Page 47 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“Remember our strategy.” Cora walks in step with me toward the bar.

“You cover the Hope House crowd,” I say. “I’m on the power players.”

“Happy campaigning,” she says, and we split.

For the next hour, I talk with the mayor and his wife, a handful of local businessmen, and a bush pilot and his two sons. I’m relieved when Jonathan Bryson and Tim Little corner me to talk about fishing. Though they only spend time in Alaska during the summers, they are longtime supporters of social causes, and helped the McCabe family finalize the Soren Creek Preserve after Lexie gained control of the mineral rights. Brian Ambrose and his wife Darcy arrive, but I only manage a quick hello before I get pulled into a debate about raising the 55 MPH speed limit on the highway with a chicken farmer who wants to grow his business.

Throughout it all, I don’t let Cora out of my sight. Several times she catches me looking, and her reaction—a smile, a wink, a raised eyebrow that saysget back to work—keeps me going. I’m pleased to see her chatting with Heidi Jennings from the Office of Child Services. It gives me an idea—two, in fact. But before I can fully form a plan, the chicken farmer breaks away to refresh his ginger ale.

“I’m looking forward to your speech, deputy.”

I spin and nearly crash into Peyton, who is holding a cocktail glass half-full of something red, her lipstick stains marking the edge. “Hello, Peyton.”

Peyton’s gaze slides to where Cora is engaged in conversation with a tall woman in a pink dress.

“She’s a long way from home,” Peyton says.

“You know Cora?” My protectiveness jumps to life, sending needles dancing over my skin.

Peyton shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about the gesture. “I know enough.”

“How’s campaigning going?” I ask to change the subject. I don’t like the idea of Peyton putting Cora in her crosshairs.

Peyton gives me a sly glance. “It’s very busy, but I’m enjoying it. You like my slogan?”

“Catchy,” I say, and sip from my water. “What exactly would you do as sheriff to be tough on crime?”

“I’d get my deputies to do their job,” she says in an airy tone.

The needles settle in my gut, burning. “What do you think we’re doing now? Sitting on our asses?”

“You’re spending too much time working high profile cases and not enough time patrolling, building community, tending to the needs of families.”

The needles churn. I shouldn’t take this bait, but I can’t resist. “So we should ignore the unsolved murders in favor of school visits?”

Peyton raises her eyebrow. “These murders wouldn’t have even happened if your department had been doing its job.”

I raise my eyebrows. This is a perfect reason why she would make a terrible sheriff.

“Ms. Reece,” Cora says, swooping in to extend her hand to Peyton. “I’m Cora Tucker, Deputy Dalton’s campaign manager.”

“We were just talking about the McKenzie County Sheriff Department’s failures,” Peyton says. “Failures I will be sure to explain to the community during my campaign.”

“As the Assistant D.A., aren’t you part of these so-called failures?” Cora asks in a steady tone.

Peyton’s eyes flash. “Not at all. If the deputies were doing their jobs, I could more effectively do mine.”

“Is that why you made a plea deal with Floris Van der Hoff?” Cora says “So you could more effectively do your job of putting away criminals?”

Peyton blinks.

If I was turned on by Cora before, I’m a raging bull now. Who is this firecracker at my side?

“That is part of a larger strategy that I’m not at liberty to discuss,” Peyton replies, her nose tilted up, like she’s proud of how she intervened.

“I was going to flip him,” I say. “He would have been a valuable asset as an informant. I only hope you didn’t cut him loose to get back at me.”

Peyton laughs, but it’s hollow. “Think that highly of yourself, do you? I’m a professional, Seth. Unlike some.”

---