After moving in the last box to Bellamy’s apartment and saying his goodbyes to the Easts, Locke excused himself to his bedroom and checked in with the group he’d assembled for the case. Like himself, the four men were former military, a few trained in espionage and reconnaissance missions. All were skilled fighters with level heads and good instincts. He’d chosen the best for Bellamy.

“Whatcha got for me, man?” Locke asked of his computer whiz. If there was an evidence to be gathered on the Internet, Matt could find it.

“Several years ago, Regina East was involved in a wrongful death suit. It was dropped almost as soon as it was filed.”

A link popped up in a chat box on Locke’s computer.

“Just sent it to you.”

“Thanks. Regina actually told me about the case the other day. Said the patient was stage four lung cancer when it was discovered. The team of doctors did everything they could, but unfortunately, it had already spread. Regina’s since been in contact with the family and they parted on good terms. But you never know what someone is hiding, so follow that lead. Anything else?”

“Over twenty years ago, Amy’s dad prosecuted a high-profile criminal for extortion. He was found guilty and sentenced to fifteen years.”

“Hmm…” Locke tapped his fingers. “Investigate that one too. Wonderful job. You and Connor keep up the good work. Ben and John, anything remarkable happening outside?”

“Not a damn thing, boss.”

“And we like it that way. I’ll text everyone in the morning.”

After ending the Skype session, Locke pulled a gift bag from his things. Nervous, he joined Bellamy in the kitchen.

“Hey, get everything unpacked?” she asked.

“Not yet. Had to talk with my crew and make sure we were good for the night.” He sat the bag on the counter, then pushed it in her direction. “A gift. To say thanks for letting me stay. I know it’s a big intrusion on your privacy.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything. I should be buying presents for you.”

“It’s not much.”

Bellamy looked inside, then placed the terracotta pot on a plate. She grinned when she read the label. “A Bird of Paradise. They’re so lovely. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I think this one’s supposed to be primarily orange when it blooms.”

Her fingers brushed over the large, green leaves. “I love it.”

“Says it needs full sun, so I thought we could put it on your balcony.”

“Perfect.”

After finding the ideal place for the flower, they were back inside. Locke pulled out a seat at the bar while Bellamy opened the refrigerator and removed two large bowls. “Mom left us with at least seven different frozen meals, but only thawed these two out today. It’s either Jambalaya or Shrimp Creole. Your choice.”

“That’s a tough one. What do you think?”

“Both are out-of-this-world. My mom’s family has lived in New Orleans since the 1800s. This is some next level cooking here.”

Locke pointed to the one on the left. “Shrimp Creole today. Jambalaya tomorrow.”

“Excellent decision.” Bellamy scooped two helpings for them and spread it over a bed of rice, then moved their bowls to the microwave. “Beer?”

“Best stick to sweet tea.”

“You are technically on the clock. Ha.”

The microwave dinged and Bellamy retrieved their food. For several moments, they ate quietly, both content in the other’s presence.

“You were right. This is next level. Remind me to tell Regina thanks,” Locke said after a drink.

“I will. She left us desserts too. Bread pudding. I think even some of my great aunt’s candy. She makes the best pralines in all of South Louisiana.”

Locke pointed his finger. “My grandmother’s from South Louisiana too. She can give her a run for her money, I’m sure. We’ll have to have a contest and see who wins.”

“Oh, really? Where she from?”

“St. Martinville.”

“Did you grow up there too?”

His head shook. “No, I was raised in a little town on the Mississippi River you’ve probably never heard of.”

“Try me,” she dared.

“Rodney.”

“Hmmph.” She smirked. “Wrong. I know exactly where it is. Small village about forty-five minutes north of Natchez, Mississippi.”

“I’m impressed. How on earth do you know where it is? It doesn’t even have a stoplight.”

Bellamy pointed to a snapshot of her and Bill. “My dad likes to take pictures of old stuff. Growing up, we’d pile in the camper on the weekends and drive to wherever he wanted to photograph and he’d teach me all about the history of the location. Rodney has several old churches if I remember correctly.”

“Sounds like a fun time. And yeah, lots of old churches.”

“Do your parents still live there?”

“No. They live in Natchez now. When Dad ran for police chief a couple years back, they moved. Easier for Mom too. She’s a psychiatrist and has a practice in the city.”

“Is your family full of doctors too?”

Locke grabbed the pitcher and refilled both their glasses. “Nah, just the one. We don’t have a huge medical dynasty like you do.”

“Thanks for the refill.”

“Sure.” He paused. “I gotta ask, why didn’t you go into the medical field? Just wasn’t for you?”

Bellamy had never told a soul the truth, but for some unknown, crazy reason, she wanted to tell Locke. More, she needed to. “It’s a secret,” she led.

“I’m a good secret keeper.”

“You can’t tell my parents. God, I sound so childish.” She chuckled at herself, but still awaited his promise of silence.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“It’s a pretty long story…”

He raised his hands. “And I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Well, Mom and Dad aren’t my biological parents. They’re actually my grandparents.”

“I didn’t know that, which is surprising since I’ve had to do my research. I assumed they’d had a kid later in life.”

“It was eighteen years ago, so there probably wouldn’t be anything on the Internet. But yeah, they basically did. When I was three, my parents died. We were in a car accident and my mother, father, and older brother were killed instantly. Even though I was young, I clearly remember the policeman who reached through the twisted metal and pulled me to safety. I’ve known since then that I was meant to help others the way he helped me.”

Impulsively, Locke slid his hand over hers, the spark electric between them. “How awful for you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need sympathy. I barely remember them.” She flinched but didn’t jerk away.

“I wasn’t giving you sympathy. I… just… never mind.” Locke pulled back and dropped his hand into his lap. “So what is it exactly that you want to do?”

She hadn’t meant to be so harsh, yet it was clear she’d hurt his feelings. “That was rude. I didn’t mean to be, but I don’t talk about what happened with my real parents and brother often. In fact, you are the only person beyond my family I’ve told. I’m not sure why.”

“It’s that truth serum I dropped in your drink.”

The corners of her mouth turned up and she nearly laughed. “I knew I felt different…”

“In all seriousness, I’ve always been easy to talk to. My mom says I was born an old man.”

“I don’t know about me being easy to talk to, but I know I usually overwhelm others with my intensity.”

Locke nodded. “I’ve heard those exact words my entire life. My parents didn’t know what to do with me when I was younger. While my classmates read Goosebumps, I devoured the classics. I’ve always been obsessed with details and finding obscure nuances to focus on. I like to think it’s a strength, instead of a weakness. It’s probably the same way with you. So tell me, Bellamy East, what do you want to do with your life?”

“Something I can never do. I want to go into law enforcement. It would kill my parents, though.” She jumped off the barstool and took their utensils to the sink, then dropped the paper plates in the trashcan. “But it’s my dream.”

Locke stood and followed behind. Close enough to smell a hint of her perfume, he leaned in. “No man or woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny, Bellamy.”

“Homer, The Iliad.” Bellamy was impressed. Beyond teachers, a man had never quoted Greek literature to her.

“That’s right. And a quote you should take to heart.”

“I will.” She looked down and shuffled her feet. “That was a good comparison. Is Homer your favorite?”

“Probably, but I love all classic literature. What about you?”

“John Milton is my favorite.”

“Ah, solitude sometimes is best society. Wonderful author.”

Bellamy drew back, surprised. Not only could he quote Homer, but Milton. Boldly, she asked her question. “Do you think Satan is the hero or villain of Paradise Lost?”

“Hmm,” he mused. “I’ve never given it any thought, but give me a bit and I’ll get back to you.” After a pause, he gestured behind him. “Well, I’m going to lock up and check all the windows before bed.”

“Great. And, Locke, thanks. You’ve given me something to think about.”

“I’m here to do more than protect you…”

Unsure of what to say, Bellamy offered a half-smile, took a step backward, then disappeared into the dark hall.