Page 82 of Archer

“I don’t see anything,” Harper said, coming up behind me.

Neither did I, but we knew he’d been there only minutes ago.

“Could he have docked somewhere to come ashore?”

I grunted, wishing he would.

“For now, we sit tight,” I said. I reached for her hand and led her back to the couch to wait for my team.

Knox pulled into the driveway a short time later, his headlights slicing across the front window. I checked the app on my phone as I headed for the door and smiled unexpectedly.

I welcomed my brother and his fiancé.

Harper moved quickly in the other woman’s direction. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Sloane hugged her, curving her shoulders over Harper, and reminding me how small Harper really was. Sloane looked pint-sized next to Knox, but she had several inches on the woman who was fast stealing my heart.

“Hey, man.” Knox offered me a handshake. “Nash is on his way.”

The second set of headlights reached us before I’d closed the door.

Nash parked his cruiser at the curb and crossed the postage-stamp yard in a few long strides.

“Thanks for coming,” I said, waving him inside as well.

I locked up as Harper, Knox, and Sloane greeted the local sheriff.

“Colton’s coordinating with the Coast Guard,” Knox said. “They’re launching from Wanchese.”

“Is that far?” I asked.

Nash brought up a map on his phone and turned the screen to face us. “It’s not bad. Colton pinpointed the signal here.” He indicated a spot offshore, south of the cottage. “If Webb’s smart, he’ll know why we’re gathering here. He’ll also see the Coast Guard coming and run, if he hasn’t already.”

“You can take a look out back,” I said. “We didn’t see anything.”

We moved as a unit onto the back deck, keeping the lights off inside and out. The ocean was a vast darkness before us, waves crashing steadily against the shore.

Knox raised a small pair of binoculars, scanning south. “Here.” He passed the binoculars to me. “Do you see that?”

I squinted through the device, following his line of sight.

A small boat bobbed in the distance, dark against darker water. No running lights. No movement visible. But I could see the faint glow of a screen inside the cabin.

“I can’t read the Hull Identification Number from here,” I said.

Harper’s hand found my back, fingers curling into my shirt. I reached behind me, covering her hand with mine.

“Coast Guard’s seven minutes out,” Nash said, eyes on his phone screen. “They’re running dark, approaching from the north.”

I returned the binoculars and pulled Harper against my side. We waited as seconds stretched into minutes. The boat didn’t move.

Then the boat’s lights snapped on.

“Shit.” Knox lowered the binoculars. “He’s moving.”

Bright spots swept across the water, and the vessel lurched forward, cutting south along the coastline.

“He’s running,” I said. “Tell the Coast Guard to move in. Now.”