Epilogue
RIOS
Mid-November on Hatterwick didn’t resemble the brochures.
No glittering sunburned crowds, no flip-flops slapping along the dock, no rental cars multiplying in the ferry line like rabbits.
Only gray-blue water under a sky that couldn’t decide if it wanted to rain, wind that carried a thin bite off the sound, and a ferry easing in like it had all the time in the world.
Ford stood with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes on the ramp like he could will it down faster.
Sawyer paced two steps, stopped, paced two steps back.
He’d say it was because standing still made him itch, but I knew better.
We were all keyed up. None of us said it out loud.
Jace was coming home.
“Any minute,” Sawyer muttered for the third time in five minutes.
Ford shot him a look. “You got a stopwatch, or you gonna keep narrating the obvious?”
Sawyer smirked, but it didn’t fully land. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and stared back at the ferry. “Just weird, is all.”
Yeah. Weird.
It had been months since Willa’s brother had been on island for more than a blink.
Deep cover assignment, Naval Intelligence—half the time we didn’t even know where he was, and the other half we pretended we didn’t, because knowing was the kind of thing that could get people killed.
We’d gotten a few texts when he could swing them. Mostly, we’d gotten silence.
Silence meant he was alive.
I shifted my weight and watched the ferry’s ramp start to lower with a metallic groan. A couple of cars idled at the front—locals, mostly. People in work boots and sweatshirts. A woman with a cooler wedged between her knees. Nobody acted like this was anything more than a Tuesday.
My phone buzzed once in my pocket, and I ignored it on principle. Madden was probably checking in, but she knew where I was. She’d told me to tell Jace hi and not to let the guys haze him too hard on his first day back.
As if that was an option.
The ramp hit with a dull thud, and the first car rolled off. Then a second. Then the foot passengers started down, shoulders hunched against the wind, bags slung over their backs.
I saw him.
Jace looked like he always did at first glance—broad shoulders, easy stride, dark hair that needed a cut, bearded face set in that calm, watchful expression that made people underestimate him right up until it was too late.
But the closer he got, the more I caught the edges: the way his gaze swept the dock, the parking lot, the ferry itself.
The slight delay as he clocked exits. The tension in his posture that didn’t belong to homecomings.
Deep cover didn’t peel off like a jacket.
Sawyer spotted him and went still for half a beat, like his brain had to confirm it was real. Then he surged forward.
Jace’s mouth split into a grin that was all white teeth and relief. “Well, hell.”
Sawyer hit him first. It wasn’t a delicate reunion. It was a full-body collision disguised as a hug, the kind of thing men did when they couldn’t say I missed you without choking on it. Jace took the impact like he expected it.
Ford stepped in next, clapped Jace on the shoulder, and pulled him in close enough to thump him twice on the back. “Welcome home, asshole.”
Jace laughed low. “Missed you too.”
He turned to me. I stepped forward and gripped his forearm. He locked on, hand strong, familiar. We held for a beat longer than necessary. Not for show. For confirmation. Alive. Here. Safe.
I pulled him in for the obligatory back thump and squeeze. “Good to see you, brother.”
“Yeah. Good to be seen.” Jace stepped back, flicking between us, reading the room the way he read everything. “So what’d I miss?”
Sawyer didn’t even hesitate. “Carson’s dead.”
Jace stopped walking so abruptly that his duffel bag swung forward and bumped his thigh. “He what?”
Ford’s expression didn’t change. “Sniper. The city asked Rios to step in as the new chief of police.”
The words landed like a punch even though I’d heard them a dozen times in the last week from a dozen different mouths.
The council. The interim administrator. The handful of locals who’d suddenly discovered they’d always respected me.
The ones who still couldn’t look me in the eye without remembering old rumors.
I rolled my eyes because if I didn’t, I’d grind my teeth into dust. “Provisionally. I haven’t given them an answer yet.”
But it meant something that they were willing to trust me with the job.
Willing to give me a chance to prove myself to this island I still somehow loved beyond reason.
I was a little afraid of what that meant, hence my reluctance to commit.
Madden had been the only one unsurprised.
She’d simply shrugged and said that it was a sensible move on their part because they finally saw in me what she saw.
That meant something, too.
Jace’s brows shot up, and he let out a low whistle that was half disbelief, half something like admiration. Then he shook his head, still trying to catch up. He fell into step again, moving with us toward the parking lot like he didn’t trust himself to stand still.
“Well, holy shit. I’ve missed a damned lot. What are the chances I can get a comprehensive update over a beer?”
Ford jerked his chin toward his truck. “I’m marrying a brewery owner. We’re always stocked. Let’s go.”
The drive to Ford’s place took blessedly little time. As we piled into the house, we all immediately clocked it was empty, but for the wagging Keeley.
“Bree’s at work. Peyton’s at track practice. They’ll see you later.” Ford stuck his head into the fridge and pulled out bottles.
We ended up at the kitchen island, longnecks sweating slightly in our hands.
Sawyer leaned on his elbows like he was ready to spill everything at once.
Ford stayed steady, quiet, anchoring the room just by being there.
Jace sat on a stool, posture relaxed but eyes alert, like he wasn’t sure yet that he could let his guard down.
I watched him take his first sip. Watched the way his shoulders loosened a fraction. Beer couldn’t fix what war did to a man, but it reminded you that you weren’t alone in it.
“All right,” Jace said after another swallow. “Start from the top. Last thing I knew, y’all were trying to keep the island from imploding.”
Over our beers and a bag of nacho chips somebody dug out of a cabinet, we told him all of it. From Priya’s disappearance to how Madden and I had ended up taking on the case, to the bigger rot we’d discovered because of it. All the way up to Carson’s execution and the SBI’s involvement.
“The audit’s still ongoing. Probably will be for a few more months.” I plucked another chip from the bag. “And that more or less brings us to where we are.”
Jace took another sip before leaning back slightly, letting the information settle.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
“I think they’re right to ask you. It feels like acknowledgement, finally, that they see the man you really are, not who they believed you were back in the day.
You were the one who helped expose Carson in the first place. ”
My throat tightened unexpectedly. Not because I wanted praise. I didn’t. But because hearing that from Jace—who knew more about secrets than any of us, who’d seen the worst of people and still chose to come home—hit different.
“Not alone,” I added.
Jace caught my gaze. “Which brings me to the other surprising piece of this. You and Madden Reilly. Never would have called that one. But if she makes you happy, man, that’s all that matters.”
“She does.” The words came out simple. No qualifiers. No jokes. No armor.
Ford made a low sound of agreement. “They’re cohabitating and everything.”
Sawyer grinned like he’d been waiting for that opening. “We’re taking bets on how long it takes him to propose.”
I leveled them both with a flat stare. “We’re taking things slow.
She’s got enough on her plate hanging out her own shingle here.
Or will be. She’s still waiting on the Bar to finish their investigation to get her license transferred.
Not to mention, we both kinda feel like we’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Whatever is going on was bigger than Carson. ”
Silence stretched for a beat as we all sat with the truth of that.
Jace’s gaze stayed on me, thoughtful. “All the more reason for you to take the job. Then you have the credentials and access to maybe do something about it.”
I took a long drink, buying time. Because he wasn’t wrong. He also wasn’t living inside my skin.
“The thing is,” I said finally, setting the bottle down with a soft click, “neither of us knows who we can trust outside our circle. So Madden’s calling in some help.”
Jace’s brows lifted. “What kind of help?”
“You ever hear of that podcast, Unaccounted?”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he searched his memory. “True crime missing persons deal, right?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Guy who runs it is a good friend of hers from law school. He’s been investigating this stuff for years outside the usual channels.
She’s tapping him for help. He’s tied up with a case himself right now, but he’s sending one of his people. She should be here sometime next week.”
Jace made a quiet sound. “Hmm.”
Sawyer narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got that I know something but I can’t say anything or I’d have to kill you look.”
Jace’s mouth twitched. “Let’s just say I have professional reasons for being in the area for longer than a 48-hour visit.”
Ford stilled, the movement so slight I almost missed it. Sawyer’s grin faded into something sharper. Even I felt the shift—like the room had tilted a degree.
I caught Jace’s eye. “Does that mean we can count on your help with this?”
He didn’t hesitate. He stood, stepped around the island, and offered his hand. Not a handshake. A brother thing.
I met him halfway and clasped his forearm, grip tight, familiar, sealing a promise without needing paperwork or witnesses.
“Anything I can do, brother,” he said.