Chapter Seventeen
EMERY
THE DOOR BARELY clicks shut behind Reid before silence sets in. I stand in the middle of the lab, arms wrapped around myself, watching the female juvenile turtle swim aimlessly around the tank.
I’m struggling to sort out the emotions surging through me.
Last night, Reid kissed me like I am something precious to him.
This morning, he is treating me like a liability.
The swing between the two leaves a hollow ache in my chest. I want him here, steadying me, but he walked away.
Because to him, keeping us safe means shutting this down.
My throat tightens. Maybe Reid can stay silent, but I can’t. If I don’t speak, the marsh stays poisoned—its wildlife pawns in someone else’s careless game. The thought is unbearable.
I think about what Alan would do. I pick up my phone, scrolling to his name, my fingers hovering over the call button. Alan would understand both the science and the risk. I can hear his voice in my head. Document everything. Collect the evidence. Don’t jump until you know where to land.
I sigh, dropping my phone back on the table.
I won’t bring Alan into it yet, but if it comes to it, I will.
I will need back up. Someone to tell me I’m not crazy and it’s worth the risk.
For a brief instant, the image of the body in the marsh flashes in my mind, and I’m immediately nauseous.
I shake my head to clear it. I have so many conflicting emotions.
I square my shoulders and pull my notebook closer, words just waiting to pour out of me.
Specimen T-1147. Transmitter forcibly removed. Residue tested presumptively positive for cocaine. Report to authorities.
I underline the last line.
Reid’s warning echoes in my head—You’ll paint a target on your back.
Maybe so, but what’s the point of science if you bury the truth?
I like science because it is cut and dry, indisputable.
Data doesn’t lie, and if I collect enough of it, no one can argue.
In this case, it isn’t just numbers in a spreadsheet—it’s proof.
Proof that might stop someone from hurting the marsh, from hurting the turtles and other wildlife.
I’ll call Alan tomorrow. For now, I’ll build my evidence, piece by piece, until no one can ignore it.
The turtle drifts in slow circles, its claws tapping faintly against the glass. I watch her move, my jaw tightening. “Don’t worry,” I murmur. “I’ll figure this out.”
I DON’T KNOW how long I’ve been compiling data.
I haven’t seen Reid since this morning. Save the sound of the filters and splashes from my turtle girl occasionally, the room has been silent for hours.
It’s two p.m. when the screen door slams shut, startling me.
I’m instantly hopeful that it’s him and annoyed at myself for being disappointed when it isn’t.
“Hey, Doc!” Kayla calls, dropping her book bag on the counter. She immediately notices the turtle in the tank. “Aww, hey! A turtle.” She ducks down, watching the reptile for a few moments.
I smile to myself, watching her, briefly forgetting the stress of the morning. I see so much of myself in Kayla. She’s eager and enthusiastic, yes, but she really loves animals.
“Does she have a name?” Kayla spins around, grinning at me.
“A name? Specimen T-1147.” I force a smile in return.
“No. She needs a real name.” Kayla turns back, watching the turtle again closely. “How about Trixie?”
I huff a laugh. “Sure. Whatever you want.” Turning back to my screen, I scroll through the data I’ve compiled on a chart that shows each turtle I’ve tagged.
“Hi Trixie,” Kayla says softly. “So why is she here?” Her gaze is still fixed on the turtle.
“I brought her in for tests. She lost her tag.” I try to keep the details vague.
“Lost it?” Kayla bends over the glass to get a closer look. “It looks like it was ripped off. And what’s the white stuff on her shell?”
I sigh. “It’s residue. I’m running tests.”
Kayla looks up sharply. “That’s so messed up. People are hurting the turtles and just get away with it?”
I blink at her. Kayla’s anger burns hotter than I expected.
“I know what I said before,” Kayla continues, folding her arms. “People don’t like it when you start poking around the marsh. But if someone’s actually hurting the animals…” She shakes her head. “You have to do something.”
I swallow. “Like what?”
“Like…you could tell the town council. They have a meeting on Thursday night. My mom always goes. At the end, they let members of the community speak. You should go. Tell them about this. They might not care, but I know if anyone could make them, it’s you.
” She crouches back down, watching Trixie again.
I force a smile. “Maybe.”
Kayla’s hands find her hips indignantly. “It’s their job to protect this community. The marsh. Our waters. If they won’t, then who will?”
LATE AFTERNOON LIGHT slants low over the marsh, turning the water coppery and bright.
The heat has softened, cicadas humming like static as I step carefully through the eel grass, the transmitter heavy in my palm.
Kayla’s words echo in my mind the entire time I work.
She’s right. If I don’t protect the environment, if I don’t speak up, who will?
I crouch near the first trap, adjusting the tag and making a quick note on my waterproof clipboard. Everything looks normal. Reid was right—the packaging we saw earlier is gone. Someone cleaned up their mess, covered their tracks. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
I’m reaching to tighten the strap on the transmitter when the prickling sense of awareness hits right between my shoulders. A feeling like I’m not alone out here.
I straighten slowly, memories of the darkness the marsh can carry sending a shiver up my spine. At first, I don’t see anything. It’s just grass swaying in the breeze, the marsh stretching quiet and wide around me. I spin in a circle, reassuring myself that I’m alone.
Then I spot him. A man, half-hidden by the tall grass maybe fifty yards out, standing still enough that I almost miss him. He’s dressed plainly—dark shirt, boots muddy at the ankles—as if he’s walked in from somewhere deeper in the marsh.
Watching me.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I whisper to myself, even though my pulse is hammering so loud I can hear it. “No one is watching you.”
This is Tidehaven. People fish, walk, wander. Maybe he’s just curious as to what I’m doing out here alone.
I lift a hand and wave. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
The sound carries farther than I expect, thin and exposed. The man doesn’t respond. He doesn’t wave back. He just looks at me—his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my smile falter. Maybe he didn’t hear me.
For a beat too long, neither of us moves.
Then he turns to go. He doesn’t hurry. He steps back into the grass and disappears on foot, swallowed by the green as if he was never there at all.
I stand frozen, listening for evidence that he’s still here. Nothing but insects and the soft lap of water against mud. My heartrate settles with a few slow, deep breaths.
Probably a local, I tell myself. Someone checking crab pots. Surely no one is wondering what the new girl is up to.
I shake it off and crouch back down, finishing my adjustment and jotting another note. I don’t have time to spook myself. Not now. I have real work to do if I’m going to build a presentation for the town council that will force someone to listen.
Still, as I sling my bag over my shoulder and head back toward the skiff, I glance once over my shoulder.
The marsh looks empty. And yet, the feeling lingers.
BY THE TIME Jeopardy comes on, Reid still hasn’t called. He must be mad at me. I fight the urge to pick up the phone, beg him to come over, and let me beat him in our favorite game show. But I don’t because somewhere deep down, I know he and I are not a good idea.
Meanwhile, Jason won’t stop texting apologies.
I’ve ignored him for days, but tonight I finally respond, needing to relieve some of the weight I’m carrying around.
I tell him gently it’s definitely over, that he should move on.
His last reply—a simple “okay”—leaves me feeling guilty, my thoughts more tangled than before.
Jeopardy drones in the background as I curl under the grandma quilt, staring at the blank notebook in my lap. I’d come home from the lab, showered off the marsh muck, and pulled on my softest lounge set, determined to draft a letter to South Carolina Fish and Wildlife. But the page remains empty.
Reid’s warning echoes in one ear. Kayla’s insistence in the other.
Tell. Don’t tell. Stay safe. Do the right thing.
A sudden knock rattles the door, making my pulse jump. I set the notebook aside, wishing for a peephole to see who’s out there.
When I swing it open, Reid stares back, his hands shoved in his pockets and his expression unreadable.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I say cautiously.
“Mind if I come in?” His expression is filled with the same yearning I feel in my chest.
“Sure.” I step back, pulling the door wider for him to enter.
“You’re watching without me.” He nods at Jeopardy on the TV.
“It’s background noise tonight.” I fold my arms over my chest protectively.
We stand side by side, the glow of the TV painting us in blue light. For a long stretch we don’t speak, instead listening to the contestants answering questions about world capitals and Shakespeare. Finally, Reid exhales, rubbing a hand over his beard.
“Em, about this morning.” His voice is low and rough. “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that. That was…shitty.”
The knot in my chest loosens and the corner of my mouth upturns. “Yeah, it was.” I nod. “Thank you.”
The apology hangs in the air for a beat.
Then he turns, and before I can blink, his hands are cupping my jaw, pulling me in.
The kiss is hard, hungry, the control we’d both clung to this morning burned away.
I gasp against him as he walks me back, my shoulders pressing into the wall with a dull thud.
His body crowds mine, his thigh parting my legs as he presses his hips into me.
Our mouths are desperate, and for a dizzy, reckless moment, I let myself sink into it.
My hands fist in his shirt, my whole body thrumming with need. This is what I want: him choosing me, the two of us standing together.
But the words rise from my throat like bile, breaking the spell. “Reid.” I pull apart from him, breathless. “I talked to Kayla today. She agrees with me.”
“Emery—” Reid warns, stepping backward, breaking contact. “Why won’t you let this go?”
I reach for his hand, desperate not to lose our connection but determined to make him see this my way. “We need to bring attention to this. It’s hurting our wildlife. Kayla suggested the council meeting Thursday night.” I continue, ignoring his protest.
“Emery, no.” Reid recoils, backing further away from me, the heat in his eyes flaring into something sharper.
I narrow my own. “Why not? It wouldn’t be a report. Just sharing data and my suspicions. You can’t keep telling me to stay quiet. This is evidence. It matters.”
Reid looks away and begins to pace, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides. “You don’t get it. The council isn’t who you think they are. Marching in there with your slides and samples—”
“I can’t ignore it,” I argue.
“Well, I can’t watch you do it. You’ll only draw negative attention to yourself,” he barks back, hard and final.
“So, you’re going to make me go alone?” I hear the desperation in my voice, but I don’t care to steady it.
“I don’t know yet,” he growls, turning away from me and rubbing the back of his neck. The silence is brutal.
Then he whirls back, fixing his eyes on mine. “This was a mistake. I have to go.” He moves quickly, yanking open the door. And then he’s gone.