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23

Jake laughs. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

I’m taken aback by that. “Why not?”

“Because Aidan says you’re getting a security system. Which means, like it or not, you’re getting a security system.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.” He chews his gum and eyeballs me as if he wants to say something but doesn’t think he should.

“What?”

“Nothing. Not my business.”

“Uh-huh. Except your face thinks it is. Spit it out, Jake.”

He debates with himself for a moment, then says, “You seem like a nice girl.”

“Yikes. That sounds bad.”

He holds up a hand. “Hear me out. And do me a favor and don’t repeat this, okay?”

I nod, anxiety blooming in my stomach.

“I’ve been friends with Aidan since high school—”

I cut in, “If you’re about to tell me he’s a flagrant womanizer, I really don’t want to hear it.”

“No, that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Good.”

He c***s his head and frowns at me. “But if he was, you wouldn’t want to know?”

“Like you said, it’s not my business.”

He makes another face, and now I’m beginning to get exasperated.

“What now?”

“Just never met a woman who wouldn’t want to know if she was getting involved with a skirt chaser is all.”

“Fine. Is he a skirt chaser?”

“No.”

I throw my arms in the air. “You’re killing me! Get to the point already.”

“Okay, look. I’ll be straight with you. Aidan doesn’t get close to people. Doesn’t trust them.”

His pause seems meaningful. I say, “And…?”

“He’s had a rough time pretty much his whole life.”

When he stops and snaps his gum, I think I know what he’s getting at, and my cheeks grow hot again.

“Are you suggesting that I’m taking advantage of him? Because I specifically told him that I would pay for everything—”

“He likes you,” he interrupts, his voice low. “And Aidan doesn’t like anybody.” He glances pointedly at my ring finger, then meets my eyes again. “I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

After a beat where my brain resets itself and my heart melts, I say softly, “I like him, too. And I’m not going to hurt him, Jake. I promise.”

He gives his gum a few doubtful grinds with his molars.

I wonder what Aidan said to him about me, but I won’t ask. Jake wouldn’t tell me, anyway. He’s a loyal friend, and there’s the man code and all that. I’m lucky I even got this much out of him.

“Listen. I suggest a compromise. How about if you install something that isn’t FBI-level surveillance, but also isn’t bare bones. I won’t be able to figure out anything too sophisticated, but I also don’t want you to have to deal with Aidan’s wrath if he doesn’t approve, so let’s shoot for somewhere between James Bond and Inspector Clouseau. Can we do that?”

He blows a bubble, pops it, then grins at me. “We can do that.”

I stick out my hand, and we shake on it.

Which is when I happen to glance over Jake’s shoulder out my office window and notice someone standing in the yard, down near the water’s edge.

Partially hidden by the trunk of a tree, the figure appears to be a man. Though he’s too far away to discern any facial features, and his eyes are obscured by the brim of the hat he’s wearing, I have the distinct feeling that he’s staring right at me.

I catch a glint of white as the man bares his teeth like an animal.

A gust of wind whistles down the chimney. Goose bumps form on my arms. A shiver of fear runs through my body, chilling me to my bones.

“I’ll get my equipment from the truck and get to work,” says Jake.

I glance in his direction as he walks out of the room. When I turn back to look out the window, the man by the tree is gone.

15

F

eeling rattled but also brave because Jake is in the house—and it’s daytime—I decide to take a walk out to the water to investigate.

Bainbridge Island is only a thirty-five minute ferry ride from Seattle, but it feels as if it’s on a different planet. Much of it is covered in thick cedar woods or dedicated to nature preserves, but there’s a quaint downtown area with cozy coffee shops, boutiques, and restaurants. Miles of trails that follow the rugged coastline and hilly interior make it a hiker’s paradise. At five miles wide and ten miles long with a population of only twenty-five thousand, the island is small, but is also a perfect spot for people who work in the city but don’t want to live there.

Michael and I settled here when he accepted the position as head of the PhD program at the University of Washington.

That seems like a lifetime ago.

I was a different woman then. A younger, happier woman who hadn’t yet tasted any of life’s bitter betrayals.

How naïve we are when we’re young. How easily we trust that the sun will keep rising and setting, warming our days. And what a terrible blow it is to discover it isn’t the sun that makes things bright, but the people who love us, so that when they’re gone, everything is plunged into darkness.

The property covers more than two acres. It’s forested with mature evergreen trees and separated from the water’s edge by a long stretch of lawn and a narrow, rocky beach. Bundled in a heavy winter coat with a knit hat pulled down over my ears, I cross the back porch and take the steps down to the lawn, then follow the walking path to the water.

I avoid going anywhere near the dock or glancing in the direction of the boat tied to it.

Michael christened her Eurydice. I always hated that name. I told him it was bad luck to name a boat after a nymph from Greek mythology who got trapped in the underworld, but Michael said he liked it. He found it romantic that Eurydice’s husband, Orpheus, loved her so much, he followed her to hell to beg Hades for her release.

When I pointed out that the story ends in tragedy, Michal just laughed at me. “It’s only a story,” he said, and gave me a hug.

As it turns out, I was right. Greek myth or not, doomed is doomed.

Hindsight is a real b***h sometimes.