Page 125 of The Bodyguard's Fall

He held my gaze for a long moment, his eyes almost a dare, while a flush crept up my neck and tingles lit my spine. And then he moved his attention back down to his book. And somehow, I made my way out of the clouds and back to Ari and Sadie.

Every year, on October 31st, the Walker straw maze became haunted with teenage workers dressed to impress in scary costumes. They’d roam the maze, hide in corners, and wait to jump out and scare willing participants there for a thrill. This was the last night before the maze shut down for the season. The town always showed up, almost as if they were saying goodbye to fall and welcoming in a new season. I used to love the haunted maze. As teenagers, Ari, Reese, and I would lock arms with our friends and bravely trek through the pathways, bracing ourselves for a night of controlled fun and terror.

I wasn’t planning to actually go through the haunted maze this year, for obvious reasons. I had enough terror in my life to go begging for more. But I wanted to come and soak in the scene, the sights, the smells, and the laughter heard throughout the night. It would be the perfect setting for the last scene in my screenplay.

And quite possibly the last scene for Tate and Liv.

We still hadn’t talked about the fact that Tate had to be back at work in two days. We hadn’t talked about where I’d be or the two bright-gold bands on our fingers. It was like we were both waiting with bated breath for Leroy to make his move. But there had been nothing.

Tate hadn’t kissed me since our boxing lessons in the field a week ago. And as the time for him to leave crept closer, the growing panic in my body bloomed.

We had just parked the truck at the maze when Tate’s phone lit up with a call. Tate put Will on speakerphone so we could both hear. I braced myself for whatever news Will needed to call us about on Halloween night.

“We got him,” Will said, the excitement bouncing from his voice.

Tate and I looked at each other, brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” Tate asked.

“Leroy. We got him.”

I slid across the bucket seat, next to Tate, and stared dumbfounded at the phone in Tate’s hand. My mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. My mind was racing too fast. What?

“How?” Tate asked. Even with this news, his eyes were still scrutinizing the parking lot before us, watching for threats.

“We sent a few decoy social media messages to different groups Liv’s involved in—or used to be involved in. Your old Pilates class. Old friend groups. Your walking club at work.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

“Just that you’d been away for a while but were moving back and wanted to get together.”

“What?” Forget Leroy. This was a new nightmare unlocked.

“It’s fine,” Will said impatiently, annoyed that I was raining on his parade with details he found insignificant. “He’s been monitoring you somehow, and we wanted to make him think you were home. Last night, I got permission to move our agent inside your apartment again to pretend to be you. And the next afternoon, a strange guy was lurking around your carport. He was holding flowers. He fit the description. And he drove a gray Toyota Camry.”

It was all too much, too fast. It didn’t seem real. I didn’t even have to beat anybody up. Or watch Tate beat someone up. But…they found him? My head couldn’t process the information.

“Guys! Did you hear me?” Will asked.

Tate, his eyes now on me, said, “Do you have a picture of him?”

Will sighed. “My agent got one of him by Liv’s car, but she was all the way across the street. I’ll send it to you, but it’s blurry, though. He’s in questioning right now, so I’m headed back to the station, and I’ll send you a better picture when I get there.”

Tate’s phone buzzed, and he pulled up a blurry, zoomed-in image of a man who was indeed hovering by my car. He seemed about the same size and body style that I remembered. My stomach clenched in disgust at the sight.

“How bad is it on the legal scale if I go and punch him at the station?” I asked. “Tate said I’m getting good.”

“I said she’s getting pretty good,” Tate amended, not taking his eyes off the photo.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Will said. “Anyway, keep your phones on, and I’ll send you both a better picture in a half hour. But we got him. We can all get back to our lives now.”

Will hung up, leaving us alone, the last of his words hovering like a heavy rain cloud above us.

We sat next to each other in his truck for a long moment, disbelief etched on both of our faces.

“How do you feel?” Tate asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’m having a hard time believing it,” I said. “You?”