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on speaking. It was as if Matt didn’t exist.

“You’re Harry Brown,” he said.

Harry nodded. “I am. Haven’t seen you for a while, Art. Last I heard, you burned in a fire. But you’re looking well enough now.”

Harry’s tone was casual, as if he were bantering with a buddy in the pub. Whilley’s attention was fully on Harry, and Matt knew this was the moment to take Whilley down.

As Harry talked, Matt eased his Smith & Wesson from his holster. He tried to keep calm and remember his training.

“When you pull your gun, all bets are off,” he remembered his instructor saying. “It’s not a negotiation after that. You shoot to kill, not to wound.”

“Art Whilley, put your gun down,” Matt shouted as loud as possible, hoping to catch Whilley off guard.

Instead, he swung round and pulled Jade Thompson closer.

“You won’t shoot. You won’t risk killing the mayor here.”

Harry said, “Come on now, Art. It’s all over. We all know what’s going on. What’s the use of taking Jade? What do you think you’re going to do with her?”

Art Whilley looked back at Harry and then at Matt. Then he started laughing.

“You’re just a kid. Still wet behind the ears. I bet you’ve never shot that gun in your life, have you?”

Matt ignored what Whilley was saying. He could see the older man’s arm holding Jade was trembling. He must be in his sixties, he thought. He’s just trekked through a long tunnel dragging Jade. He can’t hold on for much longer. He’ll have to make a break or drop her.

Whilley waved his gun at Harry.

“Get out.”

Harry did as he was told but tried again. “Art, Clara’s on my boat. She tried to help you, remember? And what about Ann South? She cared about you. Don’t let them down, man.”

Art seemed to hesitate. “They all betrayed me. They took everything. I tried to make them like me . . . but I was no better than an animal. Prey. And now I’m doing the hunting. Just like Clara showed me.”

“Whilley, I won’t ask you again, drop the gun and move away from Miss Thompson,” Matt said, as calmly as he was able.

“No, I’ve got a better idea.”

In one movement, Art dropped Jade and aimed the gun directly at Matt.

This was it. He must not fail.

Matt pulled the trigger. But he’d forgotten. “Twelve pounds of pressure on that trigger,” the inspector said. “You can’t hesitate.”

A gun fired. Matt looked down. It wasn’t his. He was still standing. Harry was still standing. Time seemed suspended as Matt tried to figure out what had just happened.

Art Whilley looked confused. Jade Thompson was sprawled on the ground. Art Whilley crumpled slowly, blood gushing from a hole in the side of his head.

Matt and Harry rushed forward.

“Clara,” Harry said. “Got him behind the ear. Took him down like a deer.”

Matt looked back at the Pipe Dream and saw the woman standing there, still aiming the shotgun, her white hair blowing in the sea breeze.

“Matt!” Harry brought Matt’s attention back to the present. “Jade’s unconscious. What’s wrong with her? Did he poison her?”

Matt felt Jade’s pulse. “She’s still alive. Her lips are blue and her breathing’s shallow. I think it’s carbon monoxide poisoning.”

“Right, gases from the tunnel,” Harry said. “What do we do?”

“Nothing,” Matt said. “Nothing we can do, except hope she can hold on until help comes.”

Just then they heard a rhythmic thump, thump, thump.

Matt looked up.

“Thank God. Or Clara. It’s the coast guard helicopter.”

Epilogue

Jim climbed down the ladder.

“All hooked up,” he said to Clara and stood back to admire the new solar panels installed on her trailer. He’d been checking in on Clara every few days, until she’d told him to stop.

“I’m fine. Don’t be bothering me,” she’d told him.

But Jim turned up anyway, fixing a few things in her trailer.

“How do they work again?” Clara asked a little suspiciously, gazing up at the sleek panels which looked out of place in her rustic homestead.

Jim laughed. “It’s OK, Clara, it’s easy. You don’t need to do anything.”

He explained how they worked and showed her how to switch to the generator as backup.

“So less diesel, then?” Clara asked.

“Way less,” Jim said, and her face broke into a wide smile.

* * *

An excavator blocked the sun.

Mayor Jade Thompson-Ellis cut a ribbon and waved to the operator.

A large metal claw descended slowly, crashing through the roof of the old fish plant. It grabbed a load of rotten rafters and debris, like a giant mechanical bird collecting twigs, and swung back and deposited them in a massive dumpster.

There was a ripple of applause from the watching crowd. Summer Thompson was at the front, beaming with pride.

Andi was surprised to find herself so elated to see the crumbling fish plant being demolished. It’s just a building, she thought. But it symbolized so much more — as if it was bringing closure to a horrible murder and an end of sorts to the trauma of the last few months.

Andi thought Jade had bounced back quickly. After being treated for carbon monoxide poisoning, she’d taken a few weeks off and had some counselling. Jade had handed Andi a business card when Andi interviewed her. It was for a counselling service in Nanaimo.

“She helped me, and she’s still helping me,” Jade said. “Why suffer when you don’t need to? Doesn’t make any logical sense.”

The card was still in Andi’s purse. She’d taken it out and put it back several times. But she was sure she would make and keep an appointment. It was time those nightmares stopped for good.

Andi saw Charlie Rollins in the crowd. It was the first week of his retirement. This morning, the Coffin Cove Gazette carried a photograph of

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