She tapped her toe a bit to “God Bless the USA” playing in the background. The back of her neck prickled, and she glanced around before her gaze collided with the most handsome man she’d ever met. Four women clustered around him, and snippets of their conversation floated above the sound of Lee Greenwood’s voice.
“Garret, I heard you won the marksmanship medal. I’m not surprised. You can do anything.”
“Garret, would you get me something to drink? I’m parched.”
He didn’t seem to hear the women vying for his attention. His blue eyes never left Dana’s, and he wove his way toward her through the women as they plucked at his uniform sleeves and demanded he stay to talk with them.
Dana couldn’t have moved if a tornado was sweeping through the place—not with those eyes burning into hers with a question her heart responded to immediately.
It was as if she’d been waiting for him all her life. Her lips parted when he reached her, but she couldn’t speak. He stopped only six inches away, well within her personal space, but she didn’t step back.
“I haven’t seen you before.”
“I–I came with Chris.” She forced the bright smile again.
He reached out and brushed a curl off her cheek. “You’re Dana? He didn’t mention how beautiful you are.”
Beautiful, her? Dana’s light-brown hair was neither blonde nor lustrously dark brown, and she was average in every way. But he could believe what he wanted about her as long as he looked at her that way.
“I love your eyes. They’re like the sea, full of mystery and promise.” His fingers lingered on her face.
Heat spread across her skin in a slow, delicious wave. “Y-You know my brother?”
He nodded. “I’m Garret. Garret Waterman. We’re buds, well, at least we were. I’m not so sure now that I know he’s been holding out on me.” He took her hand. “Let’s step outside for some air. It’s too hot in here.”
Her lonely heart soaked up the admiration in his eyes. And just like that she was his.
“You know I hate pot roast.” Garret lifted the tray of food and glared at her over the top of it. “This was supposed to be a special night. I’ve been gone for two weeks, and this is how you show me you’ve missed me?”
Her fingers went to the tiny scar by her right eye, and she bit her lip. Where had the charming man she’d fallen in love with nine months ago gone? She swallowed hard. “You never said you didn’t like pot roast. Besides, you might like mine. Everyone loves it. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”
What was she thinking? She shouldn’t have argued with him, not when he was in this state. She’d seen what happened when he got mad.
His mouth tight, he carried the entire tray of roast over to the trash and dumped everything into it.
All thought of placating him vanished, and she leaped up from her chair. “How dare you! I bought an expensive cut of grass-fed beef and worked all day on this meal.”
She snatched the empty plate from his hand and walked to the oversized stainless-steel sink already filled with soapy water. She plunged the tray into the water, but before she could wash it, his hard fingers clamped onto the back of her neck. “Let go of me!”
She wasn’t afraid, not while the adrenaline from her righteous anger raged through her. She tried to twist out of his grip, but he still worked out even though he’d gotten out of the military. “I said let go of me or I’ll call the police!”
“You’re not calling anyone.” His voice pitched low to a calm and deadly timbre. He pushed her head down into the sink.
Warm water filled her nose and mouth and the suds stung her eyes. She gripped the counter with both hands and tried to pull out of the water to breathe, but he held her neck relentlessly in place until her chest burned and spots danced in front of her eyes.
He’s going to kill me.
Panic gave her a new surge of energy, and she fought with all her strength, though her efforts were useless.
Then his fingers moved to her hair, and he yanked her head out of the water. She drew a sweet lungful of air and sank to the floor where she gulped in oxygen as fast as she could until her vision began to clear. By the time she found the strength to stand he’d gone.
She staggered to the bathroom in time to vomit.
Surely he hadn’t really meant to hurt her, had he? She hugged the cold porcelain of the toilet and let the tears fall for the ruin of a dream that she should have seen was too good to be true.
Three Months Later
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” Dana rested her fingers on the keyboard to enter the last call of her night shift.
The familiar background noise of talking and keyboards in the dispatch room enfolded her. A room she would say good-bye to today. Her departure couldn’t come too soon for her.
“My husband’s had a heart attack! Please, I need help.” The woman’s desperate voice quivered.
Dana inputted the nature of the emergency and checked the address on the computer. “What is your address?” The woman rattled off the same address on the screen. “Stay on the line with me while I send paramedics on the way.” Dana put reassurance into her voice and keyed in the request for an ambulance.
“He’s not breathing!”
“The ambulance is on the way. Do you know CPR?”
“No, I never took any training. I should have learned! I knew he had a heart issue.”
“Take a deep breath, ma’am. This is not your fault, okay?” Dana badly wanted to pray with her, but after glancing sideways at her coworker, she opted to shoot up a silent prayer. Even though this was her last shift, she’d gotten into trouble so many times that it had become impossible to speak up any longer.
Dana stayed on the line and tried to keep the woman calm until the siren’s wail came over the phone.
“The ambulance is here! I have to get the door. Thank you for being here with me.” The line clicked and went dead.
Dana rubbed her tight right shoulder. Clear emergencies always left her tense and upset. Another call rang through. “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
“Miss me, baby?” Garret’s deep voice impaled her.
Her fingers went to her throat. “How dare you call me here, especially after what you did.”
His voice always got to her. Was she wrong to run away? Maybe he could change. She gave a slight shake of her head. Not this time. She wouldn’t let him talk her into going back again. She absently rubbed at the tiny scar by her eye.
“Look, I just lost my temper, okay? I’ve got a lot of stress right now.”
The lump in her throat kept her words locked down for a long moment. A year ago life had seemed so different. The first time Garret had looked her way she’d been shocked. With his sun-streaked blond hair and blue eyes, he looked like a gorgeous surfer instead of a crack sniper for the Marines. Once upon a time she’d thought his expertise was fascinating. Now it terrified her. Friends kept telling her to be patient, that he probably had PTSD, but she didn’t want to end up dead.
And really, why had she even thought true happiness could find her? From the age of eight, she’d learned life could change in an instant into something twisted and unrecognizable.
She blew out a shaky breath. “I’m hanging up now, Garret. Don’t contact me again.” She disconnected the call on her keyboard and leaned back in her chair.
Sandy Corson, a coworker in her fifties, swiveled in her chair to look over at Dana. “Garret again?”
“Yeah.” Dana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But he won’t be able to contact me for long.”
“I hate that you’re leaving!”
“I’m tired of looking over my shoulder, and I want a fresh start where other people aren’t always telling me to give him another chance. Once I’m sure he’s off my trail, I’ll give you a call and check in.”
A month ago an old friend, Bree Matthews, had held a training seminar for search-and-rescue dogs up in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, an
d Dana had taken her six-month-old puppy, Phantom, to start learning SAR. A dispatcher job had just fallen into her lap while in Rock Harbor, and the timing couldn’t be more perfect. God had opened a door, and she intended to slam it shut behind her as she entered a new phase of life.
Going home seemed the right thing to do, even if Garret knew where she went. Family and friends would support her if he showed up. While she had friends here in Washington, they were the superficial kind, not the heart-to-heart sort who would put themselves in the way of danger for her.
She punched out for the last time at 5:00 a.m. and hugged her coworkers good-bye before she hurried to the exit. All her belongings were on their way in a moving truck, and she intended to drive until she got sleepy today.
The parking garage lights flickered and hummed as she exited the staircase on her level, and the place smelled of tires and oil. The sun wasn’t up yet, and the dimly lit space held too many shadows to count.
She fished her car keys out of her purse, then frowned when her gaze lit on her blue Toyota Prius leaning to one side. Both tires on the driver’s side were flat, and her pulse kicked as she knelt to examine the front one. There was no mistaking the slash at the rim. The back tire was in the same shape.
Her heart drummed against her ribs as she rose and looked around. “Garret?” She thrust her hand into her purse and wrapped her fingers around her cell phone. “I know you did this.”
His mocking laugh echoed against the concrete walls of the nearly empty parking garage, then fell silent. Where was he? The shadows made it difficult to see. She swallowed hard and eyed the staircase to her left. Could she escape before he tried to grab her? No, he was too fast.
She hit the unlock button on her keys, then threw herself under the steering wheel and locked the car. She punched 911 on her phone as a shadow to her left came at her. She ducked as a crowbar smashed into the window beside her. The window shattered but held together.
She screamed and cowered in her seat. His blue eyes narrowed in a hard glare as he lifted the crowbar again. This blow would break the glass and bash her head. Shaking and crying, she brought up the bear spray and aimed it at the largest crack in the window. But before she could press the button, shouts rang out. Garret whirled and ran for the exit.
She exhaled and, with a trembling hand, reached for the door handle. She wouldn’t be leaving for Rock Harbor today.
CHAPTER 2
He couldn’t see the last of these folks any too soon. Boone Carter shook hands and thanked the family as they piled into their Mercedes SUV. The parents had been more interested in squabbling with their teenage daughters than with hauling in the salmon along the Ontonagon River. He’d taken them out for the day, and by the time they’d been out for half an hour, he realized it was an exercise in futility.
His cabins squatted in woods along the shore of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. He’d bought the land from his uncle, then built every one of the ten cabins himself. Carter’s Cabins had become known as one of the best places to stay for the adventure seeker, a reputation he’d fought hard to gain.
He gave a final wave to his departing guests, then went toward the large red barn housing his outfitter business. His cousin’s small red convertible had pulled into the gravel parking lot a few minutes ago. She got out of her car and hurried to join him as he neared the front door.
Allyson was a beautiful young woman. She and his sister, Renee, had worked at a small newspaper in Washington. Allyson had been a bulldog about finding out who had killed Renee. She’d arrived a couple days ago to talk to him about what they’d turned up so far. All their efforts had come to a big fat zero. He’d talked to the lead detective just two weeks ago, and the police were stymied too.
A familiar wave of grief swamped him, and he tamped it down and smiled at her. “Coffee? I need some after dealing with that family.”
She put her hand on his arm. “There’s been another murder, Boone. It’s eerily like Renee’s.”
Some other family was going through the trauma they’d endured. He shoved open the door and wished he could push away the memories that easily.
He led her past the rough wooden counter where one of his employees explained the various backpacking options to two men. In his office Boone closed the door behind them and went to the coffeepot. The stuff had been sitting there for hours, and he grimaced at the bitter taste.
He handed her a cup of the atrocious brew. “You should be finding a good man instead of pursuing an impossible quest like this. It’s been three years since Renee’s death. If the police can’t pin down a lead, what hope do we have?”
Allyson dreamed of being a bonafide investigative reporter, but she was grasping at the wind with this case. His smack down didn’t dim the light in her hazel eyes as she pushed away the coffee, then waved a blue folder his way.
“Faith Rogerson, an elementary school teacher in Portland, Oregon. Twenty-six, light-brown hair and blue eyes. She was supposed to get married the next day, just like Renee. Her engagement ring is missing too, just like Renee’s.” Allyson’s mouth flattened to a grim line. “This is his second murder, and I’m going to nail him. I thought of a name for him in the exposé. The Groom Reaper.”
The media would eat up that title. “What makes you think this murder is connected to Renee’s?”
Allyson perched on a ledge at the window. “Both deaths were the night before the wedding. Not a week, not three days, the night before. And the murder method in both cases was drowning. You have to admit that’s not the usual way a bride might die on the eve of her nuptials.”
She had a point. “Who was she engaged to?”
“Justin Leyland. He sells pharmaceuticals. He got back in town just in time for the bachelor party that night and had tried calling her several times. When she didn’t answer, he went over around midnight and used his key to get into the house. He found her in the kitchen. The sink was still full of water.”
“How’d you find all that out?”
“I went to school with the lead reporter at the paper and weaseled it out of him.”
Renee had been drowned in a stock tank outside. While not the same location as this one, it did hold similarities. And both fiancés had been at a bachelor party. “Did you call Leyland?”
“I tried but his voice mail was full. The local media is probably all over it. I’m sure no one has connected the two cases yet.”
“If they’re connected.”
Allyson flipped open the folder. “Look at Faith’s picture.”
The woman in the picture held a vague resemblance to his sister. His interest stirred. “Anything else?”
“Yep.” She flipped a couple of pages in the folder. “They planned to honeymoon in Jamaica just like Renee.”
“That’s a popular honeymoon destination. Any pictures of this Leyland fellow?” It was the one thing that rankled—he’d never met Renee’s fiancé. He’d planned to be at the wedding until an accident landed him in the hospital the day before he was supposed to fly to Washington.
After the police had cleared Tyler, Boone had tried to call his cell number and found the account had been closed. It didn’t necessarily mean anything since Dixon could have moved and started a new job. But the killer might also have eliminated him. And left clues this time.
“No pictures that I could find. There wasn’t an engagement picture, and there were no photos on her cell phone of the two of them, which seemed odd. Another similarity.”
He stared at Allyson, then reached for his phone. “I think I’d better mention this to Detective Morgan. I have a call in to him.”
His cell phone dinged, and he looked at the time. “I need to run an errand. I’ll let you know what Morgan says.”
Though her eyes burned with fatigue from the three-day drive, passing the Rock Harbor welcome sign filled Dana with new vigor. The familiar streets and storefronts enveloped her with a sense of homecoming. Her family had lived in the country, but she’d gon
e to Rock Harbor at least once a week for shopping.
Driving down Houghton Street was like stepping into a Norman Rockwell painting. She spotted Bree’s familiar green Jeep Cherokee parked by the Suomi Café on Kitchigami Street, just off Houghton, and Dana’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, and it was already past five and getting dark.
She made her way back to Kitchigami, then pulled her Prius behind the Jeep and got out with Phantom. She left her vehicle unlocked in a sudden burst of defiance. This was Rock Harbor where no one locked their houses or cars. She was safe here.
The bell on the café’s door jingled as she opened it, and Dana stood for a moment inhaling the familiar scents: pannukakku, beef pasties, and pulla. Snippets of conversation floated to her, familiar topics like the upcoming winter festival and the fish that got away.
A smile stretched her lips when she saw Bree sitting at a booth with Samson at her feet. Her friend’s short red curls were tousled, and a smile lit her heart-shaped face as she talked with animation to another woman, whose back was to the door. Bree looked twenty-five instead of thirty-nine.
Dana threaded her way through the café to the booth. “Care if I join you?” Samson leaped up to touch noses with Phantom.
“Dana!” Bree jumped to her feet and enveloped her in a hug. Her hair was scented with the raspberry pannukakku on her plate. “I thought you’d be here several days ago. I tried to call your cell phone, but I got a recording saying the number wasn’t in service.”
Dana returned the hug. “I should have called to let you know I’d be late. I disconnected the phone until I got here to buy a new one. I–I had a delay.”
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