Page 56 of Her Wild Coast Promise

The other deputy is already moving. “I’ll grab us rovers,” he says to Hunter, who stands.

“There’s an empty desk if you need a place to work,” Hunter says with a nod toward the far side of the bullpen. “Or you can use the conference room.”

I stand. “Got it.” I’m dying to ask him what’s happened, but there’s no point, so I gather my things and slide the chair back to its cubby.

I’m halfway to the empty desk when I overhear Hunter talking into his phone.

“Hang tight, brother,” he says in a firm tone. “We’re on our way.”

ChapterFifteen

SETH

When Hunterand fellow deputy Lucas arrive with the warrant signed by Judge Pickett, I give all units our game plan. “I want McCabe and Lucas with me. Parker and Pennbrook from the north end.”

Each unit affirms.

“Vander’s still here?” Hunter asks over the radio.

“He hasn’t left through the front.” I take another glance through my binoculars. The strip of motel rooms with their rusty metal numbers on the doors and the peeling beige paint don’t necessarily mean the rooms are being used as a brothel, but the evidence says otherwise.

Plus, Vander, freshly sprung from prison, is here. That’s enough evidence for me. It also means I’m right about the little weasel. If only Peyton hadn’t put her foot in it, Vander could be getting intel for us. Instead, he’s a free agent. Leverage I no longer have.

“Let’s move,” I say, then replace the mike. With one hand on the shotgun in my lap, I pull onto the road.

In less than a minute, I’m pulling up to the front entrance of the motel, my wheels splashing through deep puddles. According to the records, this motel has been sold three times in the last eighteen months. The most recent owner doesn’t even live in Alaska.

Hunter and Lucas pull up to the entrance, boxing in the two cars parked there, and hurry inside. I stop in front of the room Vander entered almost an hour ago.

Once Hunter emerges from the lobby, his face set in determination, I collect my rifle and exit my vehicle. He joins me.

“Any trouble from the manager?” I ask as we approach the room.

“Negative.”

I step to the door and knock hard. “This is the McKenzie County Sheriff’s Department. We have a warrant to search the premises.”

With my weapon ready, I count silently to ten, my senses on full alert. Even though Lucas is covering the lobby and manager and I have two more deputies flanking us, my chest feels tight under my vest and my breaths echo in my throat.

Hunter slides the key into the lock and turns the knob. He and I make eye contact, then I push the door open with the toe of my boot. Inside, the room is dim. No lights turned on. Both beds are made, the thin covers undisturbed. Striding in first, I clear behind the door.

Hunter moves ahead, clearing the hollow between the beds. I pass him to clear the bathroom, my gut churning because something feels very wrong.

I bust open the bathroom door, stepping into the cramped space with my weapon ready.

“Aw hell,” I drop to my knees and slide through blood to the bathtub where Vander lies limp.

Behind me, Hunter barks into his radio for a medic unit.

I abandon my weapon and slap on a pair of gloves.

“Where’s he bleeding?” Hunter joins me while gloving up.

I skim down Vander’s long-sleeved shirt that’s soaked in blood. “Wrists,” I say, and snatch towels from the rack.

“I’ve got a pulse,” Hunter says while I wrap the kid’s wrists tightly in the towels. “But it’s weak.”

We slide Vander from the bathtub and lay him on the floor.

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