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Maddening Marine

Page 110

by Nicole Ann Nielsen

The occasional hum reaching her with wind fluctuation made sense when she spotted a large-capacity generator set slightly apart from the main structures, half-shielded by a lean-to, complete overkill for a regular farm.

She toggled the feed to thermal. The world on screen shifted — black and white giving way to swirls of color.

The generator burned bright. And inside the shed … heat signatures.

At least eight people. Six in a row and two moving about.

Toggling back to infrared, she pushed the drone farther out, angling toward the river. The river was fairly wide at that point, lined with trees, a dock stretching out into the dark water, two boats tied up.

She guided the drone across to the far side of the river, pulling the entire operation into frame. A beautiful setup. Picturesque. Tranquil.

But Ronan’s shed … the vents…

It painted a very different picture.

*

It took time — and several beers — before Ronan pried anything useful out of Nate. A few casual questions to Ruth filled in more gaps.

He added it all to the board.

Raegan had left in November, four-and-a-half years ago.

After her departure, Beau had discovered that his wife had lied about her past, and bitterly painted her as a con artist.

Ronan added that to the possibilities.

Felicity arriving a scant month after Raegan left, undercover, posing as a deputy while tracking a con. It was a long time to stay embedded to chase a mere con artist. Add in how her identity had come about…

No. That wasn’t it.

Bella’s words kept coming back to him.

She reminds me of Raegan.

It took some digging, but he found a photo of Raegan Stirling on social media and printed it out. He pulled up an image of Felicity. Printed that too.

He pinned them side by side.

The eyes were similar — same shape, same color. That rich brown.

Raegan’s hair had been white-blonde. Dyed, cut in a choppy, shoulder-length style. Felicity’s — long and straight, but natural blonde.

Maybe the mouth … at a stretch.

But no. There wasn’t any real resemblance between the two women.

Okay, so they weren’t related.

But there was a connection. He knew it.

Question was … how?

*

It was a beautiful evening, the breeze gentle with just a hint of chill — nothing her light cardigan couldn’t handle. Felicity sat on her new deck, looking out over the garden as it edged into bloom.

When Nate had come around to inspect the storm damage, he’d suggested replacing the bedroom window with sliders and extending a deck across the rear of the house. It had seemed like a nice idea at the time.