Chapter 13
Maggie
Bram moved through the Halloween crowds like water flowing around stones, smooth, purposeful, never stopping. His head stayed tilted, nostrils flaring occasionally as he recalibrated the scent trail.
I stayed close, one hand on Ethan's shoulder to keep him from bolting ahead. The kid was terrified but trying to be brave, jaw set in a way that reminded me of every family member I'd ever had to keep calm during a crisis.
"She'll be okay," I told him, because sometimes you had to say it even when you couldn't promise it.
"How do you know?" His voice was small.
"Because we're looking in the right direction. And because your sister's smart enough to find somewhere safe."
He nodded, wanting to believe me.
We passed the bonfire in the town square, families roasting marshmallows, a guitarist playing something folky, laughter rising into the October night. Normal. Safe. Completely oblivious to the panic spreading three blocks away.
Bram paused at the edge of the square, breathing deeply. His tail gave a sharp flick.
"She stopped here," he said, voice certain. "Stood by that lamppost." He pointed to one on the far side, away from the fire's light. "Then moved east again."
"Toward the pier," I confirmed.
The pier stretched out into the harbor, old wood and newer renovations making an uneven patchwork.
During summer, it was packed with tourists, fishing boats, and kids jumping off the end into the water.
Now, in the late October evening, it was mostly empty, too cold for swimming, too dark for sightseeing.
Too many places for a small child to hide. Or fall.
My stomach tightened.
We crossed the street, Bram leading us past the closed ice cream shop, past the bait-and-tackle place with its hand-painted sign. The crowds thinned as we got farther from Main Street. The string lights ended. The laughter faded.
Just the sound of waves against pylons and the distant cry of gulls.
Bram stopped at the pier's entrance, a wooden archway with "Seaview Harbor" carved into the crossbeam. His expression had gone focused in a way I recognized, the look of someone tracking something invisible, trusting senses the rest of us didn't have.
"She came this way," he said. "But the scent's weaker here. The wind's coming off the water, dispersing it."
"Can you still follow it?"
"Yes. But it'll be slower."
"Then slow's fine." I looked down the pier, dark except for a few solar lights marking the walkway, boats rocking gently in their slips, shadows everywhere. "Ethan, did Lily ever come here before? Does she know this pier?"
He shook his head. "Mom doesn't let us go past the ice cream shop."
So she wouldn't have a mental map. Wouldn't know which way led back to safety. She'd just run toward quiet and dark and away from the overwhelming noise of the festival.
Right into danger.
I pulled out my phone and texted the deputy: Pier. Send backup when available.
The response came immediately: On our way.
Good. Because if Lily had gone all the way to the end of the pier, if she'd climbed down between boats or tried to hide under the docks...
Don't borrow trouble, I told myself. Focus on what you know.
Bram was already moving onto the pier, steps careful on the weathered planks. Some of them were new, pressure-treated lumber that didn't creak. Others were old enough that they groaned under his weight.
I followed, heels loud against the wood. Should've worn sensible shoes. Should've kept a go-bag in my car like I had when I was on the force. Should've done a hundred things differently.
But I hadn't, so I was searching for a missing child in a cocktail dress and borrowed heels, following my barghest date.
We passed the first set of boat slips. Sailboats mostly, covered for winter, rocking gently. Their halyards clinked against masts, a lonely sound.
Bram paused again, breathing. "She touched this." He pointed to a bollard—one of the short posts used for tying boats. "Her hand. Recent."
"How recent?"
"Minutes."
Relief flooded through me. Minutes meant she was close. Minutes meant we were gaining on her.
"Lily!" I called, my voice carrying across the water. "Lily, my name's Maggie! Your brother Ethan is here! We're here to help you!"
Nothing.
Just waves, wind, and the creak of boats.
Ethan tried: "Lily! It's me! Please come out!"
Still nothing.
But Bram had gone very still, head tilted like a dog hearing something beyond human range.
"She's here," he said quietly. "On the pier. I can hear her breathing."
"Where?"
He moved forward slowly, deliberately, scanning the shadows between boats, the gaps in the decking, the dark space beneath the pier itself where pylons disappeared into cold water.
Then he stopped.
Crouched down.
Pointed under a fishing boat covered with a blue tarp.
"There."
I knelt beside him, careful of my dress, and peered into the darkness. At first, I saw nothing, just shadow and the gleam of water below. Then my eyes adjusted.
A small shape, curled into a ball between the boat's hull and the dock's edge. Purple shirt. Blonde hair. Knees pulled to chest.
Lily.
She was shaking. Either from cold, fear, or both.
Relief hit me so hard I had to close my eyes for a second. Found. Alive. Unharmed.
Thank God.
"Lily?" I kept my voice soft, non-threatening. Cop training: approach scared children like you're approaching wild animals. Slow. Calm. Predictable. "My name's Maggie. Your mom sent us to find you."
No response. But she hadn't run, which was something.
"Your brother Ethan's here too. He was really worried about you."
Still nothing.
Ethan pushed forward, trying to see. "Lily, it's okay! I'm sorry I lost you! Please come out!"
The small shape shifted. A face turned toward us, pale in the shadows.
"Ethan?" Her voice was tiny. Scared.
"Yeah! It's me! Come on, we can go home!"
But she didn't move. Just pressed herself smaller against the hull.
I understood immediately. She was wedged in there, probably squeezed through a gap to hide, but now she was too scared or too cold to move. Or maybe the gap that let her in wouldn't let her out again.
"Lily, are you stuck?" I asked gently.
A pause. Then, very small: "I can't get out."
Ethan's breath caught. Bram was already assessing the space, too small for him to fit through, too narrow for me in this dress.
But maybe...
"Ethan," I said. "Can you fit under there?"
He looked at the gap, then nodded. "I think so."
"Okay. I need you to go slow. Tell your sister you're coming to help her. Keep talking so she knows where you are. Can you do that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Smart kid. Brave kid.
He got on his stomach, already talking in a steady stream: "It's okay, Lily. I'm coming. You're not in trouble. Mom's not mad. Nobody's mad. We just want you to come home. Can you see me? I'm coming through now..."
He wormed his way under the tarp, into the narrow space between the boat and the dock. I could hear him talking, his voice muffled, reassuring his sister in the darkness.
Bram stayed crouched beside me, watching intently. His tail was perfectly still, the way it got when he was focused.
"Good call," he said quietly. "Using the brother."
"She trusts him. That's worth more than any authority I could claim."
A moment later, Ethan's voice carried back: "I've got her hand! She's coming!"
"Slow," I called. "Nice and easy. No rush."
The tarp shifted. Movement in the shadows. Then Ethan's head appeared, backing out carefully, towing his sister behind him.
Lily emerged, filthy, tear-stained, and shaking, but whole. Alive. Safe.
The second she was clear, Bram handed over the jacket he'd used to track her.
"You're okay," I told her. "You're safe now. We're going to take you back to your mom."
She looked up at me with huge, scared eyes. Then at Bram, and her expression shifted to awe and terror combined.
"He's the dog man Ethan met," she whispered.
"I am," Bram confirmed, his voice gentle. "And I'm very glad we found you."
"Are you going to eat me?"
"No," he said seriously. "I only eat steak. And microgreens, apparently."
She blinked, confusion cutting through the fear. "What's microgreens?"
"No one knows," I said. "Come on. Let's get you home."
I stood, holding out my hand. She took it, her small fingers cold in mine.
Ethan grabbed his sister's other hand, and together we walked back down the pier toward the lights, noise, and safety of the festival.
Behind us, the dark water rolled against the pylons, indifferent to the life it could have claimed.
By the time we reached Main Street, backup had arrived: two more deputies, several volunteers from the festival, and Sarah Mitchell running toward us with tears streaming down her face.
"Lily!" She dropped to her knees, pulling her daughter into a fierce hug. "Oh God, baby, I was so scared—"
Lily burst into tears, the kind of deep, gasping sobs that come when you've been holding everything in and finally feel safe enough to let go.
Sarah looked up at me, at Bram, her eyes swimming. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know how to—"
"You don't have to," I said. "She's safe. That's what matters."
One of the deputies approached, older than the first one, with the weathered face of someone who'd been doing this work for decades. "Thanks for the assist, Maggie."
He looked me over. "Thank you. We couldn't have covered that much ground that fast without..." He glanced at Bram, clearly uncertain how to finish the sentence.
"Without him," I said firmly. "Bram tracked her. Found her. He's the one you should be thanking."
The deputy nodded slowly, then extended his hand to Bram. "Thank you, sir. Really. That little girl could've—" He stopped, unwilling to finish that sentence in front of the family. "Thank you."
Bram shook his hand, careful of his strength. "You're welcome."
Sarah Mitchell stood, Lily still clinging to her hip, and turned to Bram with an expression I couldn't quite read. Fear was still there, but something else too. Recognition, maybe. Understanding.
"I was scared of you," she admitted. "When Ethan talked to you earlier, when he touched your horns, I pulled him away as soon as I could. I thought..." She swallowed hard. "I thought you were dangerous."
Bram said nothing, just waited.
"You saved my daughter," she continued. "You could've stayed at your nice dinner and ignored us. But you didn't. You helped. You—" Her voice broke. "Thank you. I'm sorry I was scared. I'm sorry I judged you."
"It's okay," Bram said quietly. "Fear is honest. Action is what matters."
She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Can I—can we hug you? Is that weird?"
He looked startled, then nodded.
Sarah shifted Lily to one hip and threw her other arm around Bram's shoulders. Ethan joined in, wrapping his arms around Bram's waist. Even Lily reached out, her small hand touching one of his horns in a gesture that was more blessing than curiosity.
Bram stood very still, arms carefully returning the embrace, looking utterly overwhelmed.
A flash went off.
Someone had taken a picture, one of the festival-goers who'd gathered to watch the reunion. Within seconds, phones were out, capturing the moment: the barghest in the nice suit, the family embracing him, the pier and ocean in the background.
By tomorrow, it would be all over Seaview's social media.
The Monster Manager Saves Missing Girl.
The Barghest Hero.
Seaview's Protector.
But right now, in this moment, it was just Bram, being hugged by a grateful family while the Halloween festival carried on around us, oblivious and joyful.
Sarah pulled back first, still clutching her daughter. "Is there anything I can do? To thank you? Both of you?"
"Just go home," I said. "Put your kids to bed. Hug them tight."
She nodded, then hesitated. "Your dinner. At the restaurant. Did you—"
"We'll reschedule," Bram said.
"No." She shook her head firmly. "I'm calling them right now. I'm paying for your dinner. Tonight and any night you want to go back. It's the least I can do."
"You don't have to—"
"I insist." She was already pulling out her phone. "Give me five minutes."
She walked a few steps away, talking rapidly into her phone. The deputies dispersed, radios crackling with the all-clear. The volunteers drifted back toward the festival. Within minutes, it was just me and Bram standing on the sidewalk, slightly rumpled, both of us smudged with dock grime.
We looked at each other.
"So," I said. "That was dinner."
His mouth quirked. "Not what I planned."
"Better than compressed melon?"
"Definitely better than compressed melon."
I laughed, the sound releasing some of the adrenaline still thrumming through my system. My hands were shaking slightly, the aftermath of crisis, of fear transmuted to relief.
Sarah reappeared, phone in hand, smiling. "All set. The restaurant's holding your dinners. You can pick them up whenever you want, or they'll deliver to your house. My treat. Both meals."
"Thank you," I said. "Really. But you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." She smiled. "And Maggie? Bram? Welcome to Seaview. For real, this time."
She herded her children away, Lily looking back once to wave at Bram before disappearing into the crowd.
We stood there, alone again, the festival swirling around us.
"Well," I said. "Should we go get our fancy boxed dinners?"
"Or," Bram said slowly, "we could go back to your place. Order pizza. Watch another movie."
I smiled. "That sounds perfect."
"The pizza place near the pier makes good margherita."
"How do you know?"
"I've been doing research." He looked embarrassed. "On good date spots. Places you might like. I have a list."
My heart did something complicated and dangerous. "You made a list."
"I wanted to be prepared."
"Bram." I squeezed his hand. "You tracked a missing child through a crowded festival using smell and instinct. You don't need a list."
"But—"
"Take me home," I said. "Feed me pizza. Take me to bed. We can do the fancy restaurants later."
His expression softened. "Are you sure?"
"Very sure."
He pulled out his phone, already calling the pizza place. "Any preferences?"
"Extra cheese. And those little hot peppers they have."
"Done."
We walked back to his car, hand in hand, past the jack-o'-lanterns and string lights and families still celebrating Halloween, past The Captain's Table with its ocean views and sanitized histories.
Toward my house, my workshop, my carefully built life that was becoming something bigger and stranger and infinitely better than anything I'd planned.