Chapter Twelve #3
“Did you hire that therapist you told me about at lunch?” Bonnie asked. “What’s his name again?”
“Tim Koppel. And yes, I did. He’s giving the hospital his two weeks’ notice on Monday.”
Pride swelled inside her at the words. Saying them aloud made everything feel more real.
“Wonderful. So you’re almost ready to open up then?”
She smiled. “Yep. As soon as the equipment arrives. The sign looks great—they’re installing it on Tuesday.
Oh, and I bought the TV earlier. It was so nice of Dan to offer to mount it on the wall, run the wiring, and hook up the washer and dryer for me.
That’ll save me a lot of money. I think I’ll treat him to dinner one night to thank him. ”
“Well, not tonight.” Bonnie shook her head.
“That stubborn old coot’s been fighting a cold for the past few days, and now he’s paying for it.
Thank goodness Jimmy Merrick was scheduled to work after school today, so Dan could head upstairs and get some rest. Honestly, that man pushes himself too hard sometimes. ”
Grace smiled, the familiar question surfacing again. Why aren’t they together?
It was obvious how much they cared for each other. Most days, they already acted like an old married couple. Maybe neither of them wanted to risk changing what they had.
“We’ll bring him some soup from Sassy’s after dinner.”
“Sounds perfect.” Bonnie checked her watch and reached for her purse behind the counter. “Well, let’s lock up. I’m getting hungry myself.”
They locked up the boutique and headed up the street toward the bank, their footsteps soft against the sidewalk as traffic rolled past and the other shops along Main Street began closing for the evening.
Bonnie stepped up to the night deposit box while Grace waited a few feet away, absently watching the cars pass. Movement across the street caught her eye, and she glanced toward Sassy’s.
Then froze.
Sean was walking through the restaurant’s front door with his hand resting against the lower back of an incredibly attractive woman.
For a moment, Grace couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. The woman was petite and dark-haired, dressed in a fitted navy suit that somehow still looked elegant. Even from across the street, there was no missing how polished and beautiful she was.
Grace’s stomach dropped, and disappointment swept through her so fast it stole her breath. Only then did it sink in that in all the conversations she’d had with Sean over the past week, she had never once asked whether he was dating anyone.
The realization stung.
Of course she hadn’t. She’d let herself get swept up in dinners, easy laughter, and the memory of one lingering kiss without stopping to ask the most obvious question.
Apparently, he was seeing someone. The thought left a sour ache in her chest as Sean and the woman disappeared into the restaurant.
Bonnie finished her deposit and turned, her gaze landing on her niece’s face. “Is something wrong, Grace?”
Her aunt’s eyes shifted toward Sassy’s, following the direction Grace had been staring.
She forced herself to look away and summoned a smile she hoped looked convincing. “Um, no. Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking I’m really not in the mood for Sassy’s tonight. Why don’t we drive over to the Cranberry Inn for dinner?”
Bonnie studied her for a moment, and Grace had the uneasy feeling her aunt saw far more than she let on. Still, she simply nodded. “That’s fine with me. I haven’t eaten there in a while.”
She was grateful Bonnie didn’t press. The last thing she wanted was to explain the ridiculous knot of jealousy twisting inside her over a man she’d shared exactly one kiss with—especially when it now looked as though that kiss might not have meant to him what it had to her.
“…this is Jessica Daly for Channel Four News.”
George pressed the rewind button and watched the segment play again. And again. By the fifth viewing, he had every expression memorized.
The reporter stood outside the Dare County Sheriff’s Department with practiced confidence, her polished smile and clipped delivery dripping with self-importance. She carried herself like someone convinced the camera loved her.
George’s lip curled. He wondered how composed she would remain if someone cut her down to size. Literally.
The thought lingered as the report shifted to footage from the press conference. His attention sharpened. Here came the best part. The FBI agent. Mister Important.
A humorless smile tugged at George’s mouth.
His work had local law enforcement scrambling, and now they’d brought in federal help.
It didn’t matter. A bigger badge and ego didn’t make a man smarter.
They were all the same—overpaid fools chasing shadows they could never catch. None of them would ever catch him.
He had spent years building the perfect life to hide behind. He held a respectable job, kept his yard trimmed, waved to the neighbors, and made polite conversation whenever required. His coworkers liked him. His supervisors trusted him. No one had ever filed a complaint.
He’d never been arrested or even received a traffic ticket.
Every other Saturday, he volunteered at the local food pantry. Once a month, he drove his elderly neighbor to the library because her eyesight no longer allowed her to drive herself.
He had crafted the image with care. Dependable. Respectable. Forgettable.
That was the beauty of it. People saw exactly what he wanted them to see and nothing more.
No one suspected the mild-mannered man who carried groceries for little old ladies and donated canned goods to those in need was the same man instilling fear across Dare County.
There was disappointment in that, of course.
A small part of him longed for people to know.
To understand what he’d accomplished. To see the cleansing work he was doing.
But secrecy had its own reward. Silence preserved the mystery, and mystery bred fascination.
The less they knew, the more they feared. And fear gave him power.
Rising from the sofa, George crossed into the kitchen, where the microwave beeped its completion. He removed his dinner, set it on a tray with a knife, fork, and a neatly folded napkin, then carried it back to the living room and lowered himself onto the recliner, balancing the tray across his lap.
On the television, Jessica Daly’s face remained frozen mid-sentence.
He picked up the remote, smiled, and pressed rewind once more.