Chapter One

Ten years later

The weeks had passed in a blur of pain and sorrow. Although the windshield wipers worked at full speed, Laura Friday leaned forward to peer through the heavy mist that blanketed the two-lane highway to Cole Harbor.

Justice. The word left a bitter taste in her mouth as she thought back to the night she’d cradled Jolly’s head in her lap. Jaali Zuri, her cameraman and friend of many years. In Swahili his name meant “fearless and beautiful.” Always smiling, he lived up to that and to his nickname.

Overly zealous, and not heeding her editor’s warning about checking the reliability of an informant’s sources, the only thing that had mattered to Laura was to out-scoop her competitor. She’d beat him, all right. And at what cost? Jolly was dead, and she was left with scars deeper than the permanent limp from bullets that had nearly taken her life.

Other reporters had jockeyed for positions, flashed cameras, yelled questions. In spite of wavering in and out of consciousness, she’d heard every profane word shouted by the two drug mules being shoved into the patrol car. She’d swung her gaze to the two lumps covered by white sheets. She wanted to scream that she hoped they rotted in hell. And then she had shifted to look at the kid, handcuffed, his eyes glittering with pure hatred. The informant. He’d set her up, and she had trusted those childlike brown eyes, the innocent baby face. He shouted something. She didn’t understand the language, but even amid the noise and confusion the gist of his words was not lost on her: I’ll get you.

She had dropped her gaze to Jolly’s dark curly hair and with one hand stroked his cheek, her fingers laced with blood that glistened in the street light. From somewhere far away she heard someone say her name.

Pain, sharp and intense, had slammed into her with blinding force. She recalled nothing else until she opened her eyes to see a nurse adjusting the IV and asking if she needed anything.

She’d been a crime reporter for ten years. Her job had always meant everything—her career, her obsession. With her nearest relative living in another state, the newspaper had become her family. Nothing had mattered except getting the story, exposing the bad guys.

None of that mattered now. Nothing would erase the guilt from her soul.

Shaking off the memories, she squinted through the windshield to see the road ahead. The endless sweep of trees on one side reminded her of ominous giants, balanced against the cold waters of the bay on the other side. An unexpected sense of loneliness twisted her heart.

A blast of wind slammed against the side of her car, sending it with a lurch into the opposite lane. Wrestling the steering wheel for control, Laura scanned the darkness on either side of the road. She hadn’t seen another vehicle for more than an hour. If she careened down the steep embankment, she likely wouldn’t be found for months. But then, who was there to miss her? She hadn’t bothered telephoning her Aunt Phyllis. Foolish! Her nearest living relative, and she hadn’t considered the possibility of not being welcomed. Their last contact was a brief encounter at her mother’s funeral. Aunt Phyllis had invited Laura then to stay a few days in Cole Harbor. She had used the excuse of needing to return to New York City for a news story she was following. Yeah, foolish.

Laura checked the odometer. The highway seemed to stretch on forever. The sheer desolation made her shiver. Already she missed the bustle of crowds, the honking horns of irate taxi drivers during rush hour traffic, and the comingling of savory aromas from food vendor trucks.

She lifted the container from the cup holder and shook it. Empty. What she needed now was an extra dose of caffeine.

The large stop sign loomed in front of her like an unexpected red eye. She touched the brakes. Hitting the electric button to lower the window, she listened for the sound of another vehicle. Poor visibility, the throbbing pain in her hip, and the overwhelming need for a strong cup of coffee made her wonder if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.

A familiar wash of grief and anger flowed through her. No, she’d made a worse mistake. The one that had cost her friend’s life. The whoop-whoop of a siren invaded her thoughts. She glanced into the rearview mirror and spotted the flashing amber bubble.

Every sense she owned went on red alert. An isolated location. She pressed the button to close the window, then opened it again, a few inches. A light flashed, momentarily blinded her.

“Car trouble?”

She met his gaze squarely. “No. Because of the fog, I was being extra careful.”

The badge on his jacket meant nothing to her, although his body language didn’t seem threatening. But looks were deceiving. Out here, totally alone. Fingers of fear chilled her. What if Elio Casper had escaped prison and somehow found her?

She gave the man with the badge a bland smile. “My aunt is expecting me. She’s probably worried because I’m running late; and I have no bars on my cell phone to call her.”

“I assume you’re on your way to Cole Harbor?”

Swallowing hard, she said, “Why would you think that?”

He pointed to the right. “Unless you plan to spend the night outside the national park, except for a few cabins, not many people live in that direction. If your aunt lives close to the park, you can follow me.”

“Mmph, no. She lives in town, above her store. Again, thanks for the directions.”

“I’d escort you in, but I need to check on a complaint.” He pointed. “Hang a left. The town is less than a half mile.”

She caught herself captivated by his slight southern drawl. Maybe he wasn’t what she’d thought after all. Consorting with narcs and stoolies had made her edgy, had honed her sense of caution. Not that it had helped in Jolly’s case. Still, a crime reporter who didn’t develop a sense of awareness didn’t last long in a tough business. She drew in a deep, steadying breath and slowly exhaled. “Thank you.”

He offered a nod before returning to his vehicle.

As a matter of caution, she waited for the deputy’s car to pull around hers. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands until the flashing blinker light showed the car turning to the right. After she’d turned in the opposite direction, and again as a matter of caution, she checked the rearview mirror to make certain no one followed her.

As he’d predicted, in less than a minute the town opened up. Even with the buildings shrouded in gray mist it was a welcome sight. Laura drove down the main boulevard until she spotted the gazebo. She swung the car into an empty parking space in front of Friday’s Bookstore and Tea Room.