Page 101 of Her Wild Coast Promise

The trains.

The mark on Alisha Farrell’s neck.

Did the radiologist get my message to Hunter?

My door opens, bringing in a beam of bright light from the hallway and faint echoes of conversations from the nurse’s station. And Cora.

Relief floods me so fast my eyes water and shivers rattle my spine.

Her eyes widen. “You’re awake.” She sets her cup of coffee on a side table and hurries over.

She clasps both of her hands around mine and cradles my fingers gently. I close my eyes and savor this simple connection. The doctors assured me Cora was okay. That the bathtub and my body had shielded her from the majority of the blast. But until now, I wasn’t sure.

Gratitude and relief swim through me, tapping an emotion I can’t contain. If I hadn’t brought her home…if I hadn’t realized in time to save her…

“Cora,” I croak as the emotions crack open inside me, ripping my heart inside out. I squeeze her hand as the raw pain from my seizing lungs pulses through my chest and tightens my throat.

“Shhh,” Cora says, and gently caresses my forehead. Her beautiful eyes fill with tenderness. “It’s okay.”

Her fingertips feel like silk. Soothing and gentle. The pain ebbs and I close my eyes again. She’s here. We survived. Exhaustion tugs at the edges of my mind, heavy and full.

“Rest,” Cora says softly, still stroking my forehead. “I’m right here.”

When I wake again,Hunter and Brian Ambrose are talking in low tones. Weak daylight from the window indicates morning. Finally, the long night is over. Throughout the many hours of fitful sleep, Cora was there, holding my hand or caressing my forehead or talking to the nurses that came and went. The pain is worse today, but my mind is more focused.

“Hey, brother,” Hunter says, giving me a sly grin.

I offer my hand and he clasps it. The strength in his grip flows through me like a shot of adrenaline. I squeeze his hand in gratitude, my eyes burning with emotions that I don’t have the energy to contain. He gives me a solemn nod, his gaze steady.

Brian slides a notebook and a pen to my lap, an eager gleam in his eyes. “The docs say you’re not supposed to talk, but I have a feeling you have plenty to tell us.”

I chuckle, but it hurts, and I wince.

Brian grimaces. “Sorry.”

When I reach for the pad, I remember that my left pinky finger is immobilized in a splint. The radiologist explained that I’d most likely broken that knuckle when I landed in the tub. Thankfully it doesn’t require surgery. Thankfully it’s not my right hand or it could jeopardize my ability to fire a weapon, which would mean I’m out of a job.

Even after enduring this attempt on my life and Cora’s, I’m more convinced than ever that this is where I belong. Now if only I can convince the woman I love to join me.

I start writing, my handwriting messy. Facts come first, then the questions that have been bouncing around in my mind since I saw the picture on Cora’s desk.

Congressman White isn’t married. I didn’t know that when I met with him, but, the ring must have stuck in my subconscious because seeing it flash on the screen in the task force conference room triggered a memory. At that time, I didn’t make the connection.

Brian and Hunter flank each side of me, reading along, stopping me to clarify, nodding that they understand, cursing when the pieces fall into place for them the way it did for me.

When finally, I’m finished, I lay back in the bed, exhausted.

Hunter’s eyes are flat with rage. I’ve just exposed the man responsible for the many tragedies his family has endured.

Brian exhales a slow breath. “Damn.”

“Madison has two Russian vessels that could fit our party barge idea under close watch right now,” Hunter says.

I underline my idea regarding the trains. Einar Nilsen reported the rumble of a single locomotive at just past 3:00 a.m. on three separate occasions. He knows the schedule because he is up milking cows at that time specifically to avoid the distress the trains cause his heifers.

“They move the girls to the coast in the middle of the night to avoid detection, and because Stoll works for the rail system, he can orchestrate the delivery.”

Hunter taps my notes about Congressman White and the ring that unlocked a decades-old mystery.

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