more resigned look. “I’ll take care of your daughter’s hair. You and the police figure out who’s doing this so I can get back to business as usual.”
Good. Okay. An unexpected tide of relief washed over him and Clint gave a curt nod. Her ultimatum wasn’t ideal, but at least it bought him some time to figure all this out and focus on one objective at a time. “Thanks. And watch yourself. Ashley hates hair brushing.”
Snorting, Tara walked back over to the table, saying to him over her shoulder. “Seeing as how I’ve been doing my own hair for years, I think I got this.”
Right. Well, let her have at it, then. He went off to the living room to open his laptop and pull up the video footage. Unfortunately, when the cleaning fluid bottle had hit the keypad last night, it must have knocked the coordinates he’d entered out of whack, because the camera he’d put outside the front door to watch the driveway had taken only shots of the porch steps instead. So yeah—and right at the top of his list of things to fix ASAP. After quickly going over the rest of the footage and finding nothing useful, he went back outside to talk to the police officers who’d arrived at the curb. They went into the garage and he showed them the electrical box and the cut wires and the note, which they took into custody.
Finally, report made, he reset the cameras, called an electrician to come fix the wires, then grabbed his keys and headed out. First to grab coffees for him and Tara as well as bran muffins for all of them. Better than the sugar they’d loaded up on earlier. It would be a couple hours at least until they were up and running power-wise again, which meant they needed food that didn’t require refrigeration or the use of the electric stove. And he needed all the energy he could get.
By the time he got back to the house, both Tara and Ashley were dressed and groomed. His daughter looked happy as a clam playing in the living room with her toys. They ate breakfast in the kitchen and waited for the electrician to get the wiring back on track.
A few hours and another perimeter check later, Clint finally felt secure enough to take a break, finding Tara setting up another one of those photo shoot displays for one of her social media posts. He both was and wasn’t surprised to see that Ashley was helping her by drawing pictures of rainbows for the background of Tara’s shot. Ashley drew rainbows on anything and everything—they were her absolute favorite. But Tara was a surprisingly good sport to incorporate them in her photo shoot.
He stood off to the side, silent, just taking it all in. The two of them seemed to get along really well, which was nice for Clint to see. He worried, among other things, about his poor daughter missing that all-important mother-daughter bond as she grew up. Clint did the very best he could to fill that role for her, but he wasn’t a woman.
So maybe, in a way, this was actually good—them staying here—if it meant Ashley got quality time with Tara.
“It’s ready!” his daughter declared and Tara nodded toward the large rainbow background Ashley had made.
“Looks great, kiddo,” Tara said, straightening, then gesturing for Ashley to join her off to the side. “All right, let’s get some pics, then.”
Twenty minutes later, the two of them were hunched over Tara’s laptop going over the pictures to choose the best one to post.
“I like that one,” Ashley said, pointing to one onscreen.
“That one is nice,” Tara said. “But this one is better. See how the composition forms a triangle here that draws your eye in toward the center?”
Clint chuckled and shook his head. As inquisitive as Ashley was, learning about the secrets of photography had to be a huge thrill for her. He was also amazed at how patient and perceptive Tara was with his daughter, never seeming to be overwhelmed by the little girl’s constant questions or concerns, explaining things to her calmly and clearly without talking down to her. It was great to see, honestly, and made his heart tug with gratitude.
He wandered over to see what they were working on and noticed the braids in Ashley’s hair. As a Navy man, he knew just about every type of knot in existence, thanks to the Naval Academy, but he’d