Page 19 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“Any idea what’s on them?” Hunter asks.

Agent Snow’s eyebrows knit together and her mouth tenses into a grimace. “We believe there’s a mix of images and data, but it’s too soon to know what information they hold. All of the files have been corrupted, so we’re proceeding carefully.”

I gulp another sip of my coffee. It’s strong, but the flat taste reminds me of the chow hall during basic training. “Any clue as to the type of images?”

“Not satellite,” Agent Snow says, shaking her head. “That’s all I know so far.”

I make eye contact with the other team members. “How about I update you on my end, then we get to the good news?”

I wait for nods, then launch into my brief synopsis of the Jane Doe murder chrono so far plus the coroner’s findings. Brian takes notes while I talk.

“So Terrilynn and the recent vic were both strangled. Any chance there’s a link? Maybe there’s trace DNA from his hands?”

“Those take time,” I say. “The coroner will call if he finds something.”

Brian scribbles something in his notes.

“I can reach out as well,” Agent Snow says. “The federal crime lab might be able to assist.”

A surge of optimism washes over me, and I take a moment to savor it. This is why we created the task force. To share resources, ideas, expertise. If we’re going to get a handle on this situation, we have to work together.

“Something else from the victim, and it’s weird,” I say to the team. All eyes perk up as I continue, “She had my work cell number written on her palm.”

“Did you check your incoming calls?” Hunter asks.

I nod. “Nothing there. Nothing on my voicemail.”

“Maybe she knew she was in danger,” Brian says. “And she was ready to call for help.”

“Could be why she was killed.” Hunter shakes his head, his jaw tight.

“Why my number though?” I ask.

“Good question,” Everett adds. “911 would have gotten her help any time of day or night.”

“Did the coroner say which hand, if the victim wrote it, any other details?” Agent Snow asks.

I shake my head. “When he gives me his final report, I’ll be sure to look.”

While my mind turns over these new ideas, I share the underwhelming report of my visit with Vander at Goose Point Correctional Facility—skipping the embarrassing encounter with Peyton Reece.

At least the next time I face off with her, I’ll have Cora to keep me in line.

If only I could return the favor.

The night of Noah and Vonnie’s rehearsal dinner, Cora—slightly tipsy after the vodka tonics before dinner—let it slip that she couldn’t wait to take off her underwear.

“Um, why?” I teased, hoping she didn’t notice my dick throbbing to life inside my slacks.

“Never mind,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing pink.

I never got the chance to get to the bottom of that or get back at her for making me hard as a rock.

“Dalton?”

I snap back to the conference room. “Sorry, what?”

Brian nods at the wall behind me. “Lights?”

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