Page 76 of Knox

Familiar electricity thrummed between us. It lingered in the rumpled sheets, and the memory of his heartbeat beneath my ear. But the daylight had me questioning what was real.

The chemistry was undeniably present, but I wanted more. So, what was I doing? Where was this going? How could it go anywhere if he planned to leave the island when my attacker was found? He’d never said he wouldn’t reenlist or just leave Carolina Bay all together.

Would he stay if I asked him?

Was it wrong that I wanted to ask?

I shook the thought away. The answer didn’t matter, because I wouldn’t do that to him. Whatever Knox did next, it had to be for himself.

And we had bigger problems.

Like the killer currently taunting me.

His phone rang, and I gasped, startled by the sudden sound. I missed the days when normal things like cell phones and dropped frying pan lids didn’t send me into the atmosphere.

Was this my new normal? Would it last forever? I hated the possibility intensely.

Knox grabbed the device from the nightstand.

“It’s Nash,” he said, before raising the phone to his ear. “Hawthorne.” He listened for a moment. “Yeah, we’re both here. Perfect. Bring Maggie if she’s available.”

He ended the call and met my curious gaze. “Nash’s coming here to plan the approach.”

“Then, I’d better get dressed.”

Twenty minutes later, Nash’s patrol car pulled into the driveway, Maggie’s truck right behind it. I let them in and offered coffee.

Nash shook my hand and gave Knox a one-armed man hug. “The FBI made contact again. They’re sending two members of their team our way. Should be here by this afternoon.”

“What’s their plan?” Knox asked, ushering the Sullivans to the kitchen table.

“They want to interview Sloane about the attack. Get her description of her assailant, his methods, anything she remembers.” Nash looked at me. “They also want to know about the shell. When you found it, whether you touched it, how it was positioned.”

My stomach tightened. “I already gave all that information to you.”

“They want it firsthand. And they want to coordinate the search. If we find evidence at the ranger station, it becomes their crime scene, their investigation.”

“So we’re working on borrowed time,” Knox said.

“Exactly. We do this recon today, report what we find, then step back and let the feds handle it.”

Knox and I exchanged a look. We both knew that wasn’t going to be as simple as the sheriff made it sound.

Sheriff Sullivan spread a topographical map of the island across the kitchen table, the old ranger station marked with a red X. “The station’s here, two miles from the nearest access road. Three main trails lead in, plus several unmarked paths commonly used by locals.”

“I know those trails,” Maggie said, leaning over the map. “I used to hike them with Claire. This one’s the easiest approach.” She traced a blue line. “But it’s also the most exposed. Anyone watching would spot you coming from half a mile away.”

I smiled at the pretty blonde. This explained why Knox wanted her here. She knew the trails well.

“What about this route?” Knox pointed to a narrower path coming in from the east. “That one used to have plenty of cover.”

“Harder terrain. Lots of coastal erosion. But you’d have tree cover almost the whole way.” Maggie’s finger followed the path. “There’s a point here where you could observe the station without being seen.”

“What’s the plan?” Knox asked, his tactical mind clearly engaged.

“I want to do reconnaissance first. I’d like you and your team on this,” Sheriff Sullivan said. “Archer at the access road as lookout. You and Colton approach from the east trail, observe from the ridge. If we confirm activity, we can call in state police for the actual raid.”

“When?” I asked.