Chapter 8
Knox
The ocean was gunmetal gray in the pre-dawn light, waves rolling in their reliable, gentle rhythm.
I hadn’t slept well, not that I ever did, but last night was especially rough.
I rose before dawn with a profound need to move.
Now, my feet pounded against the packed sand near the waterline, each impact jarring up through my calves and thighs.
I’d been running for forty minutes, already nearly home, and still unable to outrun the images playing on repeat in my mind.
Sloane’s pale face, contorted with terror. The shadowy figure dragging her into the darkness. The sound of her screams cutting through the night like a blade.
My lungs burned, and I pushed myself harder.
Salt spray misted my chest and back as a larger wave broke close to shore, the foam rushing up to swallow my footprints. Gulls cartwheeled overhead, their cries sharp in the quiet morning. The beach was deserted except for me and my relentless thoughts.
Every time I’d closed my eyes in the night, I’d seen Sloane on the ground, shaking and sobbing. I saw the bastard who’d put his hands on her sprinting into the forest, disappearing like smoke.
I had let him get away.
The thought made my jaw clench until my teeth ached. All those years as a Marine, and I’d let a suspect escape because I couldn’t leave Sloane alone and vulnerable. The right call, tactically. The only call, morally. But it still ate at me.
The sheriff and his deputies had searched the area until well past midnight.
They hadn’t found anything. No trace of the attacker, no evidence, no trail to follow.
And the VW bus I had noticed parked along the dark stretch of road?
Gone by the time I’d recalled and mentioned it to Nash.
All that remained were a set of tire tracks in the soft shoulder and a few crushed beer cans that could’ve been there for weeks.
I veered away from the water, my pace slowing as my thoughts turned darker.
Three experienced hikers were missing. All vanished without a trace from different locations across Carolina Bay.
And now someone had tried to grab Sloane right outside her family’s door, with a hundred witnesses less than fifty yards away.
Instinct told me these things were connected.
The same instinct had kept me alive through more than a decade of combat.
I trusted my gut. This had to be the same predator.
Likely the same MO. The hikers had probably fought back too, just like Sloane.
But they’d been alone on isolated trails, with no one to hear them scream.
Sloane had nearly been victim number four.
The realization made my stomach turn. If Maggie hadn’t asked me to help with the catering, I wouldn’t have been there, and Sloane would be gone. Another name on a missing persons report. Another family destroyed, without ever knowing where she’d gone.
One more person I couldn’t save.
I couldn’t stop my mom’s heart attack, but I could protect Sloane and this island’s visitors by finding the man who did this.
I thought about my mother’s newspaper clippings, the maps marked with trails and annotations in her handwriting.
She’d been investigating the disappearances.
I was sure of it now. Not just looking for the missing women, though it was clear she’d been doing that too.
She’d been asking questions. Digging into something bigger.
And then she’d died.
I slowed to a walk, my chest heaving as the sun broke over the horizon. Shades of coral and gold streamed across the sky, illuminating the world and water.
Beautiful.
My mother had loved watching the sunrise from our porch, coffee in hand, bare feet propped on the railing.
God, I missed her.
The house came into view as I rounded the curve of beach. Weathered gray shingles. Sagging porch. The swing where I’d sat with my mom just one year ago. I’d do anything to have her back. To tell her I loved her one more time. Being here without her hurt parts of me I didn’t like to think about.
I wanted to walk away and never look back. Let myself believe she was still here, loving the life she’d made, and that I’d see her again soon. Instead of packing up her things and letting go of her a little more with every donated box.
But I couldn’t run from this. She hadn’t raised me that way.
And I couldn’t leave town with a predator escalating his attacks. Not with Sloane’s terrified eyes burned into my memory and three families still waiting for answers about their missing loved ones.
Not with my mother’s work unfinished.
A figure moved in the distance, and my thoughts stuttered to a halt.
A woman glided through the sun-drenched sand. Long, flowing fabric rippled in the breeze, pale blue, almost white. For a moment, my tired, addled mind saw an angel. In the next, I saw her bare feet leaving prints in the sand as she walked toward me.
Not an angel, but close enough.
Sloane.
My heart kicked against my ribs at the sight of her. Was she hurt? In danger? Here for help?
She carried her shoes by the straps, hooked onto one crooked finger, and wore a sundress that whipped against her ankles in the morning breeze.
I jogged the remaining distance, closing the gap between us, terrified something was wrong. “What are you doing here? Everything okay?”
She stopped a few feet away, her arms wrapping around her middle.
This close, I could see the exhaustion in her face.
The smudges beneath her eyes. The tightness around her mouth.
She’d been crying. Recently, if the redness of her eyes was any indication.
And it didn’t look as if she’d slept any better than I had.
The bruises on her throat and arms had darkened, along with a mass of small, angry contusions on her wrists and collarbone. I ached to rewind time and chase down the man who’d done this.
“Hey.” Her voice was rough, scraped raw. From screaming. And the hands that had closed around her throat. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here. I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Of course it’s okay.” I grabbed my T-shirt from where I’d tucked it into my waistband and pulled it on, suddenly conscious of my bare chest and the sweat cooling on my skin. “Are you all right? Did something else happen?”
“No. Nothing like that.” She glanced over her shoulder, as if checking to make sure she hadn’t been followed.
“Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in the dark, fighting with that creep.
” Her fingers drifted along her arms, touching the bruises gently.
“So I got in my car and ended up here. I was going to wait a while before knocking, but I saw you down here, and I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind the hour. ”
“Never. Come on.” I gestured toward the house. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make coffee.”
“Actually...” Sloane looked out at the water, where waves caught the morning light and turned to liquid gold. “Could we sit for a minute? Out here?”
I nodded and led her to a spot above the high tide line, where the sand was soft and dry. We sat side by side, not quite touching, our knees drawn up. The silence between us was surprisingly comfortable despite everything that had happened.
“I keep thinking about what you said,” Sloane began, her eyes still on the horizon. “About the missing hikers. The three people who disappeared.”
“What about them?”
“Last night, when that man grabbed me...” She swallowed hard. “I thought I was going to be next.” Her voice cracked. “If you hadn’t been there—”
“But I was there.” I shifted toward her, our shoulders brushing gently. “And you fought like a champion. Let’s consider it a joint effort and be glad you’re safe.”
“Am I though?” She turned to face me, and the fear in her eyes tightened my chest. “Because that man is still out there. He knows what I look like. He knows where I live. And the sheriff didn’t find any evidence. No leads to bring him any closer to catching this guy.”
I thought about the VW bus, wishing I’d mentioned it sooner or gotten a look at the plates. “Nash is good at his job. He’ll keep looking.”
“I believe he will. But in the meantime, will this guy come back? Was my attack an act of opportunity because I was alone at night? Or is it something more? Either way, what am I supposed to do? Hide in my house and jump at every shadow until we know something?” She shook her head.
“That’s not living. That’s just... existing in a state of terror. I can’t do that.”
My hands curled into fists where they wrapped around my legs.
I hated that she was going through this, and that there wasn’t anything I could do other than offer a few flimsy words of reassurance.
Nash and the sheriff’s department would do everything they could to find this guy, but the fact remained that three hikers were already gone.
Still, I looked for the positives, hoping to bring her some small measure of peace.
“Thanks to you, local law enforcement has a general idea of this guy’s shape and size now.
That’s more than they’ve ever had before.
And in the meantime, I’m right here if you need anything. ”
Sloane pulled in a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
That same resilience I’d seen in her last night shone again.
I tried not to smile when I thought of how her would-be abductor had struggled against someone so much smaller.
He’d expected her to be easy prey. Someone he could pluck out of her own backyard, but Sloane was a fighter.
He’d sorely underestimated her. I couldn’t help wondering how many others in her life made the same mistake. It surely wouldn’t be me.
“I want to find this guy,” Sloane said. She turned to face me fully, and her jaw set with determination. “I have money, resources and every reason in the world. I know you’re already looking, that your mom was too. I want to help.”
My throat tightened as I thought of her in danger again. What if I wasn’t there the next time someone got too close?