Long Shadow (Veiled Intentions #2) - Elle Keaton Page 0,2

the island, his dog, and the damn sheriff.

As uncomfortable as he’d been in the city, Niall was shocked at the intense relief he felt returning to Piedras. Not at all like when he’d come back in February, fleeing his old life with no plan in mind—only knowing he couldn’t go on as he had been. This time Piedras felt like home. And not just because of whatever was going on between him and Mat Dempsey. Now Niall felt a mix of hope and something like… optimism… about the future.

Niall pulled into the Orca Motel parking lot and turned off the engine. Even the sight of the shabby motel, built in the seventies or early eighties, didn’t dampen his spirits. He unloaded the boxes he’d brought with him, stacking them along one wall. There were only five, but they seemed to take up a lot of space in the small room. The boxes contained the few things he honestly cared about: photo albums that had belonged to his grandparents, his favorite books, diplomas.

On the last trip to the car, he remembered the box he’d received earlier that day and grabbed it. Inside, he tossed it on the desk and sat down on the edge of the bed. He was suspicious of the parcel; he didn’t want to open it. Whatever it held could wait until morning, or longer.

Two

Mat

“Jesus Christ,” Mat muttered as he climbed out of his cruiser.

Orange-red flames licked the sides of the old wooden building, dancing up into the night sky. Matt could feel the heat from where he stood, well back from the barn. It was, had been, a hay barn originally, and picturesque, a building tourists often stopped to take photos of during the summer months.

There’d been a spate of fires across the island, including the one at the Hamarsson place. Most of them had been set in empty or abandoned buildings. By Mat’s count, this was the fourth since January. At first Mat had thought the perpetrators were teenagers—he hadn’t lumped those other fires in the same category with Niall’s cabin burning. But now he was concerned the island had an arsonist.

The pump engine had arrived before he had. Mat was always impressed by how quickly and efficiently the volunteers got themselves set up. Water was already pouring onto the flames, the firefighters’ silhouettes delineated by the scintillating glow a mesmerizing dance of men and elements.

Tonight someone had set fire to one of Merle Wainwright’s barns. Mat didn’t know for certain it was the work of the same arsonist, but soon enough they’d have state investigators out seeing if they could establish a pattern, and Mat wouldn’t be surprised if they decided all the fires were related. This seemed like more than vandalism, more than the car prowls that also had been on the uptick in recent months.

“Did you have anything inside?” Mat asked Merle.

“No, it was empty. Me and the missus were thinking about remodeling it, making it into one of those places people will stay for a lot of money. ‘Stay in a real barn’ kind of thing. But we hadn’t got around to it.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Mat looked up toward the Wainwrights’ residence. He could see a lone figure, Wainwright’s wife, standing on the front porch.

“Give my regards to Joella. Flynn will be by in the next few days to go over everything with you.”

Wainwright shrugged; his shoulders slumped in defeat as he watched the flames winning the battle.

Eyes searching the group of firefighters, Mat spotted Devon Flynn barking out orders to his crew. Devon was the new volunteer fire chief, and he had to be concerned about the fires. Mat strode over to talk to him, staying out of the way of the hose and the team operating it.

“What do you think?” Mat asked.

“I think we have a problem,” Devon answered grimly.

“Me too. This is the last thing we need right now, some sicko setting fire to the island.”

“It’s bad for everyone.”

Mat knew what Devon meant. An arsonist was bad for the island economy as well as a danger to the residents. They needed to figure out who was behind the fires before tourist season—and before the rains stopped. Never in his life had Mat hoped the wet weather would last just a little while longer.

“Thanks for coming to the funeral,” Mat said, recalling the last time he’d seen Devon.

Not quite a month ago, Mat had watched as his older brother’s coffin was lowered into the ground. He and his sisters had