Page 17 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

No answer.

Beside her, Hudson was motionless. A long second passed.

Nothing moved.

Sarah let her hand fall away from her weapon. “Probably a bird.”

Hudson didn’t look convinced. Neither was she.

“Anyway, the ventilation stacks are original to the building too.” Petey approached from behind them, entirely unaware she’d run a full threat assessment in under ten seconds. “Which is its own headache come spring thaw. Condensation buildup, you know. I’ve got photographs of that too if you’re interested⁠—”

“Petey.” Sarah secured the catch on her holster. “We’re heading out.”

His head bobbed. “Ma’am.”

“We’ll be back out this way. Might want a second look another day.”

“Suits me. Less I have to think about my own drainage hazard, the better.”

Walter went ahead and had the boat’s engine idling low by the time she got there, his breath fogging white above the collar of his jacket.

Sarah climbed down first.

The boat shifted beneath her weight, a familiar roll she’d negotiated a hundred times before. But her legs were still sore from the fall, and the deck met her a second sooner than she expected.

She wobbled.

A hand closed lightly around her elbow, gone again the instant her balance returned. By the time she’d found her footing, Hudson was already looking past her toward the water, his own hand back at his side as though it’d never left it.

Twice in one day.

She gave herself a mental shake. Keep it together, Meyer.

The cannery slid away behind them as Walter eased the throttle forward, the building shrinking until it was just a shape on the point again, indistinguishable from any other piece of derelict coastline. The water widened, the sky pressing down flat and colorless over all of it.

The wind picked up and Hudson stood where he’d stood on the trip out, hands loose at his sides, eyes on the coastline. He hadn’t looked at the water once.

“We weren’t alone in there,” he said finally.

Sarah didn’t answer. She’d already known.

What she hadn’t expected was how quickly she’d looked for him when she’d felt it.

7

Sarah pulled into the lot beside Benji's. Hudson parked behind her.

He should have kept driving to the hotel, but when Sarah climbed out and turned toward Main Street, he found himself doing the same.

She rubbed the back of her neck. Tired. Hungry too, if he had to guess.

“Lunch?”

She came to a dead halt. “Sorry?”

“You haven’t stopped moving since this morning.”

“Is that your professional assessment, Deputy Marshal?”