He was out of ideas, mostly doodling on the paper, drawing lines between dates, when he noticed something. They’d died in the same order that they’d arrived at Lavine’s home. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

He knew one person who would know the answer to that for sure, so he pulled out his cell phone and called Noelle, David’s wife. She was freakishly smart and had a knack for seeing patterns, which is why she was now one of the foremost cryptologists in the nation.

“This had better be important,” she answered after about ten rings.

“It’s good to talk to you, too,” said Grant.

“Grant! Sorry. I was rude, wasn’t I?”

Grant couldn’t help but smile. Noelle was easily distracted by her work, but she was the biggest egghead he could find. “Working on something important?”

“I hope so. Otherwise I’m being terribly overpaid.”

“Good to hear it. I just need a quick favor. Can you tell me what the odds are that six people would die in a specific order?”

“What?” she asked, and he could hear in her tone that he now had her full attention, which was a truly rare thing for anyone but David or their new son. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

“I don’t know. It kinda depends on the answer to that question.”

“You mean six specific people, right?”

“Right.”

“Out of how large a group?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Absolutely.”

Grant stifled the urge to rub his temples. “Out of a group of twelve.”

“Can I assume they’re each equally likely to die? Or is someone sick or significantly older?” She uttered the macabre questions with clinical detachment.

“Assume they’re all equally likely to die. Just give me a ballpark, Noelle. That’s all I need.”

“Okay. Your ballpark is less than a percent. Would you like me to be more specific?”

“Uh, no.” Less than one percent? That was a pretty tiny ballpark.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her tone telling him she thought he was making a gross error in judgment.

“Positive. Thanks, Noelle. I owe you one.”

“Then get here as soon as you can. David could really use the help. He’s swamped and it’s making him grumpy.”

“I thought Caleb was coming to help.”

“He was, but Lana came down with that flu that’s been going around, and Caleb refuses to leave her until she’s better.”

Guilt gnawed at Grant. He really needed to step this thing up and go do his job. His buddies needed him, and they were as close to real family as he was going to get. He couldn’t let them down. “I’ll hurry. I promise. Kiss the baby for me?”

“Twice.”

“Thanks, Noelle.” Grant hung up and looked down at the notebook. It was looking more and more like Isabelle’s instincts where right. Those people were murdered.

Which begged the question, who was next?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Grant had just finished making dinner reservations when Dale got home from school.

He came in through the kitchen door and slammed his backpack down so hard it rattled the windows.

“Bad day?” asked Grant.

Dale jumped, clearly not expecting anyone to be home, and a bright flush of embarrassment stained his cheeks. “I’m fine.”

“Your backpack would beg to differ.”

Dale ignored the comment and headed straight for the refrigerator.

“I ordered a pizza earlier. Feel free to eat the leftovers.”

Dale’s voice perked up a notch. “Pizza?”

“With the works.”

“Thanks, man.” Dale loaded a plate and slid it into the microwave.

Silence reigned, but it wasn’t that comfortable guy silence where there’s just nothing that needs to be said. It was that awkward silence where Grant wanted to ask a teenage boy he hardly knew to tell him what made him throw his stuff around in anger and frustration.

It was possible that Dale had another run-in with his father, and if that was the case, Grant wanted to know about it and deal with it before Isabelle got home.

He found a pair of sodas in the fridge and set them on the table. “Would you mind keeping me company for a few minutes? It’s been too quiet around here today. I almost invited the pizza guy in to share lunch with me.”

“I was just going to go study, but I guess I can hang for a minute.”

“That’d be great.”

Dale sat down with his steaming pizza and started shoving the slices down, one after another. Grant was careful not to stare and sipped his soda slowly. “You look a little tired. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Enough.”

More thick silence filled the kitchen, making Grant squirm. He was no good at this tiptoe-around-the-teenager stuff. “Did something happen today?”

Dale lifted his eyes from his pizza and gave Grant a look that told him to back the hell off. “No.”

“Because if Wyatt came around again bothering you, I’d really like to know about it.”

“He didn’t.”

“Would you tell me if he did?” asked Grant, deciding that blunt might be a better approach.

“Why should I? I don’t even know you, man. Just back the hell out of my business.”

“I wish I could, Dale, but I know Isabelle worries about you, and she’s a friend of mine, so—”

“You’re only here because you want to fuck her,” accused Dale.

Shock rocked Grant back in his chair. “Whoa. Hold on a minute. First, that’s not the reason I’m here. Second, if I were, we’re both adults and it’s none of your business.”

“But it’s your business whether or not I talk to Wyatt?”

“I’m only trying to help keep you safe.”

Dale’s lip lifted in a sneer. “I don’t need or want your help.”

“So you want Wyatt to keep coming around until something happens? Maybe even to Isabelle?”

“Of course not.”

“Then tell me what’s going on. You saw him again today, didn’t you? That’s why you’re angry.”

“No. I told you that it has nothing to do with him.”

“Then what’s got you so upset?”

“I failed a test!”

Grant fell into stunned silence. He’d expected some bigger problem and was totally unprepared for such mundane news. He knew that it was of monumental importance to Dale, but at least it wasn’t life-or-death important. Grant stumbled to shift gears. “What class?”

“It wasn’t for a class, moron. It was a practice test for the SATs. I’ve taken it twice now and fucked it up both times.”

Grant ignored Dale’s foul language and focused on the problem. “You can take the SATs more than once, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there still time?”

“Yeah. Some.”

“So take it again. I’ll even help you study.” Grant wasn’t sure how much help he’d be, but he was willing to try. Now that he believed the deaths weren’t suicides, he was going to be here for a few days until he could make sure the problem was dealt with.

“Why bother to take it again? I’ll just fail again.”

“You don’t know that. If you study harder this time—”

“I study every free second I have, and it doesn’t help. I know all the stuff on the test, but it just doesn’t come out right when I’m sitting there. I get all nervous and know I’m going to suck, then that makes me more nervous, and pretty soon, they call time and I haven’t even answered ten questions.”

Grant had no idea how to help the kid, though he wished he could. He’d never been very good in school himself, so he wasn’t going to be able to give him any pointers on testing. “Is there someone at school who can help?”

“I’m already working with a study group three nights a week and Saturday mornings. If I do any more than that, my grades will start to slip. I can’t let that happen. I need to get into college.” The desperation in Dale’s voice was hauntingly familiar to Grant. He’d chosen to join the military as his escape route. Dale must have chosen college.

“You’ll make it. You want it bad enough to do what it takes. I can tell.”

Dale shoved away from the table, put his plate in the sink, and grabbed his backpack. On his way out of the kitchen, he said, “Sometimes it doesn’t matter how bad you want something. You still don’t get it.”

There wasn’t a doubt in Grant’s mind that he was speaking with the voice of experience. Poor kid. He had a lot to deal with. Grant knew it would make him tougher in the end, but getting there was hard as hell.

He wanted to figure out some way to help Dale get through this, but he had no idea how. He didn’t have any good fatherly advice for him, or any tricks on how to ace his test. He didn’t even know what to say to make Dale feel better, which made him about a half a step away from useless.

Just like his old man.

It was best if Grant just didn’t get involved. Dale wasn’t his kid, so as long as he kept his mouth shut, he couldn’t screw up the boy’s life. He wasn’t going to be here long, anyway, and when he left, he didn’t want Dale to even think twice about it. Grant wasn’t important to him, and it was going to stay that way. He wasn’t going to get close to some kid, then walk away and leave them hanging, hoping he’d come back.

Grant would not repeat his father’s mistakes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Isabelle shifted nervously in the front seat of Grant’s Mustang. Dinner tonight was not going to be pleasant. Not by a long shot.

“Relax,” he said in a soothing tone as he eased the car onto the crowded highway. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Grant settled a warm hand on her sleeve. She was sure he’d done it to soothe her, but the feel of his wide palm on her arm sent a little thrill careening through her. Her body started to heat up for him, and she was sure that if he hadn’t been paying attention to traffic, he would have seen the flush of excitement warming her cheeks.

She hated it that she reacted to him so easily when she knew there could be nothing between them. He’d leave in a day or two. He had a life of his own to lead, and after the years of service he’d put in, he deserved it.

Besides, even if he’d decided to settle down here instead of Denver, it wouldn’t be with her. There was something about her that drove people away. She didn’t know what it was, because she’d always tried to be a good person, but she knew it was there. It had to be. Too many people had walked away from her during her life for her to believe it was a coincidence.

At least she wasn’t alone now, left to stumble around trying to figure out how to protect those she cared about from a murderer. Even though she had some issues with the way Grant was choosing to proceed, she was glad he was here.

“I’m pretty sure that meeting publicly to talk about murder is a bad idea,” she told him.