Page 8 of Raven

None of us liked coincidences. Especially not ones that involved women we were starting to care about.

* * *

Later that day,I saw her again—this time down at the market.

She was walking with her brothers, buying fruit and vegetables.

I caught up with her at the far end of the produce tent.

“You okay?” I asked, watching her carefully.

She blinked, like she hadn’t seen me there. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“I heard about the fire. Everyone all right?”

“Mostly,” she said. “One woman in the building. We got her out in time.”

She didn’t elaborate.

But her eyes flicked past me—toward the alley beside the market—and that told me more than her words.

I turned slightly, catching a glimpse of a tall man in a green beanie leaning against a post, pretending to look at his phone.

Too clean. Too still. Not a local.

“Friend of yours?” I asked.

She didn’t answer.

“Beatrice.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about it here. Are you always this nosy?”

“You think I’m nosy? I’m just trying to figure out who has been on my beach and why you don’t sleep at night.”

“I sleep at night. What are you talking about?”

“I see your light on when you are off your shift at night.”

“Maybe it’s one of my brothers. Why are you up all night watching my house?”

“I only wanted to know if you were alright. And who is that guy over there watching you?”

“Can we talk later?”

That was enough for now. “Yes.”

But my hand itched for the pistol I wasn’t carrying.

Because someone was following her, and it wasn’t her dog Mike this time.

* * *

Back at the house,I stepped onto the deck with Mandy and scanned the beach again.

No footprints today.

But the feeling in my gut hadn’t gone away.

---