should have given her one about me and Phoebe,” Hunter corrected. “Look, I’m used to being a surprise to people. Part of the job. But that woman looked positively spooked when we arrived.”
“You’re right. I messed up with that. I’ll head up there and apologize. Easy fix.”
Hunter bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t think anything with Kendall Davidson would be an easy fix, but it would be a testament to Gil Hamilton’s people skills. “She’s interesting. Been here long?”
“A few months. She’s a friend of one of our deputies. Matt Knight. They served in Afghanistan together.”
Afghanistan. Explained the burn scars, Hunter supposed. And probably more. “I met him at the diner our first day in town. Seems like a good guy.”
“He is. So I made up a list of people it would be good for you to talk to about the history of the town.” Gil handed Hunter a file folder. “Most of them have lived here all their lives.”
“This is a start, thanks.” Hunter wasn’t about to tell Gil he preferred to move organically through a place, talk to people on their own, see who they thought was worth his attention. “I know what you’re looking for in this book.”
“Do you?” Gil’s bright eyes dulled a bit. “I don’t want a hatchet job, that’s for sure. It’s mainly for tourists and for promotion. Encourage people to move here. It’s a special place. You know, sell self-published copies in the stores, send them out to the media who might be interested in covering upcoming events or holidays. A press package on steroids.”
Hunter settled back into the conversation he’d been expecting, the same conversation he’d had with countless others in his career. “I don’t go looking for dirt, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I wouldn’t say worried, exactly. The town has a colorful history.”
“If you mean what happened with your father, I already know about that.” And Hunter had no plans to include any of those controversial details in his manuscript.
Gil’s normally open, friendly expression did a vanishing act. “I’m sure you do. This is about the rebuilding of a community, the coming together of a town. The way we’ve banded together and saved it.”
“Then that’s where I’ll start.” He was definitely going to be spending a lot of time at the library. “I appreciate having the place to stay while I’m working. Phoebe loves it up there.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Fine. I think.” They’d discussed, peripherally, at least, Phoebe’s issues since the accident. “Emotionally, she has her good days and her bad. I’d say I was hoping a change of scenery would help, but she gets a lot of that.”
“There’s a lot to be said for silence.”
“True enough.” Hunter’s lips twitched. “Still, I wouldn’t mind hearing a bit more about what she’s thinking from time to time. There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s grieving. It’ll take patience on both our parts.”
“Sure. It makes sense.” Gil nodded. “We all handle grief in our own way. She’s got someone who cares about her looking after her. That’s what makes the difference. Still a few months left in the school year in case you’re worried about her not hanging out with kids her own age.”
“That would be nice. But she’s not budging on that.” Hunter shook his head. With respect to that subject, Phoebe had not remained silent.
“Then maybe check the events at the youth center for her.”
“A youth center, huh? Your idea?” Once upon a time Gil had considered running charity organizations for a living—until Gil’s father had gotten wind of that and put his foot down and insisted he follow him into local politics. One thing Gil had always had problems with was stepping out from under his father’s shadow. Even now that Senior had been gone a good few years, Hunter could still see the specter hovering not only in this office, but over Gil himself.
“The former sheriff’s actually. Jake Campbell. He and Luke Saxon, his replacement, worked on the project together. Been doing pretty well so far, well enough that they’re looking for a new, larger space. In fact, they’re also looking for new instructors. If you’re still as handy with that camera as I’m hoping you are.”
“Not a lot of call for photography classes that don’t include a cell phone, but I’ll check it out.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if the position would pay, but given it was a community center, he already suspected the answer. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t be willing, though. “Well, I’m sure you have a lot of work to get to. I’m heading to the library to get a jump on my research.” Hunter got to his feet.
“Sounds good. Oh, and here. This should help settle you in.” He handed Hunter an envelope. “It’s half up front, as we discussed. Other half on delivery. You said maybe two or three months?”
“Should be,” Hunter confirmed. Gil was right. The check in his hand would absolutely ease a bit of the burden weighing on him. He’d played a bit of hardball with his old friend, but given he’d had to make a cross-country drive to get here, he didn’t feel too guilty about it—and if he had, that phone call from the lawyer would have tipped the balance. “I’ll be in touch in a few weeks to let you know how I’m coming along.”
WITH PHOEBE ENSCONCED in bed, Hunter slipped out of the carriage house and closed the door behind him. He found the darkness both captivating and intimidating with only a solitary light burning in the window of the cottage breaking through the night. He shivered against the cold, and considered going back for a sweatshirt, but the ear-thrumming pounding of the waves at the base of the cliffs pushed his discomfort aside. It was too late for coffee if he hoped to sleep tonight, and he was not a tea kind of guy, but a steaming mug of hot chocolate sure sounded good about now. He made a mental note to add some to the grocery list.
His shoes crunched along the gravel path. He was amazed at how the spinning thoughts that kept him awake faded into silence beneath the sound of the ocean breaking against the shoreline.
There was little, he supposed, more powerful than nature at its freest. His fingers itched to return for his camera, but photographing at night took a bit of preparation and planning. As he stood there, above the crashing waves and beneath the steadfast lighthouse that had overseen this shore for longer than he’d been alive, he knew this would be the perfect shot, the perfect image for the story he’d been hired to write. And the emotion he hoped to convey with his words. He stooped down, scooped up a handful of pebbles and let them trickle through his fingers. Hunter could barely hear them drop back onto the ground above the waves, but there was something connective about being out here, in the darkness, seeing this scene in the same way as people had decades before. No blinding lights to distract, no sounds of technology blaring in his ears. Only the water and the rush of wind and the smell of the sea to fill his senses.
He felt her presence before he spotted her, that spark of energy that crackled whenever Kendall was around. Hunter looked over his shoulder as she stepped out of the grove of trees on the far side of the cottage. He couldn’t explain it. He hadn’t tried to, but that energy called to him, perhaps even more strongly than the tide had called to him tonight.
Hunter knew the instant she noticed him. She hunched her shoulders, tipped her chin down and huddled into the thin zip-up gray hoodie she wore, as if she could withdraw like a turtle into her shell.
She could have gone around him; he half expected her to when she missed a step and almost stumbled. But she kept on her path toward the keeper’s house. “Nice night for a walk,” he called out to her when she drew close.
“Yes, it is.” She offered a quick smile before glancing at