But no, here he was, eyes taking her in and face widening into a smile.
“You look good.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
And he did. The same uniform that only a few months earlier had made her cringe a little from her past experience with police officers only served to make Matt look more handsome. He was everything the uniform was supposed to represent—strength and confidence, but trustworthiness, too. And he was surprisingly thoughtful, as well. She’d always assumed he was one of those guys who took life as it came to an unhealthy degree. But he did consider his actions before he took them. She’d learned a lot about him in this past week or so.
Mostly that she’d been so wrong about herself and Matt O’Dell having nothing in common in high school. And that reuniting with him was one of the best things that had happened in her life so far.
“Get in. You’re the navigator.”
She did and they took off down the road. Gemma shuffled through the stack of papers in the manila folder that Matt had set in her lap. “What’s all this?”
“Everything we’ve talked about so far with this case. Pull out the maps on top.”
Gemma did as he asked.
“That’s where we’re going today.”
“We’re visiting all of them?” There were at least ten places they’d marked on the maps—locations that had reported stolen antique maps in the past fifteen years. Even though the initial case Gemma had testified in had only taken place ten years ago, they’d widened their search range a bit to make sure they didn’t miss anything that could have slipped through the initial investigation.
“That’s the plan.”
“And what are we going to find?”
Matt shrugged, grinned with that smile she’d once found infuriatingly easygoing. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Gemma smiled, leaned back against the car seat and just enjoyed the ride. Moments like this, where the world felt almost normal, had been few and far between since she’d come back to town. And although she wasn’t ignoring the threat on her life, she wasn’t going to look behind her, hold her breath for every moment of the next few hours. No, she was going to do what she could do to be active in the investigation, help Matt, and be brave.
It was about time.
She’d no longer had the thought than the sun outside the window darkened, hidden all at once behind a cloud.
She wasn’t going to let the weather dampen her enthusiasm, either.
The trip down the highway went smoothly, and even when they weren’t talking, Gemma felt like she was soaking in the feeling of just being with him. Of not needing to say anything.
But when they turned off the highway onto a back road somewhere between Treasure Point and Darien, the country road wound through tall pine trees. The sun seemed even dimmer here, and somehow it dimmed Matt’s mood, too. She looked over to see him frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
Matt shook his head at first. Wouldn’t answer. So Gemma tried again. “Really, what is it?”
“I’m just wondering what I was thinking now, bringing you with me here to investigate. Assuming I’m right that the guy we’re after has robbed all these places before, that means that he’s familiar with all these locations.”
“So? Why would he come out here today?”
Matt’s expression was still dark. “He’s been following you pretty closely.”
“But he only attacks me when I’m alone,” Gemma argued.
Matt shrugged. “I don’t have a good reason for worrying.” He glanced over at her. “I’m probably just overreacting.”
Gemma thought he probably was. She did have to admit, though, that once they slowed down in front of the first driveway, there was something eerie about seeing in person the places the thieves had visited with crime.
Even though she’d seen the evidence, watched them burying their loot, this made it more real.
Especially now that she knew for sure that someone had died because of this. Because of greed? Or had Harris threatened to go to the police after Gemma had started to run away, maybe having had second thoughts about being involved in the crimes?
It was possible Gemma would never know.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll drive by all of the places on the map, like this, and we’ll make a note of anything that stands out to us.”
“Just characteristics of the houses, or should I be looking for something else?”
“You know, for this one I’d say it’s very isolated, trees around the house, no close neighbors. All of those could be factors in why it was chosen. Think about it—there are antique maps all over downtown Savannah, but as far as I know, none of those houses were hit.” Matt looked over at the map Gemma was holding. “No, all of the targeted houses are in smaller towns. So there’s got to be a reason for that.”
“Lack of confidence in small-town police forces? I mean, no offense at all, but couldn’t it be something like that?”
“It could be. But I think there’s more.”
They drove to several more places. They all matched the characteristics of the first house.
Not one was in town. There were all perfect places to commit a crime without witnesses. Whoever was really behind those thefts had planned everything out, had thought carefully about targets.
The attacks against Gemma had also been carefully planned. Another indication that the same criminal was likely behind it all.
The recently robbed estate in St. Simons was in a gated community, something that didn’t fit with any of the older targets, but even it was set back from the road, providing a bit of isolation.
“How did he find some of these?” Gemma asked after the second wrong turn they’d made trying to find one of the houses. “We were both born and raised in the area, and we’re still getting lost. You’d have to be really familiar with this area not to get confused by some of the dirt roads, the roads with similar names...”
“I agree. But it doesn’t narrow down our suspect pool much at the moment. There are plenty of people around here who could be comfortable driving around the boonies.”
True. Gemma wished he wasn’t right, but he was.
There had to be a way to get down to the question of who was after her.
“Last place,” Matt said when they were leaving another isolated house. The clouds were out in full force now—the typical afternoon thunderstorm having gathered early today. Gemma was already bracing herself for the storm that was coming soon.
He pulled up to a parking lot near the river. Parked. Opened his door.
Gemma smelled the marsh’s distinctive scent of salt and mud. She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “What are you doing?”
“Taking us to the last house.” He nodded to an island across the marsh with a house that looked to her to be entirely abandoned.
“What’s that? Is there something there?”
“That is the only house where witnesses interrupted the robbery itself.” He shot a glance in her direction, looked away. “You...you don’t know about this house?”
Unease crept like chills, leaving a trail of bumps along her arms. Gemma shivered in the Georgia July air.
“What about it?” She took a breath, waited for his answer. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the sky grew even darker.
Matt wasn’t answering. Gemma waited.
* * *
Matt pulled his door shut again after the thunder, ready for the rain to fall. He’d planned for them to make the trip over to Whitetail Island in kayaks, which he’d brought over and hidden along the shoreline earlier this morning. They still probably could—most summer storms around Treasure Point were over as quickly as they started. They’d wait for it to pass and then go.
Would Gemma recover from what he was going to tell her as quickly as the sky was likely to clear after this rain? Matt wrestled with himself, with the words, with the weight of knowing she’d been ignorant about some things that had happened in the original
case.
“Matt.” Gemma’s voice, insistent, steady, brought him back. She wanted answers.
He needed to give them to her. Except if he did, she’d understand even more why his concern for her safety kept growing.
“You weren’t the only witness to the crime ring’s criminal dealings.”
“You said that already. What happened to the other witnesses?” She hesitated for a second, met his eyes, her expression urgent. “I need to know.”
Did she? Every second that passed was a second he regretted having said anything. But it was too late now. Besides, when he really thought about it clearly, Matt knew she needed to know. Had to be told just how dangerous the man after her really was.
He’d already killed two, maybe three times. No way would he hesitate to do it again.
If knowing that saved Gemma’s life, he owed it to her to tell her.
Matt looked at her, sitting in his passenger seat and took a breath. “The couple living in this house was supposed to be at a party in St. Simons the night the robbery took place. Unfortunately they stayed home, no one is sure why, and they interrupted the crime. There were...signs of a struggle. Blood. The bodies were never found.”
“But it’s assumed they were killed?”
Gemma asked the question like she already knew the answer, kept her voice flat, almost emotionless. Matt knew her well enough to know that it meant she was feeling much more than she let on.
“That was the assumption.”
She looked away from him.
“No, don’t do that, Gemma.”
“Don’t do what?” She didn’t face him when she asked the question.
Matt reached out, touched her hand, which rested on the armrest. When she didn’t move it, he laid his hand on top of hers, wove their fingers together. “Don’t pull away.”
And she didn’t. She turned back to him and he watched her eyes move from their hands, up his arm, shoulders, to his face. “It’s what I do.”
“I know it is. But don’t.”
She closed her hand, squeezed his fingers, then relaxed again. Exhaled. “So we’re going to this house?”
She’d shifted the subject. But she hadn’t moved away from him, hadn’t even looked away. Instead of pulling away, she was attempting to move through the hard things they’d discussed. And she was doing so admirably. Matt was pretty sure Gemma was the strongest, bravest woman he’d ever met.
Rain started falling now, hard from the heavy clouds, pounding on the roof of the car, streaming down the windows.
“That was quick.”
“Yeah. It was.” Quick, but he’d known it was coming; it had been only a matter of time.
They waited out the rain in silence, hands still joined. Matt didn’t know what that meant now or what it might mean later...didn’t really need to know. All he knew was that he didn’t want her to let go. And he sure wasn’t going to.
“So...how are we getting to this island?”
“You know, I’m not sure about this after all, Gemma.” She’d been through enough, hadn’t she? Now he was going to make her go to another place charged with the kinds of stories that were the stuff of nightmares? The investigation wasn’t worth this, not yet. It wasn’t as if Matt had solid evidence that going there would help. This was only a hunch of his that might lead to nothing.
“No, I want to go. I think we should check it out. Ten years ago, the whole case was worked so quickly in an effort to make sure justice was served. We should make sure there’s nothing left there to find.”
Matt nodded. At least she saw his point. No one had heard from the people who’d owned the house—and though they were presumed murdered, no one knew for sure, and Matt had heard that the house had just been left to time and natural forces. Either they’d had no heirs, or the heirs hadn’t taken care of the house.
“How are we getting there?” she asked again and he realized he hadn’t answered her the first time.
“I thought we’d kayak. I brought some here for us earlier. Sound okay?” He hadn’t actually confirmed whether or not she could kayak and she hadn’t said the other night, when she’d seen the one he was building in his workshop.
Thankfully she nodded. “Yeah, I can kayak.”
“We’d better go, then.” Matt glanced down at their hands, not quite sure he was ready to separate them yet. But it would take a little while to get to the island, then there was the hike to the house to consider, then the time to explore. He hadn’t packed food, just a couple bottles of water, so they didn’t have unlimited time.
Gemma smiled at him, squeezed his hand with hers one more time, then pulled away. “All right. Which way to the kayaks?”
“Follow me.”
They outfitted themselves in life jackets, then climbed into the kayaks. “Guessing you didn’t make these?” Gemma grinned, obviously teasing since they were bright orange-and-yellow plastic.
“Good guess.”
They pushed off and started out down the tidal creek. The marsh grass surrounding them was tall, made it hard to see. Whitetail Island was still visible, even as low as they were with their boats in the water, but without a map—which he had brought—or good knowledge of the area, someone would never be able to figure out how to work their way through a maze of marsh grass.
“Left or right?” Gemma asked more than once when they came to places where the creek split. Matt would answer and they’d continue on, making their way to the island.
“Well, we know from visiting this house that it was definitely not a crime of opportunity,” Gemma commented at one point. “The thieves had to really want those maps to come all the way out here.”
“I agree. I think if we go back and look at evidence records for what was stolen from where we’ll find that the maps from here had a pretty high value.”
“I’d guess that you’re right.” Gemma exhaled with the effort of paddling. Then inhaled deeply. “Wow, that smells like home, you know?” She shook her head. “You don’t smell that in Atlanta.”
“What, the smell of decaying grass and mud?” he teased her. The truth was he loved the smell of the marsh, too.
From the playful smile she threw his way, he was pretty sure she knew that already. Of course she did—Gemma seemed able to understand things about him that he didn’t yet understand himself.
“Right up here in this sandy spot.” He pointed with his paddle and the two of them ran their kayaks up to the shallow water by the shore, then hopped out and dragged them the rest of the way. “I’ll tie these up back here.” He motioned to some bushes. “I don’t think anyone but us is out here, but just in case.”
“Right.”
Her face had paled a little at the mention of other people possibly lurking nearby. Matt didn’t like it, but couldn’t do anything about it yet. He stored the kayaks just a bit off the beach, tied to some old bushes at the edge of where the sand turned to grass, then went back to Gemma. “Hey.” He ran a hand down her shoulder, over the outside edge of her upper arm. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t bring you here if I thought we were unsafe in any way.”
She looked unconvinced.
“Do you want to just go back to Treasure Point? I don’t think there’s any danger here, but I understand that the whole place feels...”
“Creepy.”
That was an understatement. The entire island had a feeling of unease, of melancholy. Even the soft beach grass growing at the end of the shore seemed to make mourning noises instead of the normal swish that could sound so relaxing. It was a place that had seen too much sadness, and it felt to Matt almost like the land itself couldn’t bear it.
It only made him more determined to investigate, to see if there was anything here that could help their case. Whether it had ever been proved or not, Matt was sure the couple who had lived here had been murdered. And they deserved justice. It wasn’t just a fight for Gemma to be able to live fully—it was a fight to make sure these people hadn’t died in vain, hadn’t died quietly whil
e their killer had gone free.
So much was riding on him doing a good job. So much more than his pride, although there was still that, too. He had to investigate this island; he could feel it deep in his gut. “I need to be here, to look around. But I promise you, Gemma, say the word and I will take you back and come on my own another day.”
And he meant it, too. As much as what they were doing was worth sacrifices, it wasn’t worth hurting Gemma, not even emotionally.
She met his eyes, seemed to see how much she meant to him—which scared the life out of him, but he’d deal with that later, shoved it aside for now—and nodded. “Okay, let’s stay. Show me how to get to the house.”
He reached out his hand. She took it.
And onto a narrow dirt trail through the tall grass they went.
TWELVE
Foliage had overgrown the back porch of the house. A place that Gemma could imagine having once been the scene of rocking chairs, of sweet tea on the porch in the evening, now looked spooky and decrepit.
The whole house itself felt like a warning. Everything inside her wanted to leave.
But hadn’t she done that once already? Run from trouble and tried to start over? And here she was, a decade later, still not free from this.
Gemma was ready to be free. Whatever the cost.
“Matt?”
“Back here,” he called from the direction of a falling-down outbuilding. Gemma thought she could see a path through the brambles. She glanced down at her cute running shoes, which she’d only worn outside of the gym a handful of times. They were going on a real adventure today.
“Coming!”
It was too fast for her to know what happened first. She was falling, backward, but hands were pulling her, she hadn’t just lost her footing. She opened her mouth as a hand was clamped over it and felt the roughness of work gloves against her lips.
Gemma tried to fight, but her left arm was nearly useless because of her broken wrist. She reached her right arm behind her, to hit whoever was holding her, but the blows didn’t seem to faze him.
She heard a low laugh. The same one she’d heard outside the door the night of the carbon monoxide poisoning. He’d wanted her dead then and he wanted her dead now.
Cold Case Witness Page 12
