Chapter 71
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Sitka, AK
Anya Baron looked down from her office window onto the Baranof Marine boatyard.
Two dozen boats stood in rows propped on blocks.
Mechanics moved among them, shouting over the whine of power tools and the thrum of pressure washers.
A heavy seiner fishing vessel swung in the straps of the Travelift, headed for the launch ramp.
She leaned into the glass, watching the slow pivot of the Travelift over the slip. She liked that part best—the moment a boat left the yard, ready to return to the water.
The business had grown faster than she had dreamed.
She’d bought Baranof Marine out of receivership with gold-stained cash and turned it into one of the most respected yards in the region.
Now it was turning a hefty profit, and she was quietly acquiring properties in Juneau and Ketchikan with plans to expand.
Tour boats. Glacier tours. Wildlife tours. She didn’t even like tourists, but she knew a good opportunity when she saw one. With the rapid growth of the cruise ship industry in Southeast Alaska, there clearly was a lucrative market.
She still slept with a gun under her pillow.
The nightmares had faded, showing up only now and then. When they came, Thomas was often in them—demanding to know where she’d hidden the gold. Sometimes it was aboard the Lady Melinda, crashing through heavy seas while her husband hollered and slammed cabinet doors.
She went for long walks most nights, especially when sleep wouldn’t come.
Past her old neighborhood, past the empty lot where the Red Baron Bar once stood.
A grocery store lived there now, too clean and too bright.
The old Baton Rouge Brothel had become a historic landmark.
Tourists posed for photos beneath the ironwork balcony where she’d always sat with her dolls, watching for her Nana’s truck to return.
Two sharp knocks interrupted her thoughts.
Amos leaned in through the door. “Ms. Baron?”
She stepped back from the window and moved to her desk. “Come on in.”
Amos still looked like a longliner who had wandered into the wrong building—camouflage overalls, orange knit cap, and a face weathered from years at sea.
He moved like a man who didn’t need to prove anything.
She’d suggested he wear something nicer—something that said vice president rather than deckhand—but he’d shrugged it off.
This was Alaska. Nobody cared what you wore if you got the job done.
He handed her a manila envelope. “Closing papers for the Ketchikan house.”
She nodded, flipping through the documents. That made three now. Three quiet houses in three coastal towns, all purchased under a shell trust. She had no intention of putting her name on anything that might draw attention.
The Sitka house, Safe Anchorage, had been open for six months. It could take in ten women and children at a time, and had already sheltered nearly a hundred. The housemother—Donna—ran a tight ship, with two volunteers on call and a back gate that was always locked.
In Juneau, the Haven had barely opened before the neighbors started sniffing around.
Too much traffic. Too many hushed voices at odd hours.
Anya had walked door to door, offering to send them a little cash each month just to help keep it discreet and safe.
All of them said yes. A few had thanked her. One had cried.
She planned to call the Ketchikan property Radiant House. She’d furnish it herself this weekend. She always did. It was her favorite part—choosing the paint colors, hanging quilts and quiet art, filling the pantry with tea and cereal and soup cans. Safety had to feel like home.
She set the envelope down, returned to the window, and wiped away the condensation from her breath. The water beyond the boatyard was glassy smooth.
“We should go down there next week,” she said. “Introduce ourselves. Make sure the staff knows what they’re doing.”
Amos nodded. “I’ll have the floatplane ready.”
She gave him a smile. “Assuming the weather’s good. Yeah.”
Outside, the Travelift set the boat gently into the water. Anya watched the hull settle, the boat’s reflection shimmering.
She didn’t have an ending for this new chapter of her life. But this—this was a good start.