Читать книгу Dark Harbor - Christy Barritt - Страница 11

TWO

Zach dodged trees and stumps and underbrush as he rushed after the figure in the distance. The woods were thick and hard to navigate. But he needed to figure out who was out there.

Maybe the person fleeing was a hunter who’d stumbled across them and feared getting caught without a permit. It was a possibility. And some hunters would run rather than face fines.

Zach reached a slight clearing and paused. He’d lost sight of the man he was following. Where had he gone?

He listened, hoping for a clue. Nothing signaled the man’s location. Cautiously, he took a step forward. He surveyed the area, his instincts on alert.

The man couldn’t have just disappeared. Was he hiding? Waiting to ambush Zach?

He had to be careful. He’d seen firsthand just how easy it was for an officer of the law to lose his life. Too many good people had died in the line of duty.

As he took another step toward an especially thick section of trees, he heard something click.

A gun, he realized.

Zach ducked to the ground. His heart pounded in his ears. He listened for footsteps, for any sign the gunman was getting closer or trying to stage an ambush.

Nothing.

Then a crack filled the air.

Something whizzed over him and splinters rained on his shoulders.

A bullet had hit the tree above him, he realized. A few more inches, and he would have been toast.

Heavy footsteps darted away. Branches snapped. Underbrush rustled.

Zach sprang to his feet, darting toward the sound. The man busted through the woods. Zach caught a glimpse of a long-sleeved black shirt, black pants and a black hat. Whoever was out here wasn’t a hunter. But he was trying to remain concealed. That was the only reason someone dressed like that.

Zach thrust himself through the wilderness, trying to reach the man. Shooting at a police officer was a serious crime. Zach had to do everything he could to catch the man.

A clearing stretched ahead. This was his chance.

Zach pushed himself harder.

A whistle sounded in the distance. He glanced over and saw a train traveling toward them down the tracks. His breath caught.

No...

With a burst of energy, he sprinted toward the man, gaining speed by the moment.

Just as the man crested the tracks, the train barreled past.

Zach stepped back as the force of the engine brought with it a rush of wind. His hands went to his hips and he shook his head.

The shooter’s timing had been impeccable. Two more minutes’ difference would have yielded different results. Zach could have caught him, pulled that mask off and figured out who the man was, once and for all.

Zach stared down the length of the train—it was long. Really long. He knew by the time it went past, the man would be gone.

Shaking his head, Zach stomped back toward the sight of the shooting. He found the bullet lodged into the tree and studied it for a moment. He couldn’t tell much about it. He only knew it had come way too close to his head.

He pulled some tweezers and a bag from his pocket and collected the bullet. He used his phone to take some pictures.

He searched the ground for footprints, but they’d had a dry summer and the soil was rock hard. Just as he suspected, he found nothing.

He gave one last glance in the direction the bullet had come from and then turned back.

He had to make sure Madelyn Sawyer was okay. Because he had a feeling this all led back to her.

* * *

Madelyn felt beside herself. She’d been followed, stranded in the middle of nowhere and then she’d heard a gunshot. Had the chief been injured? Or had Zach Davis shot someone? Who had that man in the woods been?

The questions all collided in her mind.

She heard someone moving through the woods and froze.

Was it Zach? Or could it be the driver of the white truck? Her nerves were getting the best of her and making it hard to breathe.

In the quiet moments by herself, she’d remembered the truck. She’d remembered the risks she was taking by coming here. This could be her big break, she reminded herself. If she was able to get some dirt on Zach Davis, it could be the story of her life. The story that would make her boss proud. That would cement her role in the world of respected journalists who’d written stories that made a difference.

She backed away from the tree line, putting her car between her and whoever was coming her way. This was how it all ended in scary movies. A woman alone in the woods, thinking help was coming when it was really the killer.

She swallowed hard and glanced around for something to protect herself with. All she saw was gravel and sticks.

It was going to have to work.

She reached down and scooped up some pebbles. She could use them to distract someone, if it came down to it.

She crouched behind the car, waiting, anticipating.

Finally, a figure broke through the trees. Her eyes were riveted on the man.

Zach, she realized as his features came into focus. It was Zach. Her shoulders slumped with relief.

He lumbered onto the service road and squinted when he saw her behind the car.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She stood, dropping the pebbles and straightening her outfit. She raised her chin as she looked at him. “I’m fine. I heard a gun...”

“Someone shot at me.”

Her pulse spiked. This was worse than she imagined. “Did you catch him?”

Zach shook his head. “No. He got away, thanks to a train passing through. But I have the bullet and I plan to run ballistics on it.”

“I’m glad...you’re okay.” Where had that come from? Zach Davis was possibly a bad cop, someone who deserved to be locked up. She shouldn’t be wishing the best for him.

“I can only assume it was a hunter trying to scare me away. I can’t think of any other explanation. Can you?” He challenged her with his gaze.

Her cheeks heated, and she shook her head. Great. He already suspects me. “I still have no idea why I was followed.”

His accusatory gaze remained on her another moment before he finally looked away. “I guess we should get you into town, so I can get back to the office and process this.”

She swallowed hard. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Zach grabbed her suitcase and placed it in the trunk before they both climbed into his police cruiser. The car was neat with a leathery scent. Madelyn tried to settle back into the vehicle and not give any signals that she knew who Zach Davis really was. But it was hard to hide her nervous energy. She wanted to tap her foot, to play with her hair, to do uncountable things that could clue Zach in that she was on edge.

“Sorry about your arrival in town.” Zach headed back down the service road, his arm slung across the seat as he peered out the back glass.

“These things happen, I suppose. Just not usually to me.”

He offered an apologetic smile and pulled out onto the side street. “So, you’re writing a tourism piece?”

Madelyn nodded, realizing he was just making polite conversation. She had to chill out if she didn’t want to raise suspicions. “That’s right. I’m with East Coast International. You ever heard of it?”

“Sounds vaguely familiar. I don’t read too many regional magazines, however.” He glanced at her as the miles began to blur past. “Have you written a lot of travel articles?”

“I’ve done my fair share.” It was almost all she’d done, truth be told. But she longed for more. To do articles that made a difference. She wanted to be a voice of change, someone who could help the helpless, who brought justice to those who deserved it.

They were lofty goals. But she held tight to them.

“Why Waterman’s Reach?” Zach asked.

She shrugged, trying to remain calm. “The town seemed like an undiscovered treasure. That’s what I like. Anyone can write about Myrtle Beach or Williamsburg or the popular tourist spots. I want to show the places off the beaten path.”

“Well, you’ve definitely got the undiscovered part down being in Waterman’s Reach.”

She glanced at him. It was hard for her to comprehend that the very man she’d done so much research on was here now. She was riding with him. Close enough to touch. A hint of thrill, as well as fear, spread through her.

She cleared her throat. “How about you? How long have you been here?”

Was it her imagination or did Zach’s gaze darken at her question?

“A few months.” He didn’t offer any more details.

“So you’re not a local.” She tried to sound surprised. “I always imagined a town like Waterman’s Reach to be the kind where jobs like police chief were handed down generationally.”

He smiled softly, maybe sadly. “No, I’m an outsider, which has brought some challenges of its own. In fact, the prior police chief’s nephew works under me. But the mayor thought some change would be good for the town.”

“Has it been?” she asked.

“You’ll have to ask the people in town that question.” Just as he said that, he turned off the main highway and into Waterman’s Reach. A quaint-looking town came into view. She quickly glimpsed the cobblestone sidewalks, antique-looking streetlights and picturesque storefronts.

Before she could soak too much of it in, Madelyn looked down at the paper where she’d jotted her travel information and rattled off the address. Zach turned off Main Street and pulled to a stop in a parking lot behind the downtown area in Waterman’s Reach.

“This is where you’re going?” Zach looked around as if confused. There were no bed-and-breakfasts or hotels close, which might explain why he looked baffled.

She pointed to a house across the lot. “Right there, if I understand correctly.”

Thank goodness she’d taken the time to look up the address online, so she had some idea of how the duplex looked. Dusk had fallen now, casting dim shadows on everything. She’d wanted to get here while it was still daylight outside, but that plan had been interrupted.

“Mayor Ron Alan’s rental property?” Zach asked.

“Yes, that’s correct. He’s letting me use it while I’m in town.” She still felt a little guilty about it. The mayor had gone out of his way to make her feel welcome. How would he feel when he found out she wasn’t writing a travel article but instead a hit piece on the town’s police chief?

“Mayor Alan owns quite a bit of real estate in the area,” Zach told her. “That’s how he originally made a name for himself. He used his inheritance to buy up real estate when the prices were low, and now he rents them out. In fact, even my house belongs to the man.”

“Small-town dynamics, huh? You’ve got to love them.”

He put the car in Park and started to get out.

“I can get my suitcase. Don’t worry about it,” Madelyn insisted.

He paused, one leg already on the ground. “I don’t mind. I can walk it up for you.”

“No, really. I’ve already put you out today, and I know you have reports to file, especially since that bullet came your way. Let me handle my suitcase.” She really wanted to be away from the man. She needed space to collect her thoughts.

“If you insist.” He shrugged, closing his door again. “If you have any more problems while you’re in town, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll call a tow truck to pick up your car. Fisher’s Auto Repair is the closest. Next shop is about thirty minutes out.”

“Fisher’s will be fine.”

“Will do.”

Her hands trembled as she stepped from the car and onto the cracked asphalt of the small, shadowed parking lot. Zach popped the trunk, and she ran around to grab her suitcase. Handle in hand, she leaned into the car once more. “Thanks again.”

“Hope you get that article written without any trouble,” he said.

His words froze her a moment. Then she realized it wasn’t a threat, but an observation based on what had happened earlier today.

She let out an airy laugh. Not a smooth move, Madelyn. You’ve got to be on the ball here.

“Thank you,” she murmured. She waved and took a step back.

“I’ll wait until you get inside.”

“I’ll be fine. I want to stretch my legs for a moment.” She needed to be away from his scrutiny as soon as possible.

He raised his eyebrows, as if he doubted her words. “As you wish.”

She waited until he pulled away to survey the area for any sign of danger, hating how her body had gone into fight-or-flight mode. All she spotted was the back side of the shops lining Main Street. A municipal lot was located dead center between buildings and houses that formed a U around it.

That U shape also meant she was hidden from eyesight from anyone walking the town’s sidewalks. The area back here was deserted, as most of the businesses had already closed for the evening.

The good news was that she didn’t see the white truck anywhere.

The bad news was that, if the truck’s driver did show up, no one would be around to hear her scream.

She shivered at the thought. All the craziness from earlier had shaken her up. Being followed. Meeting Zach the way she had. Hearing he’d been shot at.

It would leave anyone unsettled.

She glanced up at the house in front of her. Her temporary home was a two-level duplex the mayor owned and used as rental property. The home looked contemporary, well kept and clean with its blue siding and white trim. She was staying on the second floor, and if she understood correctly, the first floor was currently unoccupied.

She approached the stoop. A cardboard box had been left there with her name on it. Cautiously, she took the note on top off.

“For Madelyn, welcome to Waterman’s Reach. Here are some of our famous oysters to give you a taste of the town. Cordially, Mayor Alan.”

Madelyn swallowed a bitter taste in her mouth.

Instead of dwelling on her deceit now, she glanced around. Where was that lockbox where she could get the key?

By the garage, she remembered. She walked to the small building at the side of the house, found a small case beside the electrical box and turned the numbers there until the code was entered. The mechanism clicked open, and she pulled the key out.

As she walked back toward the door, she shuddered. There was something about being alone in a new place that always got to her. She tried to be tough. But on the inside, she constantly battled herself and her fears.

It wasn’t a fun position to be in.

She was going to get through this and prove to her colleagues that she was someone to watch out for in the field of investigative journalism.

She wanted to—no, make that needed to—prove herself.

The realization seemed a bit pitiful. She shouldn’t have to prove herself. But something was programmed into her thoughts, something at gut level, that made her believe that her self-worth was based on a certain set of criteria, no matter how much she might deny it.

She paused when she heard a sound behind her. Her shoulders instantly tightened. What was that?

She turned but saw nothing. Just trash cans, some old pallets and a broom.

Strange.

With a touch of hesitation, Madelyn hurried toward the door, her heels clacking against the pavement. That was rule number one that her mentor had taught her: always dress for success.

Madelyn heard that sound behind her again and paused. Fear began to gel in her stomach. Before she could turn, a hand covered her mouth.

Her heart surged with panic. What was happening?

Was she being robbed? Mugged? Murdered?

“Get out of this town,” someone whispered in her ear.