Page 83 of Archer

Nash relayed the message, then looked up. “They’re closing. Two minutes.”

We watched the boat’s lights arc west, heading toward the maze of channels and inlets that threaded through the marsh. Blue strobes appeared on the horizon as the Coast Guard vessel gave chase.

“They can catch him, right?” Harper’s question earned concerned looks from Nash, Knox and Sloane.

Sloane moved in her direction. “Let’s go inside and get some coffee going. It could be a long night.”

Harper glanced back at the water one more time as the boats’ lights disappeared into the distance.

I stood on the deck in darkness with Knox and Nash, listening to the distant whine of engines, then silence.

Five minutes passed. Ten.

We moved inside and took seats around the table, waiting for news.

When Nash’s phone rang, I felt the room shift. We held our collective breath as he listened, expression hardening. “Understood.”

He looked at Harper, then me as he disconnected. “They found the boat. Abandoned in shallow water near an inlet. No sign of Webb.”

Harper

The cottage felt different knowing we’d failed. My privacy had been violated in a new, extreme way, and the windows that had once framed Gram’s beautiful ocean views now seemed like watching eyes.

Sloane made tea when I didn’t want coffee. I didn’t drink the tea either.

Knox checked the security system. Nash coordinated with his deputies and the state police, setting up checkpoints on the bridge and roadblocks at key intersections.

Archer stayed on the line with Colton for a long while, relaying the hunt in real time.

Eventually, the trail went cold, and we were back to where we’d started.

Nash was the first to leave, heading back to the sheriff’s department to coordinate the search. Knox and Sloane followed shortly afterward with promises to return tomorrow.

Then, it was just Archer and me.

And the silence felt oppressive.

“You should try to sleep,” Archer said. “It’s been a long day.”

I laughed, the sound brittle. “I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again after this.” My stalker was running around loose on this island. No longer content to send creepy gifts, now he was peeping through my windows and leaving weird, crass, unhinged messages. How could I close my eyes without fearing he’d take this a step further and come for me?

Archer moved closer, and I realized I was shaking.

Months of repressed rage swelled in my core.

“He was out there,” I said. “Watching us.”

Archer’s arms came around me, solid and warm. “I know.”

“I want him stopped,” I whispered into his chest. “I want him arrested. I want him to understand how awful this is. What he’s doing to me.”

“I would love to send that message personally.” Archer stroked my hair. “When we catch him, he’ll face the consequences of his actions. But right now, we have to focus on the good. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

But I didn’t feel safe. I felt exposed, hunted and powerless. I hated all of that.

I pulled away. “I need to do something.”

He frowned. “Like what?”