Beyond Risk

by Connie Mann

  A lump formed in Charlee’s throat. “I will. Thanks.”

  * * *

  He watched her climb out of the FWC pickup and scowled. He didn’t like the way the lieutenant hovered around her. Didn’t he have other things to do? Like try to figure out what had happened to Brittany? He hadn’t wanted to handle her death that way, and it annoyed him that he’d had to modify his plans. He could, of course, if he wanted to. But he hadn’t wanted to. He liked coming up with a plan, a perfect plan, and then executing it brilliantly. The plan was for Brittany to die on the river. Like Nora.

  He ran a hand over his head. No, not like Nora. Because of Charlee, Nora hadn’t died. JJ had. Beautiful JJ, who hadn’t done anything wrong except have females around who constantly belittled him and criticized him and made him feel small. He knew what that was like. Knew what happened when you didn’t have a champion to stand up to the bullies, those ugly female creatures who smiled so sweetly but had all the power and used it to beat you down. JJ should never have died.

  And that was Charlee’s fault. If she hadn’t been so worried about stupid Nora, she would have gotten there in time.

  He narrowed his eyes when that Boudreau jerk put his hand at the small of Charlee’s back to guide her. Like she was his. Like he’d put his own stamp on her.

  Anger tried to burst out, break free. Had the cop dared to do more than look? He’d pay for that. Charlee would pay for that, too. Charlee was his, and it was time she understood that. They had a connection, he and Charlee, a bond, strong and permanent. It had been forged on the Suwannee a year ago and had only gotten stronger in the time since. She might not realize it, but he’d seen how she’d changed this year, how she’d gotten sad, seen how much she needed him. Some Johnny-come-lately wasn’t going to get in the way of that. Not while he was around to stop it.

  No, Charlee was his. Until he decided her time was up. Then she wouldn’t be anybody’s. But he would decide when that time came. He alone.

  “I’m hungry. Can we eat soon?”

  He started at the voice. Had forgotten he wasn’t alone. He took all the anger and all the anticipation and carefully hid them inside so there was no trace of his agitation on his face. He turned, smiled gently. “Of course. What would you like? Should I grill us a couple of burgers?”

  A big toothy grin accompanied vigorous head nodding. “Can we get more cupcakes? At the Corner Café? They’re really good.”

  He reached over and ruffled his hair. “How about burgers first, then cupcakes later, before we have to work. Sound good?”

  The big goofy grin was answer enough. He took meat out of the freezer and then went outside to fire up the grill. The Corner Café was always a good place to pick up the local news and gossip.

  * * *

  Charlee was surprised at the size of the crowd at the café when she and Hunter arrived.

  Liz elbowed her way through the well-wishers and swept the cupcake holders out of Charlee’s hands, then pulled her into a desperate hug.

  Charlee tried to lighten the mood as Liz swiped tears from her cheeks. “Great, now you look like a raccoon, with mascara everywhere.”

  “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

  Charlee rolled her eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

  She spent the next few minutes getting hugged and questioned by the locals, giving vague answers, and trying to ignore the ache behind her eyeballs. Time for a few more ibuprofen.

  Hunter had positioned himself at a little table in the back corner and alternately watched her and everyone coming and going. Which was both unnerving and comforting. As a former cop, she found herself studying people she’d known her whole life with a new and uncomfortable suspicion.

  Sammy bounded through the door and wrapped Charlee in a hug that knocked the breath out of her. “Charlee! You’re here. Did you bring more cupcakes?”

  She laughed. “For you, Sammy. Always.” She nudged him toward the counter, met Liz’s eyes. “Sammy wants at least two cupcakes, Liz.”

  Liz smiled. “Coming right up. Show me which ones you want, Sammy.”

  Charlee swept her gaze around the café and had a sudden, unbidden urge to leave, right then. She glanced at Hunter, and something must have shown on her face, because he stood and reached her in three quick strides. “You ready to hit the road?”

  She nodded, hugged Liz, and they were out the door.

  But as they crossed the threshold, Charlee stopped, scanned the parking lot. Then looked over her shoulder, studied the faces in the café. Someone was watching her. She could feel it.

  Hunter stepped up behind her. “Something wrong, cher?”

  She studied the parking lot again. Nothing looked out of place, and no one seemed to be paying her any attention. But the feeling persisted. “No, let’s go.”

  * * *

  Hunter stood behind her as Charlee opened the door to her cottage. She crossed the threshold and almost landed on her butt when she stepped on an envelope and it slid out from under her flip-flop. She took several stumbling steps into the living room but managed to stay on her feet.

  “What in the world?” She reached down for the envelope.

  “Don’t touch it.” Hunter went back to his truck for gloves and an evidence bag. He carefully opened the manila envelope and pulled out a photo.

  Charlee leaned over his shoulder and gasped when she realized what it was. The picture was of her, standing on the porch, holding the newspaper clipping of last year’s death. Her head snapped up, and she looked around. “Somebody’s watching me. Whoever sent this was here the day the clipping came.” A shiver passed over her skin, and she rubbed her arms as she paced.

  Hunter slid the photo and envelope into the evidence bag. “Maybe. Maybe not. They wouldn’t have known exactly when it would arrive. It came in the mail?”

  Charlee thought back. “Yes, definitely. I saw the Lake City postmark.” She stopped, looked at Hunter. “Someone is trying to creep me out, and they are succeeding.”

  “It’s more than that, cher, and you’re too smart not to know it.”

  “I do. But until Brittany’s murder, I figured it was Tommy or Sally Jennings, maybe even James, Tommy’s brother, trying to make me pay for some of their anguish, like I said. Now I don’t know what to think.”

  “We need to talk to them.”

  “Tommy and Sally’s relationship wasn’t great to begin with. I can’t imagine trying to deal with the loss of a child.”

  “It’s got to be the hardest thing in the world. But if one of them crossed the line from grieving to revenge, we’ll find out.”

  Charlee nodded, her mind spinning. Despite the temperature outside, she felt chilled all the way to her bones and rubbed her arms, wondering if she’d ever feel warm again.

  She stood at the kitchen window, looking out. Sunlight flashed between the branches of the huge live oaks that surrounded her cottage, giving the area a fairy-tale feel. The breeze swept through the strands of Spanish moss that swayed from the branches, rustling the leaves.

  Something glinted, then disappeared.

  Charlee watched, waited.

  There.

  “Hunter.” The word came out a whisper. He didn’t respond, so he must not have heard her. She said his name again, and he appeared at her elbow.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She ignored the way the words whispered across the back of her neck and pointed. “There’s something—or someone—in the tree out there. See?”

  Together, they waited, watched the moss and leaves.

  Whatever is was flashed again, and Hunter muttered, “Stay put,” before he pulled his gun and eased out the back door.

  Chapter 10

  Hunter approached the tree from the back, where the trail camera was mounted, to make sure whoever had put it there wouldn’t get a glimpse of him on camera. H
e’d like nothing more than to stomp the thing to bits, but this might be just the break they’d been looking for. On the older models, you had to physically get the SD card from the camera. But on the newer ones, you could connect to your cell phone, and they’d send images to you via email or text. If that was the case, it just might net him the cell number of Charlee’s stalker. But either way, Hunter planned to watch the watcher. He headed back to his truck to get what he needed.

  When he came inside a few minutes later, Charlee stood up from the couch. “A trail camera?”

  “Yes. I’ll see if we can track down the serial number. If we’re really lucky, maybe a cell number it’s tied to. Either way, we’ll be ready if our guy comes back.” He grinned.

  He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “You installed another camera?”

  “You bet. I’m covering all the bases. If it’s a cellular model and Byte can trace it, great. But if it’s one of the older models, our guy will have to come back to get the SD card or replace the battery. We’ll be watching.”

  Charlee rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “It all makes perfect sense. I just don’t like knowing someone’s been watching me. Even worse to think they’ll still be doing it.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, just act—”

  She held up a hand. “Seriously? Do not tell me to act natural.”

  His eyes were steady on hers. “Just trying to catch this guy.”

  “Right. I know. I don’t want to miss the big picture, so to speak.” She shuddered.

  Every protective instinct sprang to life. He wanted to pull her close and promise her it would all be okay. But nobody could promise that, and he respected her too much to offer empty words. Still, the need to hold and protect her gnawed at his good sense. The best thing he could do right now was figure out who was after her. Frustration made his voice gruff. “I need to make some calls. Why don’t you lie down for a while? You look like you’ve been staked out in the desert for days.”

  She batted her eyelashes at him, à la Scarlett O’Hara, and drawled, “I declare, you say the sweetest things.”

  She surprised a laugh out of him, a real laugh that made him shake his head.

  “You should laugh more often, Lieutenant,” she quipped, then sashayed down the hall and closed her bedroom door.

  He stared after her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, truly laughed. She had a way of bringing things out in him he’d thought long dead.

  Focus, Boudreau. He gave Byte the camera’s serial number, hoping it was connected to a cell signal, but he doubted it. It appeared to be one of the older models. Then he updated his captain and responded to the regular two-hour check-in from dispatch, confirming all was well. He also checked in with Fish and Sanchez for an update and checked the CAD log to see what issues his other patrol officers were facing today.

  Finally, he called Josh, who had planned to do an aerial patrol of a section of the Ocala National Forest this morning. “Tanner.”

  “Hey, Hollywood, Boudreau. No issues on that flyover this morning?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did you have a chance yet to check if anyone saw any other cars leaving the area of the shooting?”

  “Of course. I always do my job, Lieutenant.”

  Obviously still ticked off about Hunter’s promotion. Hunter let the silence stretch. “And?” he finally prompted.

  Josh heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I checked with all the first responders, talked to a couple old-timers who don’t live far from there, and questioned anyone else I could think of. No one saw another car in the area. But I did find an elderly couple at the Corner Café who said they’d been coming back from a trip to Ocala for doctor’s appointments when they saw a dark-blue pickup truck barreling away from the forest like, and I quote, ‘The hounds of hell were after him.’ They didn’t get a license plate or good look at the face, though they did say they thought he was a pretty big guy and wearing a ball cap. Which could describe just about any male who lives out here between the ages of eighteen and sixty-five.”

  “Any luck at local tire shops?”

  “I called both places along SR-40, then called every shop on that end of town, but got nothing. On a hunch, I stopped by Joe’s junkyard out that way, too. Nobody claimed to have worked on a blue pickup lately.”

  Hunter huffed out a curse. They needed a solid lead. “Thanks, Hollywood. I appreciate it.”

  “Like I said, Lieutenant, just doing my job.”

  Hunter ignored the chill. In Josh’s place, he’d have been frustrated at being passed over, too. He’d give the man some space. They’d find their way eventually. “Charlee and I spoke to Travis. He’s got a crush on your sister, does Travis. Left work early the other day to make sure she was okay. Says he had overheard mention of the anniversary. Charlee read him the riot act for fretting over her instead of starting CPR on Brittany when he arrived.”

  “Slimy little coward. I bet she did.” There was a pause, then Josh added, “It’s damn coincidental that Travis just ‘happened’ to show up there at that time.”

  “Agreed. But to what end? That he has a thing for Charlee, I get. That he let it distract him from what he needed to do, I also get. But that he would want to harm Brittany for some reason? It’s a big leap I’m not sure I’m ready to make.”

  “Why don’t I run his background? I think he grew up around here, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Do that and let me know. Thanks, Hollywood.”

  “How’s Charlee?”

  “Sleeping right now. Brittany’s death hit her hard, and she didn’t get much sleep last night. And I’m sure her head is still pounding. But she’s tough. She’ll handle it.”

  “I can come spell you for a while.”

  “No. We’re fine here.” In the ensuing silence, Hunter realized he’d answered too fast. “If you’ll get me the background on Travis, that’ll help.”

  * * *

  Hunter checked on Charlee throughout the night, but she never stirred. At six, he made coffee and did a search for Brittany Harris’s name. Not surprisingly, she was all over social media, especially Instagram. There were lots of pictures of her “enduring” the trip to Florida with her lame brother and stupid father, but none of that was out of the ordinary. Wyatt didn’t show up there, but he was all over the online gaming forums and chat rooms. It didn’t take long to find out which games he played most often, who his gaming partners were, that he couldn’t wait to graduate and get away from his family, and that he thought school was a waste of time. He was particularly vocal about a certain math professor at his private school who, to hear Wyatt tell it, picked on him all the time for no reason.

  By the time Charlee mumbled, “Morning,” as she wandered into the kitchen, Hunter had just typed the professor’s name into the search engine and the school’s website popped up.

  She walked behind his chair and stopped when she saw his open laptop. “Why are you looking up JJ and Nora Jennings’s school?”

  Hunter turned to face her. “I wasn’t. I was looking up Wyatt and Brittany Harris’s school.”

  All the color drained from Charlee’s face. “Tell me that’s some kind of sick joke.” She poured a glass of water, and a bit sloshed over the rim as she sat down across from him.

  Hunter typed in JJ Jennings’s name and found himself on another page of the school website, with an “in memoriam” listing for James Junior Jennings.

  He checked several more pages on the website, and that twitchy feeling at the back of his neck intensified. “No joke. According to the website, all four kids went to the same private school in White Springs.”

  “And one child from each family died exactly one year apart? No.” Charlee shook her head. “Can’t be coincidence.”

  “I agree.” Something stank about this whole scenario. His phone
rang. “Boudreau. What have you got?” He shifted away so he could focus without being distracted by Charlee’s questioning gaze.

  “You said you were looking for information on the Brittany Harris autopsy right away, Lieutenant,” the medical examiner said.

  “Yes, thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”

  “Your initial assessment was correct. Brittany Harris was suffocated. There was no indication that any system failed that would have caused her death. There were no puncture wounds, no drugs in her system except what was prescribed. Someone put tape over her nose and mouth and suffocated her.”

  Hunter tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely. The who and why will be up to you, Lieutenant.”

  “It is possible she was strangled? She had bruises on her neck.”

  There was a pause. “I considered it, but I don’t think so. The bruising was too light.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” He hung up and faced a wide-eyed Charlee. “I’m sure you heard all that. The ME confirmed Brittany died of suffocation, not the gunshot.” He picked up his phone.

  “Why strangle her and use the duct tape?”

  “Good question. To buy time? To keep her quiet?”

  “Who are you texting?” Charlee asked.

  “Your brothers and Sanchez and Fish. I want to get everyone together for a meeting.”

  Then he called his captain and updated him.

  All the while, Charlee didn’t say a word, just paced the small room, arms locked around her middle, equal parts sadness and fury in her eyes.

  When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he stepped around the table and pulled her into his arms. After a moment’s hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tightened her grip like she’d never let him go. He rubbed his hands up and down her back in a soothing motion, struggling not to notice the way her breasts pressed against his chest or how perfectly they fit together. Her sweet vanilla scent made him want to nuzzle her neck, but he didn’t let himself. The more time he spent with her, especially lately, the more he admired her. And the more he wanted her. She was sharp and beautiful, and lately, she was starting to shed the insecurities that had surrounded her the past year. The fire rekindling inside her made him want to get close enough to absorb some of her heat. But she was his friend, and he knew if he pushed, he could put their friendship in jeopardy. He wouldn’t risk that. She meant too much to him.