Chapters (78)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Acknowledgments
- Discover More
- About the Author
- Also by Owen Laukkanen
The man chuckled, gestured up the highway, west. “Sheriff Wheeler’s up the road at the county seat in Neah Bay, but at this stage of the game, he’s largely ineffectual,” he said. “You want to talk to the law around here, you want Kirby Harwood, and his office is just down the hill with what’s left of the town. Second building up from the government wharf; you can’t miss it.”
“Harwood,” Mason said. “He the deputy got bit by that dog?”
The guy cocked his head. “You heard about that already, did you? Yeah, Kirby’s the one. Bit him right on the ass, that dog did. Likely had a good reason, though I can see how Kirby’d disagree. Anyway, sounds like it was the last night of fun that dog’s ever going to have.”
“Heard that, too. The owner, she’s a veteran or something?”
“That’s right, Afghanistan. Dog was supposed to be some kind of therapy animal.”
“You know how I would find her?” Mason asked.
The man paused and kind of narrowed his eyes. “What’s your business there, Mr. Burke?” he replied. “This whole fiasco doesn’t sound like the kind of thing that’d make the nightly news back home in Detroit.”
“No, sir,” Mason said. “It didn’t make the news. I’m just wondering why that dog would want to go and bite someone that way.”
The man studied him a little longer. “I’m afraid I can’t help you,” he said, closing his binder. “This is starting to sound like trouble, and more trouble is the last thing that woman needs right now.”
“It’s not trouble I’m after,” Mason said. “But I—”
The man set his hand down on the counter. “Enjoy your stay here in our little town, Mr. Burke,” he said. “Whatever your reasons for being here, I’d appreciate if you didn’t bring them back to my establishment.”
The town of Deception Cove was a rainy-day kind of place, and would have been so even if the sun had been shining. As Mason walked the main road down the hill to the water, he passed more than a handful of abandoned homes in the trees, fallen-down hulks reclaimed by the rain forest, moss-covered and rotten doorways and windows like black, empty eyes.
At the bottom of the main road was the town proper, a handful of ramshackle buildings spread along a thoroughfare far too wide for the meager business it was conducting. Beyond this abbreviated downtown was the water, the ocean, and Mason imagined that on clear days the view from the hill must be spectacular.