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But his expression stayed grave, even pained. “Phoebe, stop searching. I am Renzo.”
My face turned cold. “Don’t joke with me.”
“I’m not joking. The one who died was my brother.”
With a tortured look, he pried open the stone casing on the tomb. My heart lurched when I saw the carved name beneath — Cade Oliver. The letters burned into my eyes.
“Now you believe me?” he pressed. “I am Renzo.”
I do not look back after the hotel vanishes behind the bend of the coastal road. The Gulf Shores night slides past the …
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