Pyra-Sea: A Delilah Duffy Mystery, #4

By Jessica Sherry

What're ten seconds compared to a lifetime?

 

Bookstore manager and amateur detective Delilah Duffy knows better than most that disaster strikes in seconds.

 

When Beach Read's Happily Ever After Book Bash ends in fiery destruction, everything she's worked for burns with it—her home, business, and relationship with Sam.

 

But when Beach Read's owner offers her two weeks to find the culprit to ensure his insurance claim, Delilah knows this is her last chance to rebuild her treasured bookstore and get her life back.

 

So, pregnant and brokenhearted, Delilah directs her anger toward what she's good at—solving mysteries. Hot on the trail of an arsonist while her nemesis is on hers, Delilah partners with her investigative journalist uncle Clark Duffy to piece together clues, confront suspects, and fight for the truth with more at stake than ever before.

 

Will she solve the case before the pyromaniac strikes again? Or will all her island dreams end in an inferno?

 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "I was intrigued to see what was going to happen next, and how the whole mystery would play out and the culprit revealed. I never guessed the ending at all!"

⭐⭐⭐⭐ "…a suspenseful and captivating novel that will keep readers enthralled until the final page."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessica Sherry
• Release date: Jul 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9780996294171

Book preview

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Published by Jessica Sherry

Copyright © 2021 by Jessica Sherry

jessicasherry.com

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

ISBN: 978-0-9962941-7-1

Book Cover Design by Elizabeth Mackey

Printed/Published in the United States of America

Contents

1.One

1. Between

2.Two

2. Lost

3.Three

3. A Mighty Stranger

4.Four

4. Ashes

5.Five

5. Tidal Waves

6.Six

6. Rock Bottom

7.Seven

7. Land & Sea

8.Eight

8. Dolphins

9.Nine

9. Hard Places

10.Ten

10. Shipwrecks

11.Eleven

11. Parley

12.Twelve

12. Home

13.Thirteen

13. Small Strategies

14.Fourteen

14. Sea Bean

15.Fifteen

15. Gathering

16.Sixteen

16. Pirate Talk

17.Seventeen

17. Pinfish

18.Eighteen

18. Spider Crabs

19.Nineteen

19. Brown Pelicans

20.Twenty

20. Pages

21.Twenty-One

21. Fiddler Crabs

22.Twenty-Two

22. Ibis

23.Twenty-Three

23. Bruised

24.Twenty-Four

24. Sparks

25.Twenty-Five

25. Artisans

26.Twenty-Six

26. Marsh Hawks

27.Twenty-Seven

27. Angry

28.Twenty-Eight

28. A Pirate's Life

29.Twenty-Nine

29. Cravings

30.Thirty

30. Scurvy

31.Thirty-One

31. Pirarchies

32.Thirty-Two

32. Crow's Nest

33.Thirty-Three

33. Gangplank

34.Thirty-Four

34. The Spring Tide

35.Thirty-Five

35. Riptides

36.Thirty-Six

36. Jolly Roger

37.Thirty-Seven

37. Thorns

38.Thirty-Eight

38. Treasure

39.Thirty-Nine

39. Second Chances

40.Forty

40. Scars

41.Forty-One

41. Up in Flames

42.Forty-Two

42. Ghost Trees

43.Forty-Three

43. Pirate Havens

44.Forty-Four

44. Fire

Epilogue

Messages

Links

Books by Jessica Sherry

One

Between

Between me and the sea stood a devil. Chris Kayne waited at the end of the alley under the streetlight where The Crab Shack met Atlantic Avenue. He leaned against the passenger side of a black car, arms folded inside a cape and face hidden behind a white mask. Despite the disguise, I knew it was him. Wearing The Phantom of the Opera costume allowed him to infiltrate my Happily Ever After Valentine’s Day Bash at Beach Read without being noticed. He’d been there the whole time, watching.

If that wasn’t creepy enough, the island itself heightened my anxieties, as if Kayne had ordered up an especially dreary atmosphere for the occasion. It was past midnight and drizzling. An eerie haze drifted over the boardwalk and fishing pier where the cold water met the warm air overhead, giving everything an ominous feel. The uncharacteristic quiet felt sinister. Nothing moved, and yet shadows danced over surfaces like I was catching glimpses into another dimension. The very bricks in the buildings felt like eyes, watching me as I passed. I’d felt this way for months, driven to anxious paranoia courtesy of Kayne. Still, I felt more alone than ever having spent the last three months exactly like this: in a secret battle with Chris Kayne. The war between us finally reached its end.

I shivered, though I wasn’t cold, and moved steadily through the alley toward him.

Avoid places between places. They’re the most dangerous, Sam had said during one of our many conversations about crime and self-defense before he left Tipee Island, vanishing from my life. Parking lots, behind buildings, alleyways. Bad things happen between places.

I huffed, knowing how sharply Sam would disapprove of my actions. Meeting Chris Kayne alone edged a line between crazy and stupid—a line I danced over all the time. But what else could I do?

I wanted a normal life—Sam, our baby, and me. But Sam had been gone three months, silent for weeks despite hundreds of calls and texts, and the one person who seemed to know anything about his whereabouts stood at the end of the alley, waiting. I feared for Sam, and for me and the baby if we didn’t get him back. I had to do whatever I could, even if it meant dealing with Chris Kayne’s devilry.

Getting caught in places between places described my life since moving to Tipee Island. Last spring, I traded in my failed teaching career in Durham for Beach Read, my Great Aunt Laura’s seaside bookstore. I’d since dragged the business up from its dark and dusty depths and clawed through a community and family feud (ongoing) to become the place for books brought to life. My partner Henry and I’d finally reached business success, however unconventionally. In the process, I’d somehow become the island’s amateur crime solver. Four murders, one drug ring, a few cases of vandalism, a family of robbers, and one illegal fisherman later and I’m not sure the word amateur applied anymore. It shouldn’t, though the Tipee Island Police Department would surely disagree. What did they know? Besides, reading hundreds of mystery novels counted for something. Only hours ago, I got a guy to confess to murder in front of the entire town, so I can’t deny (and neither should they) that I’ve got a knack for taking down criminals.

Well, except for him. Chris Kayne wasn’t only too smart and resourceful for me, but also wickedly obsessed. I’d managed to shut down his drug operation and get away from him at his lighthouse laboratory, but he’d been tormenting me ever since, as if I were an amusing highlight to his otherwise boring criminal existence.

Now, he had me right where he wanted me because he had the answers to the mystery I hadn’t been able to solve. Where was Sam?

I stepped closer, my boots slowing against the damp concrete. My hands trembled in the wet coldness. My heart palpitated. I’m going to explore every pain, every fear. Kayne’s words echoed in my head, inflaming my anxieties. I bit my bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

Only months ago, Chris Kayne and I’d been friends. Not just friends, but kindred spirits, connecting over our mutual love for Great Aunt Laura and the thing she’d inspired in both of us—a passion for books. I used to smile when he walked in the door. Now, I could barely contain my panic. He was a criminal, yes, but worse, he enjoyed it. Most people turn to crime in desperation or despair, pushed by circumstances or mental instabilities. Kayne was a criminal by choice, making him the scariest of all.

I stepped out of the shadows, into the light of the final streetlamp, and stopped ten feet from him, determined to keep a safe distance.

Where’s Sam? Where is he? I tried to sound demanding, but whatever sternness forced in my tone vanished in my shaking voice. I couldn’t help it. The perpetual panic I’d felt for the last three months compounded on me like a boa constrictor. I could barely breathe, let alone intimidate.

Oh, how I’ve missed that tenacious spirit, but dear, Kayne patted his pockets, front and back, and then shrugged, How should I know? He chuckled, his voice muffled under the mask. He sounded like a heavy-breather on the other end of a disturbing phone call.

I did what you said. We had a deal.

Deals are for card sharks and car salesmen. Friends don’t do deals.

We aren’t friends.

The mask tilted. You’re right. My apologies. There isn’t a word for us, certainly not something as trite as friends. We go way beyond that, don’t we? Whatever we are, I knew exactly what you needed, and I gave it to you.

He sounded like he expected thanks, the way he said it. My jaw tightened. You sent me Sam’s picture and told me to solve Barner’s murder by Valentine’s Day. I played your game. I put on a show for you. You saw it yourself. Now, tell me where he is.

I am not your Neanderthal’s keeper. He shook his head, the mask moving back and forth. When will you realize I am not the monster you think I am, Delilah? Why would you construe my friendly messages as a threat? I only tried to help.

Help? I yelled back. I crossed my arms over each other, whipping out the bear claw blades Sam had left for me. They’d come in handy. The short, curved weapons locked in my fingers. I pointed them at him. You want to explore my pains and fears, remember? If you don’t tell me where Sam is right now, maybe I’ll explore some of yours!

He laughed, his voice bellowing through the fog and bouncing off the brick walls. Damn, you’re sexy! Go ahead! Cut me! He pushed himself off the car, stepped closer, and held his arms out, beckoning me. He flipped back the ends of his cape, so it flew behind his shoulders and pounded his chest. Do it! Cutting’s way more fun than this conversation. Your neediness bores me.

His voice changed again. His menacing inflection made me imagine angry teachers snapping over children who wouldn’t learn their lessons. "Though I appreciate how his absence has brought us together, you’re a fool for your misguided devotion. I don’t have him. I never had him. The amusement in his voice returned with his next words. Abduction requires resources and a significant time commitment I’d never waste on anyone who wasn’t, at least, interesting. That miscreant fails to meet that simple requirement. You, on the other hand, are abduction-worthy. I’d take you in a heartbeat. I might still."

Now, with only half the distance between us, five feet, maybe, my pulse raced. The blades suddenly felt like weights in my hands, making my arms weak. Is he—is he dead?

You waste so much mental energy on him, Delilah. You could’ve solved the Barner case in no time if you hadn’t tied up those deductive skills with emotional nonsense.

Kayne leaned forward, towering over me, though he wasn’t much taller than I was. All this time you’ve been blaming big-bad-me for your boy toy’s absence when the truth is, he’s stayed away by choice.

You’re lying!

Kayne moved closer, shortening five feet to a mere two. Why lie when the truth is so much better? Oh, Delilah, your eyes give away your doubts. If your Neanderthal hasn’t been with me, then where-oh-where could he be?

Don’t come any closer! Stop playing with me and tell me what I want to know! My words came out broken and weak. He laughed again but stopped inching forward. His eyes were only black holes in his mask, yet I felt the burning intensity of his stare.

Oh, dear. How can you be so perceptive and blissfully ignorant at the same time? While you masterfully threaded the strings and pulled the cord that brought about Barner’s undoing, solidifying my admiration, you fail to extend that perceptive mind to the people closest to you. You refuse to put facts over fantasies—a mistake I’ll teach you never to make again. I don’t have him, Delilah.

You sent me his picture.

He shrugged. You were desperate to know he was okay. The picture was proof that he was.

You told me to solve the murder.

To challenge you, only. He shuffled forward again; two feet became one. You needed something to do other than worrying about him. What’s better than a juicy murder to tickle your deductive skills? I helped you.

Helped me? I wobbled backward, my legs weakening against my weight. The darkness of the alley threatened to swallow me up if I pushed back any further, but I’d already let him get too close. "How? Are you saying you gave me busywork? That you have nothing to do with Sam’s disappearance?"

He put his finger up. Ah, now you’re finally catching on.

No, that doesn’t make sense.

He sighed, shaking his head. Then, in little more than a whisper, he said, They’ve been watching you. They slid a hook into your back and watched you dangle. He scoffed. They lied to you and kept you spinning in your little wheel, so you might draw me out. I had to come, Delilah, to enlighten you on their wretched dishonesty. And you think I’m the monster.

That’s not true. S-Sam would never allow that.

Wouldn’t he? A little deception goes a long way. Kayne chuckled. He deceived you worst of all. You should really trust me when I call someone a Neanderthal. I don’t take nicknames lightly.

I raised my hands to the empty alley. "Then, where are they? Why aren’t they racing out to arrest you? If the cops, if Sam, used me to bait you, then why aren’t they here? If they were, you’d be in handcuffs by now."

The mask moved as he glanced around the darkened buildings and across the skies. Kayne laughed. They’re enjoying the show, like they have been for months.

My entire body numbed with anxiety, but I refused to believe him. Manipulating me had become Chris Kayne’s favorite hobby, next to scaring me senseless. I tightened my grip on my blades, determined not to lose focus.

Kayne whispered, A great, big world of unchecked scientific exploration and experimentation awaits me out there, Delilah, and you have no idea the dastardly deeds I’m concocting. It’s all very exciting. With my special gifts, I can have everything, do anything, and disappear at will.

Then, why don’t you? Why don’t you disappear?

The mask tilted again. I choose you, Delilah. You say we aren’t friends. You fear me. Maybe you even hate me. Yet, I have sacrificed my devilry to give you the one thing no one else has. The truth.

He made a short step forward and whispered, While you’ve been the worm writhing on the hook, your Neanderthal’s been enjoying someone else—his wife.

Liar! I shoved him back with the sides of my fists, nearly losing my blades, and only succeeding in added a foot between us. His chilling laughter burned my ears. I wanted to cut him if only to erase the cocky smile surely residing under his mask. Firming my position inside the light, I braced myself for it. Only a strange click and thud forced a distraction. I looked up. What was that?

I didn’t see the mask come off. He rushed me, grabbing my wrists first. His head slammed against my forehead with a hard crack. Dizzying pain and disorientation blurred my vision. My blades clinked to the ground. My legs failed, but he held me up, dragging me into the darkness and pushing me against a brick wall.

Let’s test my theory then, shall we? he whispered before kissing me.

My head swam like I was underwater, unable to breathe or move or think. Movement broke out everywhere. Shadows raced from all directions. Raised voices shouted. Let her go! Police! Hands up! CIA! Drop your weapons! Stand down! Now! Back off or I’ll shoot!

As the chaos ensued, my world spun. Woozy, I couldn’t make sense of it, only that Kayne held me in a dark cocoon. No squirming. Something glinted before cutting into me.

I screamed. Kayne laughed. Someone ripped me away from him. Faint, I fell to the ground, clutching my left forearm, sticky warmth oozing between my fingers. Four figures in black surrounded Kayne. One rammed his gun against the side of Kayne’s face, dropping him to the concrete. Surrounding the four dark-clad figures, however, men in suits rushed in, pointing their guns at them. They yelled warnings to drop their weapons while flashing badges. With guns on Kayne, and then guns on the men with guns on Kayne, my one-on-one had been overrun by a confusing double standoff.

I rubbed the growing knot on my forehead. Blood poured down my arm, landing in puddles at my knees. Through the legs that stood between us, Kayne stared at me over the tops of his eyes, laughing. The bloody and bruised side of his head didn’t seem to bother him. He licked his bloody fingers—my blood—and gave me a crooked smile.

See? I’m no liar. Our cockroaches have scuttled out of their hiding places. His words floated to me through the chaotic argument going on over our heads. They know all your secrets, Delilah.

Feeling sick to my stomach, all I could manage was, All my secrets?

Kayne nodded, faking a sympathetic look. Your life has been their peepshow. The show’s over, thanks to me.

One more word, and you’re dead! the shadow above Kayne threatened, finger twitching against the trigger.

Stand down! Now!

Let it go, Teague! The Chief of Police Jason Kent pulled the knit mask off his face and grabbed the arm of the man next to him, with his gun at Kayne’s head. It’s over!

It’s not over until he’s dead.

The familiar voice roused me out of my unsteadiness. Sam?

The third man in black holstered his weapon, pulled off his mask, and rushed to my side. It was Ryan Cutter, the newest Tipee Island detective. Behind him, Officer Trey Williams, Sam’s former partner, tossed his mask to the ground and cussed.

Delilah, are you okay? Cutter helped me to my feet.

Holster your weapon! Now! This man’s under federal protection. You have no jurisdiction. The suited man flashing credentials edged closer to Sam.

Kent moved between them. He assaulted a woman right in front of us! We’re charging him.

This never happened. You can’t charge a man who doesn’t exist, the suit said.

You can’t charge a man for killing a man who doesn’t exist either. Sam’s voice sounded hard and determined.

Do it and this ends badly for all of us. Don’t test us. This isn’t who you think it is. Chris Kayne died in a Mexican prison.

Teague, she’s cut. Bleeding. Cutter examined my arm with a flashlight. It was a shredded mass of skin and blood. Williams prompted the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder, requesting an ambulance.

Sam stayed on task. Kayne’s ours. He doesn’t get a free pass.

"Chris Kayne is dead. This man has our protection. Back off right now before you make a bad situation worse. If I pull this trigger, you’ll be dead, we will arrest the rest of you under federal charges, and the CIA will rain down fire and brimstone on your little department."

"Our little department, along with the FBI, set up this entire operation, Kent said, easing Sam’s gun down as he spoke. We’ve cooperated fully and put in hundreds of hours of manpower on her surveillance. There’s no way we’re handing him over without a fight, and if the feds had stuck around, they’d say the same thing. Kayne is ours."

Wait! It’s true? My voice sounded like a child’s, and that’s how I felt. Like someone had yanked me out of my imaginary world and into the real one. Maybe my head injury muddled my thinking, but I couldn’t believe it. You’ve been watching me? Like a child, they ignored me.

The CIA agent stepped closer to Kent and Sam. "Look, I get your frustration, but I’m ordering you to standdown. He’s not Kayne. He’s our asset. The information he’ll provide us is far more important than anything he’s done here, so fight if you want, but you won’t win. By morning, he’ll be relocated, living under a new identity, and helping us put a stop to real criminal activities. This annoying diversion is part of our deal before he disappears completely. So, last chance. Holster your weapon!"

Kayne laughed from across the pavement. We’re whores to them now, Delilah. One day, I’ll return and save us both.

Sam pulled the gun away, but punched Kayne in the face, ramming his head against the side of the car. The suits closed in, yelling threats. All the while, Kayne laughed.

This is bullshit! Sam holstered his gun and raged passed Kent, throwing his knit mask to the ground before running both hands through his hair. He looked different. He wore a beard, and his hair was well overdue for a haircut.

But I couldn’t focus on Sam for long.

I don’t feel so well, I told Cutter, who still held me up. The stinging pain on my arm joined the throbbing in my head, making me sickly off balance. Aches stretched across my chest and abdomen.

Get him up. The agent barked orders to his companions. We’re done here. Oh, and if any of you should even suggest that Mr. Kayne is alive and in protection or mention the events of this evening, you’ll face federal charges. This is the last you’ll see of him.

I glanced at Kayne. He smirked and shook his head just enough to tell me that it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see him, no matter what his handler said.

Done with the discussion, the agent moved to the driver’s side of the first black car as another led Kayne.

Kayne laughed. Sam rushed him again, grabbed his shirt at the collar and slammed him against the hood of the car. It better be like you don’t exist. Come near her again, and I’ll kill you, slowly.

Kayne squirmed before Sam let him go. Kayne stumbled to his feet and looked over at me. He will tell you this was all about me, but he’s lying. He lied about everything. Check your phone. Facts over fantasies, my love. The suited men pulled him toward the back seat of the car. Kayne smiled before ducking inside. Until next time.

A fiery explosion split through the damp air, forcing everyone’s attention toward the other end of the alley. A bright orange glow danced in my eyes.

Holy shit! Williams spoke into his walkie-talkie again. We’ve got a fire at 111 Starfish Drive. Kent and Williams rushed down the alley.

Beach Read’s on fire, Cutter said. With his words came the alarms chiming in the distance.

This isn’t our business. The agent motioned for his men to leave.

I looked at Kayne, confused. The cocky smile vanished from his face. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. No longer amused, he said, It wasn’t me. Unmask the villain and I’ll make sure there’s hell to pay.

Even in my dizziness, I felt Kayne told the truth. I have two favorite places on the island, Miss Duffy. Beach Read is one of them. Kayne’s words from the night we first met flooded back alongside images of him and Great Aunt Laura trying to reanimate a dead cockroach like in his favorite book, Frankenstein.

The unmarked cars disappeared with Kayne. The ambulance arrived. Sam stepped toward me—I thought to check on me, hold me, something. Instead, he pulled the phone from my pocket. Get to the hospital. I’ll handle things here.

He left before I could argue, not that I had the strength.

Two

Lost

The quiet sense of something lost. That’s what I felt all the way to the hospital and throughout my treatment. Tennyson’s words ghosted through my head. Something felt irretrievably lost, though I didn’t know what.

It wasn’t the baby. Her heartbeat pounded like a bass drum over the speakers of the machine, while I crumbled in relief and gratitude. We were all okay—me, Sam, and the baby.

Then why did I feel so inexplicably sad?

Weird. It—it looks like a C and a K, the doctor said, breaking my thoughts. I looked down at the marks carved into the underside of my left forearm. With the sutures now holding the bloody flaps of skin back together, the injury became clear. Kayne had branded me.

Ryan Cutter, who’d shadowed me since we left the alley, eyed the wounds on my arm. Oh, Delilah. I’m sorry.

The doctor glanced from him to me. How did you say this happened?

Um. Kayne’s cocky grin flashed in my thoughts along with the agent’s warnings.

The woman’s pencil-thin eyebrow perched up on her forehead, as she awaited an answer I didn’t know how to give. She was young and pretty like she belonged in a medical TV drama. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a neat ponytail and stretched down her shoulder in a thick ribbon. Her name tag read Dr. Jessie Stickle.

Cutter answered for me. An unknown assault. We’re investigating.

His initials should be a clue. C. K. Whoever he is, he must not be very bright.

I huffed but said nothing.

She finished the stitches. Then cleaned off the excess blood. Your head injury isn’t serious, though I don’t envy your headache. That might last a few days. You’ll have a bruise, of course. She leaned back, eyeing her work. The arm required twenty-seven stitches. You must be careful, keep them clean. There will be pain and swelling for several days. CK cut you down to your muscle. The scars will be permanent.

Of course, they were. I didn’t respond. How would I explain a dead man’s initials carved into my arm? Would I have to hide my arm for the rest of my life? Even so, Kayne’s parting gift wasn’t what bothered me most.

When the doctor stepped out to finish my paperwork, I turned to Cutter. What Kayne said is true, isn’t it? You’ve been watching me?

It’s probably not the best time to go into—

Cutter, please! I’m sorry you drew the short straw, escorting me to the hospital, but you’re here and Sam isn’t, and I’m sick of being in the dark. So, tell me. My voice was surprisingly stern, given my condition.

Still, Cutter hesitated. His expression made me feel like roadkill and he wasn’t sure if he should help or leave me there to die. Yes, between us and the FBI, you’ve been under surveillance since the lighthouse. Cutter gave me a curious look. That shouldn’t be a surprise, Delilah.

I huffed, remembering the lights on at Tiki Tans across the street, the strange man in the baseball cap, and Cutter showing up too conveniently more than once. I-I suspected it, but why not tell me, at least?

Cutter scoffed. Are you kidding? Kayne would’ve seen through you if you’d known. If you hadn’t been kept in the dark—

Then Kayne couldn’t have used it against me, I breathed out. How could Kayne freak me out if I knew I was safe all along?

Look, none of this has been easy. After you and Kayne had your showdown at the lighthouse, the DEA got involved. Then the FBI. You remember being interviewed by some of their agents. I nodded. When you identified Kayne as the mad scientist behind Wakefield’s drug operation, the feds linked him to bigger crimes. His time on the island was just a vacation from his real vocation—pimping out his scientific skills to the highest bidder. Thanks to you, they knew who he was, and only through you could they catch him. They thought he’d come back for round two, so we all kept an eye on you.

So, Sam knew about the surveillance then?

Yes. Sam couldn’t watch you twenty-four-seven. The feds getting involved was a necessary evil. Sam wanted to tell you, but Kayne needed to believe you were vulnerable, even desperate. Besides, what you didn’t know gave him leverage.

I wiped my wet face against the pillow. Okay, then why did Sam leave?

The feds grew impatient. They knew about Sam’s recent trips to see his army buddy, Cook. They encouraged him to go again—to get out of the picture so Kayne would make a move. Sam didn’t believe it would work and fought with them for weeks. Eventually, Kent convinced him that if he didn’t do it, you’d live in fear forever. Sam didn’t want you to start your lives together under Kayne’s shadow. So, he agreed with some arrangements.

What arrangements?

He called me. Sam and I served together, too. I’m a detective in Durham now. Kent arranged a temporary transfer. I rented the apartment across the street from Beach Read and kept an eye on you. Sam needed someone he could trust to watch your back. You get yourself in trouble, you know.

I winced. More like trouble finds me.

"Sam thought he’d taken every precaution. Along with me and the feds, he could monitor you on your phone, and he left you that bag of goodies in case things went south and he couldn’t return right away. Even with all that, Sam didn’t think any of it would work. He believed he’d be back in a couple of days. No big deal. I mean, come on. Most criminals on the lam disappear, especially when they have means. It would’ve been stupid for Kayne not to. We all thought Kayne was a ghost."

I wiped more renegade tears off my cheeks. But Kayne reached out to me the morning Sam left.

Exactly. When the contact continued, especially when you were distressed like at the cemetery and with Kent at the police station, the feds insisted that Sam stay away and limit contact with you.

"He didn’t just limit contact. He ignored me. You have no idea how many times I tried to reach him."

Cutter sat up taller in his rolling chair and bit