“I’m coming with you.”
“I know you are.” He wouldn’t dream of leaving her here alone.
Another vehicle with flashing lights emerged from the woods along the drive, then slowed next to them. The deputy lowered his window. “Get in,” Trent said.
Braden got into the front passenger seat and Cressida the back, then Trent drove them the rest of the way and parked behind the fire trucks, not too close. Braden explained that someone had been inside the home and then must have started the fire.
“And he’s probably still here, lurking in the woods, watching,” Trent said.
“Or escaped on a boat,” Braden said. “Could be the same person who broke in earlier. I need you to stay with Cressida while I search those woods.”
“Braden, no,” Cressida said. “I have the journal. If they find out, they’ll try again.”
“That’s what I’d like to avoid.”
“We’ll be ready for them,” she said.
He exited the vehicle and jogged over to talk to one of the firemen. “The house should be empty,” he said. “Monroe is in the hospital. Cressida and I got out.”
Then he started off toward the woods. Trent caught up with him. “Wait.”
He whirled around. “I told you not to leave her alone.”
“I have some news I didn’t want to share in front of her.”
Impatience surged. It was probably too late to find the arsonist anyway, but he would still try. “What have you got?”
“We know who broke in earlier today. I got curious about how someone got up into that room and was able to get some prints off a brick, the underside where the rain hadn’t washed it away.”
Good job, Trent.The guy deserved the detective job Braden had taken. Deserved this promotion. He’d get it soon enough. Braden would see to it when he left.
“And?” he asked.
“Guy’s name is Derek Harlan.” Trent showed an image on his phone.
Cressida’s stalker? Octavia said she’d sent someone. Did he have it wrong? Was the guy working for Octavia or someone else? His shoulders tensed. “Go watch her. I’m going to find him.”
He took off to the edge of the woods and shined his light around. The guy was already gone. Did he know that Cressida got the journal after all? Why hadn’t he just taken it, but maybe he hadn’t known its importance. Still, maybe it didn’t contain the answers like Cressida believed.
He jogged to the cliff’s edge. He couldn’t see anything through the dark night except the light of a boat—just barely—in the fog. Could be any boat out there. He shined the flashlight beam across the slick stone steps as he tookthem down to the beach. This was risky business at best. Shadows danced around him, and the pungent smell of ash bombarded him, even here against the cliff face. As he descended, waves crashed against jagged rocks below, reminding him of his fate if he took one wrong step.
The flashlight made him a target for anyone with nefarious intentions, and right about now, he wished he had night vision goggles. Finally, his boots hit the pebbled beach, and he jogged forward, watching his step as he shined the beam into the thick, black night.
Nothing moved. The crashing waves echoed back to him against the cliff face, silencing any other sounds. Instinct flared. He ducked just as something heavy slid through the air where his head had been.
He lifted his gun, aiming it true. “Freeze. Timberbrook County Sheriff’s Office.”
But the man had run out of the circle of light. Braden had dropped the flashlight, but he could still make out his attacker running away, heading south. To a skiff so he could meet Malloy’s boat in the foggy night?
Braden didn’t know where he was going. Didn’t care. He picked up his flashlight and gave chase, his chest burning as he sprinted after a shadow that had disappeared into the night. The dense fog grew even thicker and suffocating until the beam of his light could no longer cut farther than a few steps. He paused and sucked in salty air. He heard nothing except the pulse in his ears to blend with the surf breaking against the rocks and sand. Was he still the hunter? Or had someone turned the tables on him, and Braden was now the hunted?
31
Cressida remained in the back seat of the county vehicle, watching from a distance, taking in the terrible images, while Deputy Riker spoke with two of the volunteer firefighters. She tugged the journal out and placed it on her lap, ran her finger over the worn leather. Was it possible the arsonist hadn’t noticed the diary because the bound leather easily blended in with the desk? At least she’d gotten it, but what more had she missed in Evelyn’s library? Maybe another book contained important information that Cressida missed. But it was too late now. The entire library was up in flames.
Her fingers dug into the journal as she squeezed, grief and anger washing over her. Before arriving in Hidden Bay, she had imagined it to be a quiet escape while she finished research for this one last vessel. Instead, death threats and chaos had overrun her.
But that wouldn’t stop her from getting the answers she needed. She cracked the door so the interior light would come on. Then Cressida gently flipped to the last page she’dread. She still had quite a bit to read before she was done and hoped answers awaited her.
