Chapter 8
The steady rhythm of Maggie’s feet hitting pavement was the only sound on the street as she ran.
Deep River was so different from LA. The idea of getting an entire sidewalk to herself in that big city, particularly on a busy midafternoon, was unheard of.
She wasn’t sure if she liked this more or less. People gave the illusion of safety. Which was stupid, because who other than people would runners be afraid of?
Maybe she was feeling uneasy because she didn’t have music.
Her earbuds were still packed away in one of the boxes that sat in the corner of her apartment.
Along with her tablet and her swimsuit and a million other things she hadn’t bothered to unpack yet.
Because, honestly, where was she going to put everything? There was no space.
She rounded a corner. A couple of people on the opposite side of the road reminded her that there was, in fact, life in Deep River on a Sunday afternoon, even though most businesses were closed.
Another crazy difference between big cities and here—people closed their stores early on a Sunday.
Her phone vibrated where it was strapped to her thigh, and even though she didn’t know whether it was a text or a notification, her heart gave a little kick.
She’d posted on her travel Instagram account last night for the first time in months.
A post to let everyone know she was alive, but her content would be changing slightly because she’d left her job as a flight attendant.
All comments so far had been positive, but there was this pit in her belly that she’d get a message from that person again. The one who opened a new account every time she blocked them, making it impossible to completely get rid of them.
A shudder coursed down her spine at the thought.
Or it could be a message from Ethan. They’d shared a few texts in the last couple of weeks since that town meeting. And every time, she thought her heart would beat right out of her chest.
He shouldn’t be affecting her like he was, should he? After all this time, shouldn’t her feelings for him have faded or blurred or at least softened into something more manageable?
This didn’t feel manageable. Thinking about him every day, wondering when he’d text again, looking around for him on every street, was the very definition of obsession.
She rounded the corner to the town square and ran straight into a woman’s chest.
The woman cried out, a grocery bag dropping from her fingers and the contents spilling onto the pavement.
Shit.
Maggie dropped to her knees and started grabbing items. “I’m so sorry, I…” She stopped when the other woman lowered. “Nel.”
She frowned. “Do I know you?”
“We went to school together. You were a grade below me. I’m Maggie—”
“Sinclair. I remember you. You dated Ethan.”
If the silence that followed had a name, it would be “awkward.” One big, fat string of it.
“Yeah.” It was all Maggie said before turning back to the items and dropping them into the bag. Because what else could she say? Yes, I’m Ethan’s ex, and I still love him but you’re dating him so I’m trying not to think about him—trying and failing.
Nope. Couldn’t say that.
They both reached for the last item at the same time. Maggie got it first, only to freeze when she realized what it was.
Condoms. She was holding condoms that belonged to the woman dating her ex.
Holy hell sticks.
Nel’s cheeks reddened, and she grabbed the box and shoved it into the bag.
“Sorry.” Sorry on so many levels.
Nel gave her a thin smile. “Thanks.” Then she shot to her feet and hurried off.
Maggie rose slowly. She felt sick. A deep, might-throw-up-her-lunch kind of sick.
She forced herself to run again. Faster this time, like she was trying to outrun the reality of Ethan and Nel being together. She pushed herself so hard that ten minutes later, she had to stop in front of a boarded-up shop to catch her breath.
Jesus, this Ethan stuff was messing with her head. She’d broken up with him without letting him explain that night. She had to deal with everything that came with that, including him moving on and dating other women.
She scrubbed her face, still catching her breath, when voices from inside the vacant building reached her.
“This is my town. This is my father’s town. And those fucking SEALs think they can muscle their way in?”
She stiffened. His father’s town? Was that the sheriff’s son?
“I agree,” a second voice said. “They’re a bunch of tin soldiers. But what can we do?”
Maggie’s skin prickled.
“We make their lives hell.”
Maggie stumbled back at the threat in those words, but her heel rolled over a rock, and she yelped as she fell to the ground.
Crap.
Maybe he didn’t hear. Maybe—
The door flew open and Gerome Ward stepped out, followed by a guy she’d never seen before.
Gerome’s eyes narrowed. “The fuck? You listening to my conversation?”
She rushed to her feet, her chest moving fast, but she wasn’t sure if it was due to her run or the way Gerome looked at her like he wanted to stomp on her. Maybe both. “No. I was running and tripped.” Not a lie. But also not the entire truth.
Gerome lifted a brow. “Convenient to trip in front of my barbershop.”
Was there ever a convenient place to trip? And this place didn’t look like a barbershop yet. “I’ll go.” She went to step around him, but he grabbed her arm.
“Hey. I didn’t say you could leave.”
The initial shock twisted into something darker, and her voice hardened. “Whether I leave or not isn’t your choice. Let go of me.”
“Or what?”
Was he serious? Or she’d kick him in his stubborn balls.
A loud, booming voice suddenly barked behind her.
“What the fuck are you doing touching her?”
Suddenly, Ryan and Connor were either side of her. She had no idea who the words had come from; she hadn’t even seen them coming. And by the expressions on Gerome’s and his friend’s faces, neither had they.
Gerome held her arm for one more second before releasing her. Then Ryan stepped right into the guy’s space. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Gerome’s eyes narrowed. “We were having a conversation.”
“You always have to hold a woman in place to have a conversation with her?”
She hadn’t known Ryan that well back in the day, but she did remember he had the shortest fuse on the team.
“Touch me, and I call the sheriff,” Gerome said, almost taunting Ryan.
Connor stepped closer to Ryan, like a silent message for his friend to let it go. He did.
One side of Gerome’s mouth lifted. “That’s what I thought.”
When the two men disappeared inside the building, Connor turned to her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Ryan turned next, anger still tugging his brows together. “Who are they?”
“Gerome is Ward’s son. I don’t know who his friend is.”
Connor’s brows flickered. “The sheriff’s son?”
“Yeah.” She looked at the shuttered windows before stepping closer to the two men and lowering her voice. “And you should know, they’re not happy you’re here.”
Ethan watched the drone rise into the tree line of the forest behind their headquarters. His license to fly the drone had finally arrived, which meant now he got to test it.
Drones didn’t replace boots on the ground. If people went missing, he and his team would be there. But they could save time.
He flew the drone low and slow, adjusting the controller with his hands, tracking the machine as it disappeared into the branches.
There didn’t appear to be any signal distractions or lag. Good.
He moved it deeper into the trees.
The combination of dense forest and water made the area that needed to be searched for missing people extensive. Exactly why the lazy sheriff, and an elderly volunteer SAR team, had not found either of the missing women.
There were fast-moving sections of the river. There were also small banks that created little pockets of still water.
If Ward really cared about this town, he’d step down. He’d let go of the three years remaining in his term and accept both a rebuilding of the sheriff’s department and the presence of the SAR team.
But he wouldn’t do that. Because he didn’t care about this town and its safety.
He cared about the badge. About being in charge.
The other day, they’d gone into the station and asked for any information he had on the two missing women.
He’d refused. Told them their place was here in the mountains, and they had no right to any of it.
Asshole.
Ethan pointed the drone back toward the river. That’s when the thermal imaging showed yellow patches. Heat signatures. People.
His phone buzzed with a text. He pulled it out to see it was the SAR group chat.
Zac: You spying on us, Moore?
He grinned.
Ethan: That a problem?
Joel: That thing able to bring me any snacks?
Ethan: Don’t you keep snacks with you?
Joel: I already ate my granola bar.
Zac: He didn’t just eat his granola bar. He ate TWO granola bars, a handful of loose nuts from his pocket, and finished a bottle of Powerade. We’ve only been out here an hour.
Ethan laughed out loud. He should be used to Joel’s appetite by now. He wasn’t.
Connor: You skip breakfast?
Joel: Is that a joke? If I skip breakfast, I wither away to nothing.
Ethan shook his head, heading back to headquarters. The drone had just returned to him when he stepped into the building. Connor was on one side of the room, while Ryan stood by the kitchen counter, making coffee. Neither of them looked happy.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan asked, closing the distance between him and Ryan.
He turned, hip leaning against the counter. “We ran into Maggie this afternoon.”
Ethan’s frown deepened, his gaze shifting between Ryan and Connor, who’d joined them at the counter. “And?”
“And the sheriff’s son was holding her in place and trying to intimidate her,” Connor finished.
Anger. It hit him so fucking hard it felt like a physical blow. “What the hell do you mean, he was holding her in place?”
“He had a hold of her arm,” Ryan said. “Apparently, she overheard him and some other guy talking about not wanting us here.”
For a second, Ethan didn’t move, but he allowed the fury to run through his veins like wildfire. Then he moved to the electronics table, set the drone beside the laptop, and stormed out.
“Ethan,” Connor called. “Where are you going?”
“I’m done for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
In his truck, he drove fast. So fast that it took him a fraction of the time it should have to get to the station.
He didn’t care that he didn’t have an appointment with Ward, or that he could get into trouble for what he was doing. He stormed straight into the station, ignoring an elderly woman’s protests from the front desk as he crashed into Ward’s office.
The older man jolted where he sat behind his desk, squeezing his donut so hard that jelly spilled out onto his shirt.
“Ethan!” Ward shot to his feet, slamming his laptop closed before grabbing tissues from his desk and dabbing his shirt. “What the hell are you doing?”
Ethan closed the distance between them and slammed his palms to the desk.
“I understand you have a problem with what my team and I are doing. I even get how you must feel threatened. A little disrespected, maybe. It’s okay because you can feel whatever the hell you want.
What’s not okay, is your son spewing shit about us and assaulting anyone who overhears. ”
Ward spluttered. “My son would never—”
“He did. Today. And if my guys weren’t there, I don’t know how far it would have gone.”
Ward’s cheeks turned red. “You think you can storm in here, into my office, throwing accusations my way? I’m the sheriff.”
“So do your damn job and keep this community safe—and watch your son.”
Ethan swung around.
“Hey! Come back here, boy!”
Ethan didn’t pause. He stalked out of the station and into the parking lot, slamming the door of his truck closed behind him. But he didn’t go back to base or to his home.
This town was so small that everyone knew where everyone else lived. And he knew exactly where Polly Mack’s house was. He was going to see Maggie.