Chapter 1

The call broke up twice before I heard Harper say, "Mom?"

Her voice was low. Harper only got that quiet when she was trying not to scare someone else.

"Harper? Where are you? The gym?" I pressed the phone against my ear, my eyes darting to the microwave clock. 4:12 PM. The school district's evacuation deadline had passed an hour ago.

"The gym," she confirmed. Her breath hitched. "The power went out. Mom, the lights... they're off. Mr. Henderson says the road to the causeway is already taking on water. Where are the Bennett buses?"

I looked out the kitchen window. The sky was a heavy, bruised purple. The wind was lashing the oak tree in the front yard, tearing branches off against the siding.

"Stay with the teachers, Harp. Do not leave the building. I'm—"

My eyes fell on the kitchen counter.

The clasp on Harper's blue evacuation wristband had bent at breakfast. Luke had been here for a quick drop-off. He'd promised to take the old band and bring her a new, reinforced one when he picked her up at the school on Bus One.

The old nylon strip was still sitting right there by the toaster.

My phone buzzed against the counter with a text message. It was from Luke, sent ten minutes ago:

[Luke: County dispatch says another bus is handling the gym. If the school calls, tell them we're covered. I have to finish the Seabriar run or the bank takes two buses Monday.]

"Mom?" Harper's voice shook through the bad connection.

"I'm here," I said, forcing my voice to stay level. I didn't tell her the wristband was still on the counter, nor did I mention Luke's text telling me the county had it handled. "I'm coming to get you."

I hung up, grabbed my keys, and bolted out the door. The wind hit me cold, carrying the sharp, metallic tang of rain-drenched asphalt.

I didn't head for the school. I opened the old fleet app on my phone. Bus One was moving north from the coast toward the depot. Bus Four—the older, high-clearance backup model whose GPS transmitter had failed months ago—was sitting dark at the yard.

Luke had kept the company after the divorce, but the county kept my name on the municipal emergency route list because I had written most of those evacuation corridors myself.

I put the truck in gear and roared toward the depot, three miles across town.

As I skidded into the yard, the rain was coming down in sheets. Three coaches assigned to the school were idling under the overhang. They had already gone to Seabriar once—not for people, but for luggage and pet crates. Now they were back to refuel before returning for the eighteen guests still on the island.

The lower cargo holds were packed tight from that first run. Men in yellow rain slickers were re-securing the overflow—heavy leather suitcases and oversized golf bags—directly across the front passenger rows. Natalie Cross stood under the overhang, a tablet in one hand. Luke's stainless-steel coffee mug—the one Harper had given him for Father's Day—sat on a crate beside her tablet.

And there, leaning against the side of the bus, was Luke.

I climbed out, ignoring the way the wind caught the truck door, and walked straight up to him. I didn't scream. I just stopped, right in his line of sight, and watched a worker lash two oversized golf bags directly into the passenger seating area.

Luke looked up, his expression shifting from a practiced, calm focus to something guarded. "April? You shouldn't be here. The roads are turning to rivers."

"There are forty-six people in that gym, Luke," I said, pointing toward the high school. "And you have three buses sitting here loading up golf clubs. What is this?"

Natalie stepped forward, glancing at Luke before answering. "Eighteen guests, April. We're clearing them out before the causeway locks down."

"Eighteen people need three buses?" I asked.

"They have medical equipment," Natalie said, her voice steady. "Pets. Personal belongings."

"Those are golf clubs."

Luke rubbed a hand over his face. "The bank called Tuesday, April. I'm two payments behind. If Seabriar walks away from this contract, they take two buses on Monday."

"Then you should have told me," I said.

"And what would you have done?" he shot back. "Found fourteen thousand dollars in five minutes?"

"Not left our daughter in a dark gym."

Natalie finally looked directly at me. "You signed the resort as a backup client."

"Backup," I said. "Not first."

I pulled out my phone and dialed Tony, the driver for Bus Four. He picked up on the fourth ring.

"What school run?" Tony's voice was muffled by the roar of the wind on his end. "Luke canceled it at two-ten. Said the county had other transportation."

I ended the call and tucked the phone into my pocket.

I didn't look at the luggage. I turned around, walked back to my truck, and climbed into the driver's seat.

My phone buzzed against my palm.

[David: Water's at the gym doors. My son's inhaler is empty. Where are the buses?]

I put the truck in gear and turned toward the school.