Page 57 of Knox

Knox paused, eyes searching. “Do you want wine?”

I spotted the large Duplin display at the end of the aisle. The North Carolina company and their scrumptious muscadine wines always made me smile. My parents could keep their hundred-dollar bottles. “Always.”

Knox kissed my head, obviously pleased, and strode toward the display. “I’ll be right there,” he promised. “Two minutes.”

I turned to face the chaos in my picnic aisle.

The space was packed with people. I maneuvered slowly around a mom with one kid in a shopping cart and two holding on to the sides. Couples debated over paper plates and plastic cups, and an older woman had practically parked her shopping cart in the center of the aisle. I grabbed a box of foil and a can of cooking spray for good measure.

Then, I turned around, opting to keep going down the aisle and circle back to meet Knox, instead of fighting my way upstream. Halfway to the wine display, I spotted a familiar face and froze.

Walter Lehman stood in the camping section, holding a coil of rope, but he wasn’t examining it like someone deciding on a purchase. His expression was distant and strange. Grief? Fear?

When he noticed me watching, he set the rope down quickly and worked up a strained smile.

I jumped when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder from behind.

“Just me,” Knox said, voice low, meant only for my ears.

The older man abandoned all pretense of shopping and headed our way. “Knox! Hey. Odd seeing you here. Twice in one day. You’re not following me, are you?”

The joke didn’t land, and Walter’s gaze moved on to me.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” He extended a hand that I couldn’t bring myself to take. Or look away from. “Walter Lehman.”

I stared at his fingers, imagining them around my ribs, my wrists, my throat.

“Sloane,” I croaked, forcing the word through a narrowing windpipe. I held the foil in one hand, the cooking spray in the other, a silent excuse to avoid his touch.

Walter’s hand shook slightly as he returned it to his side. “You must be the friend from the Jeep. It’s nice to meet you properly.”

“We were in a hurry earlier,” I said.

“I see that.” Walter’s gaze dropped to the items we carried. “Looks like you’re headed home for a romantic night in. Don’t let me stop you.” He moved to the side, allowing us to pass.

“Have a nice night,” Knox said. He kept a protective hand on my back as he guided me to the checkout line.

I watched over my shoulder for signs of Walter Lehman, who’d disappeared into the crowd.

Knox

Sloane made dinner. Pasta with fresh grilled vegetables and a sauce that rivaled anything I’d had in Italy during a deployment layover. We ate in the solarium at the back of Sloane’s house, watching the night sky over the sound.

Sloane barely touched her pasta after working so diligently to make it. She pushed vegetables around her plate, eyes distant. Tense.

“You’re thinking about Walter Lehman,” I said. She didn’t have to worry about her safety tonight. I was here, and the security had been updated. But seeing him had obviously shaken her.

She set down her fork and looked at me as if my question was ridiculous. “Rope, Knox. He was shopping for rope. At the same store we stopped in to buy foil. You want to talk about things that aren’t coincidental? I just can’t decide if we truly caught him in the act, and that’s why he seemed so strange and uncomfortable, or if he followed us there, then made sure we saw him with the rope to toy with us.”

I hated both options. They both meant he was our guy, and he was still out there, free to do as he pleased. “What’s your gut telling you?”

She deflated against her seatback. “That something was off about him. The way he looked at me. His energy. I don’t know.” Sloane wrapped her arms around herself. “But I can’t tell if I’m paranoid or if my instincts are actually picking up on something real.”

“Your instincts saved your life on that trail. I’d trust them.”

She met my eyes. “He’s the right size to be the man who grabbed me. What do you think?”

“I think he’s worth watching. His property butts up to a location Mom flagged, and she fired him for inappropriate behavior. Now he’s offering to help us search the land beside his property and turning up at the General Store all the way across the island from his house.” I leaned forward. “I can’t decide if it’s coincidence. Or if he’s a predator inserting himself into the investigation.”