“That’s probably true,” he acknowledged. He would go to the wall for any one of his siblings. “I understand your anger and your urge to defend your brother. I’ll leave the cottage if you insist, but I would rather not. I like it here. I’m not sure why, but I’ve been able to get more done on my manuscript in the last week than I have in months.”
It was true. Even before the stupid choices he had made leading up to his injury, his life had felt on hold, somehow. He had been going through the motions at the FBI, doing his job without the passion he had once brought to the work and treating his side hobby of writing the same way.
In the week since he’d come to Haven Point, Elliot felt as if he had returned to center somehow. He had managed to regain a little equilibrium, to find the peace that had been missing in Denver, probably because he had been wearing himself so thin trying to do everything.
“Why should I let you stay?”
“Because you signed a rental agreement? And because I haven’t done anything that would provide you grounds to break that agreement?”
She shrugged. “Sue me if you want to. You think I care?”
Come at me, bro. She didn’t say the words, but she might as well have.
“If I let you stay, would you promise to leave Elizabeth’s case alone? Let Marshall’s department handle it?”
He thought of the last few fevered nights of writing and the stacks of finished pages that had come out of them. He needed more of those nights and that same productivity and wanted nothing more than to agree to her demand.
His innate sense of justice and the desire to find the truth wouldn’t allow it, however. The community deserved answers. For that matter, so did Elizabeth’s children.
“No,” he said, with blunt honesty. “I can’t promise you anything of the sort.”
She made a face. “You’re so predictable. That’s exactly what I knew you would say.”
“Why did you bother to ask the question, then?”
“Idle curiosity, to see if I was right.”
She studied him for a long time and he waited, quite certain she was going to show him to the door, literally and figuratively. After a long moment, she sighed. “I can’t kick you out. You paid for two more weeks and the paperwork to issue a refund would be a nightmare. Not to mention—you being predictable and all—I could see you being the kind of person who would follow through and take me to court.”
He wouldn’t, but he let her keep her illusions. “It’s a distinct possibility.”
“Beyond that, your sisters would probably have something to say about it. It’s not worth the trouble.”
He doubted Katrina or Wyn would take his side. The women of Haven Point tended to stick together, even against family at times. Cade and Marshall could attest to that.
He wasn’t about to argue, though, especially if it meant he could stay at the cottage. “You’re probably right.”
“About many things,” she retorted. “First and foremost, I need to say this one more time. Luke did not harm his wife. She was a troubled woman, Elliot. Ask anyone. She was suffering postpartum depression. She struggled with it when she had Cassie and it never really went away when she had Bridger only eighteen months later. She was angry and moody and not the woman we all knew and cared about. None of that was Luke’s fault and it’s completely unfair that he has had to shoulder suspicion all these years.”
Her words rang with a sincerity he couldn’t avoid, but he had been an investigator too long, had seen too much, to share the same kind of faith in her brother. While he still found it surprising, he had read in the file numerous reports about how depressed and angry Elizabeth had been before she disappeared.
That didn’t clear Luke, not by a long shot. If anything, he might have even more motivation to lose his temper with an unhappy wife, then somehow tried to cover it up.
“If he had nothing to do with her disappearance, wouldn’t it be in your family’s best interest if I could find some kind of evidence that might prove it?”
“Keep an open mind. That’s all I ask. Will you tell me if you find out anything new?”
She deserved nothing less. “Yes,” he answered.
By the careful way she studied him, then finally nodded, he assumed she took him at his word. “Thank you. And you promise you’re not writing a book about the case?”
“I swear.”
She bit her lip and he could tell she was already regretting her decision to allow him to stay.
“I’m sorry I snooped in your papers. I shouldn’t have spied on a guest like that. I was hoping to steal a sneak peek at your new book, but that’s still no excuse for invading your privacy. It won’t happen again.”
His face felt suddenly warm but he ignored it, touched that she would apologize despite her anger at what she had found. She was remarkable.
“The book is still in revisions, too rough for anyone else to see. You wouldn’t enjoy it at this point. A few more weeks and you can read it.”
“Really?”
“Sure. If you want to.”
“Thanks.” She glanced at her watch. “I should go.”
Do you have to?
The question welled up inside him but he sternly shoved it back before he could do something stupid like actually say it.
He reached to pick up the handle of her plastic tote of supplies and she reached down at the same time. His forehead brushed against hers and the tiny, fleeting contact burst through him like rockets exploding in the sky during Lake Haven Days.
For an instant, they gazed at each other and he could almost swear he saw awareness bloom there.
Something clutched at his insides, a fierce, long-buried longing.
No. Impossible. This was Megan. The woman who had once loved his younger brother and still grieved for Wyatt.
“Careful,” he said, his voice more abrupt than he intended. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, her expression now impassive.
He felt awkward and stupid, suddenly aware he was still sweaty from his run and his arm hurt like a mother.
He gestured to the bucket. “For the record, I won’t require housekeeping services for the remainder of my stay.”
“It’s included in the price of the rental. Twice-weekly. You’ve already paid for the service. You might as well take advantage of it.”
“Just leave towels and fresh sheets a few times a week. I can make the bed myself and take care of the rest.”
She looked as if she wanted to argue, but finally shrugged. “Your choice. I’ll instruct my staff. I certainly can’t force you to accept housekeeping services, especially when we’re shorthanded.”
She left before he could answer, leaving him to watch her walk down the steps of the porch into the afternoon sunlight.
* * *
SHE SHOULD HAVE thrown him out.
As she returned the cleaning supplies to the housekeeping cart and started pushing it back to the main inn, Megan wanted to kick herself.
She couldn’t shake the sense of impending disaster. She didn’t want Elliot anywhere near the case file on Elizabeth’s disappearance. He was a single-focused investigator, from everything she knew about the man. His siblings called him the Bulldog, for heaven’s sake. Something told her Elliot wouldn’t