Chapter 3
Sloane
The coral and turquoise building rose like an oasis as I jogged the final distance to the porch. Claire’s familiar script on the window declared, “Island Adventures: Your Gateway to Carolina Bay Exploration.”
At the moment I needed a safe place to have a meltdown and some water. Then, I’d need a ride back to my car.
A black Jeep Wrangler sat in the small parking lot, and I thanked my stars that the place was open when I needed it most.
My knees nearly buckled with fatigue as I climbed the wooden steps and tried the door. Unlocked.
A man stood behind the counter, his back to me, studying papers pinned to a corkboard on the wall. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and dark hair just long enough to curl at the edges. He wore jeans and a T-shirt that stretched across his back.
He spun at the sound of my entrance, one hand falling to his hip, and my breath caught.
This man was gorgeous, and my rattled brain struggled to make sense of him where Claire belonged. I scanned his strong features and sharp jawline shadowed in stubble. His striking blue eyes locked onto mine with immediate, intense focus, and I made a small unintelligible sound.
He frowned, gaze trailing over my hot, sweaty face, then my scratched and stinging arms, reminding me of my wholly disheveled state. His body shifted from relaxed to alert in an instant, and I felt my bottom lip tremble with overwhelm.
“Are you okay?” His voice was deep, rougher than I expected. His presence suddenly filled the room with energy both protective and dangerous.
I opened my mouth to speak, unsure if I should stay, but the words stuck in my throat. I looked over my shoulder at the parking lot beyond the window, then back at him.
“I—” My voice came out shaky, and I willed myself to be strong. “I think I’m being followed.”
Knox
The woman standing in my mother’s shop looked terrified.
And she thought she was being followed?
My training kicked in before any conscious thought, and I moved around the counter, crossing the distance between us in three strides. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, but her hands were trembling. Scratches covered her arms. Dirt smudged her cheek. Her light brown hair was wild around her shoulders, tangled with leaves and small twigs, as if she’d been running through the woods.
“Where?” I asked. “Where were you being followed?”
“Blufton Woods Trail. About two miles south.” Her green eyes met mine, searching my face as if trying to decide if she could trust me.
“I was hiking, and I think someone was behind me. I was sure, then. But now, I don’t know.
” She frowned, gaze darting. “When I stopped, they stopped. When I ran, they ran.”
I wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. Probably herself. I already believed her. Blufton Woods was where Jessica Hammond had disappeared three weeks ago.
“Did you see anyone before or after this happened?”
“No. I just ran.” She released a long, trembling breath. “There was a man at the trailhead when I started, but he had his back to me the whole time. I thought it was weird, but I went anyway.”
“Was there another vehicle?”
“Not in the lot, but there was a VW bus parked up the road a bit.” She was watching me closely now. “Why?”
I tensed. My mother’s notes mentioned a VW bus seen near the trailhead before the first hiker’s disappearance two years ago.
Could be a coincidence in a small town like ours, especially if the owner was local, but I wasn’t so sure.
And I’d been reading those exact notes thirty seconds before this woman walked through the door.
“I probably should’ve asked this sooner,” the woman said, taking a backward step. “But who are you? And why are you here right now?”
My frown returned. “I’m Knox Hawthorne. This was my mother’s shop.” And apparently, now it was mine.
Recognition flashed across her face, followed immediately by grief. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” All signs of fear fell from her pretty face, replaced with heartbreak. “I knew Claire. She was—” Her voice cracked. “She was my friend.”
Seeing the same pain and grief I felt reflected in a stranger’s eyes hit harder than I expected. For a long moment I couldn’t speak.
“I’m Sloane Mercer,” she said. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Claire was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”
My brow pinched at the sound of her last name. Mercer. One of the families Maggie had mentioned. The ones who’d bought up the land trust property and built beach houses. How had she become friends with my mother?
I pushed the question aside for another time. Sloane clearly cared for my mom, and at the moment, she was scratched, scared, and shaking. The rest didn’t matter.
“Okay, Sloane. I’m going to take you back to your car. Make sure whoever was following you isn’t waiting there for you to return.”
She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle.
I grabbed my keys off the counter. “My Jeep’s outside.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yeah, I do.” I met her eyes. “Women are disappearing in this town. You’re not walking back alone.”
Her face went pale. “Those missing hikers are the main reason I ran. Any other time or place, and I might’ve convinced myself I was being ridiculous or paranoid. Forced myself to stay the course.” She offered a sad smile. “I might’ve even worried about appearing rude.”
I scowled. “Be rude. Rude saves lives. Hell, be an asshole.”
I moved toward the door, checking outside before gesturing for her to follow. “Let’s go.”
She didn’t follow.
“What’s wrong?”
Sloane pursed her lips. “Can I see your ID first? To confirm you are who you say you are.”
A ghost of a smile crossed my face before I squelched it. “Of course.” I pulled out my wallet and showed her my driver’s license, along with my military ID for good measure.
She studied them both, maybe memorizing details in case she needed them later. “Okay. Thank you.”
I put my ID away and locked up, then Sloane fell into step at my side.
We crossed the lot to my Jeep. No signs of other vehicles or people.
I opened the passenger door for her and waited until she was inside before circling to the driver’s side. The Jeep roared to life, and I pulled out onto Highway 12, heading south.
Sloane sat rigid beside me, her hands clenched in her lap. Every few seconds she glanced at the side mirror, watching the road behind us.
“You did the right thing,” I said. “Running. Getting to a public place.”
“I don’t even know if I was really in danger.” Her voice was tight. “I might’ve panicked over nothing. Or sprinted away from another hiker who happened to be going the same direction. I hate not knowing. In the moment I was so sure. But now—” She shook her head. “It’s very unsettling. Not knowing.”
“Trust yourself.” I kept my eyes on the road. “Your instincts were telling you something was wrong. Trust that.”
Some of the tension left her shoulders, and she leaned back in the seat, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Thank you for not making me feel like I’m overreacting.”
I slowed and initiated my turn signal as we approached the trailhead parking lot. “Our guts are rarely wrong. You’re better safe than sorry.”
Sloane’s features softened at my words, and her eyes misted with unshed tears.
I looked away to stop myself from reaching for her. She looked like she desperately needed a hug. Some kind of physical reassurance. But that wasn’t my place, and a woman who was recently terrified by a lurking creep didn’t need another stranger trying to touch her.
“That’s me,” she said, pointing.
Her silver Audi sat alone in the lot. No other vehicles in sight. The scene looked peaceful, innocent. No signs of the VW bus either.
I pulled in beside her car and killed the engine. “Stay here while I check it out.”
“Check what out?”
“Your car. Make sure no one tampered with it.” I climbed out before she could argue.
The Audi looked clean and well maintained. No flat tires. No broken windows. I circled the vehicle slowly, checking beneath the chassis, looking for anything out of place. Everything seemed fine, but something about this whole situation had my instincts firing.
A woman was followed on a trail like one where another woman disappeared three weeks prior.
She mentioned a VW bus that matched the description of a vehicle seen near the site of a previous disappearance.
And she just happened to end up at my mother’s shop, where my mother had been investigating these exact disappearances.
That was a lot of coincidences.
I returned to the Jeep. Sloane was staring at her car like it might bite her.
“Are you okay to get home?” I asked. “You want me to follow you?”
She deliberated, then shook her head. “No, I’m okay now. Thank you.”
“Stay safe. Don’t go anywhere alone.” I pulled out my phone. “Give me your number. If anything else happens, if you see that VW bus again, if you feel like someone’s watching you—call me immediately.”
She recited her number without question, and I added it to my contacts. Then I sent her a text so she’d have mine.
“Thank you again.”
I dipped my chin.
Sloane climbed out of my Jeep and moved to her Audi. I waited until she was inside with the doors locked before I started my engine. Then, I followed her back toward town, keeping her car in sight, watching for any vehicles that might be tailing her.
Picking up where Mom left off with her research on the missing hikers was a nice way to honor her, and it might mean protecting Sloane Mercer from whoever had been following her on that trail.
Both outcomes felt like a win. I might’ve found something real and actionable I could do to make a difference in a town my mom had loved.
She’d like that.
I’d been too late to say goodbye, but maybe I could still make it up to her.