his face. It paled. “A colleague found this online. I don’t know if this has any connection to Brian’s murder.”
“I’ve never heard of them before. Which is worrying. Maybe even terrifying, considering they might be after—” His words cut off abruptly. He ran both hands over his face, and for a moment it sounded as if he was praying under his breath. Then, to her surprise, he leaned across the table and took her hands in his, as if they were gearing up for something. “Okay, you’ve got to promise me that everything I’m about to tell you is off-the-record. All of it. At least for now. I’m trusting that this won’t suddenly all end up in your newspaper.”
She looked down at his hands holding hers. “You have my word.”
A light flashed outside, illuminating the window beside them in a blinding blur of yellow and white. She turned to look, but all she could see were the spots of light dancing before her eyes. “Is that lightning? Already?”
“No! Someone out there is taking pictures of us!” Daniel leaped to his feet. Frustration flashed like fire through the depths of his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t bring a photographer with you.”
Her heart sank. Oh, no. What was Ricky thinking? “Well, yes, sort of. But it’s not what you think—”
Before she could even finish, he stormed past her and rushed outside.
* * *
Daniel scanned the parking lot just in time to see a shadow run off down the road. Moments later, he heard a car door slam. Then he saw headlights flicker on through the trees. Olivia’s photographer colleague seemed to be just sitting in his car, probably waiting for her. Daniel stifled a growl. The sun had all but set now, leaving a wash of inky gray and black in the clouds above his head. The air was damp with the threat of impending rain that still seemed reluctant to fall. Tension rolled over his shoulders and back.
What had she been thinking bringing a photographer without telling him?
No, what had he been thinking in trusting a woman he barely knew when his stepdaughter’s life was on the line? Keeping Sarah safe was his primary responsibility. Now more than ever.
It had been a very long time since he’d felt his mouth go that dry when he’d looked in a pair of sparkling eyes. Olivia was right when she’d called Mona Leslie a likable party girl. As an awkward, introverted eighteen-year-old mourning the recent death of his parents, he’d been instantly drawn to Mona’s unpredictable energy and vitality. She’d been seventeen then, raising baby Sarah all on her own. They had provided him with an instant family—one that needed him. He’d married Mona when he was nineteen. But she’d never made good on her promise to give up drinking, drugs or fooling around. She’d left him less than two years later, announcing she wasn’t cut out for monogamy. He’d taken a job on the other side of the world.
Still, when he’d gotten that long-distance call from a lawyer telling him that Mona was dead, that they’d still been legally married and he was still listed in her will as Sarah’s legal guardian, he’d returned home. How could he let the child he’d once pledged to raise as his own end up in the care of social services? Mona might not have loved him for very long, but her decade-old will had specified that Daniel was the only person she trusted to be Sarah’s guardian and to hold her inheritance until she turned eighteen. Even Mona had known not to trust Sarah’s future to either her heavy-partying friends or her thieving brother, Brian. The bright-eyed baby who’d captured his heart long ago might now be an emotional, complicated teenager. But she was still his responsibility.
There was the clatter of the door opening and closing behind him.
“I’m sorry.” Olivia was at his shoulder. Her voice was soft and filled with regret. “Ricky is a friend from work. He drove me up so I wouldn’t have to come alone. Yes, he’s a photographer. But I never expected he’d just start taking pictures.”
He nodded to show he’d heard her, but still gave himself a few moments to calm back down before responding. After all, he’d been the one who’d decided to call her about the current crisis Sarah had found herself in. Ever since Brian’s trial began, the teenager had received dozens of calls from nosy reporters, who just saw her as some kind of pretty novelty from a notorious family. Those calls had tripled since Brian’s death. Daniel was exhausted from arguing with her on why throwing herself into the spotlight was probably one of the worst things she could do.
But when he’d told her about Olivia, Sarah had seemed open to meeting her, even though she’d been less than excited about the idea being interviewed by such a small newspaper. It had sounded as if it could be a workable compromise to get her story out without throwing her to the media wolves. He’d hoped meeting Olivia for coffee, explaining the situation with Sarah and getting her advice would be the first step in finding a sensible way forward. Instead, even just being around her made him feel strangely flustered.
The diner’s light turned off. He glanced back. Someone had switched the door sign from Open to Closed. Moments later, the waitress and a second woman who he guessed was the cook walked out and drove off without so much as a wave in their direction.
He waited until they were gone before replying, “You should have told me he was here. I made it pretty clear that I wanted to talk to you off-the-record.” Daniel turned and walked toward his truck.
“You did. And again, I’m sorry.” Olivia followed and in a moment was walking by his side. “Ricky’s young and he must have misunderstood me somehow. He dropped me off and told me he was planning to drive to find a cell phone signal to call his folks.”
“And instead he parked down the road, sneaked back and snapped a picture, then ran off back to his car. These are hardly the actions of an honest person.” He tried to keep his tone level, but irritation still seeped through his voice. This situation was ludicrous and exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. While he’d only shared a few brief moments with Olivia, it had still felt as though they’d had some kind of connection. That there was something deeper beneath the surface—maybe his faith, his worldview or his drive to do the right thing—that she’d shared, too.
Obviously he was wrong.
“Well, that’s my fault, too, I guess,” she said. “I’d asked him to pull past the diner when he dropped me off. So he must have done the same when he came to pick me up.”
He stopped short. “So I wouldn’t see him, right?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t know how many times I can say it. I made the wrong call. I get now that this is apparently a big deal for you.”
No, she didn’t get it. He’d been ready to trust her with something more important than she could have known. And she’d blown it.
But she’d admitted she was wrong and she’d apologized. That was far more than Mona had ever done. True. But she was also a stranger and a journalist. And the way he kept comparing her to his deceased former wife was reason enough to get out of here quick.
“I’m sorry, too. This was obviously a mistake.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and headed for his truck’s driver’s-side door. “I accept your apology. But this just doesn’t feel right to me anymore. Please consider everything we have talked about off-the-record and don’t contact me in future.”
He watched her face, expecting her features to fall in disappointment. Instead, her shoulders straightened and a firm, clear determination flashed in their depths.
