Page 56 of Secrets Along the Shore (Beach Read Thrillers #1)

A rock sinks to the bottom of my belly as I steady myself, tighten my core, straighten my shoulders, and effect my best “what-would-Natasha-Romanoff-do” stance.

“You’re the reason my brother just got tossed in for life…maybe even death,” he says, his eyes reducing to slits as he takes another step. “That’s on you.”

“No, that’s on him,” I say. “Whatever happens.”

“He’s innocent,” Harlan snaps, jutting his head and chest at me, but I stand my ground. Weakness is the last thing you want to show in a standoff like this. “And you’re gonna regret ever settin’ your sights on him.”

Harlan lets out a roar and charges. Almost instantly he’s on me, his fist rearing back, readying to deliver a blow.

He doesn’t get the chance. Before he can connect his punch, I’ve got him in a hold, then down on the pavement, face-up.

His eyes grow to saucers, and in another second I’ve got him pinned under my boot, my mini-Mace in his face, the nozzle hovering above his eye line.

When his eyes settle on the weapon, his shock morphs into fear.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I say when I see the change. Apparently, whoever taught this brainiac it was okay to come at someone a foot shorter than him forgot to mention it might be smart to check whether that person knows Krav Maga .

Which I do.

“Hey, Walsh!” I don’t have to look away from Harlan—nor would I, because you should never take your eyes off your opponent—to know it’s Deputy Cole Hollis, Daniel’s best friend. “What’s going on over there?! You need help?”

I judge from his voice that he’s still several cars away, but know he’ll be at my side in a matter of seconds. I give Harlan one more shove into the ground, then bounce off, putting at least six feet between us. He shakes his upper body like a dog coming in from the rain and scowls.

“What do you say, Harlan? Do I need help? Or are we done here?” I ask. Harlan eyes me with a sneer as Cole draws up next to me.

“What’dya say, Soph? Cuffs or no cuffs?” Cole asks.

Could I have Harlan arrested? Sure. But he’d be out by Monday at the latest and I don’t think that will make him less antagonistic. Also, the thought of doing any paperwork right now makes my brain hurt.

Harlan retreats with a backward step, then another, finally turning and walking off toward the street.

“He unhappy about the verdict?” Cole’s gaze follows Harlan until he disappears behind some trees.

“Seems that way,” I answer.

“Looked like you had it under control.”

I shrug. “I managed.”

Cole grins. “Uh-huh.” He points at Harlan. “You sure you don’t want us to pick him up? Saw the whole thing.”

I shake my head. “Not worth it. Hopefully, he’s gotten it out of his system.”

“Fat chance,” Cole says, appraising me in a quick once-over, probably to make certain I wasn’t damaged in the tussle.

“I appreciate you having my back,” I tell him, noticing for the first time that my heartbeat is pounding away with post-interaction adrenaline.

“Always. Not that you needed it.”

“Girl in my line of work’s gotta be able to handle herself.”

He nods. “True. Very true. I hear congratulations are in order. You got your conviction. Would have been here myself to see it, but I was on patrol.”

“Thanks. It feels a little inappropriate, though, all the congratulations and goodwill, given the context.” It’s something I haven’t said out loud to anyone, but Cole is one of the few people I can let down my guard with.

“I get that. Pretty tragic situation all the way around.”

“People keep congratulating me and I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say thanks. They’re grateful. You’ve helped bring a painful chapter to a close. That’s really what they’re saying.”

“I guess.”

“Okay. Well, if you’re sure you don’t want to drag his sorry butt in, I’m gonna go. Supposed to take Lucy out tonight.”

Lucy and Cole’s on again-off again relationship has been going on for two years. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard him swear it’s over, only to tell me a week later that they’re back together. “Say ‘hi’ to her for me.”

“Will do.”

When Cole heads for the courthouse, I get in and crank the engine. I’m out on the road, cruising to my meeting before I realize I never got around to showing Cole the note left on my windshield.

I roll up Main Street, the windows down and sunroof open, breathing in the fresh air and hoping it will blow away any lingering traces of Kurt Fogerty.

As I pass the post office, mail carrier Ray Winters is pulling into the parking lot in his delivery vehicle, probably about to call it a day. He waves and I wave back.

That’s just how it is here.

Some might say it’s reminiscent of Mayberry, one of the few left of its kind, where everyone knows everyone and everyone’s business, for better or worse. It’s more than a one-stoplight town, but it does have less than a dozen—favoring signs over electric controls.

At twenty-two hundred citizens, it’s the largest incorporated town in Mitchell County.

There’s no traffic and usually no violent crime— although obviously the same can’t be said for Highway 174, Fogerty’s stomping ground.

We do have our share of the run-of-the-mill nonviolent stuff—what place doesn’t?

One thing we don’t deal with is graffiti.

Our teens know that if any of the ladies of the Willow Peak Church senior women’s group were to get wind of who did it—and believe me, they would—your fate would be ten times worse than if the sheriff caught you.

The town of Riverview spans the entire height of Willow Peak—from the base to its broad, flat summit 1,300 feet above sea level. Main Street runs from the bottom to the top, and is the only way up the mountain.

In less than five minutes, I reach the back end of what is essentially downtown—the part of the town at the base—and the road starts to climb.

Though you’ll find homes and businesses spread out all over the incline, the two primary areas are “downtown”—home to most businesses, government offices, et cetera—and “uptown,” home to most residents, including me.

Uptown stretches across the plateau at the summit and, in addition to the vast majority of residences, boasts the elementary school, a couple of churches, a small grocery store, and a standout art gallery mentioned in “Spots Not-To-Miss When Traveling through Alabama.” It’s also the location of Willow Peak State Park, one of our best state parks.

Mountain bikers from all over the country come here to escape into its woodland trails and raspberry-citrus river sunsets.

Two nearby world-class golf courses—Cherokee Ridge and Robert Jones Trail-Hampton Cove—are a half-hour drive away.

Between the park and golf course visitors, and those seeking a tranquil spa getaway, Riverview Hotel—a four-star beauty perched on the edge of the plateau—stays full most of the year.

At the moment I can’t see the river, as the road is heavily lined with loblolly pines and red and white oaks bursting with the green of spring. The sun’s rays find their way through the canopy and shine down on me as a red-tailed hawk circles overhead.

Wonder what he’s got his eye on.

Squirrel, mouse, rabbit, deer, fox…it’s a woodland zoo up here.

Snow White would be right at home—maybe even with the coyotes, al though I’m definitely not a fan of those.

If you’ve never heard those things squalling at night, imagine an entire preschool class screaming at the top of their lungs and you’ve pretty much got it.

When I round a bend, the forest falls away to a view of the Tennessee River, its dark, wide waters flowing to the west. Miles of Alabama farmland and backwoods fill the expanse to the north, and the outline of Huntsville—Alabama’s largest city—soars in the distance.

Then the road swings almost ninety degrees toward the center of the plateau and I lose the view, once again shielded by woods.

I drive past several residential streets and the entrance to the state park, then pull into the gravel lot fronting a two-story Tudor-style building with dark half-timbering, creamy brick, and gray stone.

Though sunset isn’t for another couple of hours, gas street lamps posted along the front are already lit, casting a cozy, welcoming aura.

Next to my own home, The Ink & Ivy is my favorite spot on the mountain.

You don’t typically find English-themed pubs in the backwoods of Alabama, but Riverview isn’t your typical place.

When lifelong resident Grace Dean became a widow twenty years earlier, she was surprised to learn that her late husband Bill had set her up with a hefty insurance policy.

She used the proceeds to take the trip to Europe she wasn’t able to take with Bill, and came back with an absolute obsession with English pubs.

Grace combined that with her love of books to give Riverview its fifth restaurant, only bookstore, and the mountain’s go-to hub for unofficial news, otherwise known as gossip.

On occasion, like tonight, it’s also my satellite office.

My official place of business is a room I rent in a co-working space in Huntsville—a thirty-minute drive away.

The Ink & Ivy is where I meet anyone from Riverview in need of my services.

It’s more convenient for me and the client, and I get to eat. So, two birds and all that.

As I shut my car door, the theme from BBC’s Sherlock blasts from my pocket.

Yes, I realize it’s a little on the nose as ringtones go, but I couldn’t help myself.

I normally have my phone silenced, but didn’t want to miss a call from Tasha if it turns out she needs me after all.

I’m fully prepared to let the call go to voicemail for anyone else.

It’s been a long day. I’m nearly talked out, and still have the client meeting ahead of me, but when I see who it is, I grin and answer.

“Congratulations!” James’s voice blasts from the speaker before I can say anything. “I got your text earlier. I’m so sorry I haven’t called, but I only just got out of a meeting.”

A weight lifts off me at the sound of my fiancé’s enthusiasm. James knows better than anyone that getting justice for Aria, Hailey, and Teresa is a heavy burden I’ve been carrying for a while now. Getting to share the conclusion with him somehow finally makes it real.

“I’m just so glad it’s over,” I say, as a lump tightens in my throat.

The swell of emotion catches me off guard.

I chalk it up to exhaustion, the momentous nature of today’s verdict, and a desperate need for a mug of tea, my fuzzy blanket and an episode of All Creatures Great and Small playing in the background while I drift off.

Grace isn’t the only Anglophile in Riverview.

“So let’s celebrate,” James says. “I booked a late table at the hotel, told the chef to make your favorite?—”

“Wait, what? I thought you weren’t coming back from Montgomery until Monday.”

James holds the position of CEO of his family’s business, Calder Industries, a high-tech textile manufacturing company based in Mitchell County since its inception in 1867—though it was only cotton fabrics back in the day.

But his side hustle—his real passion—is serving as the elected Alabama state representative for the district, a job that often requires him to make trips to the state capital, particularly from February through May.

“I wrapped up early. Thought I’d surprise you, and when I heard you got a guilty verdict, I hoped we could do a late dinner. I’m almost out of Montgomery now.”

If he’s just leaving, he has almost three hours of driving ahead of him.

It’ll be close to eight or later when he arrives.

As much as I relish the idea of seeing James, I’m drained.

“You know, any other night I would wait up till whatever hour, but I could close my eyes right now and be done. And I still have another meeting to get through.”

“Oh.” The word is wrapped in disappointment. “This is a big deal, Soph. I feel like we need to do something to mark it. Are you sure? ”

“I am.”

“Okay, so we postpone. What about your meeting? Can you reschedule and head home now? Give yourself a well-deserved break?”

I shake my head, as if he can see me. “Would if I could, but I can’t. Too important. Shouldn’t take long though, and then my takeout and I are signing off.”

“Takeout—so you’re at the pub?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s no way to celebrate, Soph. And I miss you.”

Between my schedule and James’s, we’ve only seen each other once over the last week and a half.

Even then, I’d been completely distracted because the trial was about to start.

“I miss you too. I’ve got a few things I need to handle in the morning, but after lunch, I’m all yours.

We can have a special dinner tomorrow night. ”

“Tell you what, let’s make it a real celebration. Dad would love to pat you on the back too. Now that I think about it, he’ll lay into me if I don’t include him. He called me as soon as he found out about the verdict.”

James’s father, Edward, took a shine to me from the very beginning of our relationship, which—it’s hard to believe—is only ten months old. What can I say—James swept me off my feet. Some of my best decisions have been made on the fly.

“Yeah, he left me a message.” It came through in the courtroom, minutes after the verdict was announced.

That man doesn’t miss a thing in this town.

“I haven’t had a chance to return it yet.

You’re right, let’s do it. Invite your dad, your brother—it’ll be good to see them.

” I’ve been so busy lately, James isn’t the only person I haven’t spent time with in a while.

His family—soon to be my family—is important to me.

Especially since I’m not on speaking terms with my own.

“Done,” he confirms, the satisfaction in his voice instantly making me miss him more.

Would it be that hard to stay up a little longer? Maybe he could come over for a bit.

“You know what? On second thought, why don’t you come by when you get into town? I can make some coffee to stay awake?— ”

“No. An introvert’s gotta charge, and you can’t do that with other people around, even if it’s someone as awesome as me.”

I do love that he gets that about me. And he is, in fact, awesome.

“I’ll see you at noon tomorrow,” James says. “No excuses.”

“No excuses,” I repeat, smiling. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Sleep well,” he says, before hanging up.

With today’s verdict, for the first time in a long time, I think I actually might.

But not before handling one last thing.