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CHAPTERONE

Emmett Kirby stepped into the Safe Harbor Cafe and inhaled sharply. The rich scent of bitter coffee mixed with sugar, cinnamon, maple syrup, and butter melting over a big piece of egg-coated sourdough bread assaulted his nostrils. He’d been looking forward to this meal since his eyes blinked open at four this morning.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Lucy Ann stepped from around the hostess station and gave him a big hug. “I haven’t seen you in here for a few days. I started to wonder if you’d found a better place to grab a bite.”

“Never.” He laughed. “Besides, imagine what Phil would do to me if I did. You’d never find my body.”

She looked him up and down. “This coming from the one carrying the gun.” She squeezed his biceps. “There’s a free booth in the back. Go have a seat. I’ll get your order started.”

“Phil’s not here?”

“Opal’s got some weird stomach bug, so she stayed home from school today. It’s his turn to have kid duty.”

“Poor Opal. She’s not an easy one to keep down.” Emmett scanned the diner, making a note of everyone and everything, more out of habit than anything else. His mother, the chief of police, had drilled it into his head to make sure he knew every detail of every room. It was both a blessing and a curse.

“Trust me, I know. I love that kid, but I’d rather be here working than trying to get her to rest.” Lucy Ann shook her head and let out a long breath. “This morning, she came running into our room. I mean, she’d been throwing up all night, yet there she was, barreling at us, babbling about something. Then, all of a sudden, she stopped talking and got sick right there. Didn’t even try to make it to a toilet.”

Emmitt covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. He shouldn’t find any of that funny, but he did, especially because he knew Opal. That girl was why children should be made with an off button.

“You wait. Someday, you’ll have children.”

His heart hit his gut like a sinking ship. “I’m too old for that.”

“You’re forty. You’re not too old to find love again and have kids.” Lucy Ann gave him that all-knowing look that made his insides twist.

He knew she meant well, and her intensions were good. But Emmett wasn’t about to have this conversation. Especially with Lucy Ann. He loved her like a sister, but other than his ex-fiancée, Melinda, he didn’t discuss having children, and even then, he preferred to sweep it under the rug. It wasn’t anyone’s business. Besides, he’d done everything he could to accept it. That was all that mattered.

He glanced at his watch. “I’ve only got about half an hour before I need to get back out there and keep our little town safe.”

Lucy Ann wrapped her arms around her middle. “I heard there was a murder less than fifty miles south of us yesterday. That makes sixteen men killed in just two years.”

“It does.” Emmett saw no reason to lie to anyone about those facts. There was a state-wide manhunt on for a suspect.

A one, Jeff Allen. Sixty-seven-year-old known felon. He’d murdered his wife’s lover thirty-five years ago. He’d been out of jail for twenty-seven and off the radar for the last twenty.

“But you have nothing to worry about.” He squeezed her forearm in hopes of reassuring her. The entire town had been on edge as each murder got a little closer to home. “Phil doesn’t fit the victimology.”

“You really believe this guy is only killing cheaters?”

“That’s what the feds believe, and he’s been leaving behind notes that indicate that, so…yes. I do. Don’t worry. Okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll get your coffee.”

“Thanks.” He strolled to the back of the diner and took a seat, making sure his back was to the wall.

It was late in the morning, so the breakfast crowd had dwindled to a few stragglers finishing their second cups of coffee while either avoiding whatever they needed to do that day, or simply not wanting to go out into the world just yet—something he could relate to.

One of the waitresses brought over a large cup of black brew.

He sat in his booth and sipped his hot beverage, squinting as an older gentleman with a long, scraggly beard and stained clothing entered the diner. Emmett knew every homeless person who lived in his small town, and this man was new.

Emmett pushed his mug to the side and sat up a little taller.

Of course, someone new strolled through their peaceful safe harbor as they made their way south for the winter or north for the summer every year. The homeless were no different than all the snowbirds who came to this part of Florida.

This man was tall and thin. Too thin. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days. His eyes were sunken, and his skin discolored. Almost yellow.

He looked around nervously and pulled his coat—which he didn’t need since it was close to eighty outside—tight across his body.

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