Page 20 of Knox

Knox

The ocean was gunmetal gray in the pre-dawn light, waves rolling in their reliable, gentle rhythm. I hadn’t slept well, not that I ever did, but last night was especially rough. I rose before dawn with a profound need to move. Now, my feet pounded against the packed sand near the waterline, each impact jarring up through my calves and thighs. I’d been running for forty minutes, already nearly home, and still unable to outrun the images playing on repeat in my mind.

Sloane’s pale face, contorted with terror. The shadowy figure dragging her into the darkness. The sound of her screams cutting through the night like a blade.

My lungs burned, and I pushed myself harder.

Salt spray misted my chest and back as a larger wave broke close to shore, the foam rushing up to swallow my footprints. Gulls cartwheeled overhead, their cries sharp in the quiet morning. The beach was deserted except for me and my relentless thoughts.

Every time I’d closed my eyes in the night, I’d seen Sloane on the ground, shaking and sobbing. I saw the bastard who’d put his hands on her sprinting into the forest, disappearing like smoke.

I had let him get away.

The thought made my jaw clench until my teeth ached. All those years as a Marine, and I’d let a suspect escape because I couldn’t leave Sloane alone and vulnerable. The right call, tactically. The only call, morally. But it still ate at me.

The sheriff and his deputies had searched the area until well past midnight. They hadn’t found anything. No trace of the attacker, no evidence, no trail to follow. And the VW bus I had noticed parked along the dark stretch of road? Gone by the time I’d recalled and mentioned it to Nash. All that remained were a set of tire tracks in the soft shoulder and a few crushed beer cans that could’ve been there for weeks.

I veered away from the water, my pace slowing as my thoughts turned darker. Three experienced hikers were missing. All vanished without a trace from different locations across Carolina Bay. And now someone had tried to grab Sloane right outside her family’s door, with a hundred witnesses less than fifty yards away.

Instinct told me these things were connected. The same instinct had kept me alive through more than a decade of combat. I trusted my gut. This had to be the same predator. Likely the same MO. The hikers had probably fought back too, just like Sloane. But they’d been alone on isolated trails, with no one to hear them scream.

Sloane had nearly been victim number four.

The realization made my stomach turn. If Maggie hadn’t asked me to help with the catering, I wouldn’t have been there, and Sloane would be gone. Another name on a missing persons report. Another family destroyed, without ever knowing where she’d gone.

One more person I couldn’t save.

I couldn’t stop my mom’s heart attack, but I could protect Sloane and this island’s visitors by finding the man who did this.

I thought about my mother’s newspaper clippings, the maps marked with trails and annotations in her handwriting. She’d been investigating the disappearances. I was sure of it now. Not just looking for the missing women, though it was clear she’d been doing that too. She’d been asking questions. Digging into something bigger.

And then she’d died.

I slowed to a walk, my chest heaving as the sun broke over the horizon. Shades of coral and gold streamed across the sky, illuminating the world and water.

Beautiful.

My mother had loved watching the sunrise from our porch, coffee in hand, bare feet propped on the railing.

God, I missed her.

The house came into view as I rounded the curve of beach. Weathered gray shingles. Sagging porch. The swing where I’d sat with my mom just one year ago. I’d do anything to have her back. To tell her I loved her one more time. Being here without her hurt parts of me I didn’t like to think about.

I wanted to walk away and never look back. Let myself believe she was still here, loving the life she’d made, and that I’d see her again soon. Instead of packing up her things and letting go of her a little more with every donated box.

But I couldn’t run from this. She hadn’t raised me that way.

And I couldn’t leave town with a predator escalating his attacks. Not with Sloane’s terrified eyes burned into my memory and three families still waiting for answers about their missing loved ones.

Not with my mother’s work unfinished.

A figure moved in the distance, and my thoughts stuttered to a halt.

A woman glided through the sun-drenched sand. Long, flowing fabric rippled in the breeze, pale blue, almost white. For a moment, my tired, addled mind saw an angel. In the next, I saw her bare feet leaving prints in the sand as she walked toward me.

Not an angel, but close enough.

Sloane.