Page 25 of Her Wild Coast Promise

Stoll inspects the card. “You’re the one runnin’ for sheriff.”

Though it’s interesting that he knows this, or cares, I don’t have time for chitchat. “Thank you for your time.” I pivot so he can lead to the door. I’m not letting this guy surprise me from behind.

Stoll strides to the door and pulls it all the way open, drawing in a gust of cold air. When I step through the doorway, the door clicks shut. Stoll’s footsteps vibrate the flooring. I’m tempted to wait a few minutes. Maybe I’ll overhear something, or maybe Vera Stoll will change her mind and cry out for help. But I have no business doing so. Zach isn’t here, and I’m starting to grasp the complexity of his situation. If only he had come to me or Hunter instead of going on the run.

I’m convinced Zach the missing piece to solving Terrilynn’s murder.

But more important than getting answers, I could have helped him.

Instead, he’s on his own.

* * *

Walking into the tiny terminal,my hair still wet from the quick shower I managed to fit in after my shift, I’m relieved to discover Cora’s plane is just landing. A small crowd mills in the waiting area, the usual mix of locals and tourists, family members waiting on a spouse. There’s a couple dressed in dusty hiking clothes speaking a foreign language and a man in Wranglers and work boots who is likely a foreman at one of the drill sites. If we weren’t so late in the commercial fishing season I would expect to see more men in gritty Levis and patched-up puffy jackets. But most vessels dock in milder climates like Seattle for repairs and maintenance. I choose an empty section of the back wall with a direct view of the jetway door to wait.

My idle mind locks onto the task force meeting from earlier, and the implications that a sex trafficking ring is operating in my valley. Forcing my most vulnerable citizens into slavery. It’s hard not to see everyone in this room as a suspect. That’s the hardest part about being a cop—it’s nearly impossible to relax in mixed company.

Though we broke the meeting with detailed taskers, I can’t help but worry it’s not enough. Yes, I have faith in the team, but I don’t think any of us expected to face off with an enemy like this.

Murders don’t happen in McKenzie, at least they haven’t in the past.

Will this become my new normal?

Will girls continue to disappear from my valley?

Sex trafficking and murder and arson for monetary gain all fit one type of criminal activity. There’s a term for it. I’m not ready to say it yet.

Maybe I won’t have to.

The door from the jetway pops open, and travelers shuffle out, bringing the whine of the jet’s idling engines and a gust of cool air. Passengers filter through the crowd to meet their party and the waiting area fills with chatter and cries of welcome.

My heart taps faster in my chest. Where is Cora?

After Noah’s wedding, Vonnie’s sister Leah sent me a link to view the photo gallery from the photographer. I had been too busy to give it more than a quick glance. There was one of me and Cora on the dance floor, our smiles bright. My finger hovered over the mouse. If I bought it, did that say something? Was I crossing a line? Would Noah find out?

In the end, I didn’t buy the picture, and by the time I realized how badly I wanted it, the link had expired.

Cora steps into the waiting area, her wavy blonde hair loose about her shoulders. I must make some kind of sound, because the two older women standing nearby shoot me a scowl.

Brushing past them, I hurry toward Cora. She sees me, and her face lights up.

It’s like being hit with a ray of sunshine.

I focus on her while skirting the reuniting passengers, their chatter and laughter too loud in this small space. There’s no reason to panic right now—Cora is within sight and nothing is going to keep me from her. But I rush anyway, needing to be near her. Maybe it’s a protectiveness I don’t have the right to feel, or maybe seeing her again is a reminder of the moments we shared. And how hard it was to walk away.

Finally when I meet her, an awkward push-pull makes it impossible to know the appropriate greeting. Should I hug her? Offer a high five? Twirl her around like that night, only this time end the dance with the bone crushing kiss I’ve longed for since we said goodbye?

“Hey,” she says, beaming up at me.

“How was your flight?” I ask, my voice too loud in my skull.

“Fine,” she replies.

“You look good.” I curse to myself. “I, um, mean it’s good to see you.”

She’s blushing pink as a Florida sunset. My dick hardens against my fly.

“You too,” she says, pressing her lips together to hold back a laugh. Her pretty blue eyes sparkle.

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