"Brian! Tessa!"
He turned to see Bree waving at them from a few yards away, a picnic basket in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
Hank was behind her, carrying two folding chairs and looking amused.
Colby and Sabrina brought up the rear, Colby with a cooler and Sabrina with what looked like a plate of her famous brownies.
"Mind if we join you?" Bree asked, already spreading a second blanket beside theirs.
"Would it matter if we said no?" Brian asked.
"Not even a little." She plopped down on the blanket and began unpacking the basket: cheese, crackers, grapes, and little containers of things Brian couldn't identify but knew would be delicious. Bree never did anything halfway.
Hank set up the chairs and settled into one, pulling Bree into his lap instead of letting her take the other. She laughed and swatted his arm, but didn't move. Colby and Sabrina claimed a corner of the blanket, Sabrina immediately offering the brownie plate around.
"We heard about what's been happening," Sabrina said quietly, her eyes on Tessa. "Hank told us. I hope that's okay."
Tessa nodded. "It's okay. I'd rather you know than wonder why we've been hiding out."
"You're not hiding," Colby said. "You're being smart.
There's a difference." He stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles.
"For what it's worth, we've all been keeping an eye out.
Hank talked to some of the guys at the marina.
Tom Cooper's got the whole hardware store on alert. This town looks out for its own."
Brian felt something loosen in his chest. He'd known, intellectually, that Copper Moon was that kind of place. But hearing it spoken aloud, seeing the determination in Colby's eyes and the gentle concern in Sabrina's, made it real in a way it hadn't been before.
"Thank you," Tessa said, her voice thick. "All of you. I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything." Bree handed her a glass of wine. "Just drink this and listen to the music and let us take care of you for a few hours."
Tessa took the wine with a watery smile, and Brian felt a swell of gratitude so intense it nearly choked him. These people. This town. He'd stumbled into Copper Moon looking for escape and found something he hadn't known he was missing: a family.
The Shoreline Drifters launched into an upbeat number, and the crowd responded with cheers and scattered applause. A few couples got up to dance in the grass, their silhouettes dark against the fading sky. The first stars were appearing, pinpricks of light in the deepening blue.
"Dance with me?" Tessa asked, setting down her wine.
Brian looked at her. The copper light was catching her hair, turning the blonde to gold. Her eyes were bright, hopeful, a little nervous. She was asking for something normal. Something good. Something that had nothing to do with stalkers or fear or the weight they'd both been carrying.
"I'm not much of a dancer," he said.
"Neither am I. We can be bad at it together."
He took her hand and let her pull him to his feet.
They found a spot at the edge of the makeshift dance floor, away from the couples who actually knew what they were doing.
The song was slow now, something sweet and aching, and Brian pulled Tessa close without thinking about it.
Her arms went around his neck. His hands settled at her waist. They swayed more than danced, but it didn't matter.
"This is nice," she said against his shoulder.
"Yeah." He tightened his arms around her. "It is."
"I keep waiting for something bad to happen. For the other shoe to drop." She pulled back enough to look at his face. "Is that crazy?"
"No. It's survival mode. Your brain's been in it so long, it doesn't know how to shut off." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "But sometimes, the shoe doesn't drop. Sometimes, you just get to dance."
She smiled, soft and genuine. "When did you get so wise?"
"Somewhere between the first motion light going off and last night's Scrabble game." He'd won by two points. She'd demanded a rematch. "You bring it out in me."
"I think Copper Moon brings it out in both of us."
The song ended, and another began, but they didn't stop moving.
Brian was vaguely aware of catcalls from Colby's direction, but he ignored them.
Let him tease. Let the whole town watch.
He had Tessa in his arms and the stars coming out overhead and music filling the air, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt something close to peace.
"Brian," Tessa said, her voice suddenly tight.
He followed her gaze over his shoulder. At the edge of the crowd, half-hidden by the shadow of a food truck, a figure stood watching them. Gray cap. Sunglasses, despite the fading light.
Marcus Webb.
Brian's body went cold, then hot, adrenaline spiking through him like electricity. He pulled Tessa behind him instinctively, putting his body between her and the threat.
"Don't," Tessa said, gripping his arm. "Sergeant Diaz said not to engage."
"I'm not engaging. I'm looking." He kept his eyes locked on the figure. The man hadn't moved, hadn't approached. Just standing there, watching, like a predator assessing its prey.
Then Hank was beside him, materializing out of nowhere with Colby a step behind. "What's going on?" Hank's voice was low and calm, but his eyes were already scanning.
"Two o'clock. By the food truck. Gray cap."
Hank looked. So did Colby. The figure seemed to sense the attention, because he took a step back, then another. And then he was gone, melting into the crowd like smoke.
"I'm going after him," Colby said.
"No." Brian caught his arm. "He's already gone. And if he's the guy we think he is, he's dangerous. We call Diaz. We don't play hero."
Colby looked like he wanted to argue, but Hank put a hand on his shoulder. "Brian's right. This is police business now."
Tessa already had her phone out, Sergeant Diaz's number pulled up on the screen. Her hands were shaking, but her voice was steady when the sergeant answered.
"He's here," she said. "At the concert. We just saw him."
Brian watched her talk, giving the location, the description, answering questions with the same calm competence she'd shown when bandaging his feet. The doctor in her, taking over when things got hard.
Around them, the concert continued, oblivious. The Shoreline Drifters played on. Couples danced. Children ran through the grass with sparklers someone had handed out. A perfect summer evening, marred by the shadow of a man who wouldn't let go.
Bree appeared with Sabrina, both of them flanking Tessa like bodyguards. "We're taking her back to the blankets," Bree said to Brian. "You stay with Hank and Colby. Watch for him."
He wanted to argue, wanted to be the one at Tessa's side, but Bree was right. More eyes were better. And Tessa was safer surrounded by people than alone with him.
"Go," he said to Tessa. "I'll be right there."
She hesitated, then rose on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Be careful."
"Always."
The women moved off toward the blankets, and Brian turned back to Hank and Colby. The three of them stood in a loose triangle, scanning the crowd, watching the shadows, waiting.
"He's bold," Hank said quietly. "Showing up here, with all these people around. That's not the behavior of someone who's scared of getting caught."
"No," Brian agreed. "It's the behavior of someone who's escalating."
The word sat heavily between them. Escalating. Getting worse. Moving toward something.
Brian looked back at Tessa, surrounded by Bree and Sabrina, her face pale in the gathering dark. She met his eyes across the distance, and he saw the fear there, the same fear she'd carried from Chicago.
But beneath the fear, he saw something else. Trust. She trusted him. Trusted them. Trusted this town that had wrapped itself around her in protection.
He wasn't going to let that trust be misplaced.
Sergeant Diaz arrived within ten minutes, two patrol cars pulling up to the edge of the green with their lights off. She took statements from all of them, organized a search of the immediate area, and put out an alert to every officer on duty.
Marcus Webb had been seen. Marcus Webb was in Copper Moon. And Marcus Webb was not going to get away with this.
The concert ended early, the crowd dispersing with confused murmurs about the police presence.
Brian packed up the blanket while Hank and Colby walked the perimeter one last time.
Bree and Sabrina stayed glued to Tessa's side, making small talk about nothing important, filling the silence with normalcy.
On the drive home, Tessa was quiet, her hand gripping his on the center console.
"He wanted me to see him," she said finally. "That's why he came. Not to do anything. Just to remind me that he's watching. That he can get to me whenever he wants."
"He can't," Brian said. "Not with all of us watching back."
"But for how long? You can't watch forever. None of you can. And he knows that." Her voice cracked. "He's patient. He waited eight months before following me here. He can wait longer."
Brian pulled the truck over to the side of the road, killed the engine, and turned to face her.
"Listen to me," he said. "I don't care how patient he is. I don't care if this takes a week, a month, or a year. I'm not going anywhere. Hank's not going anywhere. Colby, Bree, Sabrina, the whole damn town. We're here, Tessa. We're not leaving you alone."
Tears spilled down her cheeks, catching the moonlight. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve any of you."
"That's not how it works." He reached across and wiped the tears with his thumb. "You don't have to deserve it. You just have to accept it."
She let out a shaky breath. "I don't know how."
"Then let me teach you." He pulled her across the console and into his arms, holding her while she cried, while the fear and the exhaustion and the weight of it all came pouring out. "Let us teach you."
She clung to him, her tears soaking into his shirt, her body shaking with sobs she'd been holding back for too long. And Brian held on, steady and sure, letting her fall apart because he knew she needed to.
Tomorrow, they'd regroup. Tomorrow, they'd make a plan. Tomorrow, they'd figure out how to end this once and for all.
But tonight, he held her. And that was enough.