Chapter 1 #2
“My mother, father, and brother are police and FBI,” Tessa reminded him.
“Trust me, they taught me well.” She folded her arms and eyed him suspiciously.
“Now I have to ask you, could this be someone scoping out Lori because they think she’s somehow involved with you or your family?
Could someone from your past be using her to get to you?
Or maybe even have the wrong house on Pelican Cove Lane? ”
The question hit harder than Mitch expected because he’d been asking himself the same thing.
His past was full of people who might have reasons to come after him.
Operations that had gone sideways. Criminals he’d helped put away.
Foreign agents whose networks he’d dismantled.
Any one of them could have tracked him down after all these years.
Fear hit him in the chest so unexpectedly he coughed. Was Tessa right? Had their surveillance targeted Lori because of him? Because they’d seen how close they were becoming? They had been at each other’s houses every day since they’d met. But why would they come after him now?
“I don’t know,” Mitch said honestly. “But I’m going to find out.”
Before anyone could respond, the motion sensor at the back of the cottage activated. The light blazed on, flooding the backyard with harsh white illumination.
Misty exploded into motion. She leaped off the porch and tore around the side of the cottage, barking furiously. Her nails scrambled on the gravel drive as she disappeared into the darkness beyond the motion sensor’s range.
“Misty!” Lori started after her, but Mitch grabbed her arm.
“Don’t. Please, stay here,” Mitch commanded. “You and Tessa go inside and lock the door. Don’t come out until I come back.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He took off running in the direction Misty had gone, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. He could hear the dog ahead of him, still barking, the sound growing more distant.
By the time he reached the motion sensor’s range, Misty was already at the edge of the property, nose to the ground, following a scent. Fresh footprints marked the grass, heading toward the beach path. Whoever had been here moments ago had run the second the light activated.
Mitch followed the trail, moving fast but carefully, his senses on high alert. Misty bounded ahead, following the scent with single-minded determination. They crashed through the beach roses and down the rocky path toward the water.
The beach stretched before them, dark and empty. Misty ran to the water’s edge, barking at the waves, clearly frustrated that the trail ended there. Whoever she’d been chasing had gone into the water.
Mitch swept his flashlight beam across the sand. There. Drag marks. Deep gouges in the wet sand where something heavy had been pulled into the surf.
A boat. Someone had pulled a boat into the water and escaped that way.
He moved to the drag marks, examining them carefully. Judging by the width it was a small craft. Probably a dinghy or rowboat. Light enough to be beached and launched quickly. The marks were fresh as the water was still seeping into the depressions.
Mitch waded into the shallows, ignoring the cold water soaking his shoes and jeans. He shone his flashlight out across the bay, searching for any sign of the boat. The beam caught whitecaps and the dark shapes of rocks, but nothing that looked like a vessel.
Then he heard it. A small engine starting up in the distance. Faint but distinct. An outboard motor, maybe a quarter mile out.
He spun toward the sound and aimed his flashlight, but the beam didn’t reach far enough.
The engine sound grew louder for a moment, then began to fade as the boat moved away.
Whoever it was knew the bay well enough to navigate in the dark.
Knew where the rocks were, where the channels ran deep enough for safe passage.
Oh yes, whoever it was, was definitely a professional.
Mitch stood in the cold water, listening as the engine faded to nothing. Beside him, Misty whined, frustrated at losing her quarry. The dog’s instincts were good. She’d known someone was there, had chased them off. But whoever it was had planned for pursuit.
The realization settled over Mitch like ice water.
This wasn’t some amateur operation. This wasn’t an angry ex or a nosy journalist or even a run-of-the-mill stalker.
This was someone with training. Someone with resources.
Someone who knew how to conduct surveillance, how to avoid detection, how to plan escape routes before making a move.
Someone like him.
The question that filled his mind as he stood there in the dark water was terrifying in its implications.
Were they after him? Had someone from his thirty years in the shadows finally tracked him down? Were Lori, Piper, and now Tessa, in danger because of choices he’d made decades ago?
Or were they after Lori? Was she the target, and he was just the inconvenient neighbor who’d gotten in the way?
And if they were after Lori, why? What had a quiet widow from Florida done to attract the attention of a professional operative?
The dead seabird on the doorstep hadn’t been a random act of vandalism. It had been a message. A warning. A promise of things to come.
Mitch called Misty and headed back up the beach path, his mind already working through options. He needed to call Marcus back and get his ear to the ground to find out if there was any chatter about someone out to get him.
The cottage came into view, every light in it now blazing. Lori and Tessa stood on the porch, tension visible in every line of their bodies. When they saw him emerge from the darkness with Misty, relief flooded their faces.
“Well?” Tessa called out. “Did you find anything?”
Mitch climbed the porch steps, water dripping from his jeans. He looked at Lori, at the fear and confusion in her eyes.
“Whoever it was escaped by boat,” Mitch told them. “They had it waiting on the beach. Which tells me this wasn’t a random act, it was planned.”
“So they’re gone?” Lori asked hopefully.
“For now,” Mitch said. “But they’ll be back. This isn’t over.”
“Why do you say that?” Lori asked.
Mitch met her gaze steadily. “Because that’s what professionals do.
They probe defenses, test responses, gather intelligence.
Tonight was reconnaissance. They wanted to see how you’d react, how quickly help would arrive, what kind of security was in place.
” He paused. “And who exactly the help would be.”
“You sound very certain about that,” Tessa said.
“I am,” Mitch said. “Because that’s exactly what I would do.”
The admission hung in the air between them. Tessa’s eyes narrowed. Lori’s widened. Both women stared at him, seeing him differently now. Not as the quiet neighbor. Not as the retired analyst. As what he really was.
“I think,” Tessa said slowly, “that you need to tell us exactly who you are, Mitch Brandon. And what we’re really dealing with here.”
Mitch looked out at the dark bay, at the water where the boat had disappeared. And Mitch still didn’t know if that someone who had just escaped was from his past or Lori’s present. He didn’t know if he was the shepherd protecting the flock or the wolf that had drawn the hunters here.
All he knew for certain was that the game had now begun in earnest. And this time, the stakes included everyone he cared about.