“Intimidation only works on living things,” I said. “Let me see what I can find.”

The answer was on the records-search site, under FAQ. Records for Cainsville had not been digitized. They were available at the town records office, inside the library, and could be accessed by appointment only, with a minimum of forty-eight hours’ notice.

“Seriously?” I said.

“Let’s see what we can find by other means,” Gabriel said. “Names of previous owners should be accessible elsewhere.”

Eventually he found the full name of the last owner. Using that, he uncovered the original one.

“Glenys Carew,” he said.

“I’ve heard that name,” I said. “I know there are Carews in Cainsville. A few of them, anyway. I think Veronica said it was an old family. Glenys sounds familiar, too. I’ll take a wild stab and guess it’s Welsh?”

Gabriel’s fingers flew over the keyboard, surprisingly adept for someone whose fingers looked like they’d hit three keys at a time. “It is. As is Carew. You’re right—there are a few Carews in town. Presumably not direct descendants, given that they allowed the house to change hands.”

He passed me the laptop and I ran a few searches, chatting as I did. “If Glenys advertised her services as a fortune-teller, I don’t see any historical record of it. It isn’t exactly a common name. Ah, here’s something. A wedding announcement for a granddaughter from the Morning Star, which is apparently one of the newspapers that merged to become the Rockford Register Star, and—”

I stopped and stared at the screen, rereading the announcement. It was for the wedding of the daughter of Arthur Carew, only son of Owen and Glenys Carew, all of Cainsville, Illinois. The daughter, Daere Jean Carew, was marrying the only son of another Cainsville family—John Laurence Bowen.

“Daere Bowen,” I whispered, barely able to get the word out. “That’s—”

“Pamela’s mother,” Gabriel said. “Your maternal grandmother.”

Pamela’s mother had babysat me during the murders. I’d known her as Grandma Jean, but my research had said her first name was actually Daere.

“So my mother’s family is from Cainsville,” I said. “Like yours. My grandmother left after she married, according to this announcement.” It said the newlyweds planned to move to Chicago, where John was employed as a factory foreman. “Your mother left, too.”

“Yes, she moved to Chicago when she was pregnant with me.”

“How did you get Pamela’s case?”

“I pursued it after someone brought it to my attention. Yes, that someone was from Cainsville. Ida, in fact. I was not, however, aware that Pamela had any connection to the town. It didn’t come up in our discussions, and there was no reason to delve that far into her family past.”

His fingers drummed the tabletop. Annoyed that he hadn’t known. I was still trying to process it all. I had a connection to Cainsville. My mother’s family came from here. I didn’t know what to make of that, but I had a good idea where to start asking questions.

“Is there any sense speaking to Pamela?” I said. “I hate to, after I said I won’t until she’ll talk about the omens and the hounds.”

“No, this estrangement is wearing her down. She calls daily to see if you’ve changed your mind. Any information she can give on your omens is worth holding out for. I will mention Cainsville at our next meeting.”

“Do you think it means anything?” I asked. “Or is it just a case of townies looking out for townies?”

“I don’t know.” More finger drumming. Then he stopped himself. “We should learn more about Glenys Carew. Find out if there’s anyone here who remembers her. Some of the elders might.”

“Okay.” I closed the laptop. “It’s late.”

“It is. You should get to bed. I’ll stay.”

There was no reason for Gabriel to stay. Did I argue, though? No, I did not. I got out fresh towels for him, said good night, and went to bed.

When I got into my room, I texted Ricky.

Heading to bed. Gabriel still here. Sleeping on my sofa bed. Again.

I waited for the reply, wondering how I would interpret a delay. Taking a while to respond because he was busy at the clubhouse? Or because he wasn’t sure what to say about Gabriel staying over?

His reply came less than ten seconds later. LOL. Must be comfortable.

I exhaled. He’d given no signs that he was jealous of my time with Gabriel, but I kept waiting for it. I’m not sure how many guys would be fine with their girlfriend’s boss sleeping on her sofa. I sent a final text and went to bed.

SECURITY

Gabriel sat on the edge of the sofa bed and looked around the moonlit apartment. The window shade was an inch short on all sides and he could have blamed his sleeplessness on the light streaming through, but that wasn’t the problem.

He opened the blind. Next door was a two-story house, the roofline below the window. There were no larger buildings on this side, no way for anyone to peer into Olivia’s apartment. Or so she’d say. He had only to look at the tree between the apartment and the next house to see an easy vantage point for anyone.

TC hopped up onto the sill and peered out into the night with him, their reflections mirrored on the glass. Gabriel closed the blind. Then he turned to Olivia’s door. Silent now. He’d heard the tap-tap of texting earlier.

He checked the locks and security system. He’d expected to feel at ease when the alarms were installed. Yet he could still sense threat out there, and the only thing that helped was prowling the damned apartment. What had Morgan called him? Olivia’s pit bull. He bristled at the implication, but that was exactly what he felt like, checking and rechecking the locks.

A dead body outfitted to look like her would seem as overt a threat as one could imagine. But for a threat to be effective, there had to be an “if” attached to it. If you do X, then Y will happen. No “if” had been given. That was not how the game was played.

Was the X somehow implicit? If you continue investigating your parents’ case, you’ll end up like this girl. But when the body appeared in Olivia’s car, Chandler was already in jail. When the head was left in her bed, she had already walked away from Gabriel and the investigation.

Was it the opposite, then? Keep digging or you’ll die? If so, the message was far too obtuse.

He needed to speak to Chandler, damn him. He’d been digging for dirt on the man, but it was hard to find blackmail material that would rattle someone already facing multiple murder charges. Until then, Gabriel had no answers. No clear certainty even that Olivia was under a direct threat. Yet a gnawing anxiety said she was and that he needed to do something about it. Which was almost as bad. Why did he need to do something about it?

Caring about her did not explain this obsessive need to look out for her. She could manage that surprisingly well. When she did call him during an emergency, it was only because she needed legal advice.

Olivia was smart. She was capable. She had a gun and the will to use it. So what kept him running to her aid? Making excuses to spend the night and then spending it prowling her damned apartment? He had no idea. And that, perhaps, unsettled him more than anything.

One more check of the windows and then the door lock. He paused there, fingers on the handle.

Check outside.

He growled softly at the urge. Yet he didn’t resist it. Once the anxiety settled, he’d be able to sleep. He was halfway out the door when he felt something brush his legs and looked down to see TC. The cat didn’t seem to be making a run for it—he was simply accompanying him.

“Stay here,” he murmured.

He managed to avoid the ridiculous temptation to add, “Watch over her.” TC wasn’t a guard dog, and he certainly hadn’t protected her from the last intruder. Because he hadn’t been there. Because he’d been taken. Someone had known the cat would have alerted Olivia to an intrusion, and so TC had been removed and shut in the Carew house where the killer was storing the body.