“Mr. McGowan.”

Alaina’s mother beat her to the door.

Alaina watched as he tipped his head in greeting. “Your daughter asked me to come over.”

His eyes found hers as she hurried to the door. He gave her a tentative smile.

“I can take it from here, Mother,” she said, pushing her way between the two of them.

Her mother pursed her lips. “Why is he back here?”

“I…I asked him to come.” Alaina grabbed Lucas’s hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves, and the feel of her warm fingers threaded through his—and her immediate, almost electric response—took her by surprise.

“Why?” her mother asked. Her own fingers were wrapped around her necklace, worrying the pearls as one might finger a rosary.

“I need to talk to him.”

“About what?”

Alaina tugged him toward the basement door. “Just…things.”

She vaulted down the stairs and she heard him behind her, taking the steps with hard footfalls.

Halfway down, she let go of his hand, inadvertently throwing him off balance. She turned to look at him and saw him stumble, reaching for the banister for support. His leg slid out from under him, and he let out a groan as his other knee absorbed the full weight of his body.

“You okay?” She glanced at his legs.

He bit his lip and nodded.

She heard him hobbling behind her as she headed toward Noah’s room.

“Seriously? Are you hurt?” She stole another look at his legs.

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

She hesitated for a moment, hurt warring with irritation at his clipped response. She pursed her lips, saying nothing as she crossed the threshold. Lucas followed her.

There were three yearbooks on the bed, all of them open to a double-page spread.

“You found something in the yearbooks?” he asked.

“Yes.” Alaina shook her head. “I mean, no.”

He rubbed his knee as he moved closer. “Which one is it?”

“I hate to ask again, but are you sure you’re okay?” She frowned, watching as he gently massaged his leg.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly. He was scowling, and she didn’t know if it was because of his knee or something else.

She bit her lip at the sting of his words.

He must’ve noticed, because his expression immediately softened. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s my leg. Old injury.”

She was immediately concerned. “Do you need anything? Ice or something?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” His smile was tight, almost painful, and she wished there was something she could do to help. But it was clear that he didn’t want any, and pushing the issue would only irritate him.

“You said you found something,” Lucas said. “Something important. Something in the yearbooks?”

“No,” she said. “I found a couple names, but I could’ve given you those over the phone.”

He cocked his head. “Okay…so why am I here, then?”

Alaina pointed to the window. “Look at that.”

He stepped closer, leaning toward the window, bringing his body nearer to hers in the process. She couldn’t help but breathe in his scent.

It was becoming so familiar. Heady. Intoxicating.

“Has the lock always been broken?” he asked.

“I have no idea.”

He looked at her. “Were these pictures knocked over?”

She nodded.

“And the dirt?”

It was her turn to frown. “What dirt?”

“The dirt on the ledge. Looks more like sand.”

“Sand?” She squinted and leaned in to get a better look.

“From the plows,” he said. “The sand and gravel they throw down with the salt.”

Alaina couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed that.

“Did you touch anything?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good.” He unzipped his jacket and reached into an interior pocket, producing a pair of latex gloves.

“You always carry gloves?”

“Yes.” His expression was dead serious. “The last thing I want to do is contaminate a scene.”

Alaina nodded. Of course.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, embarrassed that she hadn’t considered that. At least she hadn’t been dumb enough to touch anything when she first noticed the knocked-over frames and broken lock.

Lucas reached out and touched the dirt and gravel. He rubbed a few grains between his fingers.

“Definitely from the plows and trucks,” he said. “Especially considering the time of year. There isn’t any exposed ground.”

“How did it get there?” Alaina asked.

“It was probably on someone’s shoe.”

“Shoe?” Alaina stared at him. “Why would it be in the window?”

Lucas didn’t answer. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed out of the bedroom. She followed him as he marched up the stairs and toward the front door. She couldn’t help but notice that he was now walking with a slight limp, and she felt horrible that she might’ve played a role in causing it.

He slipped into his boots and opened the front door. Alaina was right behind him, struggling to get her own shoes on. She didn’t even grab her coat as she joined him outside.

“What are we looking for?” she asked.

She wasn’t sure if Lucas didn’t hear her or if he was simply choosing not to respond. Her boots disappeared in the thick blanket of snow and she trudged her way through, trying to catch up. A soft breeze stole through her sweater, sending a shiver through her.

Lucas finally slowed, allowing her to catch up with him. He was close to Noah’s window, about ten feet away, crouched down to inspect something.

Alaina stopped. “What are you looking for?”

“Prints,” he said without looking up.

“Like of boots? Shoes?”

He nodded.

She glanced around the yard. The front was littered with them, along with small patches of yellow snow. Harry, Noah’s dog, had always been particular about his toileting habits, and he always used the same stretch of yard in the front of the house to take care of his needs. Because of this, the snow in the front yard was crisscrossed with boot prints and paw prints. But the side and back yard were another story.

She examined the snow, noted the subtle shape of prints.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

“Those are prints,” she murmured.

“Sure are.” Lucas leaned closer, his face just a few inches from the snow.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something identifiable,” he said. “A pattern, a design, anything.”

Her pulse quickened. “What do you see?”

He sighed and looked up at her. “Nothing useful,” he said flatly.

“Why not?” She frowned.

“The prints are too old.” He straightened back to a standing position, grabbing his knee as he did so. “We’ve gotten a little bit of snow since the prints were formed, and with blowing and drifting and a little bit of melt thrown in…well, these are more outlines of prints than anything else. Indentations.”

Her hope deflated. “So they aren’t helpful?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lucas said. He picked his way carefully toward Noah’s window, creating a clear path that left the existing prints undisturbed. “We know someone was out here. We just don’t know who.”

Alaina folded her arms across her chest and hugged herself. The wind had picked up on this side of the house, and her hair whipped against her cheeks.

“You guys stayed out front with the dog?” Lucas asked.

“As far as I know,” she said. “Harry only liked the front yard.”

Lucas nodded. “And where is he now? I didn’t see him in the house.”

“He lives with me.”

Lucas raised his eyebrows.

“I… My mother wasn’t in any condition to look after him,” she said. “So I took him.”

“I didn’t see him when I was at your place.”

“He was probably asleep.” She made a face. “He’s not much of a guard dog. Just a friendly old mutt.”

Lucas nodded again and then turned his attention back to the snow.

Alaina’s teeth chattered. “Who do you think it was, then? Who made the prints?”

“It could’ve been a kid in the neighborhood,” he offered. “The mailman. Anyone, really.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. “So I guess this is a dead end.”

Lucas squinted at her. The sun was like a spotlight on his face, warming his complexion, reflecting bits of gold in his brown eyes. Alaina’s pulse quickened again, but for a different reason this time.

“Not necessarily,” he said, keeping his eyes on hers. “There are footprints that we can’t identify, which sucks as far as trying to figure out who might’ve been out here. But we have something else.” He smiled. “A broken window lock. And dirt on the window ledge.”

She swallowed, allowing her mind to assemble the pieces he was putting together for her.

“There’s an awful lot of evidence to suggest someone came through that bedroom window,” Lucas said. “The question is, who?”