Page 45 of Sadie's Guarded Harbor

Still nothing.

Huffing out a breath of frustration, she scanned the rows of filing cabinets. If someone had misfiled Shawn’s record, it would take days to search through this mess to find it.

Unless someone made sure the file didn’t exist. Shawn’s record not being available on the database at the station had been odd enough. Combined with it not being in its proper place in storage was downright suspicious. Nonetheless, she made her way up and down the congested aisles, searching for a logical place for the file to be.

She reached the back of the room, empty handed and full of questions. Sweat matted slips of hair from her ponytail to her temple. She grabbed her phone and checked the time. Forty-five minutes wasted.

She studied the bold lettering on the last cabinet. Cold cases. Facts and interviews tumbled around in her brain. A town the size of Water’s Edge couldn’t have too many open cases they kept tabs on. She slid open the door. The files in this drawer were labeled by year. Doing math quickly in her head, she flicked to the file from the year Shawn left for college. She pulled it, as well as the year after, from its space and closed the drawer.

Her fingers itched to search for anything that could be connected to Shawn, but she would wait until she got back to the station. She made her way to the front of the room. The sound of the door slamming shut reached her ears. She stopped, stilling every muscle in her body. Maybe someone walked by and closed it not realizing anyone was inside.

A familiar scent invaded her nostrils and stole her breath.

Smoke.

She quickened her pace. The thick, ashy smoke of something burning filled the room and stung her eyes. Where was it coming from? She raced to the door and turned the knob. The old brass handle didn’t move. She shook it back in forth. “Come on. Open, dammit.”

The smoke grew heavier. Flames licked up the side of the wall. She grabbed her scarf and tied it around her face, covering her mouth and nose. Panic threatened to pull her under. She couldn’t let it. Lowering her shoulder, she banged against the door—over and over and over.

It didn’t budge.

Tears filled her eyes. She grabbed her phone. No signal.

“Shit!” This couldn’t be happening again.

The flames grew higher. She spun in a circle, searching for another way to escape. No windows, no other doors, no hope. Fear squeezed her heart. She couldn’t go through this again. Not with a little girl waiting for her to come home. Her lungs burned.

She sunk to the floor to escape the increasing smoke and pounded her fist against the hard wood. “Help! Someone help me!”

17

Tommy brushed away the moisture clinging to his hair. The weather had gone from shitty to really shitty in the time he’d been in the coffee shop with Katherine. He’d needed the time with his sister—time to discuss the details spinning in his mind. No one could set him straight like Katherine. A new beat of determination lengthened his strides as he swept into the station and searched for Sadie.

She wasn’t there.

No new messages or calls had come through from her. Could she still be at the courthouse? The possibility seemed slim. Grabbing what she needed from the basement should have taken little time. Unless she found something else that snagged her attention.

Taylor hovered by the coffee pot, stirring sugar into the mug that was a constant fixture on her desk.

He quickly erased the space between them. “Taylor, have you seen Sadie?”

Taylor stopped stirring and pulled her lips to the side. “Not in a while. She left and hasn’t been back.”

“Thanks.” If Sadie was still in the file room, he needed to find out why. He grabbed his phone and pressed Call under her contact information.

No answer.

Dammit. The numbness hadn’t left his fingers from the cold and now he’d have to go back outside. He couldn’t just stay here and pretend her absence wasn’t odd.

“Is everything all right?” Taylor asked, her brown eyes wide.

“Probably. I just need to find Sadie. See ya later.”

Digging into his pockets, he found the gloves he hadn’t been smart enough to put on earlier and covered his hands. Fierce wind blew against the door, making it more difficult than it should be to open. He hurried to the back lot and jumped into his car. He blasted the hot air and peeled out of the parking lot.

The courthouse loomed large, the ever-fattening flakes dimming the appearance of the bright red bricks. Tommy parked the car and climbed out. He jogged up the steps to the main doors, stepped inside, then hurried toward the staircase that led to the basement.

He descended the stairs at a clipped pace, and a familiar scent invaded his nostrils. Like a bonfire, but more pungent. He quickened his stride, sounds of his footsteps echoing off the ceiling. A faint banging mingled with the beat of his steps. Fear invaded his chest. Something wasn’t right.

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