A house holds the energy of the happy memories within its walls. It’s important to find one you can bond with.
—HAMMER GIRL BLOG
Gravel crunched under Grayson’s shoes, and he paused to look up and down the street. The view held all the charm of a Norman Rockwell picture with storefronts built in the last century illuminated by the soft glow of old-fashioned streetlamps.
A red-and-white barber pole caught his attention. “Has the barbershop always been there?”
Ellie was close enough for him to catch a whiff of her sweet scent.
“As far back as I can remember. Does it look familiar?”
“Sort of.” He rubbed the back of his neck and wished he could actually remember something clearly.
He turned his attention back to the parking lot. As they neared, the stench of pavement sealant burned his throat, and the gleam of the parking lot lights bounced off the sheen of the blacktop. Barricades blocked cars from driving onto the asphalt.
He stopped and rested his hand on the barricade. “Nothing left of the grocery store.”
She pointed to his right. “The five-and-dime used to be there. They had the best root beer stick candy ever made.”
“And gumballs in a machine for a penny.” The memory popped out without any prompting. “I liked the blue ones.”
“You’re remembering.”
He shoved the memory aside. “Just stuff that doesn’t matter.”
What was he doing here? His job was to find the missing cocaine and bring Nasser to justice, not wander the streets and dig up old memories about candy and haircuts. Keeping his footing amid such life-changing distractions was going to take all his concentration. This had been a mistake. His curiosity could wait until he did his duty.
“I think I’d like to go to Shauna’s house now, if you don’t mind.”
“We should stop and get some food so the cupboards aren’t empty.”
“I can just eat out.” He knew his clipped voice sounded unfriendly so he tried to soften it. “I appreciate your help, but I need to focus on finding that missing cocaine.”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You don’t really care about my sister, do you? Whether she’s dead or alive. You just want to do your job and ignore what’s happened to her.”
“I didn’t say that. Of course I hope she’s fine.” He ran his hand through his thick hair. “Look, this is all a little overwhelming, you know? I wish Shauna hadn’t found me, at least not yet. It’s distracting me from my job. I’m sorry if that seems harsh, but I never asked for this kind of interruption in my life.” Unable to look at the tears hovering on her lashes, he turned away. “I can find my own way there. I have the address.”
He practically ran to the SUV he’d rented and climbed under the wheel. Running the window down so the ocean air could blow in his face helped clear the fuzziness from his brain. He could do this. Find the cocaine and keep the whole family thing at bay for now. Shauna wasn’t going anywhere. There’d be time to figure out if he wanted a relationship with her later, after he did his job.
He told Siri to find the address and began to drive. His thoughts were a jumble until the app on his phone announced he’d arrived at the house. He glanced at the clock on his dash and realized he’d spent the last ten minutes barely aware of his surroundings. He pulled into the driveway, and the motion-sensor lights flooded the darkness. He used the flashlight app on his phone and punched the key into the lock, then stepped inside and disarmed the alarm.
The scent of some kind of pine cleaner wafted toward him. Shauna had said the house had been sitting empty, but she must have had someone come by and clean it. He flipped on the light and looked around the bright, airy space with its open floor plan and high ceilings. Nice. She’d said to use the master suite so he found it, then went back to his vehicle and hauled in his suitcase. He traveled light so it only took minutes to stash his clothes in the dresser and closet. The master bathroom was large with double sinks in a marble counter and a huge walk-in shower.
He washed his hands, then went back to the bedroom and pulled out his computer and the files on the theft. The cocaine seizure had been a month ago off the coast of Vancouver and had been cut with Fentanyl, an opioid that often led to overdoses, which meant it should be easy to figure out when it hit the market here. The street value was worth twenty million dollars. Mac would be unlikely to get that much if she sold it to a dealer, but she’d certainly rake in enough to be able to live comfortably the rest of her life, even in a high-rent district like the United Arab Emirates.
If she was alive.
It might all begin with her Coast Guard boyfriend. Grayson launched his browser and looked up Dylan Trafford in the Coast Guard records. The guy had been confined to barracks twice on Article 15 infractions, and his pay had been reduced once as well. He had a smart mouth and a generally insolent attitude. Mackenzie’s lack of good judgment in choosing her boyfriends didn’t speak well of her.
Trafford was stationed at Station Port Angeles, and Grayson intended to talk to him first thing tomorrow. His buddies might shed some light on the situation as well. The station had intercepted the cocaine on a fishing vessel, and it appeared Trafford was on the intercept boat, which sent him to the top of Grayson’s suspect list.
But Mackenzie had broken up with him. Was it to throw suspicion off her, or had she realized what he was up to and decided to jump ship while she could? He thought of Ellie’s honest eyes and great love for her sister. It was possible Grayson was wrong about Mac, but he didn’t think so.
Ellie slammed the door to her house behind her and threw the dead bolt with more force than necessary. If she never had to deal with Grayson Bradshaw again, it would be too soon. She’d tried to accommodate him and help out for Shauna’s sake, but not even friendship could make up for the man’s insufferable confidence in his own judgment.
If she waited for the Coast Guard and the sheriff’s department to find out what had happened, they’d be blaming Mac for the missing drugs, and Ellie didn’t believe it for a minute. It was beyond horrible that Mac might be dead, but Ellie couldn’t sit back and let her sister be turned into some kind of criminal too.
After taking a few deep breaths, she lit a vanilla-lilac candle to help her distress and inhaled the sweet aroma. The tension began to ease from her neck. She’d bought this house five years ago and had redone it herself. She especially liked the pale aqua-blue walls and wood floors with a hint of gray in the stain. The master bedroom was on the first floor, near her office. Two more bedrooms, seldom used, were up the open stairway off the entry. The house brought her a sense of security and belonging, and even with Mac missing, she let that comfort envelop her.
She went to her office and retrieved her secondary laptop. Mac often used it, and she hoped to find some clue to what was going on. She sank onto the sofa, and with her legs curled up under her, she put the computer on her lap and opened the lid. It would take a minute to boot, so she got up to fix some decaf. While in the kitchen, she heard something at the back door, and her heart rate spiked until she recognized a faint mew. She peered through the door’s window. A small white kitten sat on the mat outside the door. It looked pitiful with dirty, wet fur and what appeared to be blood on its ear.
She threw open the door. “Oh, you poor thing.” The kitten had one blue eye and one golden eye. It curled around her ankle and mewed again. Did she have anything to feed it? She scooped it up, then shut the door and locked it again before heading to the refrigerator. An egg might work. She whisked the egg in a bowl, then set it down for the kitten. The little thing hunched over the bowl as if to defend it from anyone who might try to take its food, then attacked the egg like it hadn’t eaten in days.
Ellie put water in another bowl and placed it beside the kitten too. She’d already made up her mind she was going to keep the little thing. Tomorrow she’d get some food for it and take it to the vet for a checkup. She could use the company.
Coffee in hand, she went back to the laptop and pulled it onto her lap. She knew her sister’s email password so she checked Mac’s email. This computer was synced in the cloud with Mac’s main computer. There were a couple of emails from students still in the in-box, one dated today. The person must not have heard about Mac’s disappearance. Ellie scanned the emails and found nothing remarkable—just students asking questions. There was nothing special in Mac’s Documents folder either, just tests and scoring documents.
Next she opened the Applications folder and looked through a list of programs on the computer. Scrivener might have something. Mac sometimes used it to organize things. The familiar boxes appeared, and a folder opened. The folder was titled “EMP Bombs.”
She inhaled, and her hand shook as she scanned the documents in the folder. Why would Mac be investigating that? First cocaine and now EMP bombs? What was going on with her sister?
Before she could take a look at the documents in the Scrivener folder, her doorbell rang. She’d been so immersed in the computer, she hadn’t seen lights or anything. She closed the computer and rose to peer out the peephole.
Grayson’s face looked straight ahead as if he was staring at her. Great, just great. She didn’t want to deal with his surliness tonight. She’d had enough.
She unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door. “How’d you know where I live?”
He leaned against the door frame in a nonthreatening manner. “I asked the sheriff.”
His placating smile did little to soothe her irritation. “What do you want?”
“To apologize for being a jerk. You had been gracious and helpful all afternoon, and I bit your head off. There was no excuse, and I’m sorry.”
She blinked at the genuine apology. He didn’t even try to excuse himself. “You’d had a rough day.”
“You’ve had a rough week. I tried to go to bed—it’s after one o’clock eastern time—but I couldn’t until I told you I was sorry.”
What kind of man did that? She opened the door a bit wider. “I just made some decaf if you want some.” She longed to get back to that Scrivener folder, but she didn’t want him to think she was holding a grudge.
“That sounds great. I won’t stay long.” He stepped inside and followed her to the kitchen. “Nice. I like the aqua with the gray.”
“Me too.” She poured him a cup of coffee and handed it to him.
“I wanted to tell you what I found out about Dylan Trafford.” Without waiting for an invitation, he headed back to the living room.
A tiny mew came from under the kitchen table, and the little white cat sprang after him and attacked his shoelaces. He chuckled. “Looks like this little thing nearly drowned.”
“I found it crying outside. I don’t know if it’s a boy or girl.”
He scooped it up and flipped it over. “It’s a girl.” He let the kitten settle on his lap. “She’s going to need a bath.”
“Yes, I’ll do that eventually.” Her irritation sprang to life again. “I was more concerned about getting her fed.” She settled in the chaise across from him. “What did you find out about Dylan?”
“He was working on the boat that seized the cocaine.”
The breath left her lungs. “Maybe he took the drugs.”
And maybe Mac suspected he might so she broke up with him. Maybe he took her.