Page 47 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

It came from somewhere on the building’s north side, opposite the dock. He held perfectly still and let the sound tell him what his eyes couldn’t. Throttle opening, fast and confident. The hull slapping hard against chop a beat later—small craft, low in the water, moving at speed. The engine note shifted as it came about, swinging wide, heading away from the point.

“There’s a shelf on the north side past the old fuel dock,” Sarah said. “You could scramble a small craft up against it if you didn’t care about the hull.”

The engine note faded, consumed by distance and wind, until there was nothing left but the ordinary sound of water against pilings.

One boat. If there was a second, it was silent and he hated silent variables.

Hudson lowered his weapon a fraction, still not fully convinced. “One more sweep.”

“Agreed.”

They moved together out of cold storage, through the short passage and packing room, then back into the main processing hall, checking every corner. No second wave of footsteps, no voices, just the cannery. Every meaningless creak and murmur still made his pulse spike.

Hudson stopped so suddenly Sarah swore under her breath.

She followed his gaze. “What?”

He listened another second. Then shook his head. “Echo.” He kept walking.

Sarah followed him, sweeping her gun. “We should’ve had him.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was loaded with frustration. He got that.

“We should’ve walked into six rifles?”

“You don’t know there were six.”

“I heard multiple voices coming from at least six positions.” He drew in a slow breath. His lungs wanted more air than he was willing to give them.

She drew level with him. “Six doesn’t automatically beat two.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Her eyebrows arched.

“Best case? We take them down.”

She threw a look in his direction. “Worst case?”

“We clear the cannery, still don’t find Cord, and one of us doesn’t walk back out.”

“It’s not right.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. She picked her way around a fallen pallet with careful steps. “You think they got what they came for?”

“I think they came to check whether we’d found anything important and we disturbed them.”

“They’re in my jurisdiction.”

Hudson remained silent. She wasn’t really talking to him. She was talking to the helplessness. He understood that language better than he wished he did.

“They beat up Petey, and his only crime was worrying about his damn sump pump. And now they’re just gone.”

“Yes.”

She stopped and turned to face him. “You don’t have anything else to say?”

“Plenty.”

Her eyes widened.

He shook his head. “None of it changes the facts.” He sighed. “Winning the gunfight isn’t the same as winning the mission.”