Page 1 of Her Wild Coast Promise

ChapterOne

SETH

I tucka twenty under my empty coffee cup and catch the eye of my waitress, who is delivering plates of eggs and sausage to an elderly couple at the counter.

She gives me a harried smile of thanks as I slide out of the booth and head for the door, my heavy footfalls lost to the clinking of silverware and din of conversation. I love the heavy scent of frying bacon and diner coffee and the way the late morning sun streaks through the old windows. It makes the ugly task I’m about to perform a little more bearable.

“Deputy!” the waitress calls out behind me. “Your change!”

I turn back. I don’t even know this kid, but I have the urge to warn her. Protect her. There are bad things happening in my valley. Three murders this year alone. Crime is rising. Young girls like her are being sucked into it, lured by empty promises.

The waitress must read the stern set of my jaw, because her eyes soften. “Thank you.”

My cell rings, so I give the waitress a quick wave, and turn away. Outside the diner, I answer my phone. “Deputy Dalton.”

“The sheriff’s out again today,” my fellow deputy Hunter answers. “More tests.”

“Shit.” I make a note to check in with Sheriff Kauffman’s wife, Kayla, later. “Are we okay on staffing?”

“Yeah. Lucas came in.”

“Good. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“I like your optimism,” he replies.

We end the call, and I slide into my vehicle. Hunter thankfully didn’t bring up his brother Cooper’s wedding last weekend and the disastrous blind date who left with the florist’s assistant halfway through the evening, but I’m sure I won’t be so lucky later.

It’s not my fault I was thinking of Cora all night.

I toggle my contacts to her number. Even without her picture saved on her contacts page, my memories of that night we danced and laughed are enough to take me right back. Was it a mistake to get so caught up in a girl I can’t have?

With a grimace, I shut the app and settle into the drive.

* * *

The jail’sbuzzer blares and the heavy lock clicks open. The guard leads me through the door and we enter a long hallway. The air is stale and starchy, like paste, and it’s too bright. We pass the visitation room. Inside, small circular tables are evenly spaced, each with four chairs, everything bolted to the floor. The room is empty except for another guard in the corner and a guy in a blue prison jumpsuit with thinning hair and tattooed biceps talking with a man in a cheap suit.

As I pass the window, the inmate glances up, his cold eyes like daggers. I don’t flinch, and he looks away.

The guard turns down another hallway and we walk to one of the interview rooms at the end. The guard stops to unlock the door. We step inside a small entryway, where another guard is posted. Through the thick glass window sits a twenty-year old male, his wrist chained to the table. His faded jumpsuit does nothing for his pale complexion, or his skinny frame. He’s staring at the table, his jaw tight.

I give the new guard a nod, and he opens the door.

Vander glances up, the glimmer of hope in his eyes vanishing as I step into the room. He grunts and tries to slouch back, but the tight chain on his wrist doesn’t let him.

“What the fuck do you want?” he grits out.

“To help you out of this mess.” I lower into the chair facing him.

He scoffs.

“You think juvie was bad? Just wait until they set you loose in there.” I nod in the direction of the yard, where the state’s worst offenders spend an hour of their day.

Though Vander is strong for his size, the guys in here are going to eat him alive.

And he knows it.

“I didn’t kill her,” Vander says, his eyes blazing.

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