Page 8 of Knox

“Some days are better than others.” I gestured toward the house. “Come on inside. I’ve got beer in the fridge and enough food from well-meaning neighbors to feed a platoon.”

We climbed the steps together, our boots hitting the weathered wood in a rhythm that felt familiar despite the unusual setting. Inside, I watched Archer and Colton take in the space. My mother’s driftwood collection. The vintage nautical charts on the walls. The floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the Atlantic.

“Damn this is beachy,” Archer said, his gaze going straight to the back windows. “That’s the ocean.”

I snorted and headed for the kitchen. “It is indeed.”

“You grew up here?” Colton asked quietly.

“I did.” I pulled three beers from the refrigerator. Twisted off the caps and passed them around. “Mom loved this place. Built a whole life here after my dad died.”

Archer took a long drink. The short sleeves of his T-shirt stretched to capacity with the simple bend of his arm. He could easily bench-press me, but he’d have to catch me first. Archer was fast for a big guy, but agility could only scale so far. That was just physics. “Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner.”

“You’re here now.” I leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted. “It’s weird being back. Doesn’t seem right without her here.”

We stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the distant crash of waves beyond the windows.

Colton dragged his attention away from the view. “So what’s the plan? You staying or reenlisting?”

I met their eyes across the kitchen. “Right now, I’m staying. At least while I work on a pretty significant project my mom started before her death. After that, I don’t know. It’s hard to think about leaving, but it’s just as hard to imagine being here without her.”

Archer’s posture shifted slightly. Not obvious to anyone who didn’t know him, but I’d served with this man for six years. I recognized the transition from friend to operator the moment I said the word project. I had no doubt he’d heard the word mission.

“What kind of project?” he asked.

I filled them in on what little I knew about the missing hikers. Then, I told them about Mom’s interest and the woman who’d appeared at her shop, feeling as if she’d been followed.

“Serial predator,” Archer said immediately.

“That’s what I think. I can’t tell from Mom’s notes if she was just trying to help find them after the search parties stopped, or if she suspected something more as well.” I set down my beer. “I found her research yesterday. She’d been collecting data on the subject for two years, since the first woman went missing. Newspaper clippings, trail maps, timelines, witness accounts. I’m guessing it was how she spent her time outside work.”

Colton’s expression turned sharp and focused. “And you want to finish what she started.”

“Yeah. But there’s more.” I told them about Sloane’s hike, alone on Blufton Woods Trail where Jessica Hammond had disappeared three weeks ago. Then I told them about the man at the trailhead and the VW bus nearby, a detail that matched one of the notes Mom made.

“She just showed up at the shop while you were there?” Colton asked. “That’s a lucky break.”

I nodded. “I made sure she got back to her car. Then I called Nash, that’s the sheriff, Maggie’s brother, and I filled him in on what I knew.”

Archer leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “So you’ve got an active threat and two years of cold cases.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re here,” Colton said. He turned his baseball cap backward and hunkered down, ready for business. “What can we do?”

The question landed heavier than I’d expected. These men had driven hours to be here. Not because I’d asked. I hadn’t. But because they knew I needed them. Because that’s what brothers did. I knew plenty of families sharing direct DNA that didn’t come close to being there for one another like my military brothers and me.

I stuffed the building emotion down and concentrated on the question.

“I’m still reviewing Mom’s notes,” I said. “I can’t tell what kind of pattern she was seeing, or if there is a pattern. And I want to make sure Sloane stays safe while I figure it out. I guess they were friends.”

“The woman and your mom?” Colton asked.

I nodded, and his fair brows rose. “I sent a text last night to be sure she made it home safely, and to let her know I’d reported the incident to the sheriff. She responded in the affirmative, so at least she’s safe. I don’t know about anyone else out there right now.”

Colton’s blue eyes narrowed. “Archer, did our major just say he texted this woman?”

My jaw tightened, because I was busted and fighting a smile. It was nice—and a real pain in the ass—to be with people who knew me so well. “She was in danger. I’d have followed up with anyone, even your ugly asses.”