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  Graham folded his arms across his chest and turned away from Jordan. “I’m not selling. Dad could have sold the building years ago, and he didn’t. That tells me it meant something to him, so I’m going to restore it with or without you.”

  Jordan turned fierce eyes on the lawyer. “Can he do that? Can he make me keep it?”

  Mr. Keyes shrugged and offered an apologetic half smile. “He could offer to buy you out, but there is no stipulation that he has to sell.”

  Before he could say anything else, Jordan’s phone buzzed. He swiped the screen and shook his head. Another kid had gone missing. “I have to go, but this isn’t over. We are going to discuss this, Graham.”

  Chapter 2

  Cassidy blew out another exasperated breath as she surveyed the stacks of envelopes surrounding her. Who knew there were this many lonely men hoping to meet a woman they saw on television? Of course, they weren’t all from men. She had gotten quite a few letters from women as well, mostly wishing her luck or telling her they were glad Tyler kept her around for as long as he did. There were even a few from young girls who said they wanted to be firefighters when they grew up too. Those made her smile. Firefighting was still a hard occupation for women to get into, but Cassidy enjoyed seeing the numbers rise each year.

  “I was wondering where you went.” Ivy’s voice carried across the room as she approached. “Whoa, what is all that?”

  Cassidy rolled her eyes and fanned her hands out. “This is my fan mail. Want to help?”

  Ivy’s blue eyes lit up and her smile shone with her exuberance. “Do I ever? I want all the juicy details, and you better not leave anything out.” She pushed a few pieces of paper aside as she dropped onto the bed beside Cassidy and grabbed an envelope from the bag.

  Normally, she loved sharing details with Ivy – the girls would often rehash their latest dates – but Cassidy didn’t want to share the details of this experience. It reminded her too much of grade school when captains chose players for teams and there were always those kids who were chosen last every time. She’d been that kid once and she still remembered how much it hurt hearing every other name called. After that, she’d worked hard to improve her athletic skill so she wouldn’t ever be the last one chosen again.

  Being on the show had been similar. Her gut had clenched with every ceremony, and she’d sighed with relief when her name was finally called. The difference was, those women had not been her teammates but her competition. Eventually, there would only be one woman remaining, and while Cassidy knew that, she had still opened her heart to Tyler until it became clear he only had eyes for Laney.

  “Not much to tell.” Cassidy’s eyes shifted back to the bag. She wouldn’t begrudge the couple their happiness, but it was still a bruise to her ego and an experience she didn’t want to relive. “Tyler wasn’t really interested in any of us though I think we would have been good together.”

  Ivy stared at her, and Cassidy knew she was deciding whether to push it or leave the topic alone. Thankfully, she chose the latter. “Would you have moved to Texas for him and left all of this?” Ivy gestured around the room before tearing open an envelope and pulling out a letter.

  Immediately, the heavy scent of cologne filled the air, and Ivy’s face scrunched in disgust. She held the paper away from her face with one hand and covered her nose with the other. “Whew, I think whoever wrote this used half a bottle of cologne on this letter.”

  “Ugh.” Cassidy waved her hand in front of her nose to try and lessen the stench. Axe. It would have to be Axe. It was her least favorite cologne and seemed to be the one of choice for most of the guys at her gym. The locker rooms always smelled of Axe when a class ended. “Don’t even bother reading it. Just toss that one.”

  Ivy balled the letter up and tossed it across the room. It landed more than five feet from the trash can, but at only five foot three, Ivy wasn’t much of a basketball player anyway. She shrugged and flashed a sheepish grin. “We’ll get that one later, but I needed some air.”

  Cassidy took a tentative breath and nearly gagged. The stench still clung to the air. “We might need to get a fan. That doesn’t appear to be dissipating.”

  “In a minute. First you have to answer my question.” Ivy reached into the bag and pulled out another envelope.

  “What was the question again?” Cassidy dropped her eyes to the envelope in her hand. She knew the question but was hoping Ivy might have forgotten.

  Ivy put her envelope down and cocked an eyebrow at Cassidy putting on her best ‘you can’t fool me’ expression. “You know very well what the question was, missy. Would you have moved and left all of this?”

  “I don’t know.” Cassidy unfolded the letter she had opened and pondered the question. It was a question she had asked herself since she’d heard about the reality show. Her work was here as were her friends and her church, but if finding the perfect man meant moving, then she supposed she would do that too. “I love it here, but I’d also like to get married one day and start a family. If we had connected and that meant moving to Texas, I think I would have.”

  “You don’t have to move all the way to Texas to get married. We have a ton of available men right here in Fire Beach, Illinois.” Ivy wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and grinned at Cassidy.

  If only that were true. “Yeah, men who want Barbie dolls like you not tomboys like me.” Cassidy had never been the one guys flocked to of her friends. Generally, she was the one guys befriended so they could pick her brain and find out about her other friends. Whether it was her thicker stature or her job or her tomboy nature, Cassidy didn’t know, but she was tired of being alone. Well, not entirely alone. She had her friends and her church, but those didn’t really count. Not in the way she wanted.

  “Uh, I think this stack here shows that’s not always true.” Ivy gestured at the massive pile in front of them and the papers on the bed around them. “I’ve never gotten paper cuts opening all my fan mail.”

  “Well, you would if you had been on national television.” Actually, Ivy probably would have gotten three times as much fan mail. Cassidy still didn’t understand how her friend was single except that she was picky. Every time she found a new man, she also found something wrong with him. She was beginning to wonder if Ivy even wanted a relationship.

  Her eyes dropped to the envelope she had pulled out and she scanned the writing as she continued. “So far, there’s been nothing worth writing home about in here anyway. I think most of them are lonelier than I am….” Her voice trailed off as she read the letter again.

  “What?” Ivy asked clearly picking up on the change in Cassidy’s voice.

  Cassidy didn’t want to read the words out loud. With a trembling hand, she passed the letter to Ivy who perused it, her eyes widening before she finished. Fear coursed through them when she looked at Cassidy again. “Does the captain know about this?”

  Cassidy shook her head. “I doubt it. He gave me the bag, but all the envelopes were inside and so far, they have all been sealed.”

  Ivy bit her lip as she looked at the still mostly full bag. Then she pulled back her petite shoulders and exhaled. “Let’s finish reading the rest and see if there are any more. Then, I think we need to think about showing this to him.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Cassidy began. She didn’t want to make a big display out of it, especially on her first shift back.

  “Maybe, but what if it’s not? You can’t mess around with this, Cass. This is your life we are talking about.”

  Ivy was right, but this was not how Cassidy had imagined returning to work. She was already on the captain’s radar. This might send him over the edge, but if this stalker turned out to be real and not just threatening words on paper, it would be worse if she didn’t tell him.

  Jordan ran a hand across his stubbled chin as he stared at the run-down building. It was even worse than he’d pictured. Graffiti covered the walls and the boards over the windows. The building was brick, so the structure
might at least be sound but who knew what would be waiting inside.

  Jordan had spent the little time he had that afternoon trying to convince Graham to sell, but his brother had been adamant their father would have wanted them to re-open the bar. Jordan wasn’t so sure. Their father hadn’t even told them about this bar, much less run it the last thirty years, but then they hadn’t spoken to their father much in the last few years. Not since their mother left him.

  Jordan had been fifteen then and old enough to remember all the times their father yelled and hit and threw things. The broken glass, the black eyes, the lies. Graham, on the other hand, had only been ten, and either he had blocked out those moments or been so desperate for a father that he didn’t care. Graham had visited their father several times when he had reached out to them and claimed he was sober, but Jordan couldn’t stomach the man. How could a father do what he’d done?

  With a sigh, Jordan stepped out of his car. His hand touched his side to make sure his gun was properly holstered. He went nowhere without it, and he’d worn it so long that he often felt incomplete if it wasn’t strapped in its usual place.

  Graham had said they would meet outside and go in together, but as Jordan was late and Graham was nowhere to be seen, he assumed his brother had started without him. Figured.

  “I thought you were going to be here two hours ago.” Graham’s annoyed voice carried across the large room as Jordan pulled open the front door.

  “Case ran long. What can I say? I’m here now.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket and laid it across a table before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Then he placed his gun on top. His eyes scanned the room, but it was as bad as he’d expected. Old tables and chairs coated in a white layer of dust took up most of the space. The bar was a mahogany monstrosity that had probably been popular in the seventies if the orange and red colors of it were any indication. Shattered glass was all that remained of the mirror that had once stretched behind the bar. At least both of them would be going. Graham had agreed to not have a bar in the restaurant.

  Graham put down his hammer and folded his arms across his chest. Fire burst from his eyes as he fixed Jordan with a fierce stare. “Are you saying my time isn’t important? I had things to do this evening too, but I was here at five like we said we would be.”

  Jordan rolled his eyes, tired of this argument. Graham did this every time he was late for something, and okay, Jordan was late a lot, but generally for good reason. His job as an intelligence officer in the police unit often had him working crazy hours, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Graham on the other hand sold insurance. Predictable was his middle name, and Jordan doubted he’d had anything planned except working on his computer which appeared to be his only hobby. Sometimes Jordan wondered if they truly were related as they were so different.

  “No, I’m not saying my time is more important.” Though he was fairly certain it was. Graham wasn’t getting criminals off the street; he was writing insurance policies and taking pictures. “I’m simply explaining why I’m late, but Graham, look around, man. This place is going to break the bank trying to fix it up. We should sell it and cut our losses.”

  Graham pushed his glasses up his nose and shook his head. “This is all cosmetic, Jordan. A little hard work and elbow grease will fix this place right up. As long as the walls are good, we’ll have no trouble re-opening this.”

  Jordan bit the inside of his cheek to keep his frustration in check. He didn’t want to spend his time fixing up this place. He had little free time as it was, but Graham had that gleam in his eye - the one that said he’d already made up his mind and nothing Jordan said was going to change it. Jordan supposed he could pull his big brother card and put his foot down, but Graham seemed to need this, and after years of looking out for him, Jordan still felt like he owed his little brother something to make up for his childhood. And if that meant opening a restaurant, he would find a way to make it work. “Fine, how do we tell if the walls are good?”

  Graham picked the hammer back up and turned to the wall. “We remove this paneling and look inside the walls. Then we’ll have a better idea of how much this renovation is going to cost.”

  “More than we have,” Jordan said under his breath. Well, more than he had anyway. Graham made decent money selling insurance, but Jordan was paid by the city and few people got rich off a city paycheck. He grabbed the extra hammer and joined Graham at the wall. “What happens if what we find behind this paneling isn’t good?” he asked as he jammed the back of the hammer into a space between panels. Images of termite eaten wood filled his mind along with the thousands of dollars it would take to fix them. “Then will you consider selling?”

  “No, it will just mean it will take more money to fix it up. One way or the other, I am re-opening this place, Jordan.”

  Of course he was. It didn’t really matter what Jordan said. Even though Graham was younger, he had always been bossy. It was probably one reason they did so few things together. Well, that and Jordan’s schedule. As a special unit detective, he was basically on call most of the time. He worked a normal shift, but it wasn’t unusual for his normal shift to turn into a much longer one if they caught a lead on a case.

  Jordan wedged the hammer under a crack in the paneling and heaved. The wood screamed in protest - a high pitched squeal that was unpleasant to the ears but thankfully short. With a loud crack, the wood broke in half. Jordan pulled on the broken piece until it came loose from the wall. Then he tossed it aside and ripped the top piece off as well.

  Jordan wasn’t sure what he had expected to find behind the paneling having never torn any off before, but it certainly wasn’t the rolls of paper he saw. “What is this, Graham?” He held the roll up for his brother.

  “I don’t know, but I have some over here too.” Graham grabbed a roll from his section of the wall and motioned for Jordan to follow him to a table.

  They unrolled the tubes and Jordan stared in disbelief at the image before him. “Are these….”

  “Movie posters,” Graham finished. “And they look old.”

  Jordan gazed down at the woman in flapper attire. “Old? These look like they’re from the twenties. What was Dad doing with these?”

  “Who cares? Do you know how much these are worth?” Graham asked. Excitement threaded his voice and Jordan could almost see the dollar signs in his eyes. Leave it to Graham to focus only on the money. “Come on, let’s see how many there are.”

  Jordan followed Graham back to the wall. He hoped they might be worth enough to help with renovations, but he was still curious as to where they came from and how their alcoholic father ended up with not only a bar but rare movie posters paneled in the walls.

  Chapter 3

  Cassidy stood outside Captain Fitzgerald’s office gathering her courage. She knew she had to tell him, especially if there was any possibility that the stalker might come to the firehouse and put her or her fellow firefighters in danger, but it didn’t make the conversation any easier. He was already angry she had gone on the show. Cassidy had no idea how he would react to this.

  “Come in.” His gruff voice carried through the closed door at her knock. Was he like this with everyone? She had always felt he didn’t really like her, but unless the man was psychic, he couldn’t know she was at his door. Swallowing her fear, she pulled her shoulders back and entered the office.

  In addition to being fierce and laconic, Captain Fitzgerald was a minimalist. His bookshelf sported more space than books and only one picture frame sat on his desk. Like the man himself, everything was neat and meticulous and in its proper place.

  “Captain, can I have a minute?” Her voice was too quiet and what was with the tremble? Why did he have such a power over her? Was it simply because he was her boss?

  His gaze flicked to hers, and his eyebrow arched on his stony face. “Marcel. I thought you’d be busy opening all your fan mail or cleaning the truck as I tasked you with doing.”

  Cassidy took
another step in, forcing her eyes up from the worn carpet to the intimidating figure behind the desk. “I was, sir, opening the mail that is. I haven’t gotten to the truck yet, but I will.” Ugh, she was rambling, and her heart was thudding in her ears. She took a deep breath and tried again. “The letters are what I need to talk to you about. There were a few that stood out that I thought you should know about.”

  His piercing gaze fixed hers for a moment as if scanning her for a sign of weakness. Then he rolled his eyes and motioned her closer to the desk. “What is it then?”

  Cassidy held out the three letters they had found that appeared to be from the same man. “The handwriting appears to be the same and the word choice looks consistent, so I’m fairly certain these are from the same guy. He seems to escalate, and while he might be harmless, I wanted to make sure you were aware of these. Just in case.”

  With a sigh, Captain Fitzgerald picked up the first letter and scanned it. His jaw tightened as he turned the page and his features grew stonier with each one. “Do you know this man?” he asked Cassidy when he had finished reading.

  “No, sir. At least I don’t think I do. I don’t recognize the writing, and he didn’t leave a name or a return address.” Of course, she couldn’t remember the last time a man had written her anything. A note, a card – it had definitely been a while.

  “Wonderful, so we have no idea who or what we are looking for. You’ve put this firehouse in danger Marcel with your publicity stunt.”

  It hadn’t been a publicity stunt, but Cassidy was not going to argue the point with the man. “I’m sorry, sir. That was never my intention.”

  “Be that as it may, you have. I’ll bring this up in the next meeting and inform everyone to be on the watch for shady characters hanging around the house. As for you, if you receive anything else from this person or any unusual things start happening to you, I want you to call the police. I need your mind on the job and not on this.”