Dawn in Eclipse Bay

minute. Gabe had called her from the outskirts of town a short while ago.
    She had left the porch light on as well as several lamps inside the house. The cottage was illuminated with a warm, welcoming glow. Keys in hand, she collected the two sacks of groceries she had picked up at Fulton’s Supermarket and went up the porch steps. With a little jockeying, she managed to get the front door open without having to put down one of the grocery bags.
    She walked into the front hall, kicked the door shut and wrestled her burdens into the kitchen. The house felt unaccountably cold.
    She was certain she had left the thermostat set at a comfortable temperature.
    An uneasy feeling drifted through her. There had been a cold draft in the mudroom the night someone had broken in.
    She went to the door and studied the living room. Nothing appeared to be disturbed. Maybe she had left an upstairs window open a crack.
    But the draft was not coming from the staircase. It emanated from the downstairs hall.
    Her studio.
    Galvanized, she rushed toward the guest bedroom. As soon as she turned the corner she saw that the door stood partially ajar, just as she remembered leaving it earlier. But through the narrow opening she could see that something was very wrong inside her studio.
    A chill that had nothing to do with the draft of cold air went through her. With a sense of deep dread, she pushed the door open wide.
    The studio was in chaos. The blank canvas on the easel had been ripped to shreds. Rags, brushes, and knives were scattered across the floor. There was paint everywhere. The contents of several tubes of paint had been smeared across one wall and the floor. Her palette lay upside down on the bed. Pages of drawings had been ripped from her sketchbook and crumpled into balls.
    She finally identified the source of the cold draft. It came through the broken window.

    Gabe felt everything inside him turn to stone when he saw Sean Valentine’s SUV parked in the drive.
    Then he saw Lillian standing on the front porch talking to Valentine, and allowed himself to start breathing again.
    He hit the breaks and switched off the engine. “Something’s wrong.”
    “Yeah, I figured that.” Mitchell surveyed the scene on the porch. “Not like Sean to be running around at this time of night unless there’s trouble.”
    Gabe got the Jag’s door open. He loped toward the steps. Sean and Lillian looked at him.
    “What happened?” Gabe asked.
    “Looks like Lillian had another visit from whoever broke in the other night,” Sean said.
    “He vandalized my studio this time,” Lillian said shakily.
    Mitchell came up the steps with his cane. He frowned at Lillian. “You okay?”
    “I’m fine.” She smiled wanly. “But he made a mess. The floor, the bedspread, the wall. Everything’s covered in paint.”
    Sean looked serious. “Didn’t think too much of your idea that this guy Witley might be stalking her, Madison. But after seeing what he did to that bedroom, I’m inclined to agree with you. Let’s go inside and see what we’ve got.”

    “We’ve got jack squat, that’s what we’ve got,” Mitchell announced an hour later when they finally got around to dinner. He squinted at Lillian. “How the heck did you get into so much trouble running a matchmaking business?”
    “Darned if I know.” She picked up her wineglass.
    “Friend of mine told me that the business was a lawsuit waiting to happen. But no one warned me about stalkers.”
    “Well, don’t you worry about it too much.” Mitchell tackled his stir-fry vegetables with gusto. “One thing to be a stalker in Portland where no one notices a guy hanging around places he shouldn’t be hanging around. Another thing to do your stalking here in Eclipse Bay where a stranger gets noticed, especially at this time of year.”
    “He’s right,” Gabe said. “If Witley’s in town, Sean Valentine will find him quickly.”
    “Meanwhile, you’ll be okay,” Mitchell added. “Gabe here will watch over you.”
    Lillian looked at Gabe.
    He gave her his sexy grin. “Won’t let you out of my sight.”
    She contemplated the wine in her glass. “The thing is, even if Sean does find Witley, what can he do? I’ve heard it’s tough to prove a charge of stalking.”
    Gabe and Mitchell exchanged silent looks.
    She frowned. “What?”
    Gabe shrugged. “Don’t worry about Witley. If Sean can’t do anything, Mitch and I will think of something.”
    Her hand tensed around the