Chapter 45

Samuel’s chair squeaked as he leaned back, tapping the large oak desk with a fountain pen. “You’re sure about this?”

Laurie nodded, taking a deep breath to slow her pounding heart. After tonight, Port Angeles would be a dry town. “Yes.”

“I believed you before when you pointed your finger at Shepherd. Look how that turned out.”

Laurie dug a fingernail into the tip of her thumb. “Yes, well, I wasn’t really sure that time. Now I am. I heard them on the telephone connection. The man said that they would be hauling whiskey and gin.”

Samuel wrote down the information on a notepad. “What else did they say? Any names?”

A chill washed over her. Names? “No . . . wait—Jerry.”

“Jerry who?” Samuel raised one eyebrow. “What number?”

“I don’t remember. I’m sorry.” She fidgeted, avoiding his moss-green eyes. “He said that the drop point would be Freshwater Cove.”

He sat up. “Freshwater Cove—not Crescent?” He tapped the pen a few more times before scratching the name down on the pad. “Anything else?”

She searched her memory for useful facts that would not incriminate her brother. “Two boats.”

“Fishing boats? Speed boats?”

“Row boats.”

The swivel chair squeaked as he pushed to his feet. “Row boats? You’re kidding.”

“One of them mentioned using oars.”

“Who would be crazy enough to row across the Straits at night?”

Laurie shrugged. “Maybe I misunderstood.”

Samuel wandered the room, rubbing the pen against his chin. “It would be quiet that way. And if you’ve got plenty of muscle, it could be done.” He perched on the edge of the desk in front of Laurie, propping his shoe on the corner of her chair.

His eyes gleamed. “Thanks to you, I’m going to bust this operation wide open. We’ll catch those rumrunners with their pants down. There will be no more smuggling whiskey into Port Angeles right under our noses.”

Laurie ran a finger along the edge of Samuel’s desk, fighting to steady her resolve. “That’s what I’ve wanted all along.”

His gaze lingered on her. “I’ve missed you, Laurie. I thought you were spending all your time with that pharmacist fellow.” He lowered his two-toned shoe to the floor, brushing her ankle in the process.

Jumping to her feet, Laurie paced to the window, staring out across Fourth Street toward the front window of Larson’s Drugs. A blue glint flashed, as if a glimmer of sunlight hit the show globe. “Yes, well. Things change.”

“I thought after our first evening together, maybe I had a chance with you.” Samuel’s milky voice carried across the confined space. “I thought you were looking for a trustworthy man. A man you could respect.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “What are you implying?”

Samuel drew close behind her. “Daniel Shepherd isn’t the man you think he is.”

She turned, matching his gaze. “That’s odd, because he said the same about you.” Laurie locked eyes with Samuel. “So, what are you suggesting?”

The corner of his mouth twitched before lifting into a grim smile. “You don’t know? He hasn’t told you about his past?”

Her stomach twisted. “He grew up in Port Angeles. He went to Seattle for college and to work. Now he’s back. What’s so startling about that?”

Samuel stepped closer, settling one hand on the windowsill behind her back and leaning in. “College and work—is that what he said? Did he mention what he did in his free time?”

Laurie ears began to buzz, weakness spreading through her body.

He bent his head close, as if to hide his words from listening ears. “He’s no saint, Laurie.”

Her words came out in a strangled whisper. “I wouldn’t expect him to be.”

“I asked around at the University of Washington. Shepherd was put on probation twice for drunkenness. And once . . . ”—he paused, searching her face—“for assault.”

Laurie stumbled out of Samuel’s office and onto the sidewalk, tears blinding her eyes. Larson’s Drugs stood at the far end of the street. She spun and trod down the hill toward the water. She shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets, lifting her face toward the gray sky. Misty raindrops fell, cooling her burning cheeks.

Lifting her hands, she gripped the edges of her hat and pulled it further downward, hiding her from the world. She let gravity hurry her feet until she was nearly running—pressing past people as they did business in the downtown establishments. She aimed for the spit and the clarity the water always provided.

The horizon seemed to dip and sway, as if she were riding the ferry over storm-tossed waters. She lurched off the street and onto the rocky shoreline.

“No,” she choked the word out into the wind that brushed past her. “No, God. It can’t be true.”

Laurie tore off her hat and cast it onto the ground at her feet. She unbuttoned her coat and let the wind lift its edges, cleansing her hurt with its damp crispness. Breathless, she bent over to clutch at one of the massive logs lining the water. Daniel was different—truthful. Or so she’d believed.

She remembered sitting next to Samuel Brown the day Pastor Yoder had preached on forgiveness. A single verse whispered in her memory: “There is none righteous, no, not one.” The truth echoed in her heart, sinking to the very depths of her being.

She collapsed against the log, dropping to her knees in the wet gravel and spreading her arms over the tree’s wet, gritty bark. Laurie let her face fall forward, pressing her forehead against the fallen tree. “Lord, please let Samuel be wrong. I can’t love a dishonest man.”

Her heart pounded as the ache burrowed in, nestling against her ribs. Daniel’s face hovered in her thoughts—reaching his hand out to lift her up on the log at the beach, holding her as she wept in the hospital, smiling that first night on the bluff.

She needed to know the truth.

Daniel lifted the globe from the window, balancing it carefully so the blue fluid lapped against the glass. The sapphire liquid reminded him too much of Laurie’s eyes. It needed to go. A nice, gloomy forest-green, perhaps.

Marcie maintained a brisk pace at the fountain, but few wandered over to the pharmacy counter. Maybe he’d spend some time carefully mixing the chemicals so to create a layered rainbow effect. He’d seen it done, but had never attempted it.

He’d keep a little of the blue at the bottom and layer the other colors above. A rainbow above the sea.

Daniel carefully tipped the yellow fluid, sending it through a glass tube. The color glided along the side of the show globe, spilling over the blue layer. He held his breath, careful to keep the glass motionless as the color slid across the top of the liquid without intermingling.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. It might not be life-saving medicine, but it sidetracked his thoughts—a medicine, in itself.

He reached for the next beaker, filled with a blood-red ferric chloride solution. Daniel held it up and swirled it in the light. He balanced the show globe in his palm, holding his breath while he tipped the beaker, the red mixture sliding down the smooth glass.

Daniel held his breath, concentrating on tipping the beaker at a gentle angle. When the bell sounded from the door, he didn’t pay attention. Marcie could take care of it.

“Daniel?” a voice quavered.

Daniel glanced up, his hand jerking.

Laurie stood facing him, her arms wrapped around her middle, fingers gripping her elbows.

An icy chill swept across his skin—just like when he woke from his liquor-flavored dreams. He lost his grip on the glass sphere and it thumped against the counter, wetting his fingers. The ferric acid invaded the other layers, claiming each of the colors until the whole globe turned dark.

His body went weak. Daniel swallowed, gripping the counter for stability. She knows.