Page 36 of Against the Wind

“Willa Sutter. She a friend of yours?”

Hers was perhaps the last name I expected to hear from his lips. Ice spread through my chest. “Yes. Is she hurt? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think she’s hurt. But, well, while I was at the police station, they were talking about how she found some human remains on her property.”

The room tilted slightly. I gripped the edge of a table to steady myself. “Remains?” The word came out as barely morethan a whisper. With Daniel’s training, if it had been a fresh body, he’d have said that. Which meant...

“Not quite sure. Atlantic side of the island. Somewhere further north. The police are trying to get more than the one officer out there.”

Oh God. After all these years, had they finally found Gwen? My heart pounded against my ribs.

“Gabs, you okay?”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. “I need to get to Willa.”

“Come on. I’ve got a boat.” He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask questions. Just offered exactly what I needed, and my chest tightened with gratitude even through the rising sense of panic and dread.

The wind whipped my hair as Daniel gunned the Zodiac’s engine, sending us skimming across the choppy water. I gripped the rope that ran along the side of the boat, knuckles white. The smell of diesel and salt water filled my nose as we curved past the southern tip of the island. Up ahead, I could see the decommissioned lighthouse that had once guided vessels safely into the sound. The lighthouse and caretaker’s cottage had been converted into a home and expanded over the years by Ford Donoghue’s moms. From my vantage point on the water, it seemed they hadn’t sustained any major damage from the storm surge or high winds.

“Hold on,” Daniel called over the engine’s roar. “It’s gonna get rougher once we hit the Atlantic side.”

He wasn’t kidding. The moment we rounded the point, the swells grew larger, the ocean still churning from the remnants of the hurricane. The Zodiac bounced over each wave, salt spray stinging my face. I clutched my medical bag tighter, though I doubted its contents would be needed for what we might find.

My mind raced with possibilities. After all these years, could the storm have actually uncovered Gwen’s remains?

“You want to tell me what we might be dealing with?” Daniel’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I’d never mentioned this to him in all our time together. Seemed only fair to tell him now. “There used to be three of us. Me, Willa, and Gwen. BFFs forever. Then twelve years ago, Gwen disappeared from the end of school beach party. No trace of her has ever been found.”

There was, of course, so much more to it than that. But those were the essentials.

Grim sympathy flashed across Daniel’s face. “You think the remains could be hers.”

“I don’t know.” And I couldn’t decide if it was better or worse if it was. Was it better to finally have conclusive answers that our friend was dead or to have the mystery remain, along with the admittedly slim hope she could be out there alive somewhere?

“Either way, Willa’s likely to be in a state. She just lost her grandfather about six weeks ago, and she was the one who found him.”

“Shit.” Jaw set, Daniel pushed the throttle forward.

The coastline blurred past as we made our way north, the familiar landmarks of my childhood home looking alien and threatening in the storm’s aftermath. And then I saw the small cluster of people at the edge of the maritime forest. As Daniel began throttling back, I picked out Sawyer’s tall frame first, then Officer Teague’s familiar red beard. And Willa.

My heart clenched. Even from this distance, I could see how badly she was shaking despite the foil emergency blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her massive pit bull, Roy, pressed against her legs, providing what comfort he could.

Daniel expertly beached the boat, and I was over the side before he’d cut the engine completely, my shoes sinking into wet sand as I rushed toward my friend.

“Oh my God, Willa! We just heard. Are you okay?”

The moment I reached her, I could see she wasn’t. Not even close. Her face was ghost-white, eyes glazed and distant in that way that meant she was probably dissociating. Blood stained her knees where she’d fallen. The emergency blanket did little to stop her violent trembling.

“I’m not hurt,” she whispered.

My doctor’s instincts kicked in as I assessed her condition. The bloody knees were superficial, but combined with the shock and clear trauma response, I knew she needed medical attention.

“Honey, you have blood on your knees. And if you’re wrapped up in that foil blanket and still cold, you’re definitely in shock. I want to get you into the clinic.”

“No!” The sharp desperation in her voice made me flinch. “I just want to go home.”

“Willa—“ I started to protest, but Daniel’s warm hand pressed against my back.

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