Chapter Five
The wind kicked up off the Atlantic, howling across the rocky coastline and slamming into the side of Maya’s cottage with a force that shook the windows. On the porch, the rockers creaked and scraped against the boards.
Inside, Maya curled up in the oversized chair beside the fireplace with a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The coffee in her mug had gone lukewarm.
Snow had started falling around dusk—soft at first, then sharp, like needles carried on the wind. Now it blanketed the beach trail and erased the horizon in a blur of white and gray.
Still, the unease pressed in closer than the storm ever could.
She’d gone outside earlier to take a walk along the shore before the storm rolled in, but she hadn’t made it past the porch. That feeling of someone watching her had returned. Stronger. More persistent. Maya had rushed back inside and bolted the door.
Since then, she’d been huddling in her chair, clenching the mug. “It’s nothing,” she whispered, not quite believing herself. “You’re just on edge.”
She couldn’t shake the feeling. It had stalked her for days now. Weeks, maybe. The sensation of unseen eyes tracing her every step—a presence just beyond reach, coiling in the corners of her awareness.
Maya stood, the blanket slipping off her shoulders to the floor. She crossed to the window. Snow covered everything outside. The dunes, the pine trees, the winding trail leading to the beach. but it wasn’t the snow that made her breath catch in her throat.
A man stood at the edge of the woods, barely visible from her vantage point.
Maya’s fingers went numb. She blinked once.
Twice. The figure was still there. Out of sight enough for her not to be able to make out anything other than that he appeared rather tall.
Her stomach clenched as a memory surfaced, unbidden.
The sound of boots moving closer across a wooden floor.
She was hiding behind something, fear threatening to swallow her up.
“No.” She pressed her clenched hand to her head and closed her eyes. When she opened them, the figure was gone.
She stumbled away from the window, nearly dropping the mug. Her hands shook violently.
Asa Dutton’s card sat on her mantel. She’d tucked it away in her coat pocket and found it once she’d returned home that night. There’d been something about him and what he said that kept her from tossing it into the trash.
Asa believed their pasts were connected, but how could she be connected to a past she didn’t remember?
Maya retrieved her cell phone and punched in the numbers before she talked herself out of it. One ring before his voice answered, steady, calm, exactly what she needed.
“Dutton.”
“Asa?” Her voice cracked. “It’s Maya.”
A pause had her rushing on before she lost her nerve and hung up.
“I—I saw someone. I think he’s watching me. Outside my cottage. Near the trees.”
Silence. Then, his voice again. Lower. Firmer. “Are you inside? Doors locked?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Stay there and don’t go near the windows. I’m on my way.” He didn’t ask for her address. She had a feeling he already knew everything about her life here on the island, as sad as it was.
Maya squeezed the phone tight. “Asa, there was something about him. I couldn’t see his face, but still, I think I’ve seen him before.”
“I’ll be there in ten. Dial 9-1-1- if he comes up to the house.”
The call ended, but she didn’t move. She just stood there, the silence pressing harder now that the wind had stilled. Too still. She returned to the front room and tucked Asa’s card into her pocket.
She refused to overlook the warnings or feign security. Instead of fleeing, she was moving directly toward the darkness. And she wasn’t alone.
◆◆◆
By the time Asa reached Maya’s cottage, driving snow had all but obscured the trail leading to her place.
He cut the engine and stepped out, drawing his sidearm. Snow crunched beneath his boots while he moved up the narrow porch. His eyes scanned the woods first, dense and dark, then along the beach trail where gusts of wind erased every trace of movement almost as soon as it happened.
Almost.
Near the tree line where Maya had seen the man, something caught his eye. A break in the white. Footprints.
Fresh. Pressed deep, like someone had been standing there for a while shuffling their feet. Watching Maya.
His jaw tightened as he circled the property, every step deliberate. Nothing else appeared out of place. Whoever it was had vanished into the woods, probably soon after Maya made that call. They probably had a car stashed somewhere for a fast getaway.
When he returned to the front of the cottage, he knocked once. “Maya, it’s me.”
She freed the locks and stepped back to let him in. Maya stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t speak, but the look in her eyes—part relief, part fear—hit him harder than he expected.
“I found a set of footprints near the woods.” Asa closed the door behind him and locked it. “Whoever it was is gone now.”
She nodded, her eyes unfocused.
“You checked all the locks on the windows?”
She nodded again. “Yes, they’re all secure.”
Asa eased closer, his voice low. “You did the right thing by calling me.”
“I didn’t know who else to trust.”
That word hit something raw. Trust. A fragile gift he didn’t take lightly.
He glanced around the room. A small couch near the fireplace. Bookshelves lined with journals. Soft lighting. A haven for someone who’d lived too long in fear. He turned back to her. “Do you remember him?”
Her brow furrowed. “The man who was watching me. I told you I didn’t see his face.”
“Not him.” He exhaled, stepping closer. “My father.”
Her lips parted slightly. Maya swayed as if she’d been struck.
“I’m not sure. Until recently, I’d never remembered anything.
That changed since you showed up.” She looked up at him.
“But it’s only been a few flashes of fragmented memories, and I can’t really grasp onto them …
Sometimes I wake up and hear someone—maybe him—yelling. ”
“He died protecting you,” Asa said softly. “Protecting both of us.”
Her breath caught.
“I didn’t remember you at first either,” he continued. “Not until I saw your photo.”
“My photo?” Her brows knitted together. “How did you get my photo?”
She didn’t like the idea of having her identity out in public, and he certainly understood. For someone who didn’t remember their past, the enemy could be anyone.
“It was on part of the Hope Island Facebook visitors’ page. Just a single photo captioned at the bistro. I think someone visiting the island took it recently. They didn’t mention your full name—just Maya—but it was enough for me to realize it was you.”
“That scares me.” She looked away, blinking at top speed. “What if that photo brought the killer to me again?”
“Doesn’t matter because I’ll be right here with you, and I’m not going to let him near you again. I can stay tonight or however long you need,” Asa pointed to the living room. “I’ll take the couch. You’ll be safe.”
Maya hesitated, then nodded. “I wish I knew what that felt like.”
His hands circled her shoulders. “You will when this is over. Right now, it’s late. You’ll feel better after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
She searched his face, then stepped back. He let her go and watched as she turned and headed down the hallway without saying another word.
Asa waited until she was gone before calling JT and telling him what happened. “Yeah, someone was definitely watching her place. They left tracks. Probably a recon run. She’s safe, though. I’m staying here tonight and escorting her to the bistro in the morning.”
“Good idea,” JT replied. “Be careful. They might come back.”
Tension coiled inside Asa while he ended the call and locked both doors.
Killing the lights, he checked outside. Nothing stirred.
Still, he couldn’t relax. Asa settled onto the couch without removing his boots or weapon holster.
He kept one eye on the curtained window, the other on the hallway that led to Maya’s room.
Somewhere in the house, she moved softly—bedroom door locking, blankets shifting on the bed.
Eventually, silence settled in, but Asa didn’t sleep.
Too many ghosts. Too many questions.
And for the first time in decades, maybe too much to lose.