“If he does not settle, he faces criminal charges, not just civil.”

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“Martin Bell called me five minutes ago,” Lydia said.

“He said Julian left his office in a rage.”

“He told Martin he was going to ‘fix this’ himself.”

My chest tightened.

I looked toward the hallway where Harrison was napping.

His small stuffed bear lay on the bottom step of the stairs.

“Lydia, he knows I am in Maine,” I said.

“The cottage is in my mother’s name,” she countered. “He has no way of finding that address.”

“He is resourceful when he is desperate,” I said.

“I will call the local sheriff’s department just to be safe,” Lydia said. “They will keep an eye on the road.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Keep your doors locked, Elena.”

We hung up.

The cottage was small, smelling of old pine and sea salt.

The kitchen floorboards creaked under my wool socks.

I walked to the front door and turned the heavy brass deadbolt.

Then I went to the back door and checked the latch.