Page 78 of Her Wild Coast Promise

“Right,” I say. “What about the shipping company? Isn’t it weird how fast they’ve grown? And what about their ties to Russia?”

“A lot of export businesses have grown exponentially in the last few years. You should ask Dev about it.”

“If he wasn’t doing secret ops somewhere in Asia, I might.”

Noah laughs. “Right. So tell me what you’re thinking. Why would this shipping company supporting your opponent be anything to worry about?”

“I’m not exactly sure. Something just feels off.” And with Seth dropping “organized crime” into our conversation, that feeling is buzzing right now.

“Sounds like a peek at those archives is a good idea. Put your mind at ease.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” I reply, relieved that he doesn’t think I’m crazy.

“How’s Seth holding up?” he asks.

I remember that look he gave me in the cab. The one so weighted it could drown me if I let it. “I’m sure you remember what a marathon it is.”

“When it’s over, you two should come down for a visit. We can celebrate.”

I smile at the thought of this, then catch myself because “when it’s over” means something very different to me. “I’d like that.”

I ask about Kenzie and Vonnie and her boisterous, rowdy family. Noah’s updates make me laugh and smile like he’s right here next to me. The pride and love he feels for his wife and daughter come through the phone lines so clearly I get chills. He and Vonnie had a lot to work through for their love to thrive. I’m so grateful they care so deeply for each other.

“I miss you, Noah,” I say.

“Miss you too. I mean it about a visit. You’re welcome anytime.”

“Thanks.” I get the word out just as my throat tightens around my emotions. I don’t want to cry with my brother on the line. He’ll just worry, and there’s nothing he can do to help me.

We end the call, and I release a steadying breath.

I think of texting Seth, but don’t. He’ll reach out when he’s ready.

On my way through the driving rain to the library entrance, the drone of a helicopter flying overhead draws my attention skyward. I’ve heard them plenty of times while in Alaska, but this one isn’t the McKenzie Mountain Rescue one, or the Coast Guard. A gust of wind blasts me in the face, and I hurry inside the dim entryway.

I store my umbrella and step inside the vast room lined with shelves and approach the check-in counter. The elderly gentleman there is wearing a blue-and-white checkered dress shirt with a red bow tie and suspenders. When I give him my name, he lights up, his brown eyes warming, like I’ve just made his day.

“Right this way, Ms. Tucker.” When he leads me toward a row of tables on the right side of the library, his gait is surprisingly swift for someone his age.

On the middle table are stacks of giant-sized volumes that look like scrap books but I’m betting contain the copies of deeds, government-printed announcements, and old photos that I’m looking for. Nestled between two shelves and adjacent to the table is an ancient microfiche reader.

The man laughs when I raise my eyebrows. “We’re in the process of digitizing our archives, but not everything is there yet.”

I set down my bag on the chair next to the one facing the stack of thick books and unzip my coat. When I turn to drape it over my chair, I notice a woman walking past the check-in desk behind us, her pace brisk, like she’s in a hurry.

“Everything you asked for is here,” the librarian says, drawing my attention back to the table. He lays his hand on the top book in the stack, like a protective gesture. “I’ll be at the desk if you need anything.”

I thank him, and he stalks back toward the entrance. The woman I noticed earlier is nowhere to be seen.

Time to get to work.

ChapterTwenty-One

SETH

Cold rain pelts my face,but I barely feel it as Brian and I trot to a parked SUV for cover. The chopper peels away, the steady grind of the rotors replaced by the sound of waves hitting the shore and halyards clanging in the stiff wind.

“There’s a stalled car on the vehicle deck,” Hunter says over the radio.

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