Perilous Homecoming

by Sarah Varland

  She needed to spend more time in the room next door to the one where the murder had taken place, although it gave her the shivers to think of being so close to the scene of the crime again. Even though the presence of the police officer should mean she was safe, part of her wanted to call Sawyer. But then she remembered how she’d monopolized his time all day and not been very nice to him, either. The truth was, she was embarrassed by how she’d acted toward him, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

  Kelsey needed to hurry up and do her job here so she could get out of this town, and more importantly, out of Sawyer Hamilton’s life. Who would have guessed that they’d clash worse now in their late twenties than they had in high school? Although, to be fair, it was Kelsey doing the clashing, both then and now—something else she didn’t want to admit. Sawyer, especially in the past few days, had been a perfect gentleman.

  Thoughts of his easygoing smile came way too easily to her mind. No, no, no. She would not think of that smile. She’d been one of the few girls in high school who hadn’t been charmed by it, but she’d had enough life experience to know how much a charming man could make a woman forget.

  Pushing her thoughts away from Sawyer, she focused on the task ahead of her—assessing the contents of the last room in the museum. What would happen to the museum, with the murder of the curator hanging over it? She wanted to believe the killer would be found and the case wrapped up quickly, for the museum’s sake as well as for her own, but Kelsey was also realistic. A case of this depth could take months to solve. Kelsey didn’t have months to spend in Treasure Point.

  She had a gorgeous apartment in downtown Savannah with rent too high for it to sit empty. She had to finish these two assignments to the satisfaction of her clients and bosses, and come back victorious.

  That was easier said than done at this point. Kelsey wasn’t struggling with the antiques insurance at all—that part of her job was coming naturally to her, even if it had been slowed down a bit because of the murder. It was the fact that Treasure Point seemed desperate to get its hooks back in her, to have her stay, even if it was against her will.

  Kelsey sat down at the desk in the corner of this room. It wouldn’t stay here when the museum was officially opened, but for now it was an extra place that Kelsey and the museum board members could do their work without leaving the museum. She set her bag down, settled in with her iPad and the photos she’d taken on it earlier, and began looking through them.

  Kelsey worked for another hour, both at the desk and moving around the room documenting and assessing its contents. She’d just stopped in front of a case containing old letters written by Treasure Point residents—interesting, but not highly valuable—when she heard a noise. It had to be the building settling, right? She listened for a minute but didn’t hear anything else. Still, the place was empty and lonely...

  She pulled her phone out and called Sawyer.

  “Hello?”

  She felt the tension drain from her shoulders and told herself it had nothing to do with Sawyer himself, and more to do with the fact that she was just eager for a connection to some human being, any human being.

  “Hey, it’s Kelsey.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in the museum.”

  “It’s late. Why?”

  “I realized I hadn’t finished all I meant to today.”

  “But you’d already put in a full day. Surely they let you have some downtime, even in your job, right?”

  “I can’t afford to fall further behind here. I need to finish.”

  “So you can get out of this hick town and back to somewhere that matters, right?”

  “I know that Sawyer Hamilton isn’t looking down on me for wanting to get back to my job, back to my life in the city. It’s not like you live here anymore, either. You left to chase success the same as I did.”

  “Actually, according to my father, I’ve been running from success,” he mumbled.

  “What was that?” Kelsey had heard him fine, but she didn’t understand the words.

  “Never mind.” She could almost see him shaking his head, the longer part of his hair over his forehead moving slightly as he did so. It was shorter than it had been in high school, not that classic preppy style that had been so popular among boys in the South when she was younger. This was an updated version, something that reminded her of the boy he’d been, but that left no doubt that he’d grown up since then.

  Something that was really getting in the way of her plan to keep trying to dislike him.

  “Anyway, I guess I should let you go,” Kelsey finally said. She hadn’t heard anything else and suddenly felt silly for having called him.

  “What did you call for?”

  “Nothing, it’s fine.”

  “What, Kelsey?”

  “Seriously. Nothing.”

  His hesitation said he wasn’t buying it, but he was too much a gentleman to push the issue anymore. “All right. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Something in the kindness of his tone broke down some of her stubbornness and her shoulders relaxed. “Sawyer?” she said, taking a deep breath.

  “Yeah?”

  “About earlier. I was kind of a jerk with the way I talked to you, and I’m sorry.” And she was. Kelsey waited for his response.

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it anymore,” he said in a voice that sounded like he meant it. He was incredibly quick to forgive, Kelsey noticed, a trait she couldn’t always claim in herself.

  That was something else getting in the way of trying to hang on to her negative feelings toward him. And not just getting in the way of her feelings either, but changing them...

  Could they be friends after all?

  “Okay, well, thanks,” she finished awkwardly. “And goodbye for real this time.”

  “Are you staying much longer?”

  “Not too much.” Kelsey should be done in this room within half an hour. There was always more work that could be done, but most of it could be done from home. She’d feel a bit safer there, behind a locked door.

  “If you are, I’d like to come meet you there.”

  “You’ve done enough to help me lately. There’s no need for it.”

  “I’m just really not sure you should be there alone, Kelsey.”

  And just like that, her shoulders were tensed again. She felt her eyebrows pressing together. “Why?”

  “Because someone was killed there a few days ago, by the same person who has already attacked you twice.”

  “I’m not here alone, there’s a policeman outside.”

  “There were a whole handful of off-duty officers the night of the gala, and some on duty, I believe. Is Michael Wingate still dead?”

  Kelsey didn’t want him to be right, but he was.

  “Okay, you’re probably right. I wasn’t taking the danger seriously enough, but I had some things I really wanted to get done.” She swept her gaze over the exhibit she’d been working on, one that told the story of how the first large group of Europeans had come to Treasure Point, not long after Oglethorpe had founded Savannah in 1733. Someone had managed to gather several artifacts from that time, including some dishware that was relatively valuable, as well as some personal items like hairbrushes and clothing that provided a picture of what life had been like back then.

  “So, you’ll leave now?” His voice wasn’t one to argue with. It wasn’t controlling, nothing like that, but it was clear how he felt about her being there, and for once, Kelsey didn’t think she was going to argue.

  “Yes, let me just double-check—”

  A muffled thud on the wall next to her made her jump so much that she dropped the phone, listened to it clatter on the desk, making a much louder sound than she would have liked.

  Aside from the officer wh
o was posted outside, she was the only one here, wasn’t she? She paused, half hoping maybe she’d imagined what she heard.

  Another thump. Not her imagination. Had the officer outside heard it? Officer Ryan was incredibly young, but according to her cousin, was indeed old enough to be an officer. She’d texted and asked Clay after she’d met the guy the first time. Though he seemed like a nice guy, she didn’t have extremely high confidence that he could hold his own against someone clever enough to have so far gotten away with murder. Kelsey only hoped he was okay.

  “Kelsey?”

  Sawyer was talking loudly enough that she could hear him even with the phone still lying on the desk. She reached for it quickly, turned the volume down, and pulled the phone back up to her face.

  “I heard something,” she whispered. “And also, talk softer.”

  “Okay, what did you hear?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t know what caused it. It was a thump of some kind. Something relatively quiet.”

  “I’m coming over there.”

  “Don’t you think that’s overreacting just a bit—”

  The lights went out, the gentle hum of electricity replaced by a heavy silence. She’d seen the blueprints for the building—the room with the breaker box was close. It explained the thud she’d heard. And also told her she didn’t have much time until whoever was in there found her if he was looking.

  And then footsteps. She wasn’t alone.

  “Someone is here,” she whispered, then punched the volume on her phone as far down as possible so she couldn’t hear anything Sawyer said—not that she wanted to ignore him, but she needed to be sure that whoever was in here with her couldn’t hear anything. Kelsey slipped the phone into her pocket and slowly slid out of her chair, down onto the floor. She reached for her hip where she kept her gun, patted there and found...nothing. She’d taken it off when she’d gotten home from St. Simons, not intending to leave the house again. Then in her hurry to finish this job, she’d forgotten to put it back on before she left the house. A mistake that could cost Kelsey her life.

  Hide under the desk, or try to crawl for cover somewhere? There was a closet in the corner of this room, mostly used for records, and Kelsey thought that if she could get into that—if there was space, which she wasn’t sure about—she might be able to hide until whoever was in here was gone. Confronting him, while tempting, would just be too risky without any kind of backup. Especially since she didn’t have her sidearm.

  She heard another thud.

  Please, God. Help. She found herself praying with a level of desperation she hadn’t felt in a while. How often was it that she felt she really needed God? Not that He was some sort of convenient addition to her life, but like her life and breath and everything depended on Him?

  Not often enough, but she couldn’t think about that now as she crawled toward the closet. No, most of the time, Kelsey depended on herself. And only herself.

  Tension built in her shoulders, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she took a deep, steadying breath. Her hands were starting to shake and she needed them to quit, needed every part of her to be calm right now. Strong. Brave.

  Help.

  This prayer was shorter than the other, but the steadiness she felt immediately afterward impacted her. Had He listened and answered that quickly?

  She was feet from the door when she heard more footsteps, coming closer.

  Kelsey stood, opened the closet door gently, stepped inside and shut it as quietly as she could.

  The closet was pitch-black. She couldn’t see the shape of the room, the outlines of the filing cabinets and lawyer’s boxes she knew it held, but it didn’t matter right now. It was better this way—if whoever was inside the museum was after her and trying to find her, the total darkness would work to her advantage.

  Unless he went and turned the lights back on. Then she’d be as good as dead. A sitting duck with no way out.

  What she wouldn’t give to have a secret passageway in case she needed to make a quick escape. The old Hamilton house that the museum was modeled on had had many of them, but this new building didn’t.

  Instead, Kelsey fumbled as quietly as she could through the closet toward the back, using both her hands and her feet to feel for obstacles and try to gently angle herself around them. When she was as far back as she could go, she bent down again, crouched on the floor.

  Nothing to do now but listen. And wait. And hope that help came. Kelsey wanted to pull out her phone for some reassurance, hoping that Sawyer had sent a text or something telling her what he planned to do. How was it that after just a few days of having him with her most of the time she’d grown so used to having him by her side whenever danger struck? She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She’d always worked alone, and even during her time at the police department when so many officers had had partners, Kelsey had always been happy to work alone. Even the few times she’d been paired up with someone, she’d been more of a lone wolf, which was why the chief had never tried to give her a permanent partner.

  Seconds passed and turned into minutes. It was hard to tell how long it had been since she talked to Sawyer. Five minutes? Fifteen? Kelsey could make out small sounds now and then, but nothing that sounded threatening. Of course, she knew better than anyone that noise didn’t indicate danger. The murder itself had been eerily silent.

  Then the footsteps grew louder.

  And the door to the closet creaked open.

  NINE

  Sawyer slammed on the brakes in his pickup truck and threw the door open just as three squad cars arrived at the scene.

  “You need to stay in the car!” someone shouted in his direction.

  He didn’t even bother considering it. He’d been the one to hear Kelsey’s voice. He understood more than they did what she might be going through right now, and no, he wasn’t going to sit in the comfy cab of his truck and listen to music while she was in there, possibly fighting for her life.

  One officer went directly to the cruiser that had already been parked in the corner by the officer stationed at the museum. Sawyer winced, hoping whoever was in it was unharmed.

  “It’s Officer Ryan,” Officer Dalton yelled. “Unconscious, but seems okay. I think he was hit over the head.”

  “Stay with him, Dalton!” Hitchcock yelled.

  Sawyer hurried inside the museum after the others, careful not to get in the way. Matt O’Dell shot him a little glare, but didn’t try to throw him out. He’d thought the other man might understand what it was like, not being far from a newlywed.

  Not that his relationship with Kelsey was anything like that. He thought she was beautiful, strong and smart. Everything that he would have valued in a relationship...

  But she wasn’t open to that with him, and that had to be fine with Sawyer. He’d spent years in a family that hadn’t seemed to have much time for him—except for Aunt Mary. His parents had paid very little attention to him...and to each other. Their marriage had been mostly based around a business merger, and he’d never seen any signs that they truly loved or valued each other. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t repeat their mistakes. If Sawyer married, it wouldn’t be for business reasons, for what society deemed a “good match” or for anything short of love.

  Kelsey Jackson was a friend, someone he hoped would be a good friend one day. But she’d never love him, not like that. Even though they’d talked in the car and she’d mostly forgiven him for his part in getting the scholarship, she either still held it against him or had something else making her keep her distance from him.

  But whatever she was to him now, or would be in the future, Sawyer wanted her to stay alive.

  He stayed behind the officers as they cleared the house and made their way into several of the rooms.

  “In here!” someone shouted. This
time Sawyer followed them into the room.

  Matt O’Dell went for the closet, weapon still out and ready. “She might be hiding in there,” Sawyer said. “She knew something was wrong when she was on the phone with me and she’s too smart to confront an intruder by herself.”

  The other man nodded.

  The lights flickered back on. Apparently it was just the breaker and Hitchcock was able to fix it.

  “I’ve got something here,” Matt called.

  From where he stood, removed from the action, he heard small scuffling noises inside the closet.

  “Treasure Point PD,” O’Dell said. “Are you in there, Kelsey?”

  “I’m here.” Her voice sounded small, but not scared. She was made of tougher stuff than that. Sawyer watched as several of the officers shifted boxes out of the way, then moved backward so that Kelsey could make her way out.

  She thanked the officers who had helped her. Then she looked around the room. Scanning for threats? Or looking for him?

  “Sawyer!” As soon as she spotted him, she hurried in his direction. The smile on her face made his stomach do a little flip—relief at seeing her alive, no doubt. No need for it to be more than that.

  “I came as soon as I got your call,” he said. “I phoned it in to 9-1-1 during the drive.” He forced himself to be still, to respect the distance she kept putting between them, ignoring his own urge to pull her into a hug and feel that she was safe and uninjured.

  She threw her arms around him, squeezed, then, in a split second, it seemed like she fully realized what she was doing and she let go and stepped back. “Um...thank you. I mean, for calling the police and coming here.” Her cheeks were pink, but whether from the excitement of the entire situation or from embarrassment at hugging Sawyer so enthusiastically he wasn’t sure.

  “Of course. No problem.”

  “Can you tell us in your own words what happened, Kelsey?” O’Dell asked.