The compass rested in his palm. Lauren had loved the harbor. That truth would never change. But for the first time, neither would this one. He was allowed to keep living.
He’d told himself, the night they pulled her from the water, that carrying her memory meant carrying her absence the same way a boat carried an anchor. Heavy. Fixed. Designed to hold you in place.
He’d been wrong about that.
An anchor held you still. A keel held you upright. There was a difference. A keel let you move through rough water and still belong to yourself when you came out the other side.
The compass had been an anchor. It could be a keel now. He slipped it back into his pocket. Then he headed toward the resort.
He found Margot exactly where he expected. On the terrace. Still working. Clicky pen in one hand. Phone in the other hand. The fading light painted the ocean gold behind her.
She looked up when she heard his footsteps. And narrowed her eyes. “You look like you’ve been thinking.”
Evan laughed. “That obvious?”
“Terrifyingly obvious.”
The tension he’d carried all evening eased. Just a little. She had that effect on him. “What are you doing out here?”
“Making tomorrow happen.”
“Thought that was postponed. And isn’t Jolene running the show now?”
“It was. And she is. But she asked me to help. Advisory.” She winked.
He smiled.
Her expression softened. Just enough. “Seriously, you okay?”
He thought about lying. Thought about giving the easy answer. Instead, he said, “Better than I was.”
“Good.”
She held out her coffee. He took it without thinking. Their fingers brushed. Neither of them moved away right away.
“Harker wants a pier walk before tomorrow night,” she said. “Fireworks cabinet. Electrical panels. Vendor tents.” She paused. “And he’s running one more thread.”
“What thread?”
“The scrap you picked up in the storage unit. He said the lab got a hit late this afternoon. He wants to talk in the morning.”
Evan turned that over. A corner of shipping label, picked up from concrete dust on the worst day of the investigation. He’d handed it to Harker without much hope. “He didn’t say what?”
“Just that the morning would be interesting.”
He handed the mug back. “You’ve got my eyes.”
He meant the pier. He meant the investigation. He meant her. And from the look she gave him as she turned toward the boardwalk, she understood every word he hadn’t said.
Chapter thirty-eight
Two Crossed Wires
Thepierwasahundred yards of weathered pine stretching over the harbor. Evan walked it the morning of the gala with his hands loose at his sides and his attention on everything at once.
Rope railings. Dock lamps, dark now, waiting for sunset. The planks sounding hollow under two sets of footsteps, his and Margot’s, falling into rhythm without either of them trying.
At the far end, bolted to the deck, was the fireworks cabinet. Heavy metal. Gray paint peeling at the corners. Padlocked hatch.
