Trusting Will (The Camerons of Tide's Way #3)

by Skye Taylor

  “The Holly Shelter land is a labyrinth of narrow dirt lanes, bike paths, and hiking trails where our cruisers can’t go. I’ve got two SUVs out there on the accessible roads, but as soon as Diaz gets here, I’d like you two searching as much of the place as you can get to.”

  “I can get started, and you can send him after me,” Will suggested. He was used to patrolling alone. It was how state highway troopers worked.

  Nicholson shook his head. “That’s what got Schaeffer in trouble. I’m not sending anyone else out there except in pairs.”

  The name Schaeffer was familiar. Will only knew the guy in passing, but he knew him well enough to know the man had recently been married. His wife must be terrified. This was the kind of thing Bree had tried to explain to Will.

  Somehow it just never felt like it was going to happen to you. Will wondered how Schaeffer had been caught with his guard down, so he asked, “What happened?”

  “Routine traffic stop,” Nicholson answered. He closed his eyes as if wishing to open them and discover this was just a drill. When his brown eyes did open again, there was a look of determination in them. “We’ll catch the bastard.”

  “Any description? Anything caught on the dashcam?”

  “The guy was riding a Harley. Metalic blue, matching helmet. You and Diaz are the most likely to catch up to him, I’m thinking. I sent cars around to the far side of the park and set up road blocks on seventeen, but there’s a lot of wilderness to cover.” Nicholson rattled off the known description. “Five feet ten or eleven, a lot of black leather, except it appears he was wearing sneakers near as we can tell without the equipment to blow the picture up. Had a dark braid down his back with a lot of gray in it. All that was recorded before Schaeffer even stepped out of his cruiser.”

  As Nicolson finished speaking, Mateo Diaz pulled into the clearing, sending up a spray of small stones and dust. Unlike Will, he was in uniform and had probably been on duty. He hurried over to where Will and Nicholson were standing.

  “I’ll leave you to fill Diaz in. I want to check with dispatch and the hospital. Stay in touch.”

  As they headed back to their motorcycles, Will repeated everything he’d just learned. “He’s armed and not afraid to kill, even law enforcement,” Will warned as they revved their bikes and pulled out, headed west on Lodge Road, deep into Holly Shelter game land, looking for the first turnoff where their search would begin.

  Could have been worse. Could have been dusk when this guy melted into the woods. Then we might never catch him. He probably knows there’ll be roadblocks at the other end. So, where will he try to elude us?

  Will was familiar with most of the preservation land, but there was close to fifty thousand acres to get lost in, though not necessarily on a Harley. He only hoped the man they were after was not as familiar with the preserve as he and Diaz were.

  Half an hour later they doubled back and headed off on a new set of trails. Perhaps it would have been better if it had been hunting season, then if the guy tried to hijack anyone’s truck at least the owners would be armed. But it wasn’t, and Will was sure Nicholson would be breathing a sigh of relief that a shooting war wasn’t about to begin. The only hikers they passed scuttled up the embankment as they approached. When questioned, they had neither seen nor heard anyone on a motorcycle before the troopers showed up.

  After four hours of searching, Will and Diaz pulled into a small parking area where several hiking trails began. It had started to rain, and Ben’s borrowed denim jacket was wet through. Will hunched his shoulders against the chill and called Nicholson to check in. Just as he was about to hang up, Diaz caught Will’s attention and pointed to a dense thicket.

  “Hang on,” Will told the sheriff. He shrugged, asking Diaz without words what he’d seen.

  Diaz pointed to the bright blue circle in the state logo painted on the gray panel of his bike, then back toward the thicket. Will followed his pointing finger. Then he saw it. A glimmer of metallic blue hidden in the thick underbrush.

  “I think we might have something,” he whispered into his phone. He gave Nicholson their location and a description of what they’d found.

  “Don’t do anything rash. I’ll have backup there in minutes,” Nicholson said.

  Not that Will planned to do anything rash. He was not wearing protective gear. They’d only been sent to find the man and to apprehend him only if they could do so without endangering themselves. But there might be a way to gain an advantage.

  Will caught Diaz’ attention and jerked his chin imperceptibly in the direction of a wide trail opening that started off flat and open before it turned and climbed up to a small ridge overlooking the rest area. Narrower hiking-only trails branched off from the overlook. Diaz nodded, and they peeled out onto the trail opening. When they reached the point where neither motorcycle could go any further, Will stayed on his and kept the engine running while Diaz scrambled the rest of the way up the hill on foot, eventually inching along on his belly to the edge of the ridge.

  “We’ve got him,” Diaz announced, sliding back down in a shower of loose dirt.

  “How?” Will let his engine die.

  “We didn’t see it because of the signboard, but I think he didn’t make the turn into the lot, collided with the sign, and went crashing off into the brush. He’s lying face down about eight or nine feet from where his bike is tangled in the heavy stuff.”

  “Well, that’s just too easy.” Will grinned at their good fortune. “But just to be on the safe side, let’s leave the bikes here and sneak back down from the other side.”

  The going wasn’t as easy as Will made it sound, but by the time their backup arrived in the form of a deputy’s SUV, an unmarked pickup truck, and five men, they had the fugitive cuffed, cussing and sitting in front of the sign that had been his undoing with a huge knot forming on his forehead. Diaz was applying a bandage to keep blood from trickling into the guy’s face.

  “Good news on Schaeffer, too,” the deputy said as they hauled the cuffed man to the back of the SUV. “He’s out of surgery and conscious. He was lucky.”

  “So’s this guy,” Will muttered. “If he’d been a better shot, he’d be up for murder one.”

  “Scumbag.” Diaz snorted. He nodded at Will, his eyes raking over the soaked jacket and jeans. “Hell of a way to spend your Sunday off.”

  Will shrugged. “Better than not finding the guy after all that effort.” And now I can go home and reassure Bree that I haven’t met my maker yet.

  BREE HADN’T GOTTEN anything done. She’d paced, prayed, and paced some more. She hadn’t eaten anything either. Just friends or not, this waiting and worrying had her tied in knots.

  She wasn’t hungry, but she had to find something to do. The waiting was killing her. Pulling out pans and mixing bowls, she started assembling the makings of quick bread to use up the overly speckled bananas on the verge of attracting fruit flies. She was so distracted she had to read the ingredient list three times before she was sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

  Just as she shoved the pans into the oven and set the timer, Sam came in with Ben following. Bree wiped her hands on a towel and dug into her purse for Will’s keys. She handed them to Ben, afraid to ask if Will had called.

  “Haven’t heard anything,” Ben said as if he’d read her mind. “But that’s not necessarily bad. He’s probably too busy.”

  Bree opened her mouth to agree, but she couldn’t force the words out. She tried to read Ben’s expression but couldn’t do that either.

  “I’ll let you know if we hear anything.” Ben paused in the doorway, his hand resting on the knob. “Call us if you hear first?”

  Bree nodded and did her best to force a smile onto her face. “Thanks for having Sam over.”

  “Our pleasure. By the way, Sam’s had supper. We stopped for pizza. And
try not to worry. He’ll be fine.” Then Ben was gone.

  “Is Will going to be okay, Mom?”

  Bree spun around and went down on one knee to meet Sam’s gaze on his level. “Of course he is. Didn’t you hear Mr. Cameron say so?”

  “But he’s been gone a long time. All afternoon.”

  “Sometimes police work takes a long time.”

  “But what if he gets hurt?” Sam’s worried face echoed the raging angst building up inside Bree.

  “Tell you what. If you get your jammies on and brush your teeth, I’ll let you curl up on the sofa and watch a movie while we wait to hear. Sound like a deal?”

  Sam’s face brightened, and he took off down the hall to comply.

  If only Ben’s words and her own could reassure her. Some of the sick feeling in her stomach at this point was probably hunger. Maybe a mug of tea would help. And warm banana bread when it came out of the oven.

  Sam returned in record time, dragging his favorite quilt. The quilt had been his go-to for comfort since he was a toddler. It said something that he’d brought it with him now. They were both in too deep not to worry about Will. That troubled her, but without crushing Sam’s new friendship, she couldn’t see a way to protect him, any more than she was protecting her own heart.

  Sam curled up on the sofa and pulled his tattered quilt about himself. Bree popped his favorite new movie into the DVD player and hit play.

  “He’ll be okay,” she said as she adjusted the quilt.

  “What if I fall asleep before he comes home?”

  “Then I’ll wake you up.” Not that Will had any reason to come to her apartment. His Jeep was back at his brother’s place again. If anything, that’s where Will would be most likely to go first. But Ben had promised to call.

  She sat next to Sam, her hands curled around her mug of tea as if its warmth could ease her anxiety. The movie had claimed Sam’s attention, but hers wandered to the window and the realization that it was dark outside.

  Where is he? She wished she had put the television on earlier to possibly catch some mention of the manhunt on the news. But she was afraid to find out that things had gone horribly wrong, so she hadn’t.

  A buzzer sounded. Bree scrambled to her feet as a flood of relief started to wash through her. But it wasn’t the door. It was the oven.

  She turned to check on Sam, but he had fallen asleep, clutching a fold of his quilt against his face with his thumb in his mouth. Sam hadn’t sucked his thumb since those first months after his father died. How much of Sam’s anxiety had he absorbed from her and how much was his own? Her head throbbed.

  She went to take the bread out of the oven. The tea had helped calm her stomach some, but the smell of the freshly baked banana bread wasn’t nearly as appealing as it should have been. She returned to the living room with a second cup of tea, but instead of settling back onto the sofa, she crossed to the window and stared out at Carlisle Place.

  The streetlamps cast pools of yellow light along the street, but nothing moved, and Will’s parking spot was still conspicuously empty. She watched until her tea was gone, but still there was no sign of Will. Finally, she returned to the sofa, and, pulling the afghan off the back, she curled up opposite Sam to wait.

  A soft rap woke her out of a restless sleep, and for a moment, she couldn’t recall why she was on the sofa instead of in her bed. Then the whole afternoon and evening came rushing back, and she bolted for the door. Will’s hand was raised as if he was getting ready to knock again when she yanked the door open and nearly fell into his arms.

  “Nice welcome home,” Will murmured as his arms closed around her. He lifted her off the floor as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft click. He set her down and kissed her temple.

  The warm rush of relief made Bree giddy and thankful for Will’s strong arms holding her. Then anger blossomed. She pushed away and glared up at him. “This is exactly what I told you I couldn’t cope with. And that!” She pointed at Sam, still cuddled under his quilt, but with his thumb no longer in his mouth.

  “What about Sam?” Will looked perplexed.

  “He was so worried about you he was sucking his thumb.” Her voice trembled between anger and desperation.

  Will crossed the room and squatted in front of the sofa. “Hey, sport. I’m back.” He brushed the bangs off Sam’s face. Slowly Sam opened his eyes.

  It took a moment for him to wake up and for the import of what he was seeing to sink in, but then Sam launched himself into Will’s arms. “You’re home.”

  Will staggered backward but laughed as he regained his balance and stood up. “Did you think I wouldn’t come home?” Sam wrapped his legs about Will’s waist, and the quilt fell forgotten to the floor. Will’s gaze caught Bree’s across Sam’s head. “Shall I put him in his bed?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Will carried Sam down the hallway. The murmur of their voices faded as Will turned into Sam’s room, but they must have continued to talk because Will didn’t return right away. Bree tried to gather the anger she’d felt moments ago around herself as armor.

  She didn’t want to care this much. She didn’t want to endure another afternoon like this one. She didn’t want to love him at all.

  “He was tired,” Will said, returning to the living room.

  “He was worried,” Bree countered.

  Will gazed at Bree for a long moment before he spoke. “He didn’t have to be. The only thing I told the boys was that I had to go into work for a while. What did you tell him?”

  Bree tried to recall exactly what she had said but couldn’t. She did remember wondering if Sam was worried only because she was. “Nothing,” she huffed defensively.

  Will’s blond brows rose as if he doubted her word. “Did you turn on the news? Is that how he knew about the manhunt?”

  “He didn’t find out about that from me. I didn’t turn the TV on. Maybe you should be asking your brother what they were watching.”

  Will’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe the boys turned the TV on in Rick’s bedroom. Ben wouldn’t have let them watch news coverage if he’d known it was on. Look, Bree . . .” He held his hands toward her in entreaty. “I’m sorry Sam was worried. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I just got caught up in reports and paperwork, and I didn’t think.”

  “That’s the whole problem. You don’t think. You just do. It’s who you are.” Her anger was back, and she gathered it around her like a shield.

  “I also stopped by the hospital to see the guy who got shot. He’s going to be okay, in case you want to know. So, I guess I’ll be going now. Where did you leave the Jeep?” Will looked tired.

  Bree glanced at the clock and realized it was after eleven. He must be exhausted. She let go of her anger and crossed the room to him. “Ben came for it. He said you didn’t like leaving the bike out front.” She put her hand on his shoulder and tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m glad everything’s okay, and you’re home safe.”

  “Tell Sam I’ll see him Tuesday for scouts.”

  Bree followed him to the door, trying to think what else she should say or should have said.

  Will stood in the open doorway, gazing at her as if there was something else he wanted to say, too. The lines of fatigue were etched deep around his eyes and mouth, and there was no glimmer of either his smile or his humor.

  “Good night, Bree.” Will left and closed the door behind him.

  Chapter 19

  EXCEPT FOR A few brief moments when he stopped in to pick Sam up for scouts, Bree didn’t see Will all week. When she let herself think about it, curiosity niggled at her. Where had he been planning to take her on Sunday when the call from his captain came in? Will had been brimming with humor and eagerness, and when their afternoon had been interrupted, he’d said he would show her later. But la
ter had not come, and Will had not mentioned it again.

  Bree was ashamed of the way she’d lashed out at him. Her anger had created an uncomfortable distance between them that she didn’t know how to breach. It was not Will’s fault that she’d let her anxiety get the best of her. It hadn’t even been his fault that Sam had been worried. Will had been exhausted, yet he’d taken the time to reassure Sam and tuck him into bed. And look how she had rewarded his thoughtfulness.

  Sam had bounced back as if the day hadn’t happened at all. He’d returned from scouts full of excitement about the Pinewood Derby races coming up the Saturday after Easter. Several fathers had come down to the church basement to set up the race track again so the three boys who would be headed to the regional competition could run their racers through their paces. Sam was sure he had a chance to win a ribbon at least.

  Now it was Saturday, and they were both at loose ends. Sam had gone upstairs that morning with the list of things he had been required to learn for his First Holy Communion. Everything on the list had been checked off, and Sam couldn’t wait to show Will because it meant Sam had completed another scouting achievement and would get his religious emblem at the next award ceremony. He had come back a few minutes later, despondent because Will was not at home.

  Bree thumbed through Sam’s Wolf Handbook, looking for another activity that might interest him. Something a mother and son could do together.

  “Why don’t we take a bike ride today? You can show me all the signals and safety rules you’ve learned.”

  “Where will we go?” Sam asked, brightening quickly.

  Bree thought about it. They could ride to the beach. It was a lovely day for the beach. But they could also ride in the other direction and visit the Jolee Plantation. Will said the place had been cleared, and the local sheriff was keeping an eye on it. There seemed no reason why she and Sam should not ride there together.