“Sheriff.”

“Carter,” Reese said, waving to one of the two wooden fold-up chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat.” When Carter sat down, Reese pushed back from the desk and crossed one ankle over her knee. “What can I do for you?”

“How about a job?”

• 13 •

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“Lawyering starting to wear on you, huh?”

Carter smiled. “I seem to recall you’ve been there yourself. Didn’t you do a stint as a JAG in the Corps?”

“A short one. I still can’t quite remember what made me think I’d rather practice law than drag drunk recruits back to base on a Saturday night,” Reese said with a shake of her head. “Of course, military policing is different than civilian law enforcement. An MP has a fair amount of leeway to interpret the rules and regs. We go by the book here, even when it’s less expedient.”

Reese watched Carter’s eyes as she spoke, but didn’t expect to see anything in them. Carter Wayne was an experienced undercover state police officer, at least she had been until her involvement with the daughter of a reputed mob boss cost Carter her career. Carter had come close to abandoning her duty while undercover investigating Boston crime boss Alfonse Pareto. She’d fallen in love with Pareto’s daughter, Rica Grechi, and run afoul of the FBI. Reese understood risking everything for the woman she loved. There was nothing she wouldn’t do, nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice, to protect Tory or their daughter. But she couldn’t have an officer serve under her who she couldn’t trust.

“I served twelve years, five of them undercover. If I told you I never bent the rules, you wouldn’t believe me,” Carter said, meeting Reese’s deep blue eyes squarely. She’d expected Conlon to lay her past on the line. Carter had spent her entire life working with men and women who believed that the distinction between right and wrong was clear, and who were willing to risk their lives in the name of justice.

She’d been one of them, although the years she’d spent undercover working drug and organized crime cases had dulled the blacks and whites to shades of gray more and more often recently. She’d never met anyone with a stronger code of ethics or greater sense of duty and responsibility than Reese Conlon. She half expected Reese to tell her she didn’t measure up, and maybe by Reese’s standards, she didn’t. But she’d been a good cop, was a good cop. “You can trust me to hold the line. You have my word.”

“What I want,” Reese said, “is your promise that if anything comes up that might make you choose between honoring the badge and protecting your family, you tell me.”

Carter stiffened. “Rica has nothing to do with this.”

“Rica has everything to do with it. We both know who she is, and

• 14 •

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just because her father’s kept a low profile and stayed out of her life for the past six months doesn’t mean he’s going to continue.”

“I won’t let him drag her back into his world,” Carter said. “And I won’t let him contaminate this one.”

“And if he tries?”

Carter set her jaw, knowing the answer would determine Reese’s decision. “If Rica were physically threatened, I’d do anything I had to do to protect her. Short of that, I’d deal with problems through channels.”

“Meaning advise me,” Reese said flatly.

“Right.” Carter sat forward. “Look, we live here. This is our community too. I want to do my part, and that isn’t filing paperwork for a living.”

“Tell me about it.” Reese looked at her desk and winced. Carter laughed. “The hurricane has chewed this place up, and we’ve got more work than we can handle, and will have for half a year or more. I can use you.”

Carter let out a breath. “Good. I’m ready to work.”

Reese nodded. “There’s a bunch of paperwork—in your case, all of it a formality. Fill it out, and I’ll push it through.” She riffled through a stack of papers and pulled out the duty roster, giving it a quick look. “You’ll have the midnight-to-eight shift for the rest of the week. Starting tonight.”

“Riding graveyard.” Carter grinned ruefully. “Always great to be the rookie.”

“We both know you’re not, but—”

Carter held up a hand. “Hey, I get it. I’m the new kid on the block.

I don’t have a problem with that.”

Reese stood and extended her hand across the desk. “Then welcome aboard, Officer Wayne.”

Once Carter left to fill out the necessary forms in the front office, Reese went back to sorting through the incident reports from the previous shift, most of which were the ordinary run-of-the-mill occurrences common in any community—traffic accidents, drunk and disorderlies, assault and batteries, domestic complaints, thefts. The bulk of the work facing her department resulted from the hurricane that had devastated the entire Cape a week before. In its wake, the storm had left washed-out roads, untold property damage, injured and displaced civilians, and dozens of reports of thefts and suspicious fires, all of which needed to

• 15 •

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be investigated. Most of the Provincetown residents who had evacuated were just trickling back into town. As the community repopulated, Reese expected to receive more reports of vandalism and theft.

She rubbed her eyes, her headache firmly in place even though it was only midmorning. She hadn’t slept much in the ten days leading up to and following the storm, and although she was resting better than she had been immediately after her return from Iraq, she was still dreaming.

Still remembering. When she felt the edges of her consciousness start to darken and a tightness settle in her chest, she reached for the phone.

“East End Health Clinic,” a melodious male voice answered.

“Is she free?” Reese asked.

“Is she ever?” Randy, the clinic’s receptionist, responded with a dramatic sigh.

“Two minutes.”

“I’ll be timing you.”

Reese listened to the silence for a few seconds, and then the voice she’d been waiting to hear came on the line.

“Hello, darling,” Dr. Tory King said. “This is a nice surprise.”

“How’s your day going?” Reese asked.

“The town may still be half empty, but we’ve got a full schedule.

How about you?”

“I’m drowning in paper.” Tory laughed, and Reese pictured her leaning against the front of her desk, the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear, signing off on charts while they talked. She’d be wearing pressed jeans and a cotton shirt under her white lab coat.

Her wavy, shoulder-length auburn hair would be loose, her sparkling eyes shifting between blue and green with her mood. Listening to her, remembering waking up beside her that morning, Reese’s disquiet along with the band of tension around her chest eased. She took a deep breath and let it out, feeling the memories of death and horror slide away.

“What else is going on?” Tory asked gently.

“I just hired Carter Wayne.”

“Good. You can use the help, and Carter is a pro.”

“Agreed. Did you hear from Kate? Are they on their way back?”

Reese was thankful for more reasons than she could count that she’d reconnected with her mother after years of estrangement, and that they lived in the same town now. Kate and her partner Jean were not only

• 16 •

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family and wonderful friends, they provided childcare for Reese and Tory’s one-year-old daughter Reggie.

“Apparently the extended family isn’t done spoiling Reggie quite yet. They’re leaving tomorrow and will be back midday.”

“Good. I miss her,” Reese said. “Do you think she misses us?”

“I think she would, if she weren’t with Kate and Jean. But she spends as much time with them as she does with us, so she feels safe and secure. I’m certain she’ll be very glad to see us.”

“Same here. Well, I should let you go, I promised Randy—”

“Are you okay?”

Reese sighed, embarrassed that she had disrupted Tory’s always busy schedule because she couldn’t deal with her own ghosts. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not at all, sweetheart. But you don’t usually call me in the middle of the day.”

“I’m okay. I just needed to hear your voice.” And she knew if she shut Tory out the way she had done right after she’d returned, they’d both suffer. She’d promised she would try to reach out when she needed help, even though it went against her every instinct.

“I love you,” Tory said. “I’m done at seven. Dinner?”

“I’ll give it my best shot.”

Tory chuckled. “You’re an expert marksman, Reese. I consider that a sure thing.”

v

“So what do you think that’s all about?” Officer Allie Tremont whispered to her partner, Bri Parker.

“Huh?”

Allie was struck again how much Bri looked like a younger, slimmer version of Reese—thick, coal black hair cut long in the front and short around the ears, indigo eyes, and a break-your-heart smile.

Aware that Bri was staring at her with a confused expression, Allie tilted her head slightly and Bri followed her gaze. “Check it out.”

Carter Wayne leaned against the waist-high counter that separated the work area, where Bri’s desk and three others were pushed together, from the real heart of the department—the communications center

• 17 •

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presided over for the past twenty-five years by Gladys Martin, a civilian aide. Gladys screened incoming calls, relayed dispatch orders and information, and pretty much controlled everything else that kept the department running smoothly. Carter, a dozen years older and thirty pounds of muscle heavier than Bri, looked relaxed and casually self-confident as she rested an elbow on the counter and filled out forms. Bri knew as much of her story as anyone, but she didn’t really know her.