Epilogue

Summer

There was no official day to mark the beginning of tourist season. The calendar didn’t flip and, a day later, people from far and wide appeared en masse on the next ferry. It was a slow trickle, a marginal increase of visitors that someone with a trained eye could use as a bellwether. The past few days had seen more traffic violations than the previous month, so Claire knew they were on the brink of a new season. She parked at the ferry lanes in the hopes the sight of her would serve as enough of a warning to keep their visitors in line.

Patricia had found it very easy to convince the town council that the department deserved a bigger budget. As soon as the news broke about Wyman and everything the police had done, Claire could have requested a helicopter and a submarine and probably would have gotten it. In the end, she agreed to the new car to replace the firebombed one, and two new full-time deputies. Claire took the oldest squad car for herself and gave the new one to Randall and the other deputies. She’d taken a pay cut to accommodate the new hires, but she was still technically making more than she had as a deputy so she considered it a total win.

Two weeks after her shootout with Wyman, the Coast Guard descended on a cargo ship as it approached the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Officers discovered twelve women being held captive belowdecks, all of them with stories identical to the story Claire had heard in the cabin. The crew was taken into custody and, last she heard, they were making deals to lead law enforcement even higher up the ladder. She didn’t dare hope they would end up catching every link in the chain, but at the very least they were increasing the pressure. Hopefully everyone involved would scatter like cockroaches and all their potential victims would be out of danger.

Vera, Tereza, and the rest of the women had been given a clean bill of health and released from the hospital. They were taken into the care of the US Justice Department, who moved at record speed to begin the process of getting them home. Claire had been surprised to get the first letter from Vera, but she soon started to look forward to them. She updated Claire with how everyone was doing, and their progress through the system. It was a slow process, and they were being housed in Olympia so they could testify against the men who’d held them prisoner, but all the signs pointed to them being back home by the end of summer.

After the furor died down, the island quickly went back to business as usual. She and Jodie settled back into the routine that was upended by the investigation. They went back home, put the Mustang back in storage, and found their groove again. The biggest change was that Jodie started calling every small inconvenience being grazed. Claire pretended to be annoyed, but she’d felt Jodie touching the scar when she thought she was asleep. If making such a close call into a joke was her way of coping, then Claire was willing to put up with it for as long as she needed.

Patricia scheduled an emergency election and, after a month with no one stepping up to run against her, Claire was officially named sheriff. Randall White was still her first deputy, her right hand man. Harvey Moses, her official replacement and first hire, spent most of his time patrolling on the north shore by Sholeh Harbor. Visitors left their cars to hike, sightsee, and go whale watching, leaving their cars behind unguarded. Last month he’d stopped four break-ins and caught a pickpocket.

The new third deputy position went to Ami Konnerup. She was young, new to the island, and eager to make a good impression. They got a depressing amount of domestic calls, and she liked having a female officer she could dispatch to those situations. Claire was worried some of the more senior volunteers would take issue with her getting the job, but she spoke with them and discovered they were happy with things the way they were.

In the end she had a department she could be proud of. She had a team she knew she could trust because they’d come through in what would probably be the toughest case they’d ever have. She didn’t have the man who’d believed in her, who had taken a fugitive ghost and helped her find the police officer she’d always been meant to become. She still mourned Callum Rucker, and she was still looking for a way to appropriately honor the years of service he’d given to the island. For now, she would settle for honoring his memory by being a worthy successor to his title.

The radio chirped, and Minnie Culpepper’s voice came through the speaker loud and clear. “Sheriff, you out there somewhere?”

Claire smiled and retrieved the handset. “I’m always on for you, Minnie. What do you have?”

“If you’re still parked by the ferry lanes, we just got a call from Gail’s about a serial dine-and-dasher. Apparently, all the restaurants have been on the lookout for him since he’s done it at least twice before, and Mr. Gail would like an officer on-site as soon as we can. You want to check it out?”

“Yeah, no problem.” She looked in the side mirror. She could see Gail’s from where she was sitting.

“You probably won’t need the chopper for this one.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “I used a chopper once, Minnie. Once.”

Minnie cackled. “You let me know if you need back-up. I’ll head over there with my knitting needles.”

“That’s a ten-four, Min.”

She hung up the microphone and got out of the car. She paused, then leaned back into the car to retrieve her cowboy hat. Randall had mocked her for it a little when she first started wearing it, and she occasionally drew a double-take from people she passed on the street, but it felt right. It felt like a part of the uniform. She put it on, pulled the brim low over her eyes, and headed for the stairs which would take her to the boardwalk outside Gail’s.

The air coming off King’s Harbor was crisp and cool, refreshing relief from the rising temperature of the afternoon. When she reached the top of the stairs, she walked over and rested her hands on the railing. The docks stretched out to either side and then out into the harbor, a small neighborhood with water instead of lawns, boat masts waving gently. A man was making repeated trips from the dock down to a private slip, carrying large packages from a pile down to his boat. Someone in a yellow kayak cut a slow line across the far side of the harbor. She heard the buzz of a plane overhead and tilted her head back, wondering if it was Michael at the controls, then returned her attention to the water.

King’s Harbor. Squire’s Isle, Lords and Ladies, the Knights softball team. Their island was very royal. It wasn’t the largest kingdom, or the fanciest, but it was theirs, and it was worth fighting for. It deserved a defender who appreciated just how special it was.

“Sheriff!”

She turned toward the shout and saw a waiter in the open doorway of Gail’s Seafood Shack. He pointed, and Claire followed his finger to a man running in the opposite direction. She pushed off the railing and gave chase.

Squire’s Isle would always have threats. Some would be big, others would be minor. But as long as she was there, it would be protected.