Chapter One
Hope Island, Maine
Present Day
The island emerged from the mist like a ghost resurrected.
Asa Dutton drove across the bridge that spread across the waters of the Atlantic connecting the mainland to Hope Island, Maine. Each rotation of his truck’s tires seemed to echo the beat of Asa’s pulse.
His gaze fixed on the smear of land rising through the mist. He hadn’t set foot here in twenty-five years. Not since the night the storm took his father and left him with nothing but questions and nightmares.
Despite the bitter late-December day, Asa rolled the window down.
Seagulls cried out as they circled above.
The same birds he remembered chasing along the beach as a boy.
Back then the island had felt endless, a world built of pine woods and rocky coves, a place where his father’s shadow stretched over every street.
Now it seemed smaller. Tighter. Like a cage.
His hand touched the thin case file on the passenger seat. Too thin for a murder that had shattered a community. A police report with very little in it, including witness statements.
At the very bottom of the folder was the photograph, creased and smudged with age. It showed a little girl. Four years old. Tangled dark curls , a stuffed rabbit clutched in her arms. Eyes wide, empty with shock.
She was the only one besides the killer who might know what happened that night.
Her name was Maya Callahan. She’d been adopted, given a name, and raised by a family on the island.
Both parents had died in a car accident when Maya was in her early twenties.
Maya still lived on the island in the family’s home.
She’d recently started managing the Tide & Thyme Bistro for its owner who was away on vacation.
Asa’s jaw tightened.
She was the key to unlocking the decades-old murder of his father. Asa was done waiting for answers that would never come.
At the end of the bridge, he’d reached his destination. Hope Island, Maine. Everything still looked the same. Even the air smelled like he remembered. Of pine. Salt. Smoke from woodstoves curling out of chimneys along the harbor.
A dozen memories hit him at once. Riding his bike down Main Street, skipping rocks at low tide, sitting on his father’s shoulders during the Fourth of July parade. Memories he’d buried deep now clawed their way back.
Asa forced himself to focus. He wasn’t here to relive memories. He was here for the truth.
Fishing boats bobbed against their moorings. The Mariner’s Catch Bistro still resided at the corner of Main and Harbor, but time had left its scars on the island, too. Several empty storefronts grabbed his attention. A “For Sale” sign hung cockeyed in the old hardware shop window.
There was an air of things left undone, and under it all hovered the weight of whispers. The kind that clung to a place after a murder remained unsolved.
He drove slowly while searching for the weathered white building that was part of a group of shops. A sign above the door announced Hope Island Securities. This was it.
Asa slipped into a parking spot across the street and climbed out with the folder in hand. Would he find the answers he’d longed for with the help of this skilled investigation team? He sure hoped so, because the facts in that folder were slim, and his only witness didn’t remember a thing.
Reaching the business, Asa drew in a shallow breath before he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Warmth greeted him. The scent of coffee brewing, a faint hum of computers, the quiet murmur of voices.
A man in his forties looked up from a desk, dark hair brushing his collar, his eyes sharp despite the easy smile. JT Wyatt. Asa recognized him from research. Former Ranger. One of the founders of the firm that had become the island’s private line of defense.
“You must be Asa Dutton.” JT stood and extended his hand. His grip was firm, his gaze steady. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Asa nodded once. “Appreciate you seeing me.”
Behind JT, another figure leaned against the wall. Declan Thomas, if Asa wasn’t mistaken from the website he’d pored over. His watchful eyes said he was measuring Asa already. Janine Blackwell passed by with a file under her arm, offering a polite nod but not stopping.
JT gestured toward a chair. “You said this was about your father’s case.”
“That’s correct.” Asa dropped into the chair and slid the thin file onto the desk. “Raymond Dutton, my father. Chief of police. Murdered here in 2000.”
JT flipped the folder open, his brows tightening as he skimmed the scant reports. “There’s not much here. I believe the case is still unsolved?” JT’s sharp gaze found his.
“That’s right.” Asa leaned forward, his voice low, controlled. “But there’s someone who might hold those answers. She was found in the barn where my father died. A little girl. No ID. No family. She was adopted a year later. Grew up here.”
JT studied him. “Maya Callahan. From what I’ve gathered, she hasn’t remembered anything about that night. What makes you think she will now?”
Asa’s jaw clenched. “Because she’s the only one who might have seen the man in the shadows.” He told them about what he remembered hearing and seeing that night.
Declan spoke for the first time. “That doesn’t mean she saw his face, and even if she did, it appears Maya has buried all memories from that night and her past before it. Hidden memories like that, well, they don’t come back easily. Trauma conceals things for a reason.”
Asa swallowed. “I realize that, but she may be my only chance at getting to the truth.” He paused. “Look, I made a promise to my father to find out what happened to him. I’m not going to break it.”
JT closed the file and sat back, his fingers steepled. “You mentioned on the phone that your uncle has been investigating for a while, but he hasn’t come up with any new evidence through the years.”
“That’s right, but he never actually talked with Maya.” Asa leaned forward. “Uncle Jonas tried more than once. He came to the island after she was adopted. Called her parents’ house. Reached out again to them through the years.”
JT’s expression sharpened.
“The Callahans refused every time,” Asa continued.
“They were polite about it but firm. They said Maya didn’t remember anything, and they didn’t want her dragged back into that nightmare.
They weren’t hiding anything. They were protecting her with the limited information they had.
I don’t believe they ever knew the full truth. ”
JT leaned back in his chair. “Why do you think they were so protective?”
Asa hesitated, because the truth had never sat right with him. “Jonas always said they acted like they were afraid of something. Afraid of him asking her questions. Afraid of what Maya might say.”
“After twenty-five years, this isn’t going to be easy.
” JT seemed to choose his next words carefully.
“You understand that digging up the past in an unsolved murder case might put a target on your back as well as Maya’s.
If the person who killed your father is still around and thinking he’s gotten away with murder all these years, then he’s not going to want the truth coming out.
He has a lot of reasons to silence anyone who tries to change that. ”
Asa’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve had a target on my back since the day my father died. I’m ready for answers.”
Silence stretched, broken only by the hum of the heater. Finally JT nodded. “All right. We’ll help. We’ll make a copy of what you have.” He gestured to Declan, who took the file and stepped away.
Once it was just the two of them, JT said, “I’d like to loop in the current chief of police since this is technically still his case, even though it is considered cold.
” He held up a hand when Asa would have protested the involvement of local law enforcement.
“Look, I get where you’re coming from. Clearly, there were issues with the way your father’s case was handled before.
I’m not sure if it was due to inexperienced staff or something else, but Chief Will Kelly is a good friend, and I trust him completely.
He’ll know if the case has been investigated by the Hope Island PD in the past. There may be further information we don’t yet know.
I’ll get the team started by reviewing the case file and interviewing anyone who might have been around back then.
We’ll see what we can find out and get back with you. Will your uncle be joining you?”
Asa shook his head. “Unfortunately, he’s on a security contract overseas. Paris this time. My uncle consults with multinational corporations doing risk assessment, threat mitigation, that sort of thing.”
JT nodded, holding Asa’s gaze. “All right, but until we get back with you on our findings, I need you to do something I know you don’t want to do.
Stand down, Asa. Whoever silenced your father won’t appreciate old ghosts rising.
And having you back on the island is definitely going to stir up some ghosts. ”
Asa smiled for the first time. “I’m counting on it.”
◆◆◆
Standing down was the last thing he planned to do. Asa had spent the last twenty-five years waiting for answers. His life, even though it had been a good one, had always been overshadowed by what happened all those years ago.
He spotted the cabin he’d rented online perched along the rocky coastline. From the outside, it was just as advertised.
Asa pulled up front and took a minute to admire the familiar sight of waves crashing against the shore. Maybe he’d take a walk down to the water later after settling in.
Right now his body craved rest. The nonstop drive from Nashville to Maine had taken its toll. His uncle’s warning not to go back to Hope Island and resurrect the past had been ringing in his ears every mile of the way.
Uncle Jonas had done his best to find out the truth about Raymond’s murder, but over the years very little new evidence had emerged.
Asa glanced at the folder on the passenger seat.
Having a fresh set of eyes on the case gave him hope, and if JT believed the current chief would be fair, then he welcomed the assistance.
Grabbing his duffel bag from the back seat, he carried it and the folder up to the front of the cabin. The real estate firm that rented the cabin provided the door code through an email. He punched it in and stepped inside, dropping the duffel by the door.
Small but cozy with rustic fishing décor all around, it was the perfect place to vacation. Too bad that was the last thing on Asa’s mind.
The living room, dining room, and kitchen flowed together. From the photos he’d seen online, there was a single bed and bath down the hall.
Asa placed the folder on the table and went out for the rest of his things. He carried in the groceries he’d bought at the island store, then locked his vehicle.
After putting the food away, he stepped over to the windows facing the ocean.
Dark, angry clouds had moved in and were tossing the waves around.
He’d checked the weather on his way over.
A winter storm warning was in effect until after midnight.
It was that weird time of the year between Christmas and New Year, and this was the last place he’d imagined himself being.
As much as he needed rest, being back on the island made him feel like he’d been “woken up.” This was the moment he’d anticipated for a long time. Sleep could wait.
He fixed himself a cup of coffee and then sat down at the table, spreading the file content out before him. Asa had gone over every single word here dozens of times, memorizing each of them. Did he really expect something to magically change?
Frustrated, he watched the sky turn increasingly more violent-looking outside. The wind rattled the windows, and the surf pounded the rocks below.
He traced the edges of the girl’s photograph with his thumb. Maya Callahan. No longer a little girl but a woman now.
Did she have nightmares about that night as he did? Did she even know who she truly was? The last time his uncle had spoken to her parents had been shortly before their deaths. They claimed none of her memories from that night had returned, and no one had come looking for her. Was it true?
Asa leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He’d built his life around questions. Trained as an investigator, first as part of the Air Force’s Office of Special Investigations, he served in the same branch of military his uncle served in, investigating serious cases such as espionage and terrorism.
After he’d left the military, Asa joined a private intelligence group that worked in the recovery of missing persons, especially cases involving corruption or child trafficking.
Eventually, he left the firm and began freelance consulting, keeping his focus on cold cases with missing children.
Asa learned how to find what others tried to hide.
But this wasn’t just another case. This was blood and bone. This was the night that had carved his life in half. Tomorrow, he’d knock on Maya Callahan’s door.
The only witness.
The only key to the truth.
While the storm from that night twenty-five years ago might have washed away the killer’s footprints, secrets never stayed buried forever. He’d find them. Asa owed it to his father to get justice. Once and for all.