Page 28 of Tangled Past
“Okay.” Asa’s voice remained calm, soothing. “That’s something. That’s more than you had an hour ago.”
“It hurts,” she whispered.
“I know. We don’t force it. We’re not dragging it out of you all at once.” He glanced at the rearview mirror, then back at the road. “When we get to the safehouse, you’re going to rest. Eat something. JT can set up surveillance. I’ll check in with Will about tracking down the dispatcher from that night.”
“The dispatcher?” she managed.
“She is our next link,” Asa said. “She made that call to my father. She must know something more. She and my father were friends. Perhaps he confided in her.”
The road curved, taking them away from the harbor lights and up toward the western bluffs. Houses grew sparser. Trees thicker. The storm seemed to quiet just a fraction here, as if the land itself was breaking the wind’s anger.
JT turned onto a narrow lane lined with bare branches and snow-laden hedges. At the end of it sat a small cottage—two stories, cedar siding, windows dark. A porch wrapped around one side. The chimney emitted weak puffs. Someone from the department must have come ahead to get the heat going.
“Looks like something you’d see on a postcard,” Maya murmured.
Asa smiled. “It is.”
JT pulled the SUV up front. He and Rachel climbed out, both scanning the surroundings with practiced ease. No signof neighbors in immediate sight, just the suggestion of another roofline down the hill, lights off.
Will’s patrol car rolled past on the main road above, then turned around and took up a position where he could see both the lane and the cottage.
Asa stepped out and opened Maya’s door. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
She hesitated, her hand on the doorframe. “This doesn’t feel real,” her voice soft. “Safehouses and killers and twenty-five-year-old mysteries.”
“This is real, but so are the people standing between you and the man hunting you.”
She slid out, boots crunching on the shoveled path.
Rachel came over, her expression softening when she saw Maya’s face. “Let’s check out the food supply inside. I’ll make you something to eat before we let you curl up somewhere with a blanket.”
Maya managed a faint smile. “Is that in my Hope Island Securities agreement?”
“It is now.” Rachel squeezed her arm, then nodded toward the cottage.
Asa walked beside Maya. “Once you’re settled inside, I’ll join JT, and we’ll do a sweep outside, check locks and sight lines. I want to know every possible point of approach.”
Maya stepped onto the porch and glanced back once. The lane lay quiet, snow falling steadily. Will’s cruiser sat like a watchful guardian on the road. JT was already circling to the back of the house, his breath white in the air.
Asa met her eyes. “You’re not alone. No matter how much the past tries to tell you otherwise.”
She nodded and went inside with Rachel.
The welcoming warmth hit her, melting some of the chill from her bones. Someone had turned on lamps. Soft light pooledin the small living room, emphasizing a leather couch, a stone fireplace, and a narrow staircase leading up.
Rachel moved toward the tiny kitchen. “Will has used this safehouse before in another case we assisted him with. I remember where everything is. Mugs are in the cabinet above the sink. Blankets are in the chest by the window seat. I’ll make some coffee,” she said, nodding toward a bag of coffee near the coffee maker.
Maya hovered just inside the kitchen door, suddenly aware that this, too, could become a crime scene. Another place tainted by someone else’s sin.
Lord . . .The word rose in her mind before she could bury it. Not a polished prayer, not some perfect verse. Just a single, raw syllable.Please. I don’t even know what to ask. Just . . . don’t let this be the end of me. Or of Asa. Or of anyone trying to help. Don’t let fear win again.Her throat burned. She ambled to the kitchen window and looked out.
Asa and JT walked the property line, dark shapes cutting against the white. JT said something while gesturing toward the trees around back.
“They’re locating possible angles of approach,” Rachel said as she glanced out the window. “Weak spots in the fence, line-of-sight advantages. Things like that.” She went back to fixing sandwiches.
They were building a net around her life. The realization made something loosen in her chest and tighten at the same time.
“Here.” Rachel handed her a mug a few minutes later. “It’s decaf coffee with a little sugar, and a little cream for dignity. Sit.”
