up her services as the paper’s primary photographer, and he often used the prestige of her name as leverage to scoop the best stories for the front page. These days she was more likely to take pictures of fluffy kittens than soldiers with guns, but she adored every minute of it.
Jack leaned on the counter in her large Shaker-style kitchen. She loved the simple, clean lines of her cabinets, with potted plants dotted here and there to bring the natural world indoors. It was one of the rooms in the house untouched by the intruder. The rest of the downstairs was in total disarray.
She felt Jack’s hand on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
She let her shoulders drop. “I was really terrified, Jack,” she said quietly. “I’ve been to war-torn locations across the world, and I let something like this scare the life out of me.”
He put both hands on her arms and turned her around before pulling her to his chest. She breathed in the familiar, spicy scent that he wore. It made her feel calmer, more reassured. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and they stood in silence for a while. She normally preferred to keep an appropriate emotional distance from Jack, but she was too tired to keep up her guard.
“It’s okay to be scared,” he whispered. “It doesn’t matter how tough you are. You did the right thing to call me.”
At that moment, the sun’s first rays appeared over the horizon and lit up the room with a warm, yellow glow. It was another beautiful winter’s day in Florida, and she gave thanks for the dawning of this new day.
She looked up at his face. “Thank you.”
He smiled back. “Any time.”
She turned back around to make the coffee. “So, what do we do now?”
“Where are the photographs of the artworks from the Al Faw Palace?” he asked. “If we intend to take this line of inquiry further, we’ll need them as evidence.”
She poured boiling water onto the fresh coffee grounds in her French Press, and a strong, earthy smell revived her jaded senses. “They’re in my desk drawer at the Liberty News office.”
“Ah,” Jack said, taking the cream from the refrigerator. “That explains why the intruder didn’t find what he was looking for.”
“We don’t know what he was looking for yet, Jack,” she reminded him. In her heart, she knew he was probably right, but she didn’t want to believe that she was the only thing standing in the way of a criminal and stolen art worth millions of dollars.
“We should go to Blountstown and get them,” he said. “This morning.”
Rebecca poured two coffees from the pot and added Jack’s usual cream and sugar without needing to ask. As she was stirring the cup, she thought of how much emotional and practical help he had given her since Ian’s death eighteen months ago. In all that time, he had never once asked for anything in return, and here she was leaning on him for support yet again. It was a pattern that didn’t seem to end, and a feeling of guilt niggled away inside her. A man like Jack should have been snapped up by an eligible lady a long time ago, but she had never known him to even have a date. She didn’t want to be responsible for condemning him to a single life. Once this situation was all cleared up, she resolved to spend less time with him and cut him free from his bonds of duty to his best friend.
Jack looked over at her, lost in her own world. “A penny for your thoughts.”
She smiled. “I couldn’t take a penny from you, Jack,” she said. “You’ve given me far too much already.”
* * *
Jack helped Rebecca clean up the mess left behind by the intruder. He watched the way she carefully picked up each photograph and smoothed it with her hand, clearly remembering the day the image was captured. Her photographs had adorned the cover of TIME magazine not just once but twice. He knew it was during her assignment photographing the war in Iraq that she met and fell in love with Ian Grey. Ian often told Jack the story of how he caught sight of her, wearing a long, billowing white robe and head scarf, emerging from the dust of the desert like a beautiful mirage. He had fallen head over heels at that first meeting, and they married only six months later. When Ian finally introduced Jack to Rebecca, Jack understood exactly what his friend was talking about. She had a gentle quality that many envied, and her zest for life was infectious.
Even on a day like today, when she was functioning on only four hours of sleep, she could still cause heads to turn. Age didn’t diminish her beauty at all—she simply improved as the years passed, and now, at the age of thirty-five, she looked more stunning than ever. Dressed simply in blue jeans and a crisp white shirt, her style was effortless. He felt like a bum in comparison, and he tried to smooth out the creases in his linen shirt.
Rebecca closed the drawer on the filing cabinet in her office and looked over at Jack. “I think that’s enough for now,” she said. “The rest can wait until later. The Liberty News office will be open soon, so we should get going to Blountstown to get the pictures.” She sat down in a chair by her polished oak desk and put a hand on her stomach. “I feel sick with worry. What if the children had been here?”
Jack perched himself on the edge of the desk. “I don’t like the thought of you being here alone,” he said. “Do you think I could move in for a while?”
She looked up at him, blinking quickly. “I’m not sure, Jack.” She looked reluctant. “What would the neighbors think?”
He couldn’t help but give a low laugh. “The neighbors can think what they like.” He turned serious. “You need someone to protect you and the girls in case the intruder comes back. I’ll only stay until this is all sorted out.” He touched her hand. “It makes sense, Bec.”
She nodded, seeming to accept his words. “You’re right. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea to bring the children home just yet. Maybe they should stay at Ian’s mom’s house for a little while, even though they’d love to be here to enjoy your company every day.” She looked wistful. “It would be like we were a family again...” She trailed off and bowed her head.
Jack didn’t know what to say. He already felt like an important part of her life, yet he was acutely aware that his role stopped short of being a complete family member. He would always be an outsider—someone to help and support her but not know her intimately.
He stood and looked out the window. “Let’s give it some thought. I’ll drop by my house on the way back from Blountstown to pick up some things.”
His eyes came to rest at the curb where he had parked his car. He was sure he’d left the vehicle in view of the house. And he hadn’t moved it. So why was the space now empty?
* * *
Rebecca watched Jack walk down the path, scanning the street in both directions. The sunshine of 8:00 a.m. was tainted with a fine mist, and the dew on the grass was gently steaming after the cold February night.
Jack turned around and held up his palm. “Stay close to the house, Rebecca.”
He squatted down and looked at the ground, inspecting it thoroughly. Rebecca knew he was looking for clues. Could this just be a random car theft? Or was the situation escalating quicker than she had ever anticipated?
She crossed her arms in the chilly morning air. Then she noticed her neighbor,
