fiction

Chapter 7 - The Trail in the Rain

Daniel Harrison stood in a dreary Portland rental car agency, his tailored suit ruined by a steady drizzle, staring at a computer screen alongside a private investigator he had hired at exorbitant expense.

"Mr. Harrison, it wasn't easy," the investigator, a hardened former NYPD detective named Vance Miller, said, tapping a finger against the monitor. "Your wife is smart. She paid cash for a burner phone, used an independent car service to get to JFK, and booked a one-way ticket to Portland under a maiden-name variation."

Daniel’s heart hammered against his ribs. "Where is she? Did she catch a connecting flight to Seattle? San Francisco?"

"No," Miller said, studying a printout. "She rented a compact car at Portland International and drove west. Two weeks ago, a witness matching her description used a credit card—one of the few personal ones left active, though she hasn't used it since—to buy groceries in a small coastal town called Newport."

Newport.

Daniel repeated the name in his mind. It sounded remote, rugged, and entirely divorced from the polished glass towers of Manhattan.

"Pack your bags," Daniel told Miller, his jaw set in a hard line. "We're going to the coast."

It took them another two days of combing through local motels, bed-and-breakfasts, and small-town registries before Miller tracked down a rental agreement matching the vehicle I had used.

On a damp, overcast Tuesday afternoon, Daniel’s black SUV pulled off the coastal highway and rolled quietly into the sleepy harbor town of Newport.

The salt air rushed through the cracked window as Daniel stared out at the wooden storefronts, the bobbing fishing boats in the harbor, and the endless expanse of gray ocean. It was worlds away from the Upper East Side. It was real, raw, and unvarnished.

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As he drove down Harbor Street, his eyes caught a weathered wooden sign hanging above a charming corner building: Gull’s Rest Books & Curios.

And sitting on a wooden bench outside the shop, reading a thick paperback with a woolen blanket draped over her knees, was his wife.

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