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Cole stayed a step behind her, ready to leap into action if she wobbled. The position offered him a close-up view of her backside, and he forced himself to keep his gaze at an appropriate level. No need to go there. Daniel had warned him.  
    In front of her apartment door, he held out his hand. “Keys?” He was impressed that she hadn’t had to stop on the way up to catch her breath. The woman was tough.  
    She stared at him in slow comprehension. “They’re in the camera bag.” She looked back down the steps as if they were Mount Everest.
    “How about maintenance? Can they let you in?”
    She nodded, reaching out to brace a hand on the door. “Just let me rest a minute.”
    But then the door to her apartment swung inward, and Cole had to move fast to keep her from toppling in. As he held her against him, he got a glimpse into her living room. It had been ransacked. “Uh …”
    She clung to his arms. “Oh my God.”
    Taking charge, he eased her down against the door. Her complexion had gone chalky, and his stomach twisted as he felt her trembling intensify. “Hey.”
    She continued to stare in bewildered silence at her wrecked apartment.
    “Chase.”
    She didn’t even flinch.
    “Bailey,” he said more firmly.
    Her gaze shifted to his face, but she seemed too stunned to speak.  
    He gave her a reassuring smile as he worked his phone out of his pocket. “You okay?”
    She blinked. “Fine.”
    “I’m calling the police.”
    “Okay.”
    He would have preferred to get her away from the apartment in case the intruder was still inside. But watching her lean her head against the door as if she didn’t have the strength to hold it up, he knew he would have to carry her back down the steps, something that would irk the crap out of her. When he saw tears well into her eyes, he repositioned himself so that he stood between her and the destruction.
    Turning his head, he scanned what had been her living room while waiting for the 911 operator to answer. Two 911 calls in one day. A record for him.
    Books, picture frames and the cushions of a red sofa and matching chair had been scattered. Bits of colored glass glittered among the red, blue and yellow plastic remains of what might have been Legos. A ficus tree had been tipped, dirt spilling out of its bright yellow ceramic pot onto what looked like new gray carpet. He imagined that before the destruction, it had been a nice apartment.
    Glancing down at Bailey, he saw the tears clinging to her lashes, and his insides twisted. Crouching before her, he grasped her hand and squeezed.  
    This sudden protectiveness toward her disconcerted him, but he reminded himself that he had a soft spot for wounded people.  
    With her, he was sure he’d get over it.

Chapter 6
    James Chase sat on a wooden bench at the halfway point on the Naples Pier and stared at the cloudless blue sky, listening to the rhythmic splash of the water as it lapped at the pilings. Where the sky met the horizon, the sand looked as white as snow, the trees a healthy, vibrant green. He’d come here so he could think, hoping the gentle, salty wind would clear his head.
    A toddler, his cheeks pink from the sun, ran by, his pudgy legs pumping like mad in an effort to outrun his laughing mother close behind. She scooped him up and made a wet, smacking sound against his neck while he squealed with glee.
    James wondered what Austin had been like as a toddler. He imagined that over the years Bailey had made hundreds of such kissy sounds against his son’s neck that made him shriek with delight. James tried to recall what his son’s neck had smelled like as a baby, how soft it had felt. But all he remembered was hating that Austin’s earliest memories would be of his father dressed in a blue prison jumpsuit.  
    Turning his head away from the happy tourists, he squinted into the sun. A year ago, he’d walked out of jail into bright Florida sunshine just like this. He’d struggled for a full twelve months,