One afternoon, when I arrived home, I found the front door open.
Grant arrived within minutes and searched the house. Someone had opened the desk drawers and taken money from a jar.
“This wasn’t a coincidence,” he said. “Someone was looking for you.”
Three days later, Kyle showed up on Aunt May’s porch.
Five years had passed, but hearing his voice instantly brought back the old fear.
“Lena, please. I just want to talk.”
He looked thinner and more exhausted.
“How did you find me?”
“I hired an investigator. I’ve been looking for him for over a year.”
Grant positioned himself behind me, but didn’t take control. He waited for my decision.
Kyle looked at him.
“Who is he?”
“I am her husband.”
“No,” I said. “Not in any way that matters.”
Kyle asked for five minutes. I agreed to talk on the porch while Grant stayed nearby.
