Chapter 28
Eric
Five days passed like a slow tightening wire.
Five days of pretending things were normal when nothing felt normal anymore.
Harmony slept in my room every night. She curled against me like her body trusted the safety of my arms, even when her mind was still fighting ghosts I couldn’t see.
She spent mornings in the flower shop and late afternoons at the community center, and my brothers rotated around town like shadows.
No one announced it. No one admitted it.
But we were watching her every minute she stepped outside the house.
Becket was checking in with updates that never felt like real progress.
Dad was observing everything with that quiet, steady stare that always meant he was connecting dots he wasn’t ready to speak aloud.
And it was five days without another message, but the silence didn’t bring relief.
It felt like we were all holding our breath, waiting for the ball to drop.
On the fifth afternoon, we gathered in Dad’s office at the station.
Harmony was already at the community center.
I had walked her in, waited until she joined the teens, then forced myself to leave, even though every instinct told me to stay in the doorway and watch over her.
Dad leaned back in his chair. His fingers tapped the desk in a slow rhythm that carried more tension than sound.
Becket stood beside me with his notebook open.
He had written pages of observations that felt like puzzle pieces from three different puzzles.
“Let’s go over what we know,” Dad said, using the tone he used when he was the director of the police force and not my father.
Becket skimmed his notes. “We have the encrypted messages. The photo from the orchard fence. The motion alert near row six. The scratch on the community center side door.”
My stomach tightened. Harmony hadn’t told me about the scratch until last night. She had been trying to protect me from worrying, as if that were even possible.
Dad lifted an eyebrow. “The car that keeps circling the center?”
“No plates,” Becket said. “Tinted windows, well beyond legal limits. It could be tied to Tremblay’s team. It could be someone else.”
Dad exhaled slowly. “The Trust has access to more funds than Tremblay’s salary can explain.
I have suspected it for a long time, but nothing ever pointed clearly enough to make a move.
” He paused for a moment, studying the wall as if something on it reminded him of a memory he didn’t care to revisit. “This pattern feels familiar.”
The cold that slid through my chest felt immediate and sharp. “Familiar how?”
Dad held my gaze. His eyes were tired but focused. “It feels like someone with old connections is trying to stay invisible. Someone who benefited from Marcel’s downfall and has a lot to lose if the past resurfaces.”
Rosalie.
Marcel.
Harmony’s hidden files.
The digital ghost Becket had traced.
“Say it,” I said, my voice rough.
Dad hesitated. When he finally spoke, the seriousness in his tone made the room feel smaller.
“I do not believe Vesper is the only danger. Someone else is involved. Someone with influence and patience. Harmony reappearing, her mother’s files, her connection to Marcel, all of it is stirring old ground.
” He leaned forward and tapped the desk once.
“Someone is offended she is alive and unafraid.”
My jaw clenched. “So we’re dealing with more than one threat.”
“It’s possible,” Dad said quietly. “And Harmony is the common thread. That makes her the target, whether she intended it or not.”
Becket closed his notebook. “The ghost account that pinged is active again. Whoever is using it knows how to erase a trail. They wiped half of Marcel’s digital history the first time. They know exactly what they’re doing. My contact at the provincial level has been updating me.”
Dad looked at me. “She should never be alone. Not until we understand what this is. Do you understand me, Eric?”
“I understand. Wasn’t planning on leaving her alone.
” I felt the significance of what he was not saying.
He remembered Rosalie. The reminder of what happens when the wrong person feels threatened.
I rubbed a hand over my jaw, trying to ease the tension that had been lodged there for days.
“I checked the bakery cameras like Becket asked. There was movement at four this morning. The angle is blocked, so there’s nothing clear. ”
Dad didn’t soften. “Someone could be testing your perimeter.”
The knot in my stomach pulled tighter.
Becket stood. “I’ll go by the orchard tonight and set additional cameras and maybe add more lighting. If someone is moving through the property, we’ll know.”
Dad nodded. “And have Asher stay close.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Asher?”
Dad’s jaw tightened. “He’s been around more lately. Watching the orchard. Watching the bakery. Checking in at the community center without announcing himself. I noticed.”
That was an understatement. Asher had drifted through the last five days like a restless shadow, pretending he was just bored while quietly scanning every dark corner he walked past.
“If he wants to hover,” Dad continued, “at least let him do it with purpose.”
I felt a faint flicker of emotion. Pride. And relief. “I can talk to him.”
“No,” Dad said. “Leave your brother to me, he’s feeling a sense of responsibility. I want him to own it.”
That startled me. Dad rarely stepped between Asher and his choices unless something was truly serious. Before I could respond, my phone buzzed.
Harmony.
My pulse jumped the moment her name crossed the screen.
Harmony: Can you come early? Something feels wrong.
I didn’t even realize I had stood until Dad’s voice cut through the air.
“Go,” Dad said, reading me without me having to say a word. I had already grabbed my keys and was headed out the door.
Dad added, “Bring her straight home. We’ll meet you there.”
Dad was calling the whole family for a meeting, minus Phoenix.
I was relieved my older brother was a way from this mess, enjoying his honeymoon, after everything he had been through to get to that point.
Dad’s words also had me feeling emotional.
We were a family pulling together for Harmony.
She was a part of us whether she believed it yet or not.
“I’ll be back soon,” I said.
Becket nodded. “Call if anything feels off.”
I didn’t waste another second.
Harmony needed me. Every instinct in my body warned me whatever had been circling us for days had just stepped closer.
Traffic blurred past me only as shapes and colors.
I drove faster than I should have, but every minute between me and Harmony felt like an hour.
Her message repeated in my mind with a steady beat.
Something feels wrong.
She didn’t say things like that unless she meant them.
Harmony lived inside her own vigilance. If she felt fear, it was because something had shifted.
When I pulled into the community center lot, I scanned every corner before I even shut off the engine.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the pavement.
A car I didn’t recognize was parked near the side alley.
It was dark blue and clean. I watched it for a full ten seconds.
No movement.
I got out of the truck and headed inside.
The front doors opened into the warm, familiar lobby.
A few teens lingered by the bulletin board.
A couple of them called out, “Hey, Eric,” but I barely registered it.
I spotted Harmony near the hallway that led to the art rooms. She stood stiffly with her hands clasped in front of her, the posture she used when she was trying not to look frightened.
Mara Duquette stood on her other side; her expression serious.
The moment Harmony saw me, her shoulders dipped.
Relief. Not the kind that fixed anything, but the kind that said she had been holding herself together with a thin thread.
I walked straight to her. “What happened?”
Her voice was low. “Let’s talk outside.”
I nodded and guided her toward the exit. She walked close enough that our arms brushed, and I felt the tension running through her like a current.
Once the doors closed behind us, she took a breath. “The same car circled the center again today. Three times. Mara noticed it the first and second time. I noticed it the third.”
“Could you see the driver?” I asked because we needed more than a pair of tinted windows.
She shook her head. “The windows were too dark.”
That matched the car Becket described. My chest tightened.
“What else?” I asked.
She hesitated, searching for the right words. “It feels like someone is watching the building. Even the teens noticed something was off in the hallway.”
I studied her face. Her eyes held a bright sharpness that came with fear she was trying to swallow. Harmony had lived through enough darkness to recognize the shape of danger. She would not sound like this unless she was certain.
“You did the right thing texting me,” I said quietly.
She looked down as if the praise embarrassed her. “I didn’t want to overreact.”
“This isn’t overreacting,” I said. “This is playing it safe.”
A gust of cold wind swept through the lot, pulling her hair across her cheek. I reached up and tucked a strand behind her ear before I realized I had moved. She leaned into the touch so slightly I almost missed it.
“Anyone come inside?” I asked.
“No. But something felt wrong. Like someone was waiting.” Her voice shook.
I absorbed that. Harmony carried instincts shaped by survival. If she felt watched, we had to listen.
“Where is Asher?” I asked.
“He stopped in earlier,” she said. “He pretended he needed to drop off a flyer for the youth boxing group, but he just looked around. He walked the hallways and the back corridor. Then he stayed outside for a while.”
Her voice softened. “He didn’t talk to me. He just stayed nearby.”
That sounded exactly like my brother. Asher protected people by hovering where no one expected him, half careless and half vigilant. It was easier for him to watch someone than to admit why he was doing it.
“He’s a good guy,” Harmony whispered.
I nodded. “He is.”
Her arms tightened across her middle. The hollow look in her eyes twisted something inside me.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
She nodded. The simple trust in that gesture hit deeper than it should have. We walked to the truck together. I unlocked it and helped her inside, scanning the lot for another glimpse of the dark blue car. It was gone, which wasn’t reassuring at all.
When I slid behind the wheel, Harmony reached for the seat belt, but her hands shook. I fastened it for her before she could finish. She looked up at me with a fragile gratitude that made my pulse pound.
“You’re safe,” I said. “We’ll talk to my dad and Becket as soon as we get home.”
She nodded again, quiet but certain. As we pulled out of the lot, Harmony watched the side mirror as if expecting headlights to follow us. I kept my hand on the wheel, but my other hand settled on her thigh without thinking. She placed her hand over mine and held on.
“Eric,” she said softly, “do you think this is Vesper?”
I shook my head. “I think Vesper is part of the problem, but not all of it.”
The trees blurred past the truck windows. Harmony kept her eyes forward, but her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke again.
“Then someone else is coming for me.” The fear in her words settled heavy in my chest.
“No,” I said. “Someone is circling. But no one is getting close.”
Her eyes closed for a moment, as if she wanted to believe it.
“I’m tired of being scared,” she whispered.
“I know,” I said. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
When she opened her eyes, something steadier lived there. Not relief. Not calm. Something like determination fighting its way to the surface. She squeezed my hand once. The road curved toward Maple Valley. Frost glimmered along the fence line. Smoke curled from our chimney in the distance.
Home.
But I didn’t let myself relax. Harmony had trusted me to protect her.
That trust felt like weight and purpose at the same time.
We would meet with Dad and Becket, go over every detail again.
We would tighten the security around her and the property.
We wouldn’t let anyone touch her. That was the plan because whoever thought they were closing in on her today had no idea what it meant to threaten someone I cared about.