Page 6 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

Cold air swept through the bar before the door closed behind him. Sarah felt the absence of him immediately. What the hell?

“Marty.”

He straightened.

“What was he asking about?”

“A man.” Marty wiped the same patch of glass again. “Had a photograph. Been showing it around.”

“Anyone recognize him?”

Marty hesitated. “No.”

Sarah looked straight at him.

“Nobody said they did,” he amended.

Her gaze moved across the room—past the pool table, the window, the empty corner where Kincaid had been. One man near the wall looked away a beat too late.

She didn’t push it. “All right.”

Relief flickered across Marty’s face.

Sarah called the scene in to dispatch and headed for the door.

The station was quiet when she arrived. She hung her hat on the back of her chair, shrugged out of her jacket, and sat down.

The laptop hummed awake beneath her hands.

Hudson Kane.

The record appeared. Deputy United States Marshal. Active. Verified. No surprises there. She worked through the system.

Assignment logs. Case notifications. Interagency coordination. There was nothing tying him to Aurora Cove.

No notice that a Deputy Marshal was operating in her jurisdiction. No request for local assistance. Not even a courtesy notification.

She searched again, more carefully this time. Same result.

Hudson Kane was exactly who he said he was.

What she couldn’t find was any official reason for him to be here.

Sarah leaned back in her chair. That wasn't necessarily a problem. Federal operations didn't always come with an invitation for the local sheriff.

But Hudson had been in her town long enough to put a man on the floor of the Rusty Anchor and he hadn’t even picked up the phone.

Her gaze settled on the screen for a long moment before she closed the laptop.

Tomorrow.

Eight o’clock.

Whatever Hudson Kane had once been to her didn’t matter anymore.

She intended to keep it that way.

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