Perilous Homecoming

by Sarah Varland

  “Your O-ring was tampered with, Kelsey. I thought so when I saw it, and several of the officers there at the docks agreed with my initial assessment. Shiloh is looking at it now, but that’s our guess as to what happened. We’re guessing someone followed us to the dive shop, or saw us pull up there and guessed our plans, then tampered with the O-ring at the shop, maybe when the owner or worker wasn’t looking. And we also think the mix in your oxygen tank may have been carbon monoxide heavy. Of course, it’s empty now, so there’s no way prove it.” Sawyer’s voice betrayed his frustration and anger.

  That explained the headache. So, whoever wanted her dead had tried to kill her again, this time in a way that would leave no witnesses and no evidence behind except the O-ring itself, which didn’t have any forensic evidence that would help them.

  “So what now?”

  “You have to be observed for a few more hours. After that—” Sawyer lowered his voice “—Clay has asked us to meet with him. We’re going to meet at my house.”

  “Are you staying with your parents?”

  He nodded.

  Kelsey hoped he couldn’t tell that she was cringing, or at least would attribute whatever face she was making to her near-death experience earlier, and not to the idea of being forced into close proximity with his parents.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  The next few hours passed quickly, and as soon as the doctor gave Kelsey a clean bill of health, and another admonition to be careful when scuba diving—the hospital hadn’t been told about the apparent sabotage—Kelsey and Sawyer were out the door and back in his truck.

  The drive to Richard and Lori Beth Hamilton’s house didn’t take nearly as long as Kelsey would have liked. Before long they were pulling up in front of the stately brick house near the marsh.

  Kelsey took a deep breath. “Sawyer, here’s something you don’t know that you need to.”

  He froze, his hand hovering over the seat belt latch. “Okay. Right now?”

  “Before we go in there.” She swallowed hard, all the old memories returning, all the reminders of how she’d trusted her gut once and been so horribly wrong, all the weighty feelings of responsibility...

  “Did your parents mention to you, sometime when you were away...at college—” she was proud of herself for having come so far that she only slightly stumbled over the word college in conversation with him “—that they’d had some criminal activities out here?”

  “I’ve heard rumors here and there, but nothing concrete.”

  “Anyway, there was. And we had a suspect in custody. But I believed his story over theirs, let him go too soon, and there you go. That was the end of me working for the police department.” And it had been a very dramatic conclusion to the one personal interaction she’d had with the Hamiltons, a family she’d never liked much in theory—besides Mary Hamilton—because of how they seemed to act so far above the rest of the town.

  “Was leaving the department your choice?”

  Kelsey shrugged. “Sort of. I wasn’t fired, but there were plenty of people who didn’t want me to stay. Choosing to resign seemed like the only option. The chief is very good about supporting his officers, but your parents are powerful people. I don’t know how far they would have taken things.”

  “They weren’t happy with you.”

  She shook her head.

  “Look, you made a mistake. People make them.”

  Kelsey raised her eyebrows and met his eyes. She saw he knew what she was about to say, but said it anyway. “Hamiltons don’t. At least, that’s what I was told when I offered that excuse. Anyway, I had enough saved to start college by then, so I left and that’s what I did.”

  “And that’s the last time you relied on gut instinct.”

  She shifted in her seat. “Maybe, but that isn’t a bad thing. I mean, look at today. I wanted to go somewhere else, farther out to sea. If we’d done that, what if you hadn’t been able to get me back to shore and to the hospital in time? It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that I ignored my gut instinct.”

  “But sometimes you should trust it?”

  Kelsey shook her head. “No, I’m not sure about that. It’s too uncertain, too much of a risk.”

  “You’ve never had a problem with risk.”

  “That’s true. It’s not the risk, really. It’s the uncertainty. Why rely on something that’s suspicion, a feeling, when you could have solid facts behind you?”

  “So, do you think that in that case all those years ago—”

  Kelsey held up a hand. “Sorry, but it’s in the past. There’s no need for us to talk about it anymore now. I wouldn’t have brought it up at all, but there’s a good chance your parents will and I didn’t want you to feel like you were out of the loop.”

  He nodded slowly, though she could tell he wasn’t happy about being cut off.

  “Well, let’s go then.”

  Kelsey drew in a breath, one more glorious breath of fresh air. Because she might not be back underwater with a broken O-ring and rapidly diminishing oxygen, but facing Sawyer’s parents felt disturbingly similar.

  * * *

  Sawyer wished they’d had more time to talk; there were so many things about Kelsey’s new personality, the small changes he’d seen in her since high school, that made more sense now that he knew more about her. To think she’d faced off against his parents... He knew all too well how that felt. The difference was that he was their son and they loved him—or at least found him useful—so there was an element of graciousness there that softened the edges a bit.

  Kelsey would have had no such softening.

  As they approached the door, he had the craziest desire to reach for her hand, somehow assure her that if it came down to any kind of verbal disagreement between her and his parents, he was on her side. He loved his mom and dad, but he knew how they could be, and sometimes that was unusually harsh.

  But he knew that reaching for her hand would only cause more problems with the unpredictability of his parents’ reaction, and he didn’t want to subject her to that, either.

  There was nothing about this situation he liked.

  He braced himself as slid his key into the door and let them in. “Ready?” he asked Kelsey quietly.

  “Doesn’t really matter whether I am or not,” she said in a voice just as quiet. He did notice that she drew herself up taller, though. A strange swell of admiration made him smile. Kelsey could seem quiet, but she was a fighter.

  They made it through the door without incident. In fact, it was so quiet he was wondering if maybe his parents could be out, playing tennis, or on one of their boats...

  “Sawyer, is that you?”

  He should have known it was too good to be true.

  “Yes, Mom. And a friend.”

  “A friend?”

  His mom came around the corner from the kitchen and narrowed her eyes. “I believe we’ve met, correct? Officer...”

  “Just Kelsey, ma’am. Kelsey Jackson.”

  “You aren’t with the police department anymore?” Sawyer recognized his mom’s fake innocent look, batting eyelashes and all. She knew full well that Kelsey was no longer a police officer—and she was rubbing it in.

  “No, I’m an antiques insurance agent.”

  “Well, isn’t that nice?”

  “Mom, Kelsey and I are supposed to be meeting with Clay Hitchcock. You know him, right?”

  “Officer Hitchcock? Of course. He’s one of the town’s finest police officers.”

  Was it his imagination, or did his mom look to Kelsey a little as she said that?

  “Would it be all right if we used the study? We need privacy.”

  “Of course.” She nodded. “Your father is out, but he should be home soon. No need to bother him.”

  “
I won’t.”

  Kelsey was just standing, looking rather frozen in place at the moment, despite her squared shoulders, so he broke his “no contact” rule, put one hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the library. She didn’t say anything, but followed his lead.

  As soon as they’d entered the room and shut the door, she stepped away from his touch and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “What was that about?”

  “You seemed like you needed a little help.”

  “I was fine on my own.”

  “You always are, aren’t you?” Sawyer exhaled, knowing he’d hear about that gesture from his mom later, and a little disappointed that Kelsey couldn’t appreciate the genuine kindness he’d been offering.

  He didn’t know if she heard him or not, because before either of them could say anything, someone knocked on the door.

  “Please tell me that’s not your parents,” she muttered and pulled a book from the shelf, burying her face in it immediately like it would make her invisible.

  It was Clay.

  “Come in.” Sawyer motioned the other man forward and shut the door behind him.

  Clay whistled. “This is impressive. I don’t think I ever came here when we were in high school.”

  Probably not. Sawyer had always preferred to spend his free time away from home.

  “Have a seat.” Sawyer motioned to her.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, what do we know?” Kelsey asked, clearly unable to contain her excitement about possible progress any longer.

  Clay shook his head. “Not a lot, unfortunately. Autopsy results are in on Wingate, and it’s definitely homicide. Blunt force trauma to the head caused his fall but there were bruises on his forearms consistent with a struggle before his death, and with someone pushing or throwing him from the balcony.”

  “Well, we knew he was murdered.”

  “We suspected that. Now we’re sure. But we still don’t have anything pointing to who did it. Do you have any guesses?”

  “As far as who did it? No. But I’m almost positive I have a motive.”

  “Yeah?”

  “That map that was taken from the museum. We’re pretty sure it has something to do with the murder.”

  “We?” Clay glanced at Sawyer.

  Sawyer shrugged. “I’m really just here for her to bounce ideas off of. And to make sure no one can surprise her. Tell him, Kelsey.”

  “You know we spent the day scuba diving.”

  “Yeah, I heard it almost got you killed. And I admit I was wondering why you’d given up on the investigation for the day to take some time to have fun like that. The old Kelsey was like a bloodhound with a scent when she was on a case.”

  “Lovely description.” Kelsey smiled, though, and Sawyer could tell she actually appreciated the oddly worded praise. “We weren’t playing hooky. When we found that map was stolen from the museum, we were pretty sure it had something to do with our case. Sawyer brought up the idea that Wingate was killed in that room for a reason, maybe something there set the killer off.”

  “Okay, I can understand that.”

  “And the map was the first thing we thought of.”

  “It’s a map of shipwrecks, right?”

  “Yes, but not a very precise one. There are just shaded areas where wrecks are rumored to be. We caught a break today, and didn’t have to swim far from the place where we guessed one of the wrecks might be to actually find it.”

  “That’s quite a break.”

  “We thought so. Anyway, the ship has been overtaken by the ocean, but the odd thing is, we didn’t find any sorts of artifacts one might expect to find.”

  “Such as?”

  Kelsey shrugged. “Navigational tools would have been a real coup, but I wasn’t counting on those. But there should have been dishes, or at least fragments. Tools... It’s hard to say for sure, but what there shouldn’t be is absolutely nothing.”

  “So you think someone has been there.”

  “We know someone has. We found a dive knife. It’s modern—definitely not a relic.”

  “Not yours?”

  “No.”

  “Where is it?”

  Kelsey fell silent. Glanced over at Sawyer and shook her head. “I dropped it when I started to feel the effects of the overload of carbon monoxide and ran out of oxygen.”

  “You dropped your camera, too,” Sawyer said. He’d seen them both fall, but there hadn’t been anything he could do about them. Getting to Kelsey and helping her get to the surface had been his top priority, and even if he could go back and do it again, her well-being would remain his top priority.

  “So, if someone is plundering those sites, that’s a federal offense. Extremely serious.”

  “I’m sorry, I just thought of something. I’ll be right back.” Kelsey slipped out of the room with her phone. Sawyer told himself to remember to ask her later what that was all about.

  As soon as she’d left, Clay turned to him, looking more serious. “What do you think, Hamilton?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s my cousin and I want to look out for her, but you’re the one who has been spending the most time with her, so you’re the one who’ll know if she’s in over her head. How do you think she’s holding up? Do I need to quit encouraging her to keep looking?”

  “No, no need for that.” Sawyer wanted to defend Kelsey without thinking, but made himself pause and consider the other man’s questions. “She’s...she’s amazing. She might be the best investigator I’ve ever seen—no offense, man—and when she goes with her instincts it’s almost uncanny how she can figure things out. And, yeah, this is all stressful, but I think it helps her to be able to do something, instead of just sitting back and worrying. It makes her feel like she has some control, you know? I’m just... I don’t understand who the real Kelsey is. I thought she was methodical, all about facts. And she’s struggling with that, I can tell. Sometimes she listens to her gut. Sometimes she doesn’t.”

  Clay shrugged. “She prefers facts. Logic. But when she can let those go, you’re right. She’s one of the best I’ve ever seen, too. It’s just after she left here, went to school and took that fancy job in Savannah, I wasn’t sure she’d still be able to go back to relying on those instincts. But she is?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Then I can still use her help. This is getting messy in a way that makes it seem like the criminal has an ear in the police department. There are just too many coincidences, too many times, places and opportunities that our bad guy shouldn’t have known about. And while I trust everyone in the department—I have to in order to do this job—there are only a few I trust without hesitating. Kelsey makes that list.”

  The door creaked open again. Kelsey smiled. “Sorry. Where were we?”

  “We...” Sawyer looked at Clay. Clay shrugged and Sawyer struggled with what to tell her. His phone rang just as he was about to admit defeat and tell her they’d been talking about how best to keep her safe—a subject he wasn’t eager to bring up with her.

  Sawyer reached for the phone. “Hold on. I don’t know this number.”

  Everyone stilled and got quiet so he could answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Sawyer, it’s Shiloh Cole. From the police department.”

  “Shiloh. Hi.”

  Everyone else in the room relaxed. Sawyer didn’t know Shiloh well, but if Clay and Kelsey trusted her, as it appeared they did, then he guessed he could assume she was on their side.

  “I’ll just get right to it. I need your truck, Sawyer.”

  “What?”

  “I need to borrow your truck and dust it for prints.”

  “Um...sure. If you need it. But why?”

  “Someone tampered with K
elsey’s equipment, and I combed the dive shop, but found no evidence. The place was clean. Literally and figuratively speaking. Your truck is my last-ditch effort to find any trace of who’s behind it all. This has escalated enough.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Shiloh told him where to meet her, and after agreeing and saying goodbye, Sawyer disconnected.

  “What was that about?” It was Kelsey who asked, but Clay looked interested, too.

  “Shiloh wants to fingerprint my truck, but she asked to meet me in Brunswick instead of at the station here.”

  “She must suspect something, too...” Clay’s voice trailed off.

  Sawyer nodded. “Exactly what I thought.”

  “Maybe she’ll find something and give us all a name of who’s behind this.”

  Sawyer could only hope.

  FOURTEEN

  Kelsey hadn’t paid half a second’s attention to Sawyer’s suggestion that she stay with Clay while he took Shiloh the truck. Instead, she was beside him on I-95, headed into Brunswick.

  “So, Shiloh doesn’t trust everyone at the police department, either,” Kelsey commented, finally breaking the companionable silence that had stretched between the two of them for most of the drive from Treasure Point.

  “It doesn’t look like it.”

  “Someone there has got to be working with whoever is behind this, feeding them information. We know it’s not her, and not Hitchcock.”

  “We can rule out O’Dell, too. I’d trust him with my life,” Kelsey said. “The chief, too.”

  “Who does that leave?”

  “Officer Ryan, Lieutenant Davies, although he seems unlikely given how long he’s been with the department. The other new guys I don’t know well are Officer Dalton and Officer Kraft. Then there’s always the receptionist.”

  “Any reason to suspect any of the new officers over the others?”

  “No. None.”

  It was almost more frustrating to be so close and still so far away from finding out who was behind the murder and the attempts on her life. Instead of having any kind of relief from having a pool of suspects, Kelsey was more nervous than ever. Someone with the police department feeding information to a killer? Part of her brain refused to believe it, and Kelsey acknowledged then that at least a few drops of police blood would apparently always be running through her veins in some way, because she couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of betrayal. An officer?