Page 27 of Faking the Pass
By Land and By Sea
Presley
At first I wasn’t sure who“they” were, but I figured it out pretty quickly.
Floating in the water just offshore was a battalion of boats.
Through the slitted blinds I could see people on their decks with raised cameras—still ones and video cameras.
I knew they weren’t here for me. They must have figured out Rosie was here.
But how?
She didn’t have her phone, so they couldn’t have used that to track her. Wilder was the only person who knew where she was headed last night, and he wouldn’t have told anyone, except for maybe Jessica.
I had no question my sister-in-law would take the information to the grave if necessary. She knew better than most people what it was like to have your privacy invaded—and even to have your life threatened.
It was a scary stalker incident that had brought her and Wilder together, in fact.
“Did you tell any friends where you were going?” I asked Rosie.
She shook her head. “I didn’t even know where I was going. And I didn’t see anyone when I left the mansion—or on the way here in the dinghy. Oh this is bad. So so bad.”
Both hands went up to cover her face like she was trying to hide from the whole world. She was shaking.
I resisted the urge to wrap her in my arms, clasping her shoulder lightly instead.
“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“No it’s not.”
Her head swung back and forth as if on a swivel. “This looks so bad. I ran away from my wedding and immediately spent the night in the home of a famous quarterback. Do you know what they’re going to say about me?”
“No one knows this is my house except for my family and a couple of the local fishermen around here,” I assured her. “I’ve gone to great lengths to protect my privacy. They may have gotten some shots of you on the deck of a cottage, but they don’t know who owns it.”
Rosie lifted her head.
“How can you be sure?” she asked. “These people are relentless.”
But there was a tiny spark of hope in her eyes.
“Come away from the windows.” I led her to the same chair where she’d made herself comfortable last night.
She went with me willingly, and I encouraged her to sit then draped the throw blanket over her.
Drawing her legs beneath her, Rosie pulled the throw up to her neck, cuddling it like Theo did with his security blanket. She looked tiny in the big chair, curled up like a ball.
Once again, the urge to protect her surged through me.
After a few minutes, her breathing had slowed a bit, but it was still not normal, and she looked almost catatonic.
“I’m going to get my laptop and see what the situation is,” I said. “Just sit here. Do you like tea? Or coffee?”
“Tea,” she answered in a whisper.
“Okay, be right back.”
A few minutes later, I placed a mug of hot tea in her hands. Her fingers felt icy. She was staring at the floor again.
