Chapter Thirteen
EMERY
A FEW DAYS have passed since the incident—that’s what I’m calling it.
I don’t know how else to refer to it that won’t make me spiral.
Each day, I’ve woken up before dawn. Reid meets me at my dock and steers the skiff into the marsh so I can check my traps and tag my turtles.
Things have been eerily quiet, but instead of letting that freak me out, I’m choosing to let it make me feel safe. I may be delusional.
Reid has been a source of comfort for me—I think we’re actually becoming friends.
He still doesn’t tell me anything personal but occasionally, he’ll drop a tidbit about his time as a SEAL, and I see glimpses of the gentle man beneath his gruff exterior.
Afterward, he takes me to the research center and goes to work at the marina.
It’s like we’re a pair, only not. Reid has made it his personal mission to see that I’m safe and that much I can appreciate.
This morning, I decide not to go right to the research center.
It’s taken me a couple of days, but with how quiet it’s been, I feel safe to go alone a little later.
What I don’t tell Reid is, I think I’m ready to look at the photos on my camera from that night.
I kick off my waders at the door, leaving them on the screened porch and powering up my laptop on the kitchen table.
While it comes alive, I make myself another cup of coffee.
If it weren’t for the incident, Tidehaven would feel peaceful.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed to step back from the rat race.
Now that I’m here, I appreciate the quiet.
And yet, the calm feels conditional—the quiet soothes me, but it also makes room for thoughts I can’t quite rationalize.
I can’t reconcile the stillness with what I know I saw, only that both exist here at once.
Beauty and something broken. Peace layered thin over something I don’t yet understand.
My phone buzzes loudly from the table, startling me. Lena.
“Hey, Leen,” I say, cradling the phone to pour creamer in my cup.
“Just making sure you’re still alive,” Lena jokes. The irony is not lost on me.
I huff a laugh. “I’m alive and kicking. What’s up?”
“Not much. Same old. The department is quiet since classes let out. I’m only teaching a couple of summer classes. Alan has the other two. I think that’s it. It’s boring around here. I miss my beach buddy.” Lena sounds dejected.
“You know,” I say, pulling out my chair. “I’m starting to like boring.”
“Well, you have no choice out there in the middle of nowhere,” Lena retorts.
I cradle the phone and plug in the camera’s cord to the side of my laptop. A bunch of thumbnails fill the screen. I hit import without looking. It usually takes a few minutes.
“How’s your research coming along?” Lena asks.
I let out an audible breath, debating how much to tell her. “Good, I think. There is definitely a population decline. But I’ve started tagging the turtles and tracking their locations and their habits. It feels like undergrad again.”
“That’s good,” Lena says, her voice a bit too bright.
I click on the first thumbnail and begin absentmindedly flipping through my photos—first of the traps, and the locations, then the nesting areas.
“So, I saw Jason at the grocery store, ironically,” Lena starts slowly. “He…doesn’t look good.”
I’m about to reply when my eyes catch on the last photo—a blurry picture of the dock, a sliver of a boat in the background.
I don’t remember taking it. Maybe when I dropped the camera, it went off.
I zoom in on the lettering on the back of the boat.
It’s a bit hard to read, but I know I’ve seen it before.
The only letters I can make out read, ss Tidehaven.
My pulse picks up. I know I’ve seen this boat before.
“Em, are you there?” Lena asks. “Did you hear me about Jason?”
Panic rushes through me, my heart hammers in my chest. “Just…hold on a sec,” I mutter, squinting at my screen.
ss Tidehaven. What is the rest of that word?
Then it hits me like a freight train. Miss Tidehaven. I can picture it clearly. The boat is a large center console fishing boat I’ve seen in the marina. What the hell would a boat of that size be doing in the marsh before dawn? I swallow the tightening in my throat.
“Did you hear me? I saw Jason. He doesn’t look good.” Lena repeats, enunciating her words, waiting for my reaction.
“I…heard you,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper. “Can I call you back, Leen?”
“Uh, sure.” Lena doesn’t bother to hide her annoyance.
“I’m sorry, it’s just something came up. I’ll call you tonight.” I slam my laptop closed and race to my room for my sneakers.
“Okay, Em. Talk to you later,” Lena says, and then she’s gone.
I don’t have time to worry about it. I slip into my shoes without untying them, toss my hair up, and run out the door.
It takes me exactly seven minutes to run to the marina. I find Reid and standing with another man, who I presume to be Tate outside the bait shop. They appear to be talking closely.
I slow my pace as I approach. Reid looks up, concern immediately creasing his brow.
“Emery,” he says, his voice gruff. “I thought you weren’t coming in today. This is Tate.”
I glance at Tate. “Nice to meet you, officially.” A beat passes before I clear my throat and flick my gaze back to Reid. “Can I talk to you? In my office.”
Tate lets out a snort, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Have at it,” he says with a smirk.
Reid gives him a shove and takes a step toward me, his palm finding my lower back. He hasn’t touched me since the night when I found comfort in his embrace. I force myself to ignore the sizzle beneath his fingertips.
Reid unlocks the blue door, and we step into the lab. He drops his hand and pulls out a stool at the lab table, taking a seat. “What’s up?”
My facade crumbles, and I begin involuntarily trembling before I’m even able to get words out. Reid hesitates, his lip tugged between his teeth, almost like he’s fighting back the urge to reach out and steady me.
“I finally looked at my photos from…the incident.” I swallow audibly.
“And?” Reid asks, tipping his chin toward me, a slight quirk of his eyebrow.
“And…who owns the Miss Tidehaven?” I begin nervously gnawing at my bottom lip.
Reid’s jaw tics, his shoulders stiffening. A rapid and noticeable change from concern to defensiveness. “Why?”
“I can’t say for sure, but I somehow got an accidental photo of the end of the dock—probably when I dropped my camera. And that boat is in the background of the photo. It’s blurry, but I’m certain it’s the one.” I’m rambling now, fiddling with the hem of my T-shirt.
Reid studies me for a long beat before his head tips in denial. “No. It can’t be. You’re wrong.” His jaw is set.
“I’m not, I’ll show you,” I say, my voice wavering. Panic prickles up my chest, heat pressing at the back of my eyes. “You have to believe me.” We’re supposed to be a team, I want to say. I bite it back.
Reid exhales hard, frustration etched in every line of his face. “Beau Rigsby is a lot of things, Emery, but a killer isn’t one of them. Trust me.”
My pulse pounds so hard, I’m certain he hears it. “Maybe someone else used his boat. It’s flimsy but not impossible.”
Reid rakes a hand through his beard and steps in front of me, his hands settling firmly on my shoulders. His gaze locks with mine. “Emery, listen to me. Really listen.”
I force myself to swallow and nod. “Okay.”
“Leave this alone. You’ve got to leave it alone.” His tone softens, almost pleading. “It’s for your safety and mine. Stop digging.”
“But why? Reid, I can’t get the image out of my head.” My voice cracks then and I know I’m going to cry.
Reid sees it coming. In the next breath, I’m folded against his chest, his arms cinched tight around me.
I give in, letting the tears fall as I sag into him, wondering for the first time since I got here if I should just go home. Leave all of this behind.
Reid’s palm finds the back of my head, his fingers weaving gently through my ponytail. “Promise me,” he murmurs in my ear. “Just track your turtles and move on.”
I sniffle, pressing my face into his shirt, comforted by his familiar scent. “I’ll try,” I whisper.
Reid pulls back, brushing a tear from my cheek with his thumb. A small smile pulls at his normally frowny face. “Why don’t I come by tonight? Let you beat me at Jeopardy.”
A shaky laugh escapes through my tears and I nod. “I’d like that.”
He steps back, and I immediately miss his warmth. I don’t bother to scold myself for it this time.
“I’ll see you at seven. I’ll bring dinner.” His eyes linger on mine before he finally turns for the door.