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“I’ll get it. Where can I find it?”

“His bottom right desk drawer. It’s in a hanging file folder with my name on it. Looks exactly like his research disk.”

“Anything else you want me to get?”

“Just my dad.”

I looked into his eyes and hated the rawness I saw there. I could only imagine what it cost him. “Is that why you could feel my emotions so clearly when we met? Because you didn’t have a filter?”

“Yes. But—” He focused on the floor, and his long lashes cast a dark shadow on his cheekbones. There was no evidence of the playful, flirty Kaleb. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve connected with you anyway.”

I didn’t know the appropriate response to that statement. He seemed to have that affect on me. Fumbling around for words, I asked, “Um … hey, does everyone think that Landers is the one who killed your dad?”

“There weren’t any other suspects,” he answered, seeming grateful for the subject change. “The police questioned a few people, but they had no logical explanation for the fire, so ultimately they called it an accident.”

“Was Landers questioned?”

“Briefly,” Kaleb scoffed. “He had an iron-tight alibi.”

“I cut my teeth on murder mysteries. Alibis can be faked.”

“There was no way the authorities could have proved he did it. They don’t even know about places like the Hourglass—how could we explain his motive?”

“I’m worried.”

“I know,” he said, not bothering to hide his grin.

I smacked his gargantuan bicep. “Don’t tell me Michael won’t try to get proof about your dad’s murder when we go back.”

“Okay,” Kaleb said, raising his eyebrows. “I won’t tell you that.”

“But …” I motioned to the timetable on my lap. No room for error.

“He’s not going to do anything to put you at risk. I’m not going to deny that if he gets the chance to find out who did it, he’ll take it. But not if it puts you in danger.” Kaleb took my hand, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “He’s going to take care of you. That’s what Michael does.”

“I’m not worried about me.”

“I am.” He reached out with his free hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, and I froze. The tenderness in his touch threw me off. “I want you back in one piece.”

I wondered what kind of emotion Kaleb felt coming from me now. Maybe he could help me identify it.

“Em?” Michael called out, breaking the tension. I let go of Kaleb’s hand, jumped up, and almost tripped down the stairs. I pretended not to hear Kaleb laughing behind me.

“Hey,” I said to Michael as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, sure my face was bright red. “Did you need me?”

“Can you come here a sec? I want to talk to you about something before we go.”

“Sure.” I followed him up the same—now empty—stairs I’d just been sitting on with Kaleb on rubbery legs. So many sources of anxiety were doing a number on my nervous system.

Michael went into his room, leaving the door open and sitting down on the edge of the bed. I leaned against his desk. I had no idea what else we could say to each other. I hoped he wasn’t going to lecture me about Kaleb again. He looked down at his hands almost absentmindedly, clasping and unclasping them in his lap. “Are you scared?”

“A little.”

A lot.

“Keeping you safe is as important to me as saving Liam. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do. But I want us both kept safe. Listen,” I said hesitantly, “I want you to promise me that you won’t do anything stupid when we go back, like trying to find out who killed Liam. If we save him, it won’t matter who did it.”

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