Page 5 of Anders (The Sunburst Pack #2)

T HE NEXT MORNING , E TTA awoke to bright morning sunshine streaming through the window of her new bedroom.

It had taken longer for her to fall asleep than it should have, the memory of those eyes combining with the unfamiliar sounds of a new house to keep her awake well into the night.

Thankful the house had come furnished, Etta had made up the bed with the sheets and blanket she’d found in a linen closet and finally, after hours of tossing and turning, managed to fall asleep.

Despite the sense of being watched that had plagued her.

Now she mentally thanked her landlord for having had the foresight to include a small container of instant coffee in the cabinet.

Sipping the bitter liquid—the meager supplies in the cabinet hadn’t included any sugar, and the refrigerator had been totally empty, so she didn’t have any milk or creamer to add either—she stepped out onto the small concrete square that made up the front porch in front of the doorway and examined the property the company had rented for her.

Immediately, she cataloged its boundaries, noting the property lines as if they’d been marked in invisible ink only she could see.

That territorial instinct struck her as odd—she’d never been particularly concerned with property boundaries before. After forcing down the rest of the bitter coffee, she gathered her laptop and notes, determined to make progress on getting the newspaper up and running again.

The drive into town was short but enlightening. She noticed three different types of delivery trucks making their morning rounds, cataloged which businesses were already open, and noted the steady stream of people heading to the diner for breakfast.

Good information for planning distribution routes , she told herself, ignoring how her heightened awareness felt more primal than professional.

As she parked her car and stepped onto the sidewalk, she was immediately assaulted by the town’s morning scents wafting past her. Sage and other botanical fragrances intensified by the morning sun. Motor oil from the auto shop two blocks over. Coffee and bacon from the Desert Sunrise.

And underneath it all, that strange wild scent that had been haunting her since she’d arrived in town.

She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off the headache threatening to build behind her eyes.

Her head snapped up at the sound of a car door slamming, though the vehicle must have been at least a block away. She’d always had good hearing, but this was ridiculous. Maybe she needed to get her ears checked.

Everything felt heightened here—smells, sounds, even the quality of light seemed different, more intense. She blamed the altitude, the desert air, anything that might explain why her senses were suddenly operating in overdrive.

The newspaper office sat between a vacant storefront and what appeared to be some kind of community center, though she didn’t see anyone going in or out. The faded lettering on the window read Sunburst Herald in peeling gold paint.

Her key stuck slightly in the lock before turning with a protesting screech.

The smell of dust and abandonment washed over her as she pushed open the door. Old papers were scattered across desks, some yellowed with age. Filing cabinets lined one wall, and a partition separated what had probably been the editor’s office from the main workspace.

Etta’s nose twitched. Beneath the musty smell of neglect, she caught something else—something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She shook off the sensation.

Just nerves about the new job.

Or so she told herself.

She moved through the space, noting sight lines through the windows, mapping exit routes, cataloging the occasional people passing by outside.

Most seemed to be heading toward either the diner or the small grocery store at the end of the block. A pair of handsome, sandy-haired identical twins caught her eye as they walked past, their movements oddly synchronized.

Local color , she thought, already composing potential stories in her head. Small-town characters, daily routines .

But another part of her mind was making different observations: how the twins moved with unselfconscious grace, how they positioned themselves to maintain clear views of their surroundings, how the other pedestrians unconsciously gave them a wide berth.

The first filing cabinet she opened released a cloud of dust that made her sneeze. Inside, folders were meticulously labeled by year and topic. She pulled out a handful, scanning headlines about town council meetings, school events, local sports.

Nothing particularly newsworthy—until she hit a gap in the coverage. Three months of missing issues in 2021, with no explanation. She made a mental note to look into it later.

By noon, she had sorted through half the filing cabinets and created neat piles: read first , keep , recycle , and needs further investigation .

Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the protein bar she’d had for breakfast.

The Desert Sunrise seemed as good a place as any for lunch.

As she locked up, she noticed how foot traffic had shifted—fewer people on the streets now but more cars.

As she walked down the sidewalk, she noted the afternoon wind was picking up, carrying new scents: ozone from an approaching storm, hot metal from sunbaked cars, and again that wild, unidentifiable smell.

The diner’s bell chimed as she entered. Sarah glanced up from behind the counter and smiled, though Etta noticed how the waitress’s gaze swept over her assessingly before the smile appeared.

Welcome back, Sarah said. How’s the office?

Dusty, Etta said, sliding onto a stool. But salvageable. The filing system is actually pretty impressive, once you get past the cobwebs.

Nick emerged from the kitchen, and Etta had to suppress a sudden urge to maintain eye contact with him, to show she wasn’t intimidated by his presence. Which was absurd—he was just a local business owner, albeit an unusually intense one.

Finding everything you need? he asked, his tone casual but his posture alert.

More or less. Etta accepted the menu Sarah offered. Though, I’ll need to start setting up interviews soon, get a feel for the community.

Sarah and Nick exchanged one of those loaded glances she was starting to recognize as characteristic of them.

You should talk to some of our community leaders, Sarah suggested. Malcolm Crawford and Larissa Ortega head up the ranchers’ association—they could give you good background on local issues.

And Anders Hamilton, Nick added. He handles security for several of the larger properties. Good source for any stories about the area.

Security? she asked, trying to sound merely professionally interested. Is crime a big issue out here?

Not crime exactly, Sarah said carefully. But occasional cattle rustlers, for sure. And the desert can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re dealing with. Anders makes sure everyone stays safe.

And keeps their secrets , Etta thought, though she wasn’t sure where the idea came from. She made herself focus on the menu instead of the strange undercurrents she was picking up.

I’d be happy to help set up some interviews, Sarah offered. Malcolm and Larissa are usually pretty busy, but they make time for important things. And Anders… She paused. Well, Anders takes some tracking down, but I’m sure he’d be interested in meeting you.

The way she said it made Etta think there was more to that statement than simple interview arrangements. But before she could probe further, her attention was caught by movement outside.

The twins from earlier were passing by again, this time accompanied by a tall, lean man whose mere presence made every nerve in Etta’s body light up like a Christmas tree.

She watched through the window as he moved with fluid grace, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings. Even from this distance, something about him called to her, made her want to lean closer, to catch his scent…

His scent? What is wrong with me?

That’s Anders, Nick said quietly, and Etta jumped. She hadn’t realized she’d been staring. Should I ask him to come in?

No! The word came out sharper than she’d intended. She modulated her tone. No, thank you. I’d rather get the office set up first, be more prepared before I start interviews.

Sarah nodded, but Etta caught the look that passed between her and Nick.

Take your time, Sarah said. But don’t take too long. News waits for no one, right?

Right, Etta agreed, though she was already making mental notes about Anders’s patrol pattern—because that was what it had looked like, a patrol—and calculating when he might pass by again.

Stop it , she told herself firmly. You’re here to run a newspaper, not track the movements of the local security consultant .

But as she ordered her lunch, she couldn’t help noticing how her awareness seemed to expand, mapping the positions of everyone in the diner, noting the way conversations shifted when certain people entered or left, cataloging the complex social dynamics playing out around her.

It would make her a better reporter, she decided. That was all it was. Just her honed professional observation skills kicking into high gear.

The fact that she could still track Anders’s position by scent alone, even though he was now a block away, was something she chose not to examine too closely.

T HE AFTERNOON SUN SLANTED through the newspaper office’s dusty windows as Etta settled at the old editor’s desk with a stack of newspapers from eighteen months ago.

The previous editor, James Martinez, had run the Sunburst Herald for forty-five years before his death. His last issue sat on top of the pile, featuring his own obituary on the front page.

She flipped through the yellowed pages, making notes about typical story patterns. School board meetings. Town council updates. The occasional human interest piece about someone’s prize-winning tomatoes. Her pen moved steadily across her notepad as she documented the rhythm of small-town life.