Unit Seventeen
Chapter thirty-four
Coastal Freight Solutions had a pickup order.
Margot made the call from the dock shed while Evan listened from the workbench, one shoulder against the wall, coffee forgotten in his hand.
The woman on the other end sounded cheerful and efficient. “Let me pull that up.”
Keys clicked.
A pause. “Okay, here we go. Six padded crates. Climate-controlled transport. Pickup at Evergreen Tide Resort service entrance, four a.m., July fourteenth.”
Margot glanced at Evan. His expression sharpened.
“Destination?” she asked.
“StoreSafe Climate Storage. Unit seventeen. Kill Devil Hills.”
Her pulse kicked. “Under what account?”
“Hartwell Imports LLC.”
The same shell company. The same paperwork. The same name that had been floating around the edges of everything for two weeks.
Four in the morning. While the resort slept. While police tape still hung around the pavilion. While everyone had been looking at the broken display case instead of the service entrance.
Margot thanked the woman, ended the call, and lowered the phone slowly. “The ornaments are in a storage unit.”
He pushed away from the wall. “Where?”
“Kill Devil Hills. Forty minutes away.”
He stared at her. Then a grin broke across his face. Not amusement. Relief, like when a puzzle finally gave up its last piece. “He didn’t move them out of the area.”
“He didn’t need to.” Margot dropped into the chair beside the workbench and rubbed her eyes. “Not yet. He just needed them out of the resort.”
“And somewhere climate-controlled.”
She nodded. “A hundred and seventy thousand dollars in antique glass can’t sit in a garage in July.”
“He was buying time.”
“Exactly.”
The theory settled into place so neatly it almost annoyed her. Weeks of interviews. Security footage. Shipping records. Vendor lists.
And in the end, the ornaments had been sitting in a storage unit less than an hour away.
Evan grabbed his jacket. “Harker. Right now.”
They assembled everything they’d collected. Photographs. Invoices. The shell-company records. The service entrance timeline. The Coastal Freight confirmation.
By the time they walked into Detective Harker’s office, Margot’s folder looked thick enough to stop a bullet.
Harker spent less than five minutes reading. Then he picked up the phone. “I’m calling the judge.”
Neither of them spoke until they were back outside.
The morning sun had climbed higher. The air shimmered above the pavement.
She slid into the passenger seat of Evan’s truck. For the first time in two weeks, there was nothing left to chase. Nothing left to analyze. Nothing left to uncover.
The evidence was sitting in the detective’s hands.
She leaned her head against the window. “We just gave away everything.”
He started the engine. “It was never ours.”
“It feels strange.”
“Yeah.”
She watched the resort disappear behind them. “Harker finds the ornaments, the case is over.”
“Pretty much.”
The words should have made her happy. Instead, they left a hollow space she hadn’t expected. Because when the case ended, she would leave.
Three weeks ago, she couldn’t wait to finish the assignment and get home. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted to go.
He turned off the highway.
She frowned. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
The paved road gave way to sand. Sea oats brushed both sides of the truck. A minute later the dunes opened onto an empty stretch of beach.
No hotels. No umbrellas. No tourists. Just water and sky.
He parked. “Harker’s waiting on paperwork. We have time.”
She stared at the ocean. Then laughed under her breath. “You brought me to the beach.”
“You look like somebody who’s been operating on caffeine and adrenaline.”
“That’s because I have.”
“Exactly.”
The breeze caught her hair the moment she stepped out of the truck. Salt filled the air.
The steady rhythm of waves replaced ringing phones and police radios and vendor complaints.
For the first time since the blackout, her shoulders loosened. A little. Not much. Enough.
They walked toward the water.
She slipped off her sneakers and carried them by the laces. Cool water slid around her ankles. A flock of pelicans skimmed the surface farther downshore.
For several minutes neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
It never seemed to be.
“I used to do this with my mom,” she said.
“Walk beaches?”
She nodded. “Every summer vacation. She called it decompression.”
“Smart woman.”
“Very.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “She’s been texting every day.”
“Checking on you?”
“Praying for me.”
“Same thing.”
Margot laughed. “Fair point.”
The sound surprised her. She couldn’t remember the last time laughter had come this easily.
They continued down the shoreline. The beach narrowed. Their shoulders brushed once. Then again.
Neither moved away.
The contact lasted only a second each time.
Still, she noticed.
Every time.
She stopped walking.
The ocean stretched endlessly in front of them. Blue sky. Bright sun. The kind of summer day people put on postcards.
He stopped too. “What?”
Margot looked out at the water. A gull wheeled overhead. Farther down the beach a wave collapsed into white foam.
She drew a breath. Then let it go. “There was something I was going to tell you.”
His expression shifted. Not much. Just enough. “Yes?”
Her heart gave an irritating little stumble.
The truth sat right there.
Close enough to touch.
Closer than it had ever been.
She looked at him. At the man who’d spent two weeks helping her carry a problem that wasn’t his. The man who’d met her frustration with patience.
Her panic with steadiness.
Her worst day with kindness.
And she knew exactly when she wanted to say it.
Not here.
Not before they knew.
Not while the case still hung over both of them.
She shook her head. “Later.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Later?”
“If Harker opens that storage unit and finds the ornaments...” She hesitated.
He held her gaze. Patient. Waiting.
“If he finds them, I’ll tell you then.”
For a second neither of them moved.
Then he nodded once. “Okay.”
The breeze lifted a strand of hair across her face.
His hand started to rise.
Then his phone rang.
The moment dissolved.
Not broken.
Just postponed.
He pulled out the phone. “Harker.”
His expression sharpened as soon as he answered.
She watched him listen.
The detective talked for less than thirty seconds.
Evan ended the call. “Warrant’s signed.”
Her pulse jumped. “Already?”
“Judge didn’t need much convincing.”
“And?”
“Harker’s assembling deputies now.” The grin returned.
This time it matched her own.
“He wants us there.”
Margot slipped her shoes back on.
The ocean stretched behind them.
The storage unit waited ahead.
And somewhere between those two things sat the conversation she’d almost had.
The one that would have to wait a little longer.
Not forever.
Just until they got the ornaments back.