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I end the call and cross the yard. Locke finishes the crossing in his hands before he looks up.

“Many?”

“Many.”

His gaze shifts toward the road. “People know this is your house?”

“People know it’s somewhere near here.”

He looks toward the cottage. “Because of me.”

“Because people are nosy.”

“I know nosy.”

“Naturally you do.”

He studies me for a moment. “Do you want me to hide?”

The question goes straight to the part of me that still expects this to go wrong. “No. I want strangers off my property unless we invite them. That’s different.”

“Yes.”

“Would you like Tom here?”

Locke glances at the unfinished bear before looking toward the road. “Tom helps.”

“He does.”

“And he works.”

I almost smile. “Also true.”

“Then yes.”

Something in me eases. This is exactly why Locke wanted Tom. Not for another meeting or another plan, but because Tom will pick up a tool and work beside him.

I text Shannon: Tom yes. Just Tom.

Then I call Blair. She answers with, “I was about to call you again.”

“The picture’s out. Shannon says people are narrowing down where I live.”

“I know. Don’t engage online.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t planning to.”

“If somebody comes onto the property, tell them to leave. If they won’t, call the sheriff. If law enforcement shows up because of the axe story, answer what you personally know and let Locke answer for himself.”

“I’m starting to think you have a very low opinion of my impulse control.”

“I’m an attorney. I have a low opinion of everybody’s impulse control.”

For a second, she sounds like Blair again instead of the lawyer managing a crisis.

“Are you coming over?”

“No.”