Читать книгу Silent Night Shadows - Sarah Varland - Страница 13
ОглавлениеClaire stood frozen in her living room, eyes glued to the view outside her window. It had seemed the only safe spot to look at, since her home was in shambles. The police were on their way, so for now all there was to do was wait.
She didn’t know which was scarier—the fact that there had been an intruder in her home, or the fact that he had wreaked all this destruction while she’d been asleep and unaware, only waking up moments before the man actually entered her bedroom. The thought of someone going through her paint supplies, rifling through her stack of finished paintings...it was worse than just an invasion of privacy, more than vandalism.
“Are you okay?”
The solid but quiet voice of her rescuer was familiar, and not just from tonight. Claire’s frowned as she looked up at him. Was it possible she knew him from somewhere other than the coffee shop?
To answer his question, she shook her head. No. She wasn’t okay. But she didn’t want to talk about that right now. “I know you,” she said, studying his face as she took a step closer to him. “Where do I know you from? You aren’t from Treasure Point.”
“No,” he admitted. “I’m not.”
“You’re not denying that I recognize you from somewhere, though.”
He shook his head slightly, then stilled, head tilted to the side just a little, as he studied her in return. “I recognized you right away, but then again, you’ve changed less since college than I have.”
“College...” she mumbled.
As though she’d summoned the memories up, a collage of snapshots from her college life played through her mind. She’d left Treasure Point for college, gone to Savannah to chase her big-city dreams just like any stereotypical small-town seventeen-year-old. She’d studied well, worked hard to keep her GPA up, but she’d also had fun with her group of friends. Kayaking near Little Tybee Island, climbing at the rock gym in Savannah... There had been a large group of them, but the three she’d spent the most time with were her roommate, Katie Dunbar, her boyfriend at the time, Justin Colton...
And the man she now recognized as the one standing in front of her. Nate Torres.
“Nate.” She’d never thought she’d see him again, not after their group’s friendship had fizzled after Justin had left for Atlanta to get his master’s. The two of them had tried dating long-distance, but Justin had not been cut out for a committed relationship. At least, not with her. Claire had found that out the hard way when she’d shown up in Atlanta to surprise him one weekend and found that he was out with another woman. He’d apologized and promised that it was an isolated mistake—that he’d never do it again. Like the naive girl she was then, Claire had believed he meant it. Maybe he had. But their relationship had never been the same and then...then the accident had happened.
Dating Justin had been a risk in more than one way. A risk taken lightly that had ended badly.
Claire had learned her lesson, had matured past the attraction to charming bad boys since then. What she was looking for now was more along the lines of a steady, predictable man with a stable job. Someone mature, who realized that adventures were for kids, and adults had to settle down. Be dependable. Stay committed.
Though to be fair, a sensible, unadventurous guy wouldn’t have been any use to her tonight. If someone steady and unexcitable had seen her getting attacked in the street, he’d have called the police or gone for help. He never would have directly charged her attacker to force him to release her. And breaking into her apartment to protect her from a dangerous intruder? Forget about it. For better or for worse, Nate was exactly what she’d needed tonight, and she was grateful that he’d been there for her—not just once, but twice.
And if he happened to look particularly handsome and heroic just now, she was just going to have to ignore it. Never again was she going to let attraction overpower her good sense.
Nate was the epitome of everything she’d never fall for again. But while he was the last man on earth she’d get involved with, he was someone she trusted.
Claire swallowed hard. “Nate,” she repeated. “Do you want to tell me what you’re doing in Treasure Point?”
“I’m here as a photographer.”
“You’re a photographer now?”
“It’s one of the things I do, yes.”
“And the others? Legal? Not legal?”
“Claire, you can trust me.”
“Oddly enough, I know that. But I also know that it’s too much of a coincidence that someone tried to kill me right after you came to town—and that you just happened to be in the right position to save me. Twice. There’s something more going on here, isn’t there?”
He didn’t seem to see those words coming, and for a minute he didn’t say anything, just stood there. Still and speechless.
“Yes, there’s more going on here. But as for who wants you dead... I don’t know why anyone would be after you.”
“But I do.”
Claire swung her gaze to the door, where two uniformed officers stood. Her brother-in-law, Matt, and his friend Clay.
“What do you mean?” she asked Matt.
He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times and then held it up to show her a picture.
“That’s my business card. For the shop.” Claire shook her head. “You think someone wanted me dead because...”
“Wait, I wasn’t done.” Another few taps. He held up the phone again. “This is the back of the same business card.”
Scrawled on the plain white card stock in a handwriting that she didn’t recognize were two words. “What do these mean to you?”
Ocean Lights.
“It’s the painting I just finished last week.”
“What was it of, Claire?”
“Just...just landscape, like all my paintings. You think that’s why someone wants me dead? That doesn’t make any sense. It’s a painting, Matt, not anything important.” The words felt multilayered to Claire, like a betrayal of her true self even as they came out of her mouth. She’d like to think her paintings did have meaning, but for now they were a hobby. The coffee shop was her real business. And besides, what she’d really meant was that her paintings weren’t anything to kill over.
That much she was sure of.
“This business card was found in the hands of a woman who was murdered here in Treasure Point earlier this evening.”
The thought of a murder was horrifying—and more horrifying that it had been in Treasure Point. She’d heard about it on the police radio at the station, but it was fully sinking in now. What if it was someone she knew? Out of the corner of her eye, Claire noticed that Nate winced almost as much as she did. A visceral reaction...except his wasn’t surprise.
Nate had already known about that murder?
She looked back at her brother-in-law. Looked back at Nate. She’d almost say from the way he had a habit of showing up and rescuing her, from the way he was hyperfocused on the crimes that had happened earlier, that he was law enforcement himself, but the black leather certainly didn’t fit the clean-cut image she associated with the police in Treasure Point.
“Claire is going to need protection on her at all times,” Nate stated.
“There’s no need,” Matt said. “They should have the guy by now. I got the call that he’d been found just after I received orders to come here.”
Claire watched Nate for a reaction, but this time she got nothing but solid poker face.
“Who are they bringing in?”
“Trace Johnson, Jenni’s ex-boyfriend. He’d been threatening her—she filed a complaint, was trying to get a restraining order.”
“And you think he killed her and then came over here to kill Claire?”
Matt shook his head. “Listen, I’m not saying it makes complete sense yet. We’re still working everything out. But it’s possible. Who else would have a reason to be after Jenni?”
“The better question is, what reason would Jenni’s ex-boyfriend have to go after Claire, just because Jenni had her business card?”
“We’re going to be working the next few days on establishing motive as well as collecting more evidence. You know how this works, Torres. How about you do your job and let us do our jobs?”
Nate shook his head, and Claire recognized that stubborn set to his jaw. He was usually easygoing, but when he dug in his heels, he was unmovable. “I think she needs protection until you can prove he was behind both crimes. Or either crime, for that matter.”
“She’s my sister-in-law. I want her safe, too, but we have no reason to think Trace isn’t our guy.”
“We’ll talk more about this later.” Nate’s voice left no doubt that he meant it. The conversation wasn’t over.
Claire’s gaze bounced between the two men, one who she knew cared about her like family, and the other who should have just been part of a past she’d almost forgotten about, but had turned up back in her life and was now making it very clear that he would fight for her safety.
But why did he care so much? And why was he so convinced she was still in danger from her attacker when Matt and Clay seemed to think she wasn’t?
Nate Torres knew more than he was letting on.
She thought of Matt’s words just now. “You do your job and let us do our jobs...” Was he talking about the photography business? Somehow Claire didn’t think so. She needed answers. And it seemed like Nate might be the one who could give them to her.
* * *
“You’re not staying here for the rest of the night,” Nate said to Claire once the officers had moved into the bedroom to see if the intruder had left behind any evidence.
“Excuse me?” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think that a few years of friendship nearly a decade ago entitles you to tell me how to live my life. If the police don’t think it’s safe for me to stay, then that’s one thing, but who are you to tell me it’s not?”
Something in her eyes... This wasn’t just bravado. She was genuinely asking, challenging him to give her an answer—to explain what he was doing in town, and what his connection was to the attacks against her.
He’d known when it became apparent that the Carson brothers were using Treasure Point for some of their operations that coming to town and using it as his base to investigate meant running into Claire was inevitable. Thankfully, for the last couple of weeks she hadn’t recognized him, and he didn’t blame her. He’d changed since college, a transformation that had begun his senior year when his younger sister died, and that had continued until he was the guy he was now.
The guy he was now knew the dangers of letting anyone get close to him. It didn’t just risk his secrets—which could mean life or death for an undercover agent. It also put his heart at risk of getting hurt. And he’d shouldered too much hurt already to sign himself up for another dose.
Nate looked away from Claire before those enormous brown eyes could get to him any more. She trusted him, she said. Well, she shouldn’t. His sister had, and yet he hadn’t managed to say anything to convince her to leave the path she’d put herself on—the one that had led to her death. Jenni had trusted him, too, and she’d bled out on the floor of her apartment earlier.
He wished he could tell Claire to quit trusting him.
Although his investigation would be easier if she did. And more important if he looked at it logically, she’d be more likely to stay safe if she’d follow his advice. Not that that made him feel much better about her odds.
“Why don’t you ask what you really want to know, Claire?” He met her eyes again, tried to steel himself better against their effect on him this time.
“I want to know who you really are.”
No, she didn’t, not who he was in his core. But that wasn’t what she was asking. She wanted to know why he was in town, what he was doing in Treasure Point.
Those kinds of questions, he was prepared to answer. He’d talked to his supervisor at the GBI, Wade Beckett, soon after he came to town, and let him know that he had a history with someone in Treasure Point. She might have questions if she recognized him. After conducting a thorough background check on her, Wade had agreed that if it became necessary to tell Claire why Nate was in town in order to maintain his cover with everyone else, then it was okay.
That didn’t mean Nate was ready for her to know.
But her gaze wasn’t letting up, and when it came down to it...Nate knew who was after her.
And she needed to know if she was going to stay alive.
“I’m an agent with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. I’m in Treasure Point undercover to do recon on a drug smuggling group that we believe is operating in the area.”
Whatever she’d been expecting, it obviously hadn’t been that. He watched her blink a few times, and then she moved to the couch. Sank down into it.
“How much are you allowed to tell me?”
So she understood the basic parameters of secrecy his job demanded. That was something he hadn’t been expecting.
“Enough to give you an idea of who wants to kill you and how important it is that you take whatever precautions I suggest.”
“Tell me.”
“Tony and Jesse Carson are brothers. The GBI has been tracking them for the last eighteen months because of their involvement in the distribution of a new designer drug, Wicked. Recently they moved their operations down to somewhere south of Savannah, most likely because the country down here is more difficult to track people in. Swamps, marshes, gators... There are a lot of places to get lost between Savannah and the Georgia-Florida line.”
“So what exactly are you here to find out?”
“We don’t know right now if the Carsons are manufacturing and distributing the drug, or if they’re working with someone else to make it, or if they’re taking orders from someone. My gut tells me that there’s a higher-up calling the shots. If we can gather enough evidence against the Carsons, they might roll over and sell out the guy who’s running the show.”
“But either way, the Carsons are the ones who want me dead?”
“It looks that way, yes. The man who attacked you on the street—I recognized him. It was Jesse Carson himself. He must have a reason to have attacked you personally rather than sending one of his thugs to do it. It might have been him in the apartment tonight, too, though I can’t be certain.”
“And the woman earlier. The one who was killed. You think she fits into this, too, don’t you?”
He nodded slowly. “Apparently the police don’t agree with me, though. Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that her ex happened to get violent on the same night the Carson brothers wanted to take you out...but I doubt it.”
“Was she...were you...?”
Nate shook his head, knowing what she was asking. “She was my confidential informant.”
“But why would someone kill her?”
“If they found out she was giving information to law enforcement, that would be reason enough—these guys don’t take betrayal lightly. But there’s also the possibility that she found out something important, and they wanted to silence her to keep her from telling anyone.”
“And why did she have my business card?”
“I don’t know. But wait, as long as we’re talking about that, what was written on the back? You said it was the name of a painting, right?”
Claire nodded. “Ocean Lights.”
“Is it downstairs in your shop?” He’d noticed the gallery wall of artwork displayed the first time he’d been in the shop. Claire was a talented woman—but then, he’d always known that.
“No.” Her eyebrows pushed together as she frowned. “That’s why it seems odd she’d have the name of that one.”
“You haven’t told anyone about it?”
“I told Gemma the other day when we were having lunch at the diner.”
Even without knowing how the painting fit into this, Nate could feel tension building in his neck and shoulders. Of course Claire would have had no reason to realize it wasn’t safe to talk about her latest painting in a public place, but now that it did have significance and a connection to at least one serious crime, it was a privacy nightmare. Literally anyone could have heard her having that conversation. They’d get no leads from pursuing that.
Nate would deal with the implications later. For now, he needed to know more.
“What made this piece special?”
“Here, I can show you.” Claire stood, moved toward the paintings stacked against the side wall of her living room, started to flip through them.
She got to the last one, stilled. And then started over.
Nate knew where this was going but asked anyway. “What is it?” He moved closer to her, protective instincts amping up even more at the repeated reminders that someone had been in her house.
“It’s gone.”
“You didn’t misplace it.” It was more a statement than a question.
Claire shook her head.
“Someone took it tonight.”
“How long was he in here before I woke up? What else did he do?” She muttered the words softly, but Nate still caught them. Looking paler by the moment, Claire sunk down onto the couch again.
“There’s no way to tell.”
A tear ran down Claire’s cheek. Nate moved closer, not sure what he could do to help, but feeling like he should at least try. More than one tear. Several.
She sniffed and brushed at her cheek. “I just don’t understand.”
Was she more upset about the painting or the home invasion? He didn’t feel like he could fix it, at least try to fix it, until he knew. “Don’t understand...” he prompted her.
“What does your case or the woman who was killed have to do with my painting? Even if she overheard me talking about it, why would she care?”
“Can you tell me more about the painting?”
Claire was staring at the painting table, seeming lost in thought. After a minute, she looked back at him. Met his eyes.
“Now that I know why you’re here in town...” She shook her head, brushed another tear away. “I’m afraid I did something stupid.”
“On purpose?”
“Completely accidentally. But that doesn’t put me in any less danger, does it?” Claire let out a breath, pushed herself up from the couch and started to pace. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.”
“Something wrong?”
“Just a lot on my mind. Watching the ocean usually calms me down, so I often go out onto the deck and just watch it, listen to the waves. With the rest of this area mostly abandoned at night, it’s quiet. Peaceful.”
“So what did you do that was stupid?”
Claire exhaled. “One night, very late, I saw lights from where I stood on the deck, lights on the ocean like they belonged to a boat. But it’s not normal in this area for people to have boats out on the water in the middle of the night, so I’d never seen the way the lights reflect off the waves and mix with the moonlight before. I wanted to paint it.”
“So that was the subject of your painting?”
Claire gave a nod. “Yes.”
“You potentially painted a drug smuggling run, or a drug meet-up. I’m guessing with both of those, but I think it makes sense, Claire.”
“It does, now that you’ve told me drug smuggling is happening in the area. At the time, I didn’t have a reason to think there was anything sinister about it. It’s Treasure Point, and while we have had our share of crime lately, drug smuggling being a problem had never crossed my mind.”
Claire looked sick, and Nate couldn’t blame her. Her decision to paint some lights on the ocean, something seemingly innocuous, had put her life at risk.
All they could do now was damage control. It was too late to change the past.
Just then one of the officers strode out of the bedroom, looked over at Claire. “Matt is helping Shiloh process the scene. But I’m supposed to tell you that you’ll be staying at Matt and Gemma’s house tomorrow—well, today, technically. It’s Matt’s scheduled day off, and that will give you some protection.”
Claire nodded, glanced over at Nate.
“If it’s okay, I’d like to ask you a few more questions myself,” he said. “Dinner?”
She nodded. “I can do dinner. Since I’m assuming you’re armed...” Her eyes moved to his hip, and while Nate knew his .40 was completely concealed, he was impressed that she’d guessed correctly right where it was. “Maybe you could bring me back over here to clean up some of this mess after we eat? I’m not going to be staying here anytime soon, but I’d feel better knowing there wasn’t a huge mess. Or we could come here and I’ll cook—it’ll mean we’re not out at a restaurant somewhere we might be easy to attack.”
“If that works for the chief.” Nate looked back at the chief.
He nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. I’ll have officers here processing the scene for the next few hours, but we’ll lock it up after we’re done. There shouldn’t be any need for you to stay out or leave things as they are once evidence has been logged. We should be able to get everything we need before noon, I would guess.”
“Thank you.” Claire shook her head. “I can’t believe this is all happening. And wait, what about my shop? I can’t just close for the duration of...whatever this is.”
“We understand that.” Nate thought he spoke for all of them. “But tomorrow is rather critical. Both attacks on you have been so close together that the chances of another one goes down with every hour that passes tomorrow, if that makes sense. Basically, someone wanted you taken out tonight. So either they’re going to hit hard again as soon as they can to get rid of you as quickly as possible, or they’ve decided to step back and regroup before targeting you any further. We won’t know which strategy they’ve chosen until we see how it plays out. So for tomorrow, we want someone with you one hundred percent of the time.”
There was a hint of the old Claire in the way she physically cringed at the idea of full-time protection. She’d been so independent in college—that clearly hadn’t changed. But she’d also been such a free spirit, confident and adventurous. How she’d gone from that to running a coffee shop and living the life of someone much older, he had no idea.
