Page 128 of Archer

My lungs burned and ached. I gripped the arms of the chair and reminded myself to breathe. This wasn’t the time for a panic attack. This was the time to plan. To prepare.

“Nash says the surge is receding in sound-side. That’s us, but there are downed power lines and areas of continued flooding county-wide. Deputies are moving in your direction, but nobody’s close. I’m sorry. You’re going to have to hold down the fort on your own a little longer, Archer.”

Archer looked at me. He held my gaze. Then, he held my hand.

“Feed’s back,” Colton said sharply.

Archer turned the laptop to face us without stepping away this time.

On the screen, the four quadrants of the cottage cameras had returned in sequence.

Rain against the front porch. Darkness along the home’s sides. Bent dune grass and an empty deck out back.

Webb was gone.

The little boat was too.

Archer’s hands went still on the desk.

“Tell me the tide took his boat,” Colton said.

Knox made a non-committal sound.

“Gram’s cottage was less than a mile away,” I said. “How long would it take someone on foot or by boat in this weather?”

Knox cussed. “Not long enough.”

Archer

I moved Harper to the upstairs interior hallway. No windows made it the safest place in the house. I needed to know she was okay so I could take a position and keep watch. Focus on the entry points. I handed her my gun, showing her the safety and warning not to touch the trigger unless she had to.

“If you have to,” I said. “Don’t think twice. Use it.”

Thankfully, she accepted without argument.

Knox and Colton remained on the line as I assessed the house.

Roads were impassable.

Nash’s nearest deputy was three miles out and Island Adventures was almost as far. I had no doubt my team would get here, storm be damned— it was a matter of time.

It wouldn’t be fast enough.

I jogged the circuit of the interior, passing every potential entry point. The front door was solid, deadbolted with a reinforced frame. The garage was locked. The interior access door secured. The rear sliders. Every window.

Three levels.

Each floor took eighteen seconds. Less than a minute top to bottom.

Again.

Again.

“You okay?” I asked Harper each time as I passed.

She nodded, phone in hand.

The lights flickered as the generator worked overtime to maintain power.