Either way it meant that someone, somewhere was without a phone—modern society’s lifeline—and probably frustrated as all hell.

Troy opened the passenger door, felt beneath the seat and then the side of the seat by the center console. Found it.

He glanced at the screen with the photo of a young Taylor Harris with a blond teenage boy wearing a high school graduation cap and gown.

Must be Taylor’s brother, even as he noted the five missed calls, and text after text.

Not doing so good.

Need to talk to you.

Call me.

Why won’t you answer?

Troy’s brow creased, concerned. This didn’t sound good at all.

He glanced at the time on the phone’s display. It was quarter past eleven. If he drove the phone back to Marietta, he wouldn’t arrive until close to midnight. How could he knock on the Jones’ front door at midnight?

But then, reading the desperate texts, how could he not?

Troy returned to the house for his coat and wallet. He told Dillon he’d found a phone in the car and had to return it to town. Dillon suggested Troy just stay in town at the hotel. No reason to drive all the way back so late.

Troy thought it made sense and said goodnight, letting his brother know he’d be back before noon to spend the afternoon with Dad.

Taylor woke up to Kara clicking the light on in Taylor’s bedroom. “You’ve got a visitor,” Kara said, covering her yawn.

“What time is it?” Taylor asked.

“Eleven forty-five.”

Taylor’s mind cleared, and she sat up abruptly, immediately thinking of Doug as she groped for her glasses on the nightstand. “My brother?” she asked, settling her glasses onto the bridge of her nose.

“No.” Kara pushed a tangle of dark blonde hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Your knight in shining armor. Troy Sheenan.” She saw Taylor’s baffled expression and added, “You didn’t even have to track him down in the morning. He found your phone in his car and has brought it back.”

Relief flooded Taylor. She’d discovered she’d lost her phone minutes after Troy had left and didn’t know how to reach him without calling Jane, and Taylor didn’t have Jane’s number memorized, just saved on her phone. “It’s awfully late to return it, though,” she said, pushing back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Kara shrugged. “Apparently he was worried about some of the messages. He thought they might be… urgent.”

“From Doug?” Taylor asked, immediately on her feet and reaching for her thick fleece robe from the foot of the bed.

“Sounds like it.”

Rattled, Taylor stuffed her arms into the sleeves and tied the belt around her waist. What had happened? Was Doug in trouble? Had he gotten into it with someone? He’d been beaten up once at Hogue Ranch and he’d vowed he wouldn’t walk away from a fight the next time. He’d defend himself…even though it’d mean legal complications.

Taylor hated the cold queasy uneasiness filling her. She hated that just hearing her brother’s name made her worry. Worry was a terrible feeling, and it seemed like she lived in a perpetual state of anxiety over Doug these past six months. She needed him to get better. She needed him to get the right help and then maybe, just maybe, he’d have confidence again. Hope again. As it was, he struggled to hang in there.

But no matter how dark things seemed, she wouldn’t give up on him. There was no reason to give up. Doug was young and still physically maturing and as doctors said, a young male’s frontal cortex didn’t even finish developing until mid-twenties. Doug just needed to be patient. He just needed to believe in himself, the way she believed in him.