Cold Case Witness

by Sarah Varland

  “Slim.”

  “Scratch that, then. Dinner will be very, very long.”

  They didn’t talk much more, just made their way back to Matt’s car and climbed in. Matt started driving toward town.

  “I left my car back at the restaurant,” Gemma realized. “Could you drop me off at it before you head to work?” The idea of driving home alone in the dark bothered her a tiny bit, of course, after the debilitating fears of earlier. But she needed it to get to work in the morning.

  “No problem. I’ll check it out for you. Not that I think anything is wrong, but just in case.”

  Gemma nodded, thankful he’d thought of that. Thankful he cared enough to think it.

  The trip down the highway and then back to the restaurant went quickly. Her unease about getting in the car dissipated a little—she’d forgotten how close she’d parked to a streetlight. At least the situation had that going for it.

  “Thanks for tonight,” she said to Matt, smiling a little. It had been even more like a date than she’d anticipated. Did that mean a good-night kiss? Her heart thudded a little at the thought, but she didn’t make any moves toward him—she was a good Southern woman after all—and he just smiled at her, making no attempts, either.

  “Thanks for coming. Be safe tomorrow, okay? I don’t like the idea of you being without police protection for the whole day, but Clay’s got to work and I’ve got to catch at least a quick nap or I won’t do the case any good.”

  “I should be fine. I’ll just be in the office, and someone will be patrolling there, even if it’s not you, right?”

  “Right,” Matt said with a nod. “It should be okay. Just don’t let your guard down too much, okay?” He seemed to realize what he’d said. “But don’t panic, either.”

  Gemma laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Mind if I have your keys to look at the car? Wait here and I’ll check it out.” Matt climbed out, inspected the car, even started it for her, and then motioned for her to join him.

  “Looks good to me. I’ll follow you home.”

  Gemma slid her phone out of her pocket and checked the time again. “Quarter till eleven and you’re not in uniform? I think we’d better split when we get into town. I feel safe enough knowing there are people around and it’ll take me, what, two minutes from where you turn off the main road to get myself to Claire’s?”

  She could tell Matt was considering it, but he didn’t look particularly happy about it. “You’re right. I don’t have much of a choice at this point, just please, be careful.”

  Gemma nodded. “I will be.”

  Matt stepped away from her door, but stayed nearby. Gemma climbed in and only then did he get back into his truck. She smiled and drove out of the parking lot, thankful to have him and his headlights in her rearview mirror, following her back toward town.

  The darkness of this stretch of highway had just started to make her uneasy when the lights of Treasure Point came into view. She let out the breath she’d been holding, waved toward the back window when Matt turned off to head home to change and eased the car toward Claire’s house. Almost there. She’d just curved around the bend when she noticed a car on the side of the road.

  SUV. Dark. No lights on.

  Just as she passed it, its headlights flared to life, and the roar of the engine revving was loud enough even for Gemma to hear through closed windows. The anxiety she thought she’d beaten earlier came back in full force, but she fought it this time, refused to let it control her.

  The vehicle sped closer, closing the gap between them. Gemma wanted to deny that the person driving was intending to cause her harm, wanted with all her heart to pretend it was a coincidence. But she couldn’t. Not with the SUV almost touching—

  The thud of metal and the shudder that went through Gemma’s car and her body confirmed her worst fears.

  The killer hadn’t stopped trying to end her life.

  Gemma jerked her wheel hard left, then right, just to see if she could unsettle the car behind her at all. The SUV didn’t waver in its pursuit and hit her again, this time threatening to make her lose control over the car. Gemma took a deep breath, let it back out. If she could just hang on for another thirty seconds, she’d be over the narrow bridge for this last crossing of Hamilton Creek. That was the only thought in her mind—she couldn’t go into the creek.

  She held on tight, then released a breath when she made it over the bridge. Three—maybe four—football field lengths separated her from town. She could do this—

  One more crunch of metal, this one harder, jerkier. The impact threw her forward and to the right, and the wheels spun with her. In one long, slow motion moment, she felt as though she’d been pulled into a kaleidoscope of darkness and headlights and breaking glass as her car flipped and flipped and rolled off the road into the grass.

  Then everything stopped.

  Gemma wanted to cry, scream—something, anything—but no sound would come from her throat.

  Matt. She needed to call Matt. He shouldn’t be far. She lifted her right arm, which took more effort than it should have—and patted around in the passenger seat where she usually put her purse. She had to move slowly, carefully, because one of the windows, it was too dark to see which, had broken and pieces of glass lay everywhere. Where was her phone? The impact and rolling had knocked everything around...

  There. It was on the floor, which was the ceiling since she was suspended upside down.

  She took a deep breath, punched in Matt’s number.

  His voice was serious from the start. As though he realized there was no reason for her to call when she’d just seen him unless...

  “I’ve been in a wreck, Matt. He hit my car and it flipped...just after the second Hamilton Creek crossing on the way to Claire’s house. I think he sped past me when it happened, but I just don’t know and I’m alone and I can’t get out.” The last part frustrated her more than she could say. She should be able to do something besides hang there worthlessly while she waited for someone else to save her.

  “I’m on my way.”

  And so she waited.

  The sound of humming bugs that had welcomed her back to Treasure Point the other night on her sister’s porch, the ones that had seemed soothing and peaceful, now seemed like notes out of tune, a cacophony that only grated on Gemma’s nerves, made her clench her teeth tighter.

  There was no welcome to be found here. Not as long as someone lurking in the shadows wanted her dead.

  NINE

  “Gemma!” Matt’s voice shouting, along with the sound of his footsteps running toward her, finally broke the monotony of the cicadas and frogs.

  He’d come.

  “Are you okay?” First his words again, then his face at the window, his eyes taking her in, assessing her for injuries. Gemma knew she had a few cuts and bruises, but was fairly certain it was nothing serious.

  “I’m okay. I think.” Her voice was steadier than she would have expected it to be. “I just want to get out and go home.”

  Although she wasn’t sure where home was. Really what she wanted was to start over, to go somewhere where the past wouldn’t hunt her down and try to make sure she died. But that wasn’t an option. She had no resources to fall back on—nowhere else to go. All she could do was find who was behind the attacks, make sure justice was served both for herself and for the man she knew had already lost his life to her tormenter.

  Several other cars pulled up, but Matt stayed close by, his presence helping keep her calm. God, are You watching? Why are You letting this happen? Gemma wasn’t sure if she’d meant to pray, but the questions rose to heaven anyway. Once, she would have waited for an answer. Tonight she kept her eyes closed, but didn’t try to continue the prayer beyond that.

  She wasn’t sure how long it took to free her, but she was eventually pulled from the wreckage of the car.

  “We’re going to need you to answer a few questions,” the police chief said. The fact that he’d come hims
elf underscored the seriousness of the situation. Gemma nodded. When he started asking the typical questions about what she’d seen, what had occurred, she answered everything as best she could.

  “Do you believe now that I’m not making these things up? I know some of the officers thought the other attempts on my life were coincidence at best, or maybe things I’d set up. But you see the paint.” She gestured to the scrape of dark paint down the side of the car.

  The chief nodded. “I see it.” He looked over toward Matt. “I know Officer O’Dell has believed you the whole time. Looks like I put the right man on this case.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Do what you need to do to keep her safe, okay? Shiloh will process this and have the car towed, Gemma. O’Dell, take her to her sister’s house for now, then you come back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Neither one of them talked much on the way home. There was almost too much to say, at least in Gemma’s opinion, so she stayed quiet.

  Claire was asleep when Gemma arrived, not waiting up since she’d thought Gemma was out on a date and not fighting for her life again. She’d have some explaining to do in the morning when the car wasn’t in the driveway, though...

  Gemma tried to sleep, knowing she needed to, but tossed and turned for most of the night, and when the clock finally showed that it was almost five, she decided she’d tried for long enough to sleep and got up. She’d be paying for the lack of sleep later, for sure, but what could she do?

  “There you are. I was starting to doubt you were really living here.” Claire looked up from what she was mixing—Gemma could only hope it was her cinnamon rolls—and shook her head. “You’ve been crazy busy. Work? Or avoiding me?”

  Claire’s eyes narrowed as Gemma moved farther into the kitchen lights. “What happened to your arm?”

  Ah, yes, the cut on her left forearm.

  “I need you to remember to stay calm.” Gemma started as she moved to the coffeemaker, which had just beeped, and poured each of them a cup of coffee. She handed Claire hers first. “And probably to sit down. Don’t overreact.”

  “What am I not overreacting to?” The tension in her voice had built to that “older sister” tone she used so well. And too frequently.

  “I was in a wreck last night. Someone hit me on purpose, tried to kill me.” Gemma was surprised at how easy it was getting to deliver that news. She was still just as terrified, but this was becoming normal. She hated that, wanted more than ever to solve this case and make it all stop. “The car flipped—they had to basically cut me out of it. Repairs aren’t going to be easy, or cheap. I may need to borrow your car at some point, if you don’t mind. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t care about you borrowing the car, Gemma, of course you can. I care about you! This is all tied to that case from when you were in high school?”

  She nodded.

  “And someone who has already murdered at least one person is trying to kill you?”

  Another nod.

  “We’ve got to talk to Mom and Dad, get them to hire some kind of private security detail.”

  Gemma laughed. “Claire, the last thing I’m doing is involving Mom and Dad in this, and the second to last thing is hiring any kind of security. For one thing, they wouldn’t be people I knew or trusted, so I can’t see that working out well at all.”

  “And the police here are people you trust? After they didn’t believe you back then when you told them someone might have been killed?”

  “Those people aren’t working here anymore. And even if I’m not sure about some of the officers who are there, the chief seems good. I like him. And I know I can trust Matt.”

  “Matt O’Dell.” Claire’s voice was flat, then built back up with emotion. “You’re serious. I know you said he was working on the case, but you’re happy about that? You trust him? Have you forgotten that’s the case that finally sent his dad to prison?”

  The bite in her sister’s tone surprised her. Gemma had forgotten, somehow, in the past few days of getting to know him again, that her family had viewed Matt the way the rest of the town viewed Gemma—as someone whose whole identity was wrapped up in events surrounding that trial. Gemma had been judged as questionable because of her vague association with the criminals, even if she had testified against them. Matt carried more than that. He carried all of the sins of his dad in the eyes of the community. Though obviously some had accepted him since he had to be respected to a degree to be a police officer, she imagined there were those who still saw him as the boy from the wrong side of town—well, if Treasure Point had one of those—who would probably turn out to be just like his no-good father.

  She’d forgotten that her family would probably feel that way—not because they were the type to judge others, but because they were protective of Gemma. They knew how badly the trial had hurt her, and were biased against anyone associated with it. And Gemma was bringing him to dinner at their house tonight.

  Before dropping her off in the wee hours of the morning after she’d given her statement to the chief, Matt had told her that he wanted to go with her to her parents’ dinner, provide extra security, especially on the drive to and from their house, which sat a bit on the outskirts of town. Gemma hadn’t had the bravery to fight him in the aftermath of the wreck.

  Maybe she could cancel the dinner altogether. But no, knowing her parents, especially when they heard about the wreck, they’d just bring dinner to her. There was no getting around this. Only getting through it.

  “I haven’t forgotten. But he’s different than you think,” she insisted. There were so many things Gemma could have said to show what Matt was really like, but those were the only words that would come to her. Instead, her mind kept seeing pictures. Matt last night, staying near the window of the car and giving her a comforting, encouraging face to look at as Gemma was slowly set free. Matt smiling at her, teasing her. Matt by her side at the Hamilton House Beach...

  Gemma swallowed hard, tried to change the expression she knew must be on her face as she realized that her sister’s scrutiny was going to reveal the truth that she’d been trying to hide, even from herself.

  “You are not falling for him.” Claire paused for less than half a beat. “You are. You are falling for Matt O’Dell. Could you have picked anyone more wrong for you?” Claire stood up, taking her coffee with her, and started to pace the kitchen.

  “I don’t know what I am—” Gemma opted for full honesty, but Claire cut her off before she could continue.

  “No. Just no.” There went that tone again. Did older sisters always think they knew best, even when both of you were adults and capable of making your own decisions?

  “He’s different than he was in high school, Claire. I’m different. Maybe it’s not such an awful idea.”

  “It would take a lot to convince me of that.”

  More mental pictures. Gemma smiled. “Maybe he’ll convince you.” She couldn’t believe the words even as she said them, especially considering Claire’s obvious disapproval. Gemma had always tried to make decisions her family was proud of—it felt like she tried harder than most people did to win their approval. Maybe it was common when someone had been adopted. She couldn’t draw from others’ experiences, only hers.

  Something in her heart wavered. Surely they’d see Matt had changed, right?

  “We’ll see if that’s even possible.” Claire shook her head again, looking so smug that Gemma didn’t care too much about making her happy at the moment; she just wanted that look off her face.

  “He’s coming tonight.”

  Claire’s eyebrows raised. “To Mom and Dad’s?”

  Gemma swallowed hard.

  Clare just shook her head. “This is going to be fun.”

  The rest of the day passed slowly as Gemma counted down the hours until what would probably be one of the most awkward evenings of her life. Had she warned Matt sufficiently that her parents were incredibly picky about who was “good enough” for the
ir daughters, even just to have as friends? And that their attitude toward him was likely to be less than friendly?

  Finally it was almost six and Matt’s car pulled into the driveway. Claire had planned to ride her bike from her coffee shop, so only Gemma had needed a lift. It would take insurance a week or two to work out what was to be done with Claire’s car. Gemma was fairly certain it was totaled, but she couldn’t know for sure.

  “How was today?” Matt looked like he’d aged a year or two overnight. He clearly hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and there was a new seriousness in his eyes.

  Worry for her had put that there. Gemma wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  “It was fine. You’re sure you’re ready for my parents’ house?”

  “I’m sure.” He laughed. “How bad could this be?”

  * * *

  Bad. The unspoken answer to the question he’d asked earlier was very, very bad. The white plantation-style house that towered above them, situated at the edge of the marsh on a large spread of land, was fancier than any place Matt had ever visited as a guest, except maybe the Hamilton House before it had blown up. And that place had at least had some warmth to it, real history that had worn down some of the furnishings until they were no longer shiny and new. This house just looked like money.

  He could think of a dozen places he’d feel more comfortable than right here. He glanced to his right, where Gemma stood looking up at the house with a similar level of trepidation. “You grew up here?” he asked. He’d known they were worlds apart in high school, but somehow even in a town as small as Treasure Point, he’d never known exactly where she lived—just known it was a nice place near the marsh.

  Gemma nodded.

  Matt let out a low whistle. Nice was an understatement. This place was—

  “Hello, dear.” A well-dressed woman in her early fifties opened the door, looking like she’d just stepped out of some Southern women’s magazine—Matt hadn’t had a mom long enough to know any by name—and looked at Gemma with pure love in her eyes. Matt made a note of that, out of habit from his job, he guessed. You never knew when assessing someone’s motives based on their apparent character could come in handy.