Falling For You (Sapphire Bay Book 1) Page 10

  After Natalie and her mom went home, Gabe turned on his computer. There was too much going on inside his brain to sleep, so he might as well do something constructive—even if it created more questions than answers.

  He opened the spreadsheet Caleb had designed. So far, with Natalie and Caleb’s help, they’d gone through the first half of his book, adding anything that might give a clue to what the stalker would do next.

  There was nothing to make Gabe believe the break-in had happened because of the stalker. But that meant diddly-squat when they were faced with something that was unusual for Sapphire Bay.

  One of the reasons he’d come here was because of the town’s low crime rate. Petty theft, the odd alcohol-induced bar brawl, and speeding tickets were about as action-packed as it got. Until today.

  His finger tapped against the top of his mouse. If the stalker was here, how on earth had he found Gabe? And if it weren’t the stalker, who had broken into the cottage?

  Maybe the burglar lived locally. If that were the case, it might have been Natalie’s art that was the target. But why hadn’t they taken anything?

  He closed the spreadsheet and opened Facebook. The Sapphire Bay community page relied on the local residents to update the happenings around town. Even the police and fire departments added their callouts to the stream of information flooding the page.

  Gabe skipped through the list of weekend markets, a plea for empty plastic bottles for the high school’s art department, and a sale on strawberry plants at the garden center. What he was looking for were the police reports from the last few weeks.

  Bingo. Three days ago, the police had issued a warning for the duration of the Cherry Festival. From what the post said, there had been an increase in crime each year the festival was held. Residents were warned to lock their homes and keep watch over neighbors’ properties.

  That made perfect sense for anyone living on a traditional street. Natalie’s home, however, was stuck in the middle of nowhere. Three houses, dotted between towering pine, spruce, and oak trees, were her closest neighbors. They were so far away, that if Natalie screamed, he doubted anyone would hear her.

  Gabe scrolled farther back, reading more posts about what had happened over the last few months. He jumped when his cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  “You didn’t call me.” Caleb’s irritated voice echoed down the phone.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The burglary. It’s all over the community Facebook page and you didn’t tell me.”

  Gabe flicked to the top stories of the day. Damn. Tanner had asked the police to keep news of the burglary to themselves. They’d kept their word, but that hadn’t stopped someone else from telling everyone.

  He read the name of the person who’d posted the story. “How did Mabel know about the break-in?”

  “She must have had covert spies operating in your area. You know what she’s like.” Caleb clicked his tongue. “Scrap that. You don’t know what she’s like.”

  Reading the post gave Gabe goosebumps. “How the heck did she know about Natalie’s paintings? She’s even told everyone what they’re worth.”

  “Mabel is the font of all knowledge when it comes to this town. If you believe what she says, she’s partly responsible for Natalie becoming a famous artist.”

  “Do I want to know why?”

  “It might come in handy when the news crew from KTMF come visiting.”

  Gabe really hoped he’d misheard Caleb. “Who?”

  “KTMF. They operate out of Missoula. They’re an ABC-affiliated television station. Someone in their office has liked the post.”

  He dropped his head to his chest. “They can’t do a story about the break-in.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. Apart from being emotionally bruised from your lack of communication, I’m offering you a place to stay. But only until the interest in Natalie’s art dies down. I don’t want you to think you can permanently cohabitate with me.”

  “That sounds as though it’s on the murky side of weird.”

  “It’s better than having your face splashed across the national news stations. Imagine the reporters’ delight when they find not one, but two international megastars in Sapphire Bay. The fans will come running.”

  “So will the crazies,” Gabe moaned. “I can’t leave Natalie on her own.”

  “Sounds to me like we need an emergency meeting.”

  “You’re thinking like someone in my novels.”

  “As long as I don’t get killed, I’m happy to inspire you.” Caleb rustled some papers. “When do you want to meet? The best time for me is now.”

  “Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “I try not to.”

  Gabe knew as well as anyone how hard it was to sleep when you had a lot on your mind. And Caleb, in spite of the happy-go-lucky personality he let people see, had issues that were as complex as Gabe’s.

  “I need to call Natalie.” Gabe checked the time and hoped she hadn’t gone to bed. “If she’s asleep, I’ll talk to her in the morning.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll bring Sherlock with me. He missed you.”

  Gabe had missed his partner in crime, too. “At least he’ll act as a deterrent to any would-be burglars.”

  “Or overzealous reporters,” Caleb said with a smile in his voice. “I’m leaving now.”

  “See you soon.” Gabe ended the call. He stared at his phone before sliding it into his pocket. Knocking on Natalie’s door would create less noise than calling her cell phone, especially at this time of the night.

  They needed to work something out before the media descended. Because whether he wanted them here or not, they would be coming.

  Chapter 9

  Natalie turned to the next page in Gabe’s book. Pulling her notebook closer, she wrote a comment on the sheet of paper. She had to admit that reading thrillers wasn’t her idea of fun. She liked happy endings, not murders, unsolved crimes, or an abundance of dark alleys.

  But Gabe’s books were different from what she’d expected. There was no happy ending in sight, but the characters were believable, the plot was intriguing, and she wanted to keep reading to see what happened next. No wonder his books had become bestsellers. If she could be hooked, then he must be a great writer.

  She rubbed her eyes and kept reading. After what had happened she was even more determined to finish the book. Especially if it helped the police locate Gabe’s stalker.

  The outside security lights flicked on. She kept reading. An animal was probably scurrying across the backyard.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Her heart leaped in her chest. She took a deep breath, then looked at the curtains covering the living room windows. Either the local raccoon population was on the move or someone was standing outside the cottage.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  She picked up her cell phone to call Gabe, then frowned. This was silly. She was a grown woman. A little late-night noise on the window shouldn’t spook her. If it weren’t a raccoon, it could be some other sort of animal.

  As she tiptoed across the room, she picked up the poker from beside the fireplace. When she was a teenager, a bear had lumbered out of the woods and onto their veranda. Her mom had joked about it coming to visit Goldilocks, but Natalie had been terrified. The thin, metal poker wouldn’t keep a bear away, but it made her feel better.

  What would help was the can of bear spray sitting on the shelf beside the front door. She held it tight, hoping that whatever was outside had gone away.

  With trembling hands, she used the end of the poker to flick back the edge of the curtain. A blue plaid shirt appeared out of nowhere.

  She dropped the bear spray onto the shelf and opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

  Gabe held his finger to his lips. “Ssh. I didn’t want to wake your mom.”

  “You scared the living daylights out of me,” Natalie whispered. “Why didn’t you knock on the door like a normal person?”

  Gab
e’s eyebrows rose. “The lights were on. Tapping on the glass created less noise.”

  Natalie stepped onto the veranda, closing the door behind her. “We can’t whisper out here all night. What’s happened?”

  “Mabel posted a story on the community Facebook page about the burglary. Everyone knows who you are and what you’re doing here. The media won’t be far away.”

  Natalie’s jaw dropped open. “Why would she do something like that?”

  “Because she’s likes sticking her nose into other people’s business. Someone needs to have a word with her—she shouldn’t be posting things about other people on Facebook.” Gabe took a deep breath. “We need to work out what we’re doing next.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Caleb’s on his way over. Come to my place. I’ll explain there.”

  “I need to leave mom a note. If she wakes up, she’ll wonder where I’ve gone.” Natalie rushed inside. After she’d left a note on the dining room table, she met Gabe on the veranda. “I’m ready.”

  They quietly made their way around the cottage. Beyond the glow from the security lights, the forest was a mass of dark shadows. After reading Gabe’s books, Natalie could easily imagine a serial killer hiding behind the bushes, ready to pounce.

  “This is kind of freaky,” she whispered. “I’ve never felt unsafe at the cottage, but I’m beginning to see the benefit of living in town.”

  Gabe unlocked his front door. “You’re not the only one.”

  Stepping into the living room still felt a little strange, but it didn’t bring tears to her eyes like the first time she’d been here.

  Gabe pointed to the sofa. “Have a seat. Caleb will be here soon.”

  “What did you mean when you said we have to work out what we’re doing next?”

  “If a reporter arrives, I don’t want them to know I’m living next door to you. If the stalker doesn’t realize I’m in Sapphire Bay, he will after your story hits the news.”

  Natalie chose her next words carefully. “You might be overreacting.”

  “I’d sooner be prepared than leave anything to chance.” The headlights of a big truck swung across the living room walls. “That’ll be Caleb.” Gabe strode across the room and opened the door.

  If someone had told Natalie six months ago that she’d be talking to a New York Times bestselling author in her grandparents’ cottage, she would have laughed. But there wasn’t anything funny about the predicament they were in.

  She’d thought coming to Sapphire Bay would solve a lot of her problems but, so far, it had created a whole lot more.

  Gabe crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re not staying here on your own. We still don’t know if the stalker was the person who broke into your cottage.”

  “And we might never know.” Natalie raised her chin and glared at him. “Detective Jameson said it’s going to take a few days to compare the fingerprints from the break-in to what they found in the warehouse. Even if they are the same, they might never find the person.”

  “Fletcher Security is sending the police the photos of the burglar,” Caleb said. “If it’s the same person, they could use facial recognition software to identify him.”

  Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “Only if he’s been arrested before. But I’m not worried about the fingerprints or the security camera. I’m worried about Natalie and her mom.”

  “We don’t need you to look after us.”

  Natalie’s defensive tone and clenched jaw wasn’t helping their discussion. It was at times like this that he realized just how stubborn she could be.

  Caleb cleared his throat. “There is an alternative solution.”

  Gabe glared at him. For the last half hour, they’d done nothing but go around in circles. Natalie refused to see how much danger she could be in and Caleb thought he was worrying about something that might not happen.

  “What’s your solution?” Gabe asked.

  “You could all stay with me. It would be a tight squeeze, but it would only be for a few days.”

  “Mom’s going home tomorrow afternoon, but I still don’t like leaving the cottage. My paintings are here along with all my art supplies.” Natalie looked straight at Gabe. “You could stay with Caleb until the reporters have gone.”

  Gabe ran his hands through his hair. At the rate he was going he’d be bald by the time Natalie left Sapphire Bay. “If the fingerprints belong to the stalker, you could be in danger.”

  Natalie pulled the printout of Caleb’s spreadsheet closer. “So far the stalker has recreated most of what has happened up to chapter five of your book. He hasn’t done anything for…” she checked the date on the last column, “…six days. That’s the longest break he’s had from contacting you or doing anything crazy.”

  “That we know about,” Gabe muttered. That earned him another frosty glare.

  Natalie ran her hand down one of the columns. It listed the exact timing of each event in his book. “Zac Connelly, the hero of your series, has been tracking the person who killed the woman in the warehouse. If the stalker is following the book’s timeline, you’ll be sent a photo of the murder scene in the next few days.”

  Caleb typed something onto the keyboard of his laptop. “According to my calculations, there’s a ninety-eight percent chance the photo will be sent to Gabe’s agent in the next twelve hours.”

  Gabe studied the spreadsheet. After the photo came a confrontation. And it didn’t end well for Zac. “There are two things wrong with your prediction. First off, the stalker must know the police are tracking his emails and letters. Why would he keep sending them? And secondly, the stalker doesn’t know if my agent is sending me the letters.”

  “You disappeared from Brooklyn.” Natalie glanced at Caleb, watching his reaction as much as Gabe’s. “I’d say that was a big clue as to whether you know about the stalker. What if the break-in was his way of telling us he knows where you’re living?”

  Gabe sat back in his chair. “Then he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. We know what he looks like and the police are comparing the fingerprints they found. Sooner or later, he’ll be arrested.”

  Caleb’s jaw tightened. “I hope for your sake it’s sooner rather than later. For the record, I’m with Natalie. I don’t believe she was the target. Even after the burglar triggered the alarm, they had time to grab a couple of paintings. But they didn’t take anything from the studio or the rest of the house. Either they were looking for something specific or they realized they were in the wrong side of the cottage.”

  “Or they didn’t expect the house to have an alarm,” Natalie said. “If the burglar was looking for high-value art, they wouldn’t have found any. The canvases on my side of the cottage are at least ten years old. They aren’t something a collector would want.”

  “Have you had the paintings valued recently?” Gabe asked.

  Natalie shook her head. “They’re not as good as the ones I paint now.”

  “When an artist sells their work for more than fifty thousand dollars, even the earlier paintings can reach high prices.”

  Heat scorched Natalie’s face. “How did you know how much I earn?”

  Caleb slowly lifted his hand into the air. “That would have been me. My only defense is that I’m a professional snoop and couldn’t help myself.”

  Natalie took Caleb’s admission of guilt better than Gabe would have done.

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” she said softly.

  Gabe had been trying to tell them the same thing, but no one was listening to him.

  “I didn’t purposefully look for what you earn,” Caleb added. “The sale price of some of your paintings appeared on one of my searches.”

  Natalie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. But in case you’re wondering, I’m not a billionaire.”

  Caleb seemed relieved. “In that case, I’ll buy you a coffee next time we’re in town. Now, what about the stalker?”

  Gabe pointed to the spreadsheet. “I’ll be
the first to admit there are similarities between my first novel and the stalker’s movements. But that doesn’t mean he’ll keep following the rest of the story.”

  “Check out these stats.” Caleb turned his laptop around. “The predictability algorithm is off the charts. From when your agent received the first message, the stalker’s actions have mimicked your book almost exactly.”

  Relying on an algorithm to anticipate someone’s behavior didn’t sit well with Gabe. Especially when they were comparing a fictional character, living in a make-believe world, to a real person who should be locked away.

  “Zac Connelly never broke into someone’s home.”

  “But he did travel across three states to find the person responsible for the woman’s death,” Caleb said.

  “And look at this.” Natalie pointed to the entry that was the closest match to the date of the break-in. “Jericho Walton, aka your novel’s bad guy, broke into an associate’s apartment to steal thousands of dollars. I don’t have that kind of money lying around, but the principle is the same.”

  Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose. “If Natalie stays in the cottage, and that’s a big if, how will she look after herself?” He directed his question to Caleb, but Natalie was having none of it.

  “Hello. I’m sitting beside you.” She sent a pleading look in Caleb’s direction. “Someone with immense technical know-how and muscle could stay with me. Between my self-defense moves and his brawn, we’ve got all contingencies covered.”

  “Except for one crucial fact,” Caleb said half-apologetically. “We’re dealing with someone who is mentally unstable. If I stay with you and something happens, I’d never forgive myself. Gabe’s right. You shouldn’t stay here on your own. Your mom would be the first person to agree with us.”

  At the mention of her mom, Natalie’s shoulders sagged forward. She sat silently in the chair, staring at the spreadsheet. “Okay. I’ll stay with you for a few days, but that’s all. Do you have somewhere I can paint?”

  “My mezzanine floor will be perfect.” Caleb sent her a reassuring smile. “You made the right decision.”