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PROLOGUE
Sage
A shadow passed through the front lawn and a prickling sensation curled up my spine. The crescent moon silhouetted the broad-leaf trees. A quiet stillness blanketed the street. The lights in the small craftsman-style homes along Blue Ridge Road had flickered off hours earlier.
The cursor on my screen blinked. I abandoned my work in progress and pushed up off my bed. A million tiny pins pricked my thigh as blood rushed through my sleeping leg. Photos, postcards, and letters littered the comforter.
The sole light source in the room dimmed when my screen saver flicked on. I wrote the shadow off as the product of an overactive imagination. A side effect of spending far too much time indoors reading. Mom used to tell me I read too much Stephen King. She’d been right. Fear of resurrected pets and the possessed stole my sleep for years.
“If you’re ever in danger, there are specific things you must do.”
Sam’s words came to me out of nowhere. If anyone other than Mr. King was to blame for my adult self being easily spooked, it was Sam. My brother hadn’t always been paranoid. For that, I blamed the SEALs.
The clock on the bedside table glowed. I’d spent hours researching anything I could on the Cayman Islands, where my sister lived; on Origin Laboratories, the company she worked for, and on what to do when a loved one goes missing abroad.
An internal battle raged. One part said I should be in full panic mode. She hadn’t returned my phone calls. Missed our weekly video call. The other part said that she gets caught up in her work. She’s borderline obsessive. Forgets to eat. Works until she passes out over her laptop. And then my worrywart self would wail that she missed our scheduled online date. In the year since moving abroad, she never missed our scheduled call. Not once.
“If you don’t let me know you’re okay, I’m contacting the embassy and coming there. I found a flight. Please just respond.”
Nothing. Six days with no response to my emails or my text. Deep in my gut, I knew something had happened. I needed to help her, but how? Her office said that she resigned. But where had she gone? Why hadn’t she called?
I shut my laptop and pushed off the bed, concluding there was nothing more I could do until the US Embassy opened in the morning.
Two steps to the bathroom, and the front door hinges creaked. Two more steps, and I would’ve been inside the bathroom with the door closed because I’m an odd bird and even when home alone, I close the bathroom door.
Seconds later, and everything would’ve happened differently. Seconds later, and I’d be dead.
CHAPTER 1
Knox
Six days later
The forecast is for an unusually hot Santa Barbara day, and judging by the early morning heat, the weatherman might be spot-on for once. My sweat-soaked running shirt clings to my back like another layer of skin. I open the canteen and pour water into a dish.
The trainee at my side pants, pink tongue lolling about, her attention on the crashing waves.
“You wanna go in?” Millie’s thick brown tail hangs down in a curve and slowly wags.
The early morning sun streams across the ocean as a sea gull squawks.
Up the beach, a mountain bike approaches, wheels sinking into the packed sand. It takes a second to confirm the bike and bulky rider. Judging from the strain of my buddy’s monster leg muscles, he’s getting a half-decent workout.
Max hops off his bike, lets it crash into the sand, and steps right up to my left side. “What’s up, dog? You not answering your phone?”
“Did you call?” Out of habit, I glance at the sports watch on my wrist, one that records my run and health metrics, but doesn’t connect to my phone. “Everything okay?”
“Whoever stayed over last night is still hanging around your place. Wanted to give you a heads up. Figure she locked herself out and then remembered she left something. Or you got yourself a clinger.”
Max snorts at his own half-baked joke and bends down, hand out to Millie. I watch him closely, looking for any tell this is a prank. Of all the guys, he’s not the biggest comedian, though. And we’ve mostly outgrown pranks.
“Seriously?” He nods as the dog tilts her head, giving him a better angle for scratching. “Didn’t bring anyone home last night.”
Max squints into the sun. “Really?”
“Why’d you think it was me?”
Max and I live in a small condominium complex with three units that open into a communal courtyard. Max lives in a back unit. One unit’s vacant. Mine is the street facing unit, and from the street, you’d think the blue front door opens into a home, rather than into a multi-unit dwelling.
