Page 77 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“Got it. Let’s get this scumbag,” he replies.

I key the mike in affirmation.

Ahead on the freeway, a McKenzie Valley Sheriff’s Deputy SUV is speeding down the highway. The FBI bird zooms over it like it’s standing still. As we skirt the edge of Storm Harbor, Cora’s story about the cozy little town in Virginia turning into a war zone flashes through my mind. If I can’t catch this guy, will that be Storm Harbor’s fate?

I squint through the thick rain to the wide bay where the ferry is just docking, the deep blue water churned white by the powerful propellors slowing the boat’s approach.

If we’d had more time, a stealth apprehension would have been my preference. Russel Walsh is dangerous, and a well-orchestrated interception would be safer. But we don’t have that luxury. If I’m too careful, he’ll slip away, maybe for good.

This is our chance.

Our pilot heads for the north corner of the bay where the nearly empty marina parking lot creates a makeshift landing zone. Hunter radios his position. Lucas seconds him.

“Approach with extreme caution,” I say. “Assume he’s heavily armed.”

“Affirmative.”

The chopper touches down on the wet concrete. Brian unfastens his safety belt and removes his headset before threading the seats. He releases a Rem 870 from the locked vault behind me as well as a Glock 22. I tuck the Glock in the back of my waistband and cradle the shotgun at port arms.

Our gazes meet, and he nods. “Let’s go,” I say.

ChapterTwenty

CORA

After watchingSeth disappear into the building, I start the engine and retrace my route to the street, my mind a scrambled mess.

What does Seth need to ask? That he held my hand while his troubled blue eyes searched mine feels ominous.

When I arrive at the temporary space I’ve rented out for the campaign HQ, the work of setting everything up keeps me busy. I don’t realize I’ve blown past lunch until a tiny ache in my hip flickers to life alongside my hunger pains.

There’s a sandwich shop two doors down, so I call in an order. I debate adding something for Seth too, but don’t. He hasn’t called or messaged me, which means he’s busy. I tell myself that’s a good thing. It’s important for his campaign not to slow down right now, not when we finally have momentum.

I’m just finishing my sandwich when my two volunteer coordinators—Mariah and Dennis, both retired dispatchers—arrive, bringing in the scent of rain. After a quick meeting, I leave them to the business of assembling more campaign signs and preparing for their evening with tonight’s group of callers. We’ve been dialing all of Seth’s supporters to remind them to vote. It’s tedious work and I’m relieved to have their help.

Turning this task over means I can focus on preparing for Sunday’s debate, which will be televised live. My stomach jiggles with nerves, and that weird tickle fires in my hip. I rub the spot, and it fades. When I get home later, I’ll make sure to stretch.

I drive to the Alaska State Archives Library, where I have a meeting with one of their librarians. Something’s come up in my campaign donor research, but I need help connecting the dots. Before I slip from the cab, I call Noah.

“Cora,” Noah answers. “How’s Alaska?”

“It’s good. Wet.”

He laughs. “A little different than big sky country, huh. How’s the campaign?”

I grab my bag and stuff my water bottle and wallet into the side pouch. “Seth gave an amazing speech on Veteran’s Day and we have a punchy radio ad running that I think voters are responding well to. He’s leading in the polls right now, so our hard work feels like it’s paying off.”

“Why don’t you sound pleased?”

I huff a sigh. Shit. Noah knows me well. I wish I could open up to him about my feelings. But I don’t think he could stay objective, and then I’d have to worry about him too.

“I need your help with something.” Saying this instead of addressing his concern is only going to activate his big brother antenna, but I don’t have a choice.

“Okay,” he replies.

I explain my thinking about Peyton’s campaign contributions and what it might mean.

Noah gives a low “hm” when I finish. “Just because her backers are in the transportation business doesn’t mean they’re expecting a kickback if she’s elected.”

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