Knox (Carolina Security #1)

Chapter 1

Sloane

The trailhead parking lot was empty when I arrived.

Just my silver Audi and an old blue-and-white VW bus parked along the road fifty yards ahead.

I grabbed my daypack from the passenger seat and did a quick inventory.

Water. Granola bars. First aid kit. Bear spray, probably overkill for the Outer Banks, but Claire had always insisted. Better safe than sorry.

My chest tightened at the memory.

It’d been two weeks since Claire’s funeral, and I still couldn’t believe she was gone.

She’d been more than the woman who ran my favorite outdoor excursion company.

She’d been my first real friend in Carolina Bay.

The one person who’d looked past my family’s money and terrible reputation and just saw me.

Sloane. A fellow outdoor cat forced to spend time indoors to pay the bills.

Both continuously looking for ways to help other women get comfortable and confident in nature.

We’d been kindred spirits, despite a more-than-twenty-year age gap.

Crunchy, earthy, and a little bit hippie. And now she was gone.

Claire should’ve had another thirty years ahead. Not a heart attack in her fifties.

I locked my car and shouldered my pack. Grief in check and eyes on the sky, I centered myself, then headed out.

The September morning was cool but not cold, perfect for hiking.

Salt air mixed with pine as I approached the trailhead sign.

Blufton Woods Trail, 4.2 miles, moderate difficulty.

I’d hiked it once with Claire, listening to her stories about the island’s history, learning to identify bird calls and track local wildlife.

Today I was hiking it in her honor.

Movement caught my eye near the dog-watering station at the head of the trail, and my heart rate jumped.

A man crouched there, wearing dark clothes despite the warming day. He had his back to me. Probably just another hiker getting ready or finishing up.

But something about his posture made my skin prickle.

I shook it off. I was jumpy because I was here looking for signs of danger, my mind primed to find it anywhere.

Three women had gone missing in two years, all from trails like this one.

Claire had spent every free hour looking for them.

She couldn’t believe anyone vanished without a trace.

Not on her island. But an island with a national park meant a lot of ground to cover.

I didn’t expect to personally break the case or single-handedly locate the hikers when law enforcement and search-and-rescue teams had failed, but I knew it would mean the world to Claire if someone picked up the torch. So, at least for today, that would be me.

The man didn’t turn around as I passed him to start the trail. He didn’t acknowledge my presence at all, though he had to have heard my car arrive and my footsteps approach.

Stop being paranoid, I told myself. Not everyone is a dangerous criminal.

I started down the trail at an easy pace, concentrating on my breathing, seeking peace and finding my stride.

The maritime forest swallowed me in minutes.

Ancient live oaks draped with Spanish moss created a canopy overhead, filtering the morning light into golden shafts.

The air was heavy with moisture and rich with the scents of pine, earth, and decomposing leaves.

Birds called to one another. I recognized the cardinals, wrens, and a distant hammering of a woodpecker.

All this wildness, this connection to something bigger than myself. This was why I’d moved to Carolina Bay.

And this was what I’d tried to protect when my parents and a handful of other wealthy, clueless investors dissolved a century-old land trust to build summer homes where entire ecosystems had thrived.

I walked briskly, letting the rhythm of the trail ease some of the grief sitting heavy in my chest. Claire would’ve loved this morning. A perfect fall day. Hot in the sun, cool in the shade. Silence broken only by wildlife.

Then something slowed my pace.

Goosebumps rose over my arms and up the back of my neck as I searched mentally for the cause. Intuition spiking, I stopped walking and cast my gaze around. But there were only trees and the trail.

I shook away the sensation. It was probably nothing, or maybe I’d sensed another hiker somewhere nearby. Perfectly normal. Whoever it was would catch up or pass me soon.

I started again, moving a little faster this time. But the prickling sensation resumed, spreading across my shoulders and down my spine.

Then, the sound of footsteps registered.

When I stopped, they stopped.

My heart rate jolted, and suddenly I wondered if this was what happened to those missing hikers. Maybe they hadn’t simply gotten lost or injured, unable to get themselves back home.

I thought about the man at the trailhead. The way he’d had his back to me, perhaps intentionally hiding his face. Or waiting for me to get ahead of him on the trail.

Keep calm and stay rational, I ordered internally. I had bear spray. I knew this trail. I was in good physical shape. I could run if needed. But I needed a clear head.

I picked up my pace, moving from a walk into a jog. The trail was too narrow to run full-out, too many exposed roots and low-hanging branches to be as quick as I wanted. Behind me, the footsteps sped up too.

The sound wasn’t soft and distant anymore. It was getting closer.

My breath came faster, harsh in the quiet forest. My instincts screamed at me to move, to get off this trail, to find other people, an open space. Anything that wasn’t this narrow path through dense woods with someone behind me getting closer every minute.

Fear and adrenaline spiked in my system, and I broke into a messy run.

Branches whipped at my face and arms. My pack bounced hard against my back.

I nearly tripped over a root but caught myself and kept going.

The trail curved ahead, and I knew from memory that it would open into a small clearing in another hundred yards.

If I could just reach that clearing, I’d have room to maneuver.

Room to use the bear spray if I needed to.

There might even be hikers from intersecting trails enjoying the views.

The footsteps behind me grew heavy and purposeful, but I couldn’t bring myself to look. Eyes forward, I had to run.

I burst around the curve, and the clearing opened in front of me, delivering an abundance of blessed morning light instead of shadowed canopy.

But I was alone. No other hikers to save me.

So, I didn’t stop. I ran straight through the clearing and back into the forest on the other side.

I followed the trail toward the main road. Toward people. Toward safety.

Eventually, behind me, the footsteps stopped.

I didn’t.

I kept running, not trusting my ears, not slowing down until the trail spilled me out onto the fire road that paralleled Highway 12. Only then did I allow myself a moment for air. Bent forward, gasping for breath, I braced both hands on my knees, and worked to calm my mind.

No one was behind me.

I might’ve wept with joy, if I hadn’t been so certain I was followed. Whoever it was had followed for a long while. Hadn’t they?

And why?

Unless I was wrong.

My rattled mind said they were biding their time. For the right moment, or maybe for the right place. Where no one would hear me scream.

I willed the terrifying thoughts to stop, but they didn’t listen.

I wondered if the goal was simply to terrify me.

Or if no one had ever been there at all.

My hands shook as I pulled my bear spray from my pocket, safety off, finger on the trigger.

I hurried along the fire road toward the highway, then stopped at the intersection, trying to orient myself. The trailhead parking lot where I’d left my car was south, back the way I’d come. At least two miles through isolated stretches of road with no houses, no witnesses.

North was the main commercial district. Restaurants. Shops. People.

Claire’s shop, Island Adventures, was north. Maybe a half mile up the road before all the other businesses. The building was visible in the distance from this vantage, and for some reason, the lights appeared to be on.

I looked back toward the trail. The trees stood silent and still. No movement. No sign anyone had been following me.

Terror rattled my thoughts and limbs. My muscles wobbled from exertion.

Everything felt so unclear.

Had I really been in danger?

I heard Claire’s voice again. Better safe than sorry.

Then I fixed my eyes on the distant light in her shop. A sign from my dear friend.

So, I turned north and I ran.