boring world in which she grew up.
And had left ten years ago. She’d had to leave. She’d needed to do more by helping underprivileged teens in Seattle.
It had seemed like a good plan, until last week, when it all fell apart.
She bought her ticket and headed up the ramp to board the ferry.
Heading home. Something she said she’d never do. Not because it was a bad place, but she couldn’t bring herself to go back and be that person again, a small-town girl living in a city where the biggest crisis was the Langford brothers breaking into Stuckey’s Hardware to steal supplies to make pipe bombs.
The teens she counseled dealt with homelessness and drug use, abusive parents and a bleak future. She wanted to help the people who really needed her.
She shifted into a booth by the window and pulled out her phone, feeling bad for having to abandon her team. They’d had no idea about her plans to leave when she’d smiled across the dinner table at them tonight. But there were no other options. She sensed the danger trailing her and had to get away. She figured the less they knew about her plans the safer they’d be.
Thinking of how she’d craft that email to her boss, Andrea, she noticed a text message alert. She clicked on it and the message opened:
I see you.
She gasped and whipped her head around, eyeing the passengers in the immediate area: a group of kids with a parent; a hippie-looking guy curled up and asleep on the bench; a mom with two kids, one in a stroller.
Should she get off the ferry and wait for the next one? Notify ferry personnel?
And say what? That she feared she was being stalked but couldn’t be sure?
She continued scanning other passengers as the ferry started across the water: a businessman in suit and tie, working on his laptop; a threesome of middle-aged folks laughing as one told a story.
Walking toward her was the man who’d asked for directions to the ferry line. He eyed his phone, stopped dead in his tracks and looked right at her. He smiled. Goose bumps pricked down her arms.
She got up and headed for the snack bar, bustling with passengers anxious to fill their stomachs. Look relaxed, casual. You don’t know he was the one who sent the text.
She wandered up to a pack of teenagers who eyed foil-wrapped burgers. The thought of food made her stomach twist into a tighter knot. The hair bristled on the back of her neck, instinct warning her to get away.
She grabbed a sandwich and lined up to check out. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted the car guy in line a few people behind her.
“Seven eighty-seven,” the cashier said.
Julie fumbled in her pocket for cash. Her fingers trembled as she desperately strategized her next move. She handed the cashier a ten and took off, rushing toward the stairs, hoping to hide between the cars below.
Would he jump the line and follow her? She couldn’t think about that, she had to get away, had to—
She raced down the stairs and flung open the door. Rushing up the aisle, she used the cars as cover, ducking between them so as not to be seen. She crisscrossed the ferry and glanced over her shoulder. A tall figure headed toward her.
She stumbled on something and went down, dropping her sandwich and slamming her palms to the ground to brace her fall. But it was too late. She was down and he was close. She could feel his eyes boring into her back.
And saw a shadow loom above her.
* * *
“Hey, you okay?” Morgan Wright asked, kneeling beside the frantic woman.
His instincts piqued when she dodged around the corner and raced for the opposite end of the ferry as if she was a sprinter in the Olympics. They went on red alert when he spotted a tall male make the same turn and search between cars.
“Ma’am?” he tried again. She didn’t answer at first. He’d seen her hit the ground and figured she was out of breath.
“Don’t hurt me,” she gasped.
“You’re okay,” he assured. “I’m a police officer.”
She sat up and the air ripped from his chest. No, it couldn’t be. He’d never forget the face of his first love, never forget her golden eyes or freckles that dotted her nose.
He’d never forgotten Julie Burns, the girl who’d taken a piece of his heart with her when she’d left ten years ago.
Lower lip trembling, she clutched her wrist to her stomach, rocking forward slightly. She still hadn’t looked at him.
A tornado of emotions whipped through his body, from anger to pain to concern. And he had so many questions.
“I… He was…” she choked.
“Take a deep breath,” Morgan said, touching her shoulder for support. That’s what he’d do if she were a stranger. He decided that was the best way to keep his perspective.
To treat her as if she were a stranger.
He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. A tall man, thirties, with slicked-back hair, wearing an overcoat, froze ten feet away. Was it the man who’d been searching between cars? Morgan couldn’t be sure.
“Can I help you?” Morgan stood to his full six feet two inches.
“She forgot her change upstairs.” He hesitated and extended his hand to reveal a few bills and coins.
Morgan reached for it.
“Who are you?” The guy closed his fist.
“A cop.” He flashed his badge. “I’ll take it from here.”
The guy dropped the money into Morgan’s hand and eyed Julie. “Is she okay?”
“She tripped. She’ll be fine.” Morgan glanced at Julie, who still hadn’t looked up, then back at the stranger. “You a friend of hers?”
The guy backed off. “No, I just happened to be in line behind her.”
Uh-huh. Right.
“Good Samaritan type,” Morgan said. “Thought we’d lost all of those. Thanks again,” he said in dismissal.
With a nod the guy disappeared into the stairwell.
Morgan took a deep breath and kneeled beside Julie. She was white as a sheet, dazed and looked as if she was going into shock.
“Jules, hey, it’s really okay.”
She blinked, the sound of her nickname snapping her out of the trance. Glancing at Morgan, she gasped.
“Morgan…” She closed her eyes. “I’m dead, right? I’m dead and went to heaven.”
Interesting that she
