Adam didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but the building hidden in the trees wasn’t it. He wasn’t even sure he had the right place, no matter how much his map program insisted. He wasn’t familiar with this side of the Sound. The ferry ride had been pleasant and had given him a chance to grab a quick lunch from the galley aboard—the famous clam chowder had been one thing he’d missed from over here on the rainy side. But once on the other side of the Sound he’d had to focus on finding his way. Especially since it had started to rain as he was getting off the ferry.

There was no sign, nothing except the street number on a post out on the road. He’d made the turn and followed the winding drive until he caught a glimpse of the square green three-story building that almost blended into the evergreens that surrounded it.

When he got closer, he glimpsed through the trees a small parking area, and a second warehouse-looking building to one side. And in between the buildings was a...helipad?

He frowned, slowing down even more. What exactly was the Foxworth Foundation? One of the few people he’d stayed in touch with at the department had told him Quinn had some kind of a charitable organization, but that was all he knew.

He approached cautiously. Thought he heard something. This was a mild winter day by Palouse standards, so he rolled down the window to listen. And heard the sharp but muffled bark of a dog. Quinn and Hayley’s Cutter? Or a strange guard dog who would be looking to take a bite out of him?

And then he slammed on the brakes. There wasn’t a jolt because he’d been going so slow, but he felt exactly as if there had been. Because as he’d made that last turn and come into the clearing the buildings sat in, he could also see the entire parking area. And sitting there, instantly recognizable to him, was a very familiar car. Greg’s precious classic Camaro. The vivid blue, racy little coupe brought back a flood of memories. And Adam had to fight down the inner ache.

Amanda was driving her father’s beloved car. She’d kept it. And not just that, it looked as pristine as it had always been when Greg Bonner had been driving it. It was a classic, he’d said, and he worked to keep it in tip-top shape. Adam remembered when that had segued into a lecture about treating your weapons the same way. A dirty, neglected gun might fire most of the time, but the one time it didn’t was likely going to be the time you needed it most.

Of course, that’s assuming your partner had your back and so gave you time to fire at all.