Page 3 of Her Wild Coast Promise

As if reading my mind, Peyton cocks her head. Like she’s waiting for my answer.

“You sure you know what you’re getting into?” Despite our history and her misplaced bitterness, I don’t like the idea of her mixed up in Vander’s mess. He’s not only unreliable, he’s as dangerous as a coiled viper.

Peyton puts her hand on her hip and stares me down. “Do you?”

Holding my retort, I turn away. The guard lets me through, and I scrub my face with my hands. I hope to God Peyton taking this case isn’t some twisted form of revenge. This is why I never should have taken her to bed. Mixing business with pleasure is risky enough, but when I broke things off with her, she started spreading some really hurtful things about me.

The one that stung was that I’d cheated, which wasn’t true. Peyton and I never agreed to be exclusive, but I’m not the kind of guy who can manage more than one kite in the air at a time, so when I met Cora at Noah and Vonnie’s wedding and we had so much fun together—easy, playful fun, with laughter and deep conversations and dancing—I cut Peyton loose when I returned home. Even being casual with Peyton felt wrong after the way Cora made me feel.

Is revenge the only reason Peyton’s taking Vander’s case? Knowing her, there’s another agenda here. But what? She’s ambitious. Maybe she thinks this case will put her in the spotlight.

Outside the jail, thick clouds have moved in from the sea, their bellies leaden. As I cross the parking lot, the first drops of rain splat the pavement in thick, hard drops. I hurry and just manage to get inside my vehicle before the skies open. Raindrops clatter on my roof in hard bursts, sending sheets of water down my windshield.

Before I can check in with dispatch, there’s a request for another officer on scene for a code 10-54 at the port in Alderbrook.

I unclip the mike and start my engine. “Unit M42 responding. I’m fifteen minutes out.”

Once clear of the prison exit, I gun the engine and flash my lights.

There’s been another murder.

ChapterTwo

CORA

I’ve hada hell of a day and it’s not even lunchtime. The victim compensation grant for a mother and her twin toddlers was denied for the second time, the coffee machine blew up and barfed goopy coffee grounds all over the breakroom floor, and my panties are missing.

So when Director Litmauer’s email pings my inbox at 11:04, I push back my chair and march to my doom. I’m probably in trouble again for “too much helping”, but I stand by my methods, even if they occasionally bend the rules ateensybit. My job is to help people, not explain why the system is too broken.

I took the position with the Montana Department of Justice’s Victim Compensation Program two years ago as a last-ditch effort to put my pre-law degree to good use. On paper, it’s an amazing concept. Victims of crimes like domestic violence are eligible for grants that pay for services like counseling or medical bills. Widows can apply for funds to pay for funeral services. Children affected by crimes in the home get the help they need to heal.

But the red tape, epic delays, and the cut-and-dry policies make this well-meaning program nearly impossible to implement. Our department has over 2 billion dollars in funding to support families. It should be put to use, not sit in some bank account.

Director Litmauer answers my knock on his office door with “Come in, Cora.”

It’s unnerving that he knows it’s me. I’ve sometimes wondered if there are hidden cameras and he’s watching us.

When I enter, Director Litmauer is feeding the wispy yellow fish in the rectangular tank next to his desk. One of them got eaten last week. He’s not sure which of the three left is the bad fish. Behind him on the wall are several photographs of him with various famous people, including the head of the FBI, Carly Simon, and a professional golfer.

“Have a seat, Cora,” he says.

I tuck into one of the two narrow chairs facing him and wait.

Director Litmauer purses his lips, his small eyes zeroing in on me before he tents his fingers on the desk. “The Mariana family’s grant came through.”

My heart lifts. “That’s great news, sir.”

“You spent quite a lot of time on this.”

“I did, sir.”

He pauses to inhale through his nose. “I appreciate your determination, Cora.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But I will not tolerate shenanigans like this morning’s little prank.” He stares me down.

Hello, curveball. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

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