“I was talking to Clay. He said you might need a lift.”
“That’s all he said?” She cast a quick glance at him, meant to look away and didn’t.
Sawyer’s eyes never left the road, but he nodded. “That’s all he said.”
Kelsey studied him for another minute. He’d grown up since high school, something that should have been obvious, but that hadn’t struck her till now. He still had that confident look of a guy used to winning at everything, but his shoulders had broadened, his jawline grown even stronger. The combination should have made him look even more arrogant. And yet...
If she looked closely, a bit of the cockiness was gone. He seemed a little less intimidating than he’d always been.
Intimidating? Did she just admit she’d been intimidated by him? As they drove down the dark road, making the last few turns before the Hamilton property, she realized that yes, she had been. That didn’t mean she’d backed down from academic competition with him—that was far from the truth. But maybe her dislike of him had been rooted partly in her own insecurity?
That and his part in ruining her life. She couldn’t forget that.
It looked like most of the party had cleared out of the museum, something Kelsey knew the police department would have orchestrated. From what Sawyer had said—or rather, hadn’t said—the public didn’t know about the murder yet. The police officers would have taken everyone’s statements, but would have given as little information as possible, not wanting to bias or influence anyone’s recollections. And now that everyone was gone, they’d be hard at work establishing a perimeter around the crime scene, so they could begin their investigation.
It was funny how much Kelsey wished she was out there with them, checking for evidence, processing the scene. Police work had just been a practical fallback when her dreams of leaving town for college had come crashing down. But to her surprise, it had become something she’d enjoyed. Who knew the desire to investigate was still so strong inside her?
“There’s my car.” Kelsey motioned to the dark blue Jeep Patriot.
Wordlessly, Sawyer pulled his truck in beside it. “It really was good to see you again, I wasn’t just saying that. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Yeah,” Kelsey replied instinctively, too startled to formulate many thoughts. Take care of herself? Why would he say that like he cared? “Uh, you, too.” She scrambled out of the truck as gracefully as she could and shut the door, breathing a sigh of relief as she did so. Hopefully their paths wouldn’t cross again while she was still in town and she wouldn’t have to examine her own attitudes toward him anymore. Those feelings were one large tangle of confusion. And Kelsey disliked confusion.
Careful to stay mostly on her toes and not sink her silver heels into the dirt to avoid rolling an ankle, she walked the few steps to her car carefully and reached for the door handle.
But...there on the windshield.
What was that?
As every alarm in her mind blared, she reached for the white rectangle, opened the envelope, which wasn’t sealed but just folded shut, and pulled a slip of paper out of it.
Typed. Naturally. No need to leave more evidence than necessary.
On autopilot, she unfolded the crisp white paper, folded precisely into three sections.
She read the words she’d somehow known were coming.
YOU HAVE TWELVE HOURS TO GET OUT OF TREASURE POINT. BE GONE BY TOMORROW MORNING OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES. PS I’M WATCHING YOU. CAN YOU SEE ME?
* * *
Sawyer had been raised to be a gentleman. No matter how cold Kelsey had been to him, he was going to sit right here in this pickup and wait until she’d climbed into her car and safely driven away. Something had happened in Treasure Point tonight, something dangerous. While he might not know what it was, Kelsey’s strange behavior and her presence at the police department—not in an official capacity, it seemed—pointed to her being involved, and possibly in danger, one way or another.
Somehow he felt even more responsible for her safety than he would have another woman. Maybe it was the knowledge that he’d gotten the scholarship she’d wanted—a pretty stupid thing to be trying to make up for a decade later. Especially since she probably didn’t remember, and how could she blame him? He’d had dreams to pursue, too, dreams his father hadn’t necessarily approved of and had told him in no uncertain terms he wouldn’t finance. So he’d worked like crazy on that speech, won the competition and double majored in business—his father’s dream for him—and marine biology—his dream for himself, one he never would have been able to reach without that scholarship. There had been other scholarships, but this one had covered nearly all the tuition. He hadn’t wanted to alienate his father by dropping the business degree altogether... And the fact was that while he’d gotten the marine biology degree, he hadn’t used it yet, hadn’t wanted to face the drama that was sure to come if he left the family business altogether.
He saw her reach for the car door and put his truck in Drive, keeping his foot on the brake. He didn’t like how all this made him feel, didn’t like revisiting the past. From his perspective, it had been a good past, sure, but something about it obviously bothered Kelsey, and he wasn’t much for analyzing things that had happened years before. Time to let it go, maybe time for him to let his guilt go over that scholarship money, then both of them could move on. It was clear she didn’t want anything to do with him.
Coming back to Treasure Point, being the official representative of the Hamilton family at this museum shindig and all the other official museum events coming up in the next month, was one of the ways he was earning his redemption for the business mistakes he’d had hanging over his head for the last year, ever since the project he’d taken a gamble on had come crashing down—along with most of his father’s respect for him. Doing this well was one way to earn that back, which was why he hadn’t protested much when the opportunity was offered to him. Aunt Mary couldn’t do it because her health was declining, and his parents had other obligations. That and Sawyer suspected that while they enjoyed their prominent position in the town, they viewed actually participating in town events to be somewhat beneath them. In any case, he was happy to do it in their place. He’d officially taken a month of paid vacation time from his father’s company, but unofficially, Sawyer was fairly certain he was through trying to make himself fit in a world where he didn’t belong. Marine biology had been his passion—here was his chance to look for a job where he could use those skills. The family obligations had provided a good excuse to take this vacation, a plus in his mind. He hadn’t anticipated that it would also give him the chance to make the past up to Kelsey, as well. Or at least try to, if she would let him.
She didn’t seem to want his regret, didn’t need his friendship. And Sawyer refused to sit around and let that nag at him.
Foot raised over the gas pedal, he looked at Kelsey again. Why was it taking her so long to get into the car?
Something about this wasn’t sitting well in his stomach. Slowly, he lowered his foot back to the floor and put the truck back into Park, almost in slow motion.
Was that something in her hands? What was she doing?
Kelsey looked over her shoulder first, then spun in his direction, eyes wide. She looked back at her car.
He rolled down the passenger side window. “You need something?”
“No.” She said it firmly, cutting him off before the whole sentence had even tumbled from his mouth. But he wouldn’t let her push him away that easily.
“Look, whatever you think of me, I’m not stupid. I can tell something’s wrong, Kelsey. Maybe you should get back in my truck.”
She turned toward him, eyes flashing. But no sound left her mouth. Neither of them had a chance to say anything before a sharp crack, like a firecracker, but with more weight, split the air.
“
Get down!” he yelled, but she’d already dropped by the time he said it. Had she been downed by the gunshot or were her instincts that fast?
He was just about to push his own door open, run out there and see if she was all right when the passenger door opened and she jumped in.
Another shot rang out, just as she was climbing in. This one hit metal.
“Go!” Kelsey yelled. He was already working on it. He peeled out, tires squealing like they hadn’t since he was sixteen, and drove. He didn’t ease up on the gas till they were mostly down the drive that led out of the Hamilton estate and back to the main road.
Kelsey had pulled out her phone and had it lifted to her ear. He needed an explanation, wanted to know especially why she seemed to calm, so unsurprised by this. But he imagined she was probably calling the police, and that was more important right now.
He heard someone on the other end answer. The voice was low. Male. The chief?
“This is Kelsey. You need to know that somebody wants me dead.”
She said it calmly. Like it was a fact, nothing more, no feelings attached.
Someone wanted her dead. Why? Was it connected to whatever had happened at the museum? What had she gotten mixed up in? Uncertainty clouded the edges of his judgment. What did he really know about Kelsey Jackson? Nothing. And hadn’t he heard rumors here and there—he tried not to pay attention to small-town gossip, but it was impossible to avoid altogether—that she hadn’t left the police department on the best terms?
She set the phone down. He glanced over at her. “Where are we going?” He kept his own voice calm and measured. The chief seemed to trust her; that had to be enough for him now. He couldn’t exactly leave her on the side of the road when someone had been shooting at her ninety seconds before.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“What are you sure of?” he asked as he kept driving. He’d grown up here, knew every back road in a thirty-mile radius, minimum, and he had a full tank of gas. If driving was what she wanted, that’s what they’d do.
She looked over at him. “You really didn’t hear anything about what happened tonight?”
He shrugged. “It’s pretty clear that something happened, but the police were being pretty closemouthed about it all.” Sawyer glanced over at her, but nothing in her expression gave away any of her thoughts. She must have been one impressive cop. He turned back to the road. “Was something vandalized?” he guessed. “Or stolen?” A theft would explain the police response, but not the gunshots. What had she done that resulted in someone wanting her dead?
“Not as far as I know. But Michael Wingate is dead.”
“The curator?” The man had been around Treasure Point for as long as Sawyer could remember, but their paths hadn’t crossed much when he was a kid—he’d guess Michael was about twenty, maybe thirty years older. He’d met him formally for the first time yesterday.
“Someone pushed him off a balcony. I overheard it happening just a few minutes before the lights went out. Now someone wants me dead.”
“What was on your car that made you stop?”
“A note.” Kelsey looked down at her lap, leaned over to look at the floor. “I must have dropped it during the shooting. It said I had twelve hours to get out of town or I’d pay for it, basically.”
“They didn’t give you until morning, though.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t know why.”
“Maybe the note was a trap itself, just to get you to stand in one place.”
“Could be. Who knows?”
Sawyer kept driving, winding his way through the tall pine trees that towered over the darkened back roads.
Kelsey said nothing. He got the feeling she was still deciding whether or not she could trust him.
And Sawyer was trying to decide the same thing. One thing was certain, though. He wasn’t going to be able to drive away and put the dangers of Kelsey’s situation behind him.
FOUR
She’d been in Treasure Point for less than forty-eight hours, and Kelsey was already on her second trip to the police station. At least this time, she was in the chief’s office, waiting for him to come back in.
“Just can’t stay away, can you?” one of the officers teased as he walked by the room. Kelsey offered a small smile back, thankful the teasing seemed to be good-natured.
Lieutenant Davies strolled through the door, piercing her with a hard glare. “It seems you’re a regular magnet for trouble, huh, Jackson?”
He’d always called her by her last name. He didn’t consistently do that to any of the male officers and it had always rankled her.
But he was one man who’d never intimidated her. “No, it just seems that this town isn’t the sweet little hamlet by the sea that some people like to pretend that it is.”
He studied her for a minute. “That’s what you’re going with? You don’t think it looks oddly coincidental to us that years ago you were in a relationship with a suspect while you were an officer, aided him in getting away with the crimes he committed, and now you’re back and there’s trouble at the museum?”
“I wasn’t in a relationship with a suspect.” Kelsey took a deep breath, pushed back memories of the past, and kept talking. She’d let a guilty man go because she’d misjudged him, that was it. How had the rumor mill managed to morph the story from the truth to something so salacious was beyond her. “I looked up all the information on the museum before I took the job here, Lieutenant. I’m well aware that there’s been trouble at the museum since the idea was barely a spark in the historical society’s eye.” The museum had suffered several bouts of sabotage in a failed attempt to avoid the discovery of a years-old murder victim on the grounds.
Davies had nothing to say to that. Keeping quiet, he set down a stack of manila envelopes on the table, took a seat at the chair opposite her and stared.
The chief walked in just then. “Kelsey, I’ve got almost all my men at the museum—they’re collecting evidence on Mr. Wingate’s death, but they also started looking for any clues as to your attacker as soon as they heard the shots fired.” He turned to Davies. “I actually need you back there now, supervising.”
The lieutenant walked out without another word to Kelsey, which was fine with her.
Although facing the chief when he was wearing his current expression was a bit intimidating.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“You believe you witnessed a murder tonight.”
“Yes.”
“We don’t have any evidence of foul play yet, nothing except your testimony to tell us it was anything other than an accidental death.” The older man shook his head. “It’d be likely this won’t be treated as a murder, except that we went through a similar case recently. Because of that we will treat this one as though it is a homicide, whether preliminary evidence supports that or not.”
Kelsey let out a breath. At least she could let go of the worry that the department wouldn’t take this seriously.
“Did you see anything that could help us find the person responsible?”
“Just dark shapes. I heard more than I saw. As soon as I walked into that room I knew something wasn’t right. There was just a feeling...” She shook her head. “I guess that sounds ridiculous. There was no concrete reason to check things out any further, and yet I couldn’t stop myself.”
“It’s called following your instincts, Kelsey. It’s what made you such a good officer.”
She snorted.
“That last case doesn’t define you. Overall, you did good work here. Sure you don’t want to come back?”
Not an option, not for any reason. The dream she’d worked so hard for was within her reach now, and it was a sure thing. She wasn’t going back to a world of guesses and suspi
cions when she had certainty in her new job, that and an opportunity to see the world outside of Treasure Point.
“All right, I know when to give up.” The chief cleared his throat. “So you heard a scuffle. You’re sure you didn’t see anything specific?”
“Just shapes, sir. I could tell someone was pushed off the balcony, but I couldn’t make out any identifying features of either of the people.”
“We’ve got Shiloh there now trying to get prints from the crime scene. Maybe we’ll catch a break and she’ll find something right away.”
“Maybe,” Kelsey echoed, but she knew that as valuable as forensic evidence was, if the criminal had been extremely careful, there might not be much. Besides, there had been a number of people in and around the museum in the past few days, setting up for the event. The evidence would be difficult to find.
“As for where we go from here...tell me about what happened when you returned to the museum.”
She described the note she had found on the windshield, and the shots that had been fired shortly after. She even, grudgingly, shared Sawyer’s theory that the note might have been a ploy just to get her to stand still. She didn’t like the man, but she couldn’t deny that the suggestion made sense.
“If someone is trying to kill you, we need to take that seriously,” the chief said when she had finished.
“Sir, you know I’m capable of defending myself.”
The chief folded his arms across his barrel chest and leaned back in his chair. “You still have your Georgia concealed carry permit, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And a weapon?”
“Not on me.” Something she’d regretted most of the evening, but where was she supposed to put a holster when she was wearing a semiformal dress? Kelsey knew it could be done, but figuring out the logistics when she was a private citizen going to a party where she’d had no reason to expect trouble hadn’t been a high priority.
“Locked up at home?”
She nodded.
“Fix that. Keep it on you at all times when you go out.”
Perilous Homecoming Page 3
