times have changed,” Michael told her. “I’ll call the security service and see if I can get them to activate it again when I leave. That might help ward off any more break-ins.”
“Yeah.”
“And I’ll send the passcode to your phone in case you need to get back in here tomorrow.”
“Thanks, that’ll be helpful.”
“I wonder why it wasn’t set,” Garret said as he and Megan stepped outside. “Of course, the staff was probably upset and distracted by the news of Rory’s death. Maybe they forgot.”
“That makes sense.” Megan nodded numbly. She felt she was walking through a weird dream. Like none of this was real. But outside, as the cool sea air washed over her face, smelling like a familiar mixture of rotten eggs and dead fish, signaling that the tide was low, she suddenly knew that this was all real. Painfully real. She was home in Cape Perpetua, and Dad was dead.
“I’m parked over there.” She pointed to the side street. “But you don’t have to walk me—”
“I want to,” he insisted.
As she turned the corner, she noticed that the traffic in town had thinned considerably. Hers was the only car parked on the side street now.
“That’s not your car, is it?” Garret pointed at the white Prius parked beneath a streetlamp.
“Yeah, that’s it.” As she walked, she dug in the bottom of her purse, trying to feel her car keys.
“Check out your tires,” he said in an odd tone.
She paused from her key search, peering down at her tires. “What?” She moved closer to see what was wrong. “They’re flat!”
Garret knelt down, using his own car key to poke into a gash on the side of her car’s front tire. “Slashed.”
“What is wrong with people?” she demanded hotly. “Why would someone do this? What has happened to this town?” Hot, angry tears were filling her eyes.
“I don’t know.” Garret just shook his head. “Either it was just a random act of meanness—or someone really doesn’t like you.”
Despite her resolve not to shed more tears, it was too late, they were coming—fast and furious. As she dug through her purse for a tissue, she wanted to scream and shout—and punch something. This was all just too much. First her dad died. Then she was nearly murdered. And the newspaper office was broken into and Dad’s office trashed. And now her tires were slashed. What had she done to deserve this? More disturbing, what was next?
Still wearing Garret’s fleece jacket, Megan attempted to calm herself as she sat in his SUV in front of the newspaper office. Garret had gone back inside to tell Michael about the slashed tires. But suddenly she felt uneasy about sitting out here alone—where a killer could be lurking around the next corner. She slumped down in the seat, hitting the auto-lock button on the door. And, with her phone in hand, she kept a wary eye on the people moving along Main Street.
At close to eleven o’clock, the town had quieted down some, leaving only the boisterous bar-hoppers still out and about—the usual mix of out-of-towners, fishermen and young, antsy locals. The late-night activity was somewhat reassuring. She felt a little less alone.
Just the same, Megan was relieved to see Garret emerge from the newspaper office. She watched him with stealthy admiration as he strode over to the driver’s side of his SUV. But when he couldn’t open his door, she felt embarrassed. Releasing the auto-lock, she apologized as he climbed inside.
“I’m glad you did that,” he told her. “After I went inside, I felt uneasy about leaving you out here by yourself. Michael suspects your attacker is probably long gone by now, but you never know. Can’t be too safe.” He started the ignition.
As Garret drove them through town, Megan continued trying to compose herself. She hated feeling like such a basket case. She normally considered herself to be a pragmatic person, not overly emotional. Journalists couldn’t afford to be. Yet the slashed tires had pushed her over the edge. Her heart was still pounding in fury, and it was hard to calm down.
Still, she reminded herself, tires could be replaced. Her insurance might even cover the cost. And her dad’s office could be cleaned up and put back together again. Her dad...well, there was nothing to be done about that, except to remember him for all the good he’d brought into her life. He would want her to do that. And, really, she should be thankful to still be alive.
“How are you doing?” Garret asked quietly.
“I’m trying to get it together,” she confessed. “I’m not used to being this emotional or out of control.”
“Under the circumstances, it seems pretty natural.”
She felt surprised when he turned on his signal to turn onto Rawlins Road. “So you know where you’re going?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ve been to your dad’s before.”
She studied his profile as he drove. Firm chin, fairly straight nose, except for a slight bump, almost like it had been broken before, high forehead. Garret Larsson was very handsome. She didn’t remember him being this good-looking back in high school. But to be fair, she barely remembered him at all. She knew about late bloomers. Those guys who slipped under the popularity radar in high school, but turned out to be pretty cool later on. She suspected that Garret was one of those.
“So you were obviously acquainted with my dad?” she said quietly.
“More than just acquainted. We were pretty good friends.”
“You were friends with my dad?” She peered curiously at him, trying to imagine that. “So how did this friendship come about exactly? I mean, considering the gap in your ages, I’m a little confused.”
“Rory kept his boat at my marina,” Garret told her.
“Oh, yeah. The marina your grandparents owned.”
“I started to manage it right after my grandpa died. It was too much for my grandma by then. She needed help.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Five or six years. The place was pretty run-down. Mostly because my grandpa got too old to keep it up. So I started doing some renovations. Then my grandma passed on, too. Anyway, I inherited the marina and cabins and everything.”
“And that’s how you met my dad.”
“Yeah. Sometimes we went out on the ocean together.”
“You fished with my dad?” This spoke well of Garret. Her dad wouldn’t fish with just anyone.
“Yeah. Sometimes. But your dad liked going out alone, too.”
“I know. I wish he hadn’t done that yesterday.”
Garret sighed. “Me, too. I never like seeing anyone going out on the ocean by himself. I prefer the
