could take a moment and put her thoughts together but knew that would have to come later. If Gibby’s injury was in any way related to her investigation of her parents’ deaths, there was no time for the slow, methodical thinking she preferred.
“Give me five minutes to see my aunt and then let’s go over to her house.”
“While you do that, I’m calling a couple of friends of mine, Brody James and Logan Wright. They run a private security company in Mobile. I want Gibby guarded 24/7 and I don’t have the manpower to spare.”
An ache that had nothing to do with today’s events swept through her. Zach, ever the protector and defender—the boy she had fallen in love with still had the same strength and honor as before. Had her hurt blinded her to that fact? Was that why she hadn’t told him about the letters from the beginning? Guilt sliced at her conscience with the decisive precision of a machete. He had tried to exonerate her, telling her that this wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t so sure. If they’d been working together all this time, could Gibby’s assault have been prevented?
Savannah pulled her cellphone from her purse. “While you do that, I’m going to call Sammie and Bri. They were coming here this weekend anyway, but they need to know about Gibby.”
His expression stoic and grim, Zach nodded and pulled his cellphone from his pocket. Was his serious, businesslike demeanor because he was in chief-of-police mode or something else? Had her selfishness and lack of trust destroyed what she was only now realizing she wanted above all else?
The Wilde house was strangely silent. Zach and Savannah sat at the kitchen table, both lost in their own thoughts.
After a thorough search of the inside and outside of Gibby’s house, Zach was convinced of a break-in. The rain overnight had washed away any telltale prints outside, but a large muddy footprint in the kitchen gave him an idea of the size of the man. Problem was, there were a hell of a lot of men in Midnight with a 10½ shoe size.
Another giveaway had been the back door. The lock was so damn flimsy, a two-year-old could have broken in, but the wood surrounding the latch had fresh gouges and scratches. Someone had jimmied the lock.
Savannah had walked through the house with him and didn’t believe anything had been stolen. Gibby would have to confirm that, but the house was neat and seemingly untouched. The television and DVD player in the living room and laptop computer in the small study beside the kitchen were out in the open and would’ve been easy to carry out. Gibby’s purse lay on the hallway table with her wallet, cash, and credit cards intact. This had been no burglary.
Brody James was now at the hospital guarding Gibby’s room. Had Gibby’s attacker meant to kill the elderly woman or just scare the hell out of her? Zach believed the former. She’d been pushed down an entire flight of stairs. It was a miracle she wasn’t dead. And when the bastard learned she wasn’t dead, would he be back to finish the job? Brody James would make sure that didn’t happen.
Before they’d left the hospital, he and Savannah had briefly visited Gibby. Seeing the usually cheerful and spry woman so beaten up and hurt had infuriated Zach. Whoever had done this wouldn’t get away with it. He’d make sure of it.
Gibby had been so out of it, she’d barely recognized Savannah. He hoped like hell she would remember something when he talked with her again.
He glanced over at Savannah, who looked both worried and furious. While he wanted to reassure her, Zach held himself back. The blow she’d dealt him last night still stung. He had to push it aside for right now, though. Nothing was more important than learning the truth.
“Okay, let’s go over what you know,” Zach said.
Her huff of exasperation was reassuring. He hadn’t liked seeing the fear and sadness in her eyes. Anger was a much healthier emotion.
“You act as if I’ve known about this forever, Zach. I found the letters last week. All I’ve done so far is talk to Gibby, read the newspaper accounts of the events, and ask a few vague questions at Faye’s Diner, which was the biggest bust of all. I learned nothing. And I’ve talked to a few of Mama and Daddy’s friends about when they were alive. The one person who I thought could really