While Natalie drove home, Gabe called Kevin Knoppfler, the detective who was looking after his case. The results from the fingerprint search still hadn’t come through. With no new leads or incidents, no one was holding out much hope of the stalker ever being found—unless the break-in at the cottage wasn’t as random as they assumed.

Natalie gripped the steering wheel so tight that her hands were white. “I think I’m cursed.”

Gabe glanced across the cab. “What do you mean?”

“This is the third time my home has been broken into. The odds of that happening are so low there must be more to it.”

Kathleen leaned forward from the back seat. “You only told me about one of the burglaries in Venice. When was the other one?”

“About a month before my paintings were stolen.” Natalie looked in the rearview mirror at her mom. “The only thing they took the first time was my laptop.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

Kathleen sighed. “Next time anything like that happens, tell me.”

“It worked out okay. Lorenzo was great. I stayed with his family on the night of the burglary. The next day, he found a company who could install a monitored security alarm.”

Gabe’s eyebrows rose. “How did the burglars break into your apartment the second time?”

“They short-circuited my alarm and the security camera in the front entrance. The police didn’t find any fingerprints and no one saw them enter or leave the building.”

Gabe had to stop his mind from working overtime. Natalie hadn’t said much about Lorenzo, apart from him not being her boyfriend. He had no idea if the gallery owner could be trusted, but he would find out.

“What did the police say about the first burglary?” he asked.

“They said to be extra careful. Sometimes burglars come back if they see something of value in the apartment. That’s why I had the alarm installed. I made sure it was on whenever I wasn’t there, but it wasn’t enough.”

Natalie had kept a low profile in Italy. Most people wouldn’t have known where she lived or that she was an artist. And most people, except for Lorenzo, would have no idea that each of her paintings sold for more than fifty thousand dollars.

Lorenzo had the means, motive, and opportunity to stage the burglaries. In Gabe’s world that was too much of a coincidence.

“What’s Lorenzo’s last name?”

Natalie frowned. “Ricci. Why?”

“Did the police ever consider him a suspect in the burglaries?”

Natalie’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious? Lorenzo didn’t have anything to do with what happened. He’s a good man.”

“Good men do stupid things. You haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t know who they interviewed.”

He picked up his phone and texted Kevin. If the NYPD couldn’t pull the reports on Natalie’s burglaries, Gabe’s next call would be to Fletcher Security.

If Lorenzo Ricci was even remotely involved in the Italian burglaries, they needed to know.

Natalie turned into her driveway and parked beside a big black truck. Because of the Cherry Festival, the drive back to Sapphire Bay had taken three times longer than it usually would.

From the outside of the cottage, nothing seemed different from when they’d left this morning. Gabe’s front door was closed. His truck was still parked beside the house and the front yard was spotless. Whoever had broken into the cottage hadn’t disturbed anything on this side of the building.

“That’s Tanner’s vehicle.” Gabe took off his seatbelt.

“Who’s Tanner?” Kathleen asked.

“He’s a security specialist at Fletcher Security. He designed and installed the alarm system.” Natalie studied the rest of the yard. Even if one of her neighbors had walked by, they wouldn’t have known anything was wrong. Apart from Tanner’s truck, everything looked normal.

She opened her door and took a deep breath. For the entire drive home, she’d imagined the worst. Even if nothing was missing, the thought of someone being inside the cottage made her feel sick.

Tanner walked around the side of the house. Last time Natalie saw him he’d been wearing jeans. Today, his black trousers and gray pinstriped shirt only made her more nervous.

Instead of going straight into the cottage, Gabe walked around the truck and stood beside her. “Are you all right?”

She looked at the cottage, then at Tanner’s unsmiling face. “I’m worried about what we’ll find when we go inside.”

Her mom slid out of the truck and rubbed Natalie’s arm. “The most important thing is that neither of you were in the cottage.”

“It’s like being in Venice all over again.”

Gabe’s gray eyes softened. “Except this time, you’re not alone. Let’s hear what Tanner has to say before we go inside.”

Tanner reached out and shook their hands. “I’m sorry I’m not here for a better reason.”

“I’m glad we had the security system installed,” Natalie said. “I don’t want to think about what could have happened if you hadn’t helped us.” She turned to her mom. “Tanner, this is my mom, Kathleen Armstrong. She’s staying with me tonight.”

Tanner nodded. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve been in both sides of the cottage. It doesn’t look as though anything was taken, but you can confirm whether that’s the case.”

Natalie swallowed. “Have the police finished what they need to do?”

“They have. The security cameras caught the person who broke in. We should have more information by tomorrow afternoon. You should know that the only area of the house they went into was your studio.”

Natalie’s stress levels soared. “How did they get inside?”

“They broke one of the windows in your studio. The alarm was activated as soon as they walked across the room.” Tanner handed her a business card. “This is the name of the detective who came here. He wants you to call him as soon as possible.”

“Okay.” Natalie glanced at Gabe. Even though Tanner didn’t think the burglar had gone beyond her studio, he must be worried about what he’d find in his side of the cottage. She needed to pull herself together and put the burglary into perspective. No one was hurt, the cottage hadn’t burned down, and Tanner had assured them that none of the rooms were trashed. Sometimes, you had to be thankful for small mercies. And this was one of those times.

“We should go inside,” Gabe said. “Do you want me to come with you into your side of the cottage?”

Natalie nodded. Even though the burglar was long gone, she felt safer knowing Gabe and her mom were close.

“I’m heading into Polson to talk to Detective Jameson,” Tanner said. “If something’s missing, make a note of it and give the list to him. I’ll call you on Monday with an update of what’s happening. And a glazier should be here soon to fix the window in your studio.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you coming here on the weekend,” Natalie said.

“You’re welcome. Take care.”

After Tanner drove away, Natalie walked toward the cottage. Gabe was on one side of her and her mom was on the other.

She looked at the window that had been smashed. Black fingerprint dust coated the wooden surround. “It looks as though someone’s picked up the shards of glass.”

Her mom squeezed her hand. “We can have another look later. I’d hate Sherlock to cut his paws.”

Natalie braced herself as she walked inside the cottage. She pushed open the studio door and stepped inside the light-filled room. Her gaze shot straight to where she’d left one of her paintings. The air whooshed out of her lungs when she saw it was still on the easel, untouched by whoever had been inside the cottage. With a sickening sense of dread, she moved farther into the room.

Her studio in Venice had enough room for three or four canvases to be on easels at the same time. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the cottage. Leaning against the back wall was the most ambitious project she’d ever started.

Her breath caught. It wasn’t damaged.

When she turned around, Gabe was studying the canvas on the easel. Natalie looked at her mom, imploring her to keep him busy while she found something to cover the second painting.

“Come and look at these paintings, Gabe.” Kathleen took his arm and turned him toward the left-hand wall. “When we moved to Sapphire Bay, Natalie’s granddad framed some of her early paintings and hung them on the wall.”

Natalie moved fast. Grabbing a large piece of cheesecloth, she draped it over the canvas. It didn’t cover everything, but at least Gabe wouldn’t see the most important part.

“Are the two people in this painting your parents?”

Natalie turned toward Gabe. He was pointing to a portrait she’d painted while she was at art school.

Her mom sighed. “It is. Of all the canvases Natalie has painted, this one is my favorite.”

Natalie checked the cheesecloth once more before walking across the room. She stood beside Gabe, not sure what to say. When she’d lived in New York City, she’d been incredibly homesick. Even though she’d managed to find a part-time job, she didn’t have enough money to go home very often. Instead, she’d called her mom and grandparents each week, using the Internet to show them what she was doing.

Between assignments, she’d made them gifts. On one of her few visits home, she’d taken a photo of her grandparents in front of their fireplace. They were smiling at each other, caught for all eternity in a love that had endured through good and hard times. That photo was her inspiration for the the painting she’d made for their fiftieth wedding anniversary.

“It’s an incredible portrait.”

Natalie swallowed the lump in her throat. “They were amazing people.” Her face warmed under Gabe’s intense gaze. It felt as though he were looking into her soul, searching for an answer to something that was confusing him.

“Your website only shows the landscapes you’ve finished. Why don’t you paint more portraits?”

Gabe’s question didn’t surprise her. Anyone who knew her at college would have been just as curious. She’d won two portrait awards while she was studying and sketched enough people to fill a gallery. But after painting her grandparents, she hadn’t wanted to start another portrait. Until now.

“Artists are like everyone who’s self-employed. If you want to make a living, you have to provide something people will buy. Until recently, I haven’t had the luxury of being able to choose what I paint.”

“Commercialism over creativity?”

“I needed to eat.” She wondered if Gabe had ever worried about paying tuition fees, rent, or living expenses. “You think I sold my soul to the masses, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t need to.” She lifted her chin. “Each painting is a huge investment in my time and energy. When I paint a portrait, I’m painting more than I see. I want to catch the essence of the person, understand what makes them unique, what makes them happy and sad. Otherwise, the painting doesn’t have a soul.”

“You don’t have to worry about money now.”

“No, I don’t.” Natalie’s pulse raced. Unless Gabe had seen the painting leaning against the wall, he wouldn’t know she’d already started another portrait.

“Is anything missing from the studio?”

Her mom’s voice cut through the fog in Natalie’s brain. Without thinking, she walked across to the wall of shelves her grandfather had built. Old jars filled with different sized brushes ran along the bottom. Paint, sandpaper, cheesecloth, rollers, and containers of sponges filled the other shelves. The things she needed to create her paintings were exactly where she’d left them.

“Everything looks okay. I’ll check my bedroom. Could you look in the living room, mom?”

“I’m not sure I’ll be any help.”

“Not much has changed since you were last here. I’ll be back soon.” Natalie searched her room and the bathroom. As much as she could tell, nothing had been stolen.

Apart from the black fingerprint dust, the living room was just as untouched. She opened the windows to let in some fresh air. “Do you want us to help you check your side of the cottage, Gabe?”

“I’ll be okay. Do you want me to get everything out of the truck that you bought in Polson?”

“I can do that,” Natalie said.

Kathleen patted Gabe’s arm. “I’ll help Natalie while you check your side of the cottage. You’re a good man.”

If she hadn’t been watching Gabe closely, Natalie might have missed the longing in his expression. There was so much she didn’t know about his life. So much she would have enjoyed discovering.

A knock on the back door made her jump.

Gabe strode across the room. “I’ll see who it is.” A few seconds later, his head appeared around the side of the doorframe. “It’s okay. It’s the glazier.”

Natalie let go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding. She just hoped nothing else went wrong today—there was only so much chaos her nerves could take.

After dessert with Gabe, Natalie and her mom walked into their side of the cottage.

Spending time with him had calmed Natalie’s nerves and made her less worried about the burglar coming back. “I’ll make us a hot drink.”

Her mom nodded. “That sounds wonderful.” Kathleen sat on the big, comfy sofa they’d bought many years ago at a market. “Gabe’s cherry pie was incredible.”

Natalie turned on the kettle and found her favorite herbal tea. “It was.” Just thinking about the layers of cherries and pecans made her mouth water all over again. “The top layer of chocolate was so worth all the calories we ate.”

“We should go for a walk in the morning.”

“If the day had turned out differently, I’d suggest going now.” Natalie handed her mom a mug of tea. “But tomorrow is a much safer option.”

“Don’t let the burglary scare you. Between that lovely man called Tanner and the police, they’ll soon have whoever was here behind bars.”

Natalie wasn’t so sure. The Italian police were still investigating the theft of her paintings. If the American police worked just as slowly, it would be Christmas before anyone identified the person in the security camera.

Her mom held the mug close to her nose and closed her eyes. “The tea smells heavenly.”

“It’s wildberry and cinnamon. Mabel sells it at the general store.”

“How are Mabel and Allan?”

“They’re happy and busy. Do you think they’ll ever retire?”

Kathleen smiled. “I don’t think so. Last time I spoke to them they were looking at expanding their business. The store beside theirs was for sale and they thought they could make use of the space.”

“That’s why it looked bigger. I thought my memory was playing tricks on me.”

“Not this time. How did you feel when you saw the cottage?”

Natalie took a deep breath. “Sad. When I stood on Gabe’s veranda, I half expected grandma to open the door.”

“She had a way of filling up the world with kindness.” Kathleen’s hand trembled as she placed the mug on the coffee table. “They died so suddenly.”

Natalie understood the grief in her mom’s voice. It had been a hard twelve months for everyone. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home more often.”

“You needed to stay in Europe.”

Regret, grief, and guilt made Natalie’s stomach churn. “Not all the time.”

“You were busy creating more wonderful paintings. After your grandparents died, I was more worried about you not getting the chance to say goodbye.”

Hot tears filled Natalie’s eyes. “I need to tell you the truth about why I didn’t come home for their funeral. It wasn’t the exhibition that stopped me from being here. I stayed in Europe because I felt guilty. I let grandma and granddad down. After everything they did, I hardly ever saw them. If I’d visited or called more often, they would have known I loved them.”

“Come here.” Kathleen pulled Natalie into a fierce hug. “Your grandma and granddad knew you loved them. They enjoyed hearing about what you were doing. Visiting them in Sapphire Bay was a big ask, especially with the schedule you had.”

“It didn’t have to be that way.”

“Maybe not, but it made a difference to your career. Granddad understood. He used to say you were a chip off the old block.”

Natalie wiped her eyes. “He sent me his set of pilot wings. He said they were a good luck charm to help my dreams fly.”

“They knew you wanted more than the life you had in Sapphire Bay. Grandma said you were destined for great things, and she wasn’t wrong. You needed to be in Europe.”

“I wish I’d come home.”

Kathleen pushed a strand of hair off Natalie’s face. “I know you do. Have you visited the cemetery?”

Natalie shook her head. “I nearly went there last week.”

“How about we visit their grave together?”

“I’d like that.” Fresh tears stung Natalie’s eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her mom wrapped Natalie in another hug. “I used to say the same thing to your grandma. But no matter how hard it is, you find the strength to put one foot in front of the other and keep going.”

Natalie rested her head on her mom’s shoulder. The thought of ever losing her was more than she could bear. She took a deep breath and tried to see something positive in all the heartbreak. Changing the past was impossible, but she could change her future. And she knew just how to do it.

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.