Page 77 of Won't Back Down

“Yeah?”

“Could you text me that picture?” Maybe if I looked at it some more, eventually I’d figure out why his face looked so familiar.

“Sure.”

Once he’d confirmed the image had sent, he and Miles walked away, continuing to talk in low voices.

I blew out a breath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. I’m just creeped out. Hatterwick has always felt so safe. It’s hard knowing a guy was killed on my property at all. Worse, that it was right around the same time my friend disappeared. I hope it means they’ll find some new threads to follow in terms of her disappearance. We could all use some answers.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear, Willa.”

“I’ve gotta go. Groceries, then home to get back to work.”

“I’ll keep you posted. As soon as I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thanks, Mr. O’Shea.”

He smiled at me. “At this stage, Willa, I think you can call me Roland.”

“I appreciate that.”

We went our separate ways. But all through my trip to the island market, my brain continued to spin on Joe Anderson. Where had I seen his face before? Maybe I’d seen him when I’d been a kid, but I didn’t think it was that. The memory, such as it was, felt more recent. It wasn’t until I’d loaded the groceries in my Jeep and sat in the driver’s seat, staring at his photo, that it finally hit me.

“Holy shit.”

CHAPTER 34

SAWYER

Igot home later than I’d planned, but it had been worth it to see a project all the way to finished. Especially as it had resulted in my picking up another job for next week. Carpentry was something I’d learned growing up, out of necessity. When you couldn’t afford to buy new, you learned how to fix things. Commercial fishing had been my summer job for years, but construction had been how I’d filled in during the school year. I’d picked up after-school jobs on various construction crews as soon as anybody’d been willing to let me swing a hammer. Paddy Floyd had broken some rules by allowing me on to his crew at fourteen and paying me off-book. But that income had helped keep a roof over my head during stretches when my dad hadn’t been able to function.

I wasn’t keen on the idea of working for someone else, but the idea of getting my contractor’s license, and maybe doing for others what Paddy had done for me, had been circling around in my head. It was a way I could give back to the community. Maybe all my time with Willa was rubbing off on me, or maybe it just felt like a way to slowly overwrite the long-held perceptions other locals held about me. The rumblings about me and Willa had died down in the past several weeks. Or at least, folks had been more careful not to voice their opinions in earshot of me. But I was past giving a damn what any of them thought. Willa and I knew our marriage was real, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Sliding out of my truck, I carefully knocked sand off my boots before heading toward the house. I wanted to kiss my wife, then grab a shower and a root beer. Or maybe a root beer in the shower. Then maybe we could watch a movie we’d already seen with dinner and make out on the sofa. If making out turned to more, well, we were newlyweds. Pleased with the idea of that itinerary, I let myself inside.

Something simmering on the stove scented the kitchen with tomatoes and spices. Taco soup maybe? Already salivating, I toed off my boots and went in search of Willa. Had she finished for the day, or just started supper and gone back to work? I found her in the den, hunched over her laptop. Roy curled up beside her with a Nylabone.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey.” She looked up, and the expression on her face had the smile fading from mine.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Her cheeks were too pale, and her mouth was pinched. Had she had another panic attack? I closed the distance between us, kneeling beside her.

“The police have identified the body.”

Oh God. I hadn’t gone through the village before I came home, so I hadn’t heard anything myself. “Who is it?”

“A guy named Joe Anderson.”

Did I know a Joe Anderson? I tried to think.

“Here.” Willa turned the laptop in my direction and pointed to a picture.

I noted multiple tabs open to what appeared to be social media and a lot of Google searches. The guy on the screen looked familiar. “I used to work with him. Back in high school when I was fishing in the summers. He came on as a seasonal worker, I think. I haven’t seen him in years. I guess this is why.”