Page 78 of Skin and Bones

“Harris and Jackson are pulling in now,” Dash said, urgency sharpening his tone. “Stay down.”

“The door’s locked,” the harbormaster said, tugging me away from the window. “Get behind the desk.”

Reynolds reached the door, trying the handle. When it didn’t open, he pounded on it with his fist. “I know you’re in there, Mabel!” he shouted. “Open the door!”

I clutched the phone, hearing Dash’s voice but unable to make out the words over the pounding of my heart. Through the window, I could see Reynolds raise his weapon, aiming at the lock. I ducked lower, pulling the old man down with me.

The sound of squealing tires and sirens shattered the night. From my position behind the desk, I couldn’t see what was happening, but I heard car doors slamming and then Harris’s voice cutting through the chaos.

“Drop the weapon, Reynolds!” he shouted. “Hands where we can see them!”

There was a long, terrible moment of silence. Then the harbormaster, who was peering carefully over the desk, whispered, “He’s putting the gun down.”

I crawled to where I could see through the window. Reynolds stood with his hands raised, his face a mask of rage and defeat. Harris approached cautiously, kicking the gun away before spinning Reynolds around to cuff him.

The harbormaster helped me to my feet just as another set of headlights swept the parking area. Through the window, I saw Dash’s SUV skid to a stop. He was out of the vehicle before it had fully stopped, scanning the scene until his eyes locked on the office. When he saw me through the window, something in his expression shifted—relief so profound it was almost painful to witness.

He jogged to the office, and the harbormaster unlocked the door, stepping aside as Dash burst in. Before I could say a word, he’d pulled me into a crushing embrace, one hand cradling the back of my head.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, holding me at arm’s length to examine me.

“Just some scrapes and cuts on my wrists,” I said, suddenly aware of how I must look—disheveled, bloodied, and probably sporting some kind of swamp creature on my face from hiding under the pier. “I knocked Reynolds out and escaped.”

Dash’s lips twitched despite the gravity of the situation. “Remind me never to make you angry.”

“I’m pretty angry right now,” I said, but there was no heat in it. I was too exhausted for genuine anger, the adrenaline that had kept me going now rapidly deserting me and leaving trembling weakness in its wake.

Reynolds was being led to a patrol car, his head bowed. As they passed by the office, he looked up, meeting my eyes through the window.

“It wasn’t about the Harbor Development,” he said loud enough for me to hear through the glass, his voice hollow. “That was just a cover story. You’re looking in all the wrong places.”

Harris tugged him forward, but Reynolds resisted. “He’s more powerful than you think,” he added urgently. “He’s got friends everywhere. You won’t see him coming.”

“Get him out of here,” Dash ordered, and Harris complied, pushing Reynolds into the back of the cruiser.

“He was protecting someone,” I said, watching the patrol car pull away. “Someone who killed Elizabeth and Vanessa. Someone who was supposed to meet us at the boathouse tonight.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dash promised, his arm sliding around my waist as he guided me toward his SUV. “But right now, let’s get you home and cleaned up. Those cuts need attention.”

I looked down at my wrists, where the rusty nail had left angry red gashes. “Tetanus shot too, probably,” I sighed. “Not exactly how I planned to spend my evening.”

“I don’t know,” Dash said, opening the passenger door for me. “Being kidnapped, assaulting a police officer, and hiding under a pier in the middle of the night? Sounds like a typical Wednesday for Mabel McCoy, intrepid investigator.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as I slid into the seat. “Your bedside manner needs work, Sheriff.”

His smile faded as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face with surprising gentleness. “You scared ten years off my life tonight,” he said, his voice low. “When the Silver Sleuths called saying you were missing…”

“I’m okay,” I assured him, catching his hand in mine. “A little worse for wear, but okay.”

He nodded, giving my hand a squeeze before closing the door and circling around to the driver’s side.

As we drove back toward my house, I leaned my head against the cool window, watching the familiar streets of Grimm Island slide past. Nothing looked different, and yet everything had changed. Someone on this picturesque island had killed twice to protect a decades-old secret—and they were still out there, waiting.

“Reynolds said his mysterious boss knew about the ledger we found in the lighthouse,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Said nothing stays secret for long on Grimm Island.”

Dash frowned, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “That means someone is feeding information back to our killer. Someone who knows what we’ve been investigating.”

“It has to be someone close to the investigation,” I agreed, a chill running through me. “But who?”

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