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“I was doxxed a couple of months ago, and there were a couple of instances where a suspect’s family and friends tried to scare me off an investigation. Mostly by yelling at me online. But recently, it’s crossed into real life.”

Tension clamped his jaw. Online was one thing. Doxxing her was an entirely different beast. “How?”

“Someone has been following me. I think,” she hedged. “There was only one time I’m certain.”

Wes kept his face neutral, but his pulse ticked faster, angry for her.

“Someone broke into my house. It’s a rental that I moved into a couple of weeks ago after I was doxxed. No one should know where I was.”

“Were you robbed?”

She shook her head. “They left a message on my bathroom mirror. ‘Stop asking questions.’”

His molars ground. Not great. Nothing she deserved. A protective urge to lock down the dangers around her ricocheted through his thoughts. Still, Wes reminded himself that any other security professional could easily handle this. Why had Vivian insisted he give Bailey a chance? “You think it’s connected to the case you’re working on?”

She nodded, lowering her voice. “Yeah, I do.”

“I get you don’t want to let someone pressure you, but if you’re in danger, why not cut bait and move on? There are a million cold cases out there. You could randomly put your fingers on a map and find a cold case.”

“My sister was murdered while we were in college.”

That hit him like a sucker punch. Suddenly everything made sense. Vivian knew better than to send him here without warning. Wes cleared his throat. He kept his breathing even. “Your sister is the cold case?”

Bailey nodded.

Wes knew the agony her family was going through, though he’d eventually found closure from his own hell. Vivian had been right, and now he had no choice but to help. “I’m in.”

“You are?”

He nodded. “Whatever you need.”

Chapter Three

Bailey schooled her surprise and examined the large man across from her. Ruggedly handsome, as Wes Wilder had always been, but time had aged him in that way men grow more attractive. His piercing emerald eyes studied her as if she were under interrogation. In a way, she was. What did he see? The years had been exhausting and lonelier than she would admit. “You’re not going to make me beg?”

Something had changed in his expression. Their bickering instantly dissipated. “I’m sorry you lost your sister.”

He didn’t tack on the platitudes that everyone had over the last nearly two decades. She couldn’t stand it when strangers told her how they couldn’t imagine, or close friends offered how hard it must be. His job had clearly trained him in how to interact with people who had lost loved ones.

Wes cataloged her office. She recognized the sweeping pattern he used. Odd that she hadn’t realized she knew he did that until she saw it again.

“What’s your sister’s name?”

“Caitie.”

“Do you want to tell me about her? Or should we work our way there?”

Bailey wanted to shout from the rooftops about her sister, and she wanted to shut down without whispering a word of what happened. It was one thing to know her sister was gone, but another to pick at the scab until the story bled from her mouth. She would have to eventually, especially once she knew who had hurt Caitie. Then, she’d finally have closure. “I’ll start with the break-in.”

Wes leaned back in his chair and rubbed his five o’clock shadow. “Fill me in.”

“We were at Angus and Kimbra’s for the day and had a late dinner.”

“We?”

“I—” She caught herself, not ready to tell Wes about her son yet. “Well, Erick was there during the day. He’d had some board meeting for a museum he’s obsessed with.”

The corners of his eyes tightened. He frowned but didn’t follow up with his dislike for Erick.