for the gun safe, it was heavy duty and concealed under his desk. Will was qualified to handle both a Taser and a gun, but he had neither of those at the moment. His Taser had acted up the last time he’d checked it, so he’d sent it in for repair or replacement. As for the gun, the paperwork was still going through—or that was what he’d been told when he inquired.
Will had a feeling his superiors weren’t sure he could be trusted with a deadly weapon. He didn’t know why. A gun had nothing to do with why he was in Golden Cove. He’d beaten that murderous bastard’s face to a bloody pulp with his bare hands.
Those hands tightened on the steering wheel.
The upper windows of the bed-and-breakfast blurred gold in the rain as he passed by. The place had only three guests right now, all seasoned hikers who came regularly enough to Golden Cove that they were honorary locals. Will had run them anyway, found nothing. All three had been helping with the search.
He looked in his rearview mirror out of habit to make sure there was nothing problematic in town as he left, was surprised not to see any lights in the supermarket. Usually, the Lees left on their bright green sign if nothing else. Could be Shan and Pat had decided to switch to backup generators to make sure their fresh goods didn’t spoil should the power go out tonight. He’d talk with them tomorrow, find out how it had gone.
For now, he drove on through a Golden Cove that was silent and cold and dark.
It got even colder and darker once he hit the far edge of town and left behind what few lights were burning. He drove with care, his eyes on alert for a patch of pink or orange. He didn’t even realize he was doing it until his headlights flashed on something and he stopped the vehicle… To see it was only the silver underside of a wind-tossed candy bar wrapper.
It blew away with the next gust.
Putting the car back into gear, he carried on and made the turn into Anahera’s drive.
His SUV rumbled along the gravel, pulling up to a stop next to her Jeep. She’d left on the porch light, and he was grateful for it as he got out and jogged toward the cabin. He’d locked the watch and tin safely inside a special compartment he’d built himself in back of his vehicle, hidden beneath the well for the spare tire. He’d also made sure the sirens would go off if anyone tried to get into the vehicle—and they were loud enough to penetrate even this weather.
The door opened before he reached the porch. “I heard your car,” Anahera said as his boots hit the wood. “You’re drenched.”
“Accident on the road out of town,” he said, shaking himself off as well as he could.
“Everyone okay?”
“Yeah.” He wiped his face. “I should leave my jacket out on the porch. I’ll dribble all over your place otherwise.”
“The wind will rip it away and down to the water.” Anahera waved him inside. “There’s a little area here where you can hang it up. My grandmother didn’t like mess, had this put in when my grandfather built the cabin.”
Will saw what she meant when he stepped inside. The cabin had what might be called a mudroom in some places. Except it wasn’t that big. It was more like a shallow pre-entrance. On the left side was a board with hooks. Anahera’s anorak hung on one. On the other side was a large shoebox bench seat with a pair of boots already underneath.
Will undid his jacket and hung it on a hook beside Anahera’s anorak, the orange color and white high-visibility stripes bold next to the olive green. Then, taking a seat on top of the bench seat, he bent down to unlace his boots and get them off his feet. He chucked his soaked socks beside his boots, having placed the boots under the seat. By then, Anahera was back with a thick yellow towel.
“Thanks.” He began to dry his sopping wet hair.
“You can thank Josie. She’s the one who supplied me with extra towels—sometimes, I think that woman sees the future.”
Will still couldn’t see how Anahera and Josie’s friendship had endured—Josie might have a business, but the café wasn’t her focus. She was the kind of woman who made a packed lunch for her husband and who doted on her son; she’d