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Back Deception Cove
Chapters (78)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. Forty
  47. Forty-One
  48. Forty-Two
  49. Forty-Three
  50. Forty-Four
  51. Forty-Five
  52. Forty-Six
  53. Forty-Seven
  54. Forty-Eight
  55. Forty-Nine
  56. Fifty
  57. Fifty-One
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Fifty-Four
  61. Fifty-Five
  62. Fifty-Six
  63. Fifty-Seven
  64. Fifty-Eight
  65. Fifty-Nine
  66. Sixty
  67. Sixty-One
  68. Sixty-Two
  69. Sixty-Three
  70. Sixty-Four
  71. Sixty-Five
  72. Sixty-Six
  73. Sixty-Seven
  74. Sixty-Eight
  75. Acknowledgments
  76. Discover More
  77. About the Author
  78. Also by Owen Laukkanen

Jess could picture where she’d kept that letter from Ty, the one that showed up in Bagram out of the blue a couple of days after word came through the OP that Pfc. Winslow was suddenly a widow. She’d thought it was a joke at first, thought Ty was playing a prank—how can he be dead if he’s writing me letters?—before her common sense caught up and she realized the obvious: he would have posted the letter long before he fell off the side of his boat.

She’d read the letter and reread it as she sat there at Bagram, waiting on the supply flight that would get her to Germany and on her way stateside. She’d searched Ty’s messy, uneven handwriting for any spark in his words, any reason he’d written this last letter by hand instead of sending an email. Any reason to hang on to this, her husband’s last communication to her.

She could count on two hands the number of letters, actual letters, Ty had sent her. He’d emailed plenty, of course, talked on the phone when Jess could get access. He’d sent the odd care package, candy bars and a fresh toothbrush, socks. But letters? Ty wasn’t the type. So this letter was weird for that reason alone, and all the more so because it seemed so mundane.

She’d carried it with her all the way home. Propped it up on the mantel beside the wedding picture, read it again when she came home from Ty’s funeral, thinking maybe his words would make more sense now—now that she’d returned to her old life, to Deception Cove. Hoping they’d make her feel less alone.

They didn’t.

She’d kept the letter with the rest of her keepsakes—a picture of her parents, a wedding invitation, the certificate she’d received with her Combat Action Ribbon from the corps. A few other odds and ends, the detritus you accumulate and assign enough importance to to keep in a shoe box at the bottom of your closet, if not to actually display or even look at anymore.

The letter sat on the top of that pile, in that shoe box, under her dress blues and the few civilian dresses, sweaters, and blouses she owned. Jess could picture it lying there in its powder-blue envelope. For a second she’d been ready to tell Burke they could just run and get it.

But they couldn’t, of course. They couldn’t because Kirby Harwood and his buddies had burned her little house to the ground.

Burke was watching her. So was Shelby Walker, Lucy forgotten now. Jess knew they were waiting for her to tell them about the letter, about what Ty had written to her. She knew they knew the letter had all the answers.