as he knew he should leave Hampton, if only to get as far away from Keith Clayton as possible—he was under no illusions that Clayton would forgive and forget—he couldn’t bring himself to walk out the door.
Clayton was the center of the wheel. Clayton—and Ben and Elizabeth—was the reason he had come. He just couldn’t figure out why or what he was supposed to do.
In the corner, Zeus rose to his feet and headed toward the window. Thibault turned toward him just as he heard a knock at the door. Instinctively he tensed, but when Zeus peeked through the glass, his tail started to wag.
When Thibault opened the door, he saw Elizabeth standing before him. He froze. For a moment, they simply stared at each other.
“Hi, Logan,” she fnally said.
“Hello, Elizabeth.”
A tentative smile, so quick as to be almost nonexistent, flashed across her features. He wondered whether he’d imagined it.
“May I come in?”
Thibault stepped aside, studying her as she removed her slicker, her blond hair spilling out of the hood. She held it out uncertainly until Thibault took it from her. He hung it on the front-door knob before facing her.
“I’m glad you came,” he said.
She nodded. Zeus nosed her hand, and she stroked him behind the ears before turning her attention to Thibault again.
“Can we talk?” she said.
“If you’d like.” He motioned to the couch, and Elizabeth took a seat on one end. He took a seat on the other.
“Why did you give the photo to Ben?” she asked without preamble.
Thibault studied the far wall, trying to figure out how to explain himself without making things even worse. Where to begin?
“Tell me in ten words or less,” she suggested, sensing his reticence. “Then we’ll go from there.”
Thibault massaged his forehead with one hand before sighing, his eyes moving toward her. “Because I thought it would keep him safe.”
“Safe?”
“Out at the tree house. The storm has weakened the whole structure, including the bridge. He shouldn’t go there again. It’s on the verge of collapse.”
Her gaze was intense and unblinking. “Why didn’t you keep it?”
“Because I felt like he needed it more than me.”
“Because it would keep him safe.”
Thibault nodded. “Yes.”
She fiddled with the couch cover before turning toward him again. “So you honestly believe what you said? About the photo being a lucky charm?”
Zeus walked toward him and lay at his feet. “Maybe,” Thibault said.
She leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell me the whole story?”
Thibault gazed at the floor, resting his elbows on his knees, and began, hesitantly, to tell her the whole saga of the photograph. He started with the poker games in Kuwait, then moved on to the RPG that knocked him unconscious and the firefight in Fallujah. He detailed the car bombs and the IEDs he’d survived in Ramadi, including the one in which Victor claimed that the photograph had saved both their lives. He talked about the reaction of his fellow marines and the legacy of their distrust.
He paused before meeting her eyes.
“But even after all that, I still didn’t believe it. But Victor did. He always had. He believed in that kind of stuff, and I humored him because it was important to him. But I never believed it, at least not consciously.” He clasped his hands together, his voice becoming softer. “On our last weekend together, Victor told me that I owed a debt to the woman in the photo because the photo had kept me safe—that otherwise, there was no balance. It was my destiny to find her, he said. A few minutes later, Victor was dead, but I escaped unharmed. Even then, I didn’t believe it. But then, I began to see his ghost.”
In a halting voice, he told her about those encounters, reluctant to meet her gaze for fear of seeing utter disbelief there. In the end, he shook his head and sighed. “After that, the rest is just like I told you. I was messed up, so I took off. Yes, I went to find you, but not because I’d been obsessed with you. Not because I loved you or wanted you to love me. I did it because Victor said it was my destiny, and I kept seeing his ghost. I didn’t know what to expect when I got here. And then, somewhere along the way, it became a challenge—whether I could find you, how long it would take me. When I finally arrived at the kennel and saw the ‘Help Wanted’ sign, I guess I thought that would