Chapter 6 - THE SECOND DATEI didn't speak to Daniel for four days.
That was difficult because he stationed security outside my apartment.
I discovered this at seven the next morning when I opened my door and found a six-foot-four man named Marcus holding coffee.
“Good morning, Ms. Carter.”
“No.”
He blinked.
“No?”
“No security.”
“Mr. Brooks said you'd say that.”
“Tell Mr. Brooks he can—”
Marcus handed me the coffee.
My exact order.
I stared at it.
“He also said you'd probably say something unprintable.”
I took the coffee.
“Tell him he was right.”
Daniel called twice.
I ignored him.
He texted once.
I owe you the whole truth. Whenever you're ready.
I hated how reasonable that was.
Meanwhile, my father remained in protective custody while investigators reviewed the evidence.
Raymond Vale vanished.
His attorneys insisted he was traveling.
Police disagreed.
By Friday, I returned to Maple Street Books.
Normality lasted seventeen minutes.
Then a little boy knocked over a display of cookbooks.
I almost cried from gratitude.
Books fell.
Customers complained.
The register jammed.
Ordinary problems.
At noon, a delivery arrived.
One book.
The Lighthouse at Winter Bay.
The same edition my father had read to me.
Inside was a note.
No secrets this time. Dinner? — Daniel
I stared at it for a long time.
Then wrote beneath his message:
Coffee. Public place. Thirty minutes.
Marcus delivered my answer.
Daniel arrived at three.
No charcoal suit.
Dark sweater.
Jeans.
He looked almost normal.
Almost.
“You own jeans.”
“I've been told they're popular.”
“Sit down.”
He obeyed.
I folded my arms.
“Start talking.”
Daniel did.
Six months earlier, he'd discovered irregularities in old Brooks Maritime records while modernizing the company's archives.
His father appeared in documents connected to Raymond Vale.
Daniel quietly investigated.
Nathan Carter's name surfaced repeatedly.
Daniel traced Nathan's old identity to my mother.
Then to me.
“So you investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough to know you weren't involved.”
“That's vague.”
“Employment. Address. Public records.”
“Relationships?”
A pause.
“Basic background.”
“Jason?”
His jaw shifted.
“Yes.”
“How much do you know about Jason?”
“Enough to dislike him.”
I fought a smile.
“You don't get points for that.”
“I wasn't seeking any.”
“Why did you come into the bookstore?”
“To see whether anyone was watching you.”
“And?”
“I saw you.”
The way he said it silenced me.
Daniel continued.
“You were helping an elderly man find a book for his wife. He couldn't remember the title.”
I remembered.
Mr. Jenkins.
He'd wanted the mystery novel his late wife used to read every winter.
“You spent forty minutes with him,” Daniel said.
“That is literally my job.”
“You called three other bookstores.”
“He was eighty-two.”
“You found the book.”
“So?”
“So I remembered you.”
I looked away.
“Then Olivia contacted you.”
“Yes.”
“And you accepted because you wanted information.”
“At first.”
Those two words mattered.
I hated that they mattered.
“When did that change?”
Daniel's eyes held mine.
“When you said, ‘I figured.’”
I laughed despite myself.
“That quickly?”
“You weren't impressed by me.”
“I was terrified.”
“You hid it well.”
“I did not.”
“No,” he admitted. “You didn't.”
We both laughed.
It was the first uncomplicated moment we'd had.
Then the bookstore door opened.
Jason walked in.
Of course he did.
My ex stopped when he saw us.
His eyes went from me to Daniel.
“Emily.”
“Jason.”
Daniel looked between us.
I could almost hear the gears turning.
Jason approached.
“I heard about what happened.”
“From whom?”
“Olivia.”
Of course.
His attention shifted to Daniel.
“You're Brooks.”
Daniel remained seated.
“You're Jason.”
Jason's expression tightened.
Apparently he didn't enjoy being known.
He looked at me.
“Can we talk?”
“We are.”
“Privately.”
“No.”
“Emily, I'm worried about you.”
That nearly made me laugh.
“You lost the right.”
“I know I hurt you.”
“You cheated for a year.”
Daniel's gaze moved slowly to Jason.
Jason noticed.
“This is between us.”
Daniel answered calmly.
“Then stop performing it for me.”
Jason flushed.
I almost applauded.
“Emily, guys like him don't date women like you.”
Silence.
There it was again.
Someone like him.
Someone like me.
The old poison.
Except this time it didn't work.
I stood.
“You know what's funny?”
Jason stared.
“I used to hear that as an insult to me.”
His face changed.
“Now I realize it tells me everything about you.”
“Emily—”
“No. You spent four years convincing me I should be grateful you picked me.”
My voice remained calm.
“I am finally grateful for something, Jason.”
“What?”
“That you left.”
He stood there without an answer.
Then Daniel quietly opened the bookstore door.
Jason stared at him.
“You threatening me?”
“No.”
Daniel's expression was almost bored.
“I'm holding a door.”
Jason left.
The door shut.
My hands began trembling.
Daniel noticed.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I frowned.
“Good?”
“You don't have to pretend.”
That almost broke me.
Instead, I laughed.
Then cried.
Then laughed because I was crying in front of Boston's supposed criminal kingpin beside a display titled Mindfulness for Beginners.
Daniel handed me a tissue.
“This is not how I imagined our second date.”
“This isn't a date.”
“You accepted coffee.”
“Under interrogation conditions.”
“Still coffee.”
I wiped my eyes.
“Thirty minutes are over.”
Daniel checked his watch.
“Thirty-two.”
“You're unbearable.”
“So I've heard.”
He stood.
Then placed something on the counter.
A business card.
His personal number was handwritten on the back.
“You already have my number.”
“I know.”
“Then why give me this?”
“Because this time, I'm letting you decide whether there is a next time.”
He walked toward the door.
“Daniel.”
He stopped.
“Saturday.”
His face remained carefully neutral.
“Saturday?”
“Dinner.”
A pause.
“A real date.”
Something warm entered his eyes.
“No investigations?”
“No investigations.”
“No kidnappings?”
“I'll do my best.”
“No mafia business.”
His mouth twitched.
“That term is legally problematic.”
“Seven-thirty.”
“I'll be here.”
He left.
I looked down at the card.
For the first time in more than a year, the thought of dating someone didn't make me want to hide.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Olivia.
I found something about Vale. You need to see it before Saturday.
Attached was a photograph.
Raymond Vale stood outside Maple Street Books.
The photograph was dated six months earlier.
The same day Daniel had first seen me.
May you like
But Vale wasn't alone.
Jason was standing beside him.
