Читать книгу Perilous Homecoming - Sarah Varland - Страница 12

THREE

The F-150 wasn’t what she would have guessed Sawyer Hamilton would drive. Sure, it was a nice truck, but it was the same exact one he’d driven in high school. She’d have assumed he’d moved on by now, maybe to a new BMW or something more like that.

He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She raised an eyebrow. “Uh, thanks?”

He just laughed softly, a laugh that some women—most women—might have thought was endearing. “You’re welcome. I haven’t been gone from Treasure Point so long, Kelsey, that I forgot how I was raised.”

Another reminder that he was still a Hamilton—one of the haves when she was a have not. And while he hadn’t played any role in the fiasco where she’d lost her job, he was the man who’d chosen to compete for a scholarship he didn’t need, who’d stolen her chance to go right to college, finish in four years, and get her career moving when all of her peers had.

No, instead she’d stayed in Treasure Point, worked at the police department while she struggled to put herself though school, and now was just beginning to see the fruits of her labor, was just now approaching where she wanted to be in life.

Kelsey glared at him as he shut her door, walked around to the other side of the truck, then climbed in.

He’d barely sat down when she stopped in the middle of fastening her seatbelt. Loyalty to the chief only went so far. She wasn’t doing this to herself. “You know what? I’d actually like the walk. Thanks, though.” She reached for the door handle, but his voice stopped her.

“What problem do you have with me, Kelsey? I haven’t seen you in a decade, so I assume it must have been something in school, but I always thought we were... I don’t know, friendly rivals? Maybe even friends?”

What did it say about him that he’d counted her as a friend? She never, never would have thought the same about him.

Either way, his reminder about how much time had passed stilled her. She was an adult now. Close to successful. So far from that bitter, angry seventeen-year-old kid. Surely she could be mature, not let him get to her, right?

“Fine.”

He put the car in Reverse and maneuvered his way out of the parking lot. “Are you in the same house you were in during high school?” he asked and at her nod, he headed in that direction.

“Oh, wait, my car. It’s at the museum. Could we swing by there?”

“Sure.”

He turned around in an empty parking lot and drove back in the direction of the museum. Neither spoke for a minute, and Kelsey wanted to keep it that way, but one thing was bothering her enough that she was willing to break her “say nothing” rule.

“How did you know I was at the police station?” She braced herself as she asked the question. Had everyone seen her getting ushered into the back of the police car? She hoped not, but if so, better to know now so she could call her boss and do damage control with her job before the situation sounded worse than it was.

“I was talking to Clay. He said you might need a lift.”

“That’s all he said?” She cast a quick glance at him, meant to look away and didn’t.

Sawyer’s eyes never left the road, but he nodded. “That’s all he said.”

Kelsey studied him for another minute. He’d grown up since high school, something that should have been obvious, but that hadn’t struck her till now. He still had that confident look of a guy used to winning at everything, but his shoulders had broadened, his jawline grown even stronger. The combination should have made him look even more arrogant. And yet...

If she looked closely, a bit of the cockiness was gone. He seemed a little less intimidating than he’d always been.

Intimidating? Did she just admit she’d been intimidated by him? As they drove down the dark road, making the last few turns before the Hamilton property, she realized that yes, she had been. That didn’t mean she’d backed down from academic competition with him—that was far from the truth. But maybe her dislike of him had been rooted partly in her own insecurity?

That and his part in ruining her life. She couldn’t forget that.

It looked like most of the party had cleared out of the museum, something Kelsey knew the police department would have orchestrated. From what Sawyer had said—or rather, hadn’t said—the public didn’t know about the murder yet. The police officers would have taken everyone’s statements, but would have given as little information as possible, not wanting to bias or influence anyone’s recollections. And now that everyone was gone, they’d be hard at work establishing a perimeter around the crime scene, so they could begin their investigation.

It was funny how much Kelsey wished she was out there with them, checking for evidence, processing the scene. Police work had just been a practical fallback when her dreams of leaving town for college had come crashing down. But to her surprise, it had become something she’d enjoyed. Who knew the desire to investigate was still so strong inside her?

“There’s my car.” Kelsey motioned to the dark blue Jeep Patriot.

Wordlessly, Sawyer pulled his truck in beside it. “It really was good to see you again, I wasn’t just saying that. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yeah,” Kelsey replied instinctively, too startled to formulate many thoughts. Take care of herself? Why would he say that like he cared? “Uh, you, too.” She scrambled out of the truck as gracefully as she could and shut the door, breathing a sigh of relief as she did so. Hopefully their paths wouldn’t cross again while she was still in town and she wouldn’t have to examine her own attitudes toward him anymore. Those feelings were one large tangle of confusion. And Kelsey disliked confusion.

Careful to stay mostly on her toes and not sink her silver heels into the dirt to avoid rolling an ankle, she walked the few steps to her car carefully and reached for the door handle.

But...there on the windshield.

What was that?

As every alarm in her mind blared, she reached for the white rectangle, opened the envelope, which wasn’t sealed but just folded shut, and pulled a slip of paper out of it.

Typed. Naturally. No need to leave more evidence than necessary.

On autopilot, she unfolded the crisp white paper, folded precisely into three sections.

She read the words she’d somehow known were coming.

YOU HAVE TWELVE HOURS TO GET OUT OF TREASURE POINT. BE GONE BY TOMORROW MORNING OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES. PS I’M WATCHING YOU. CAN YOU SEE ME?

* * *

Sawyer had been raised to be a gentleman. No matter how cold Kelsey had been to him, he was going to sit right here in this pickup and wait until she’d climbed into her car and safely driven away. Something had happened in Treasure Point tonight, something dangerous. While he might not know what it was, Kelsey’s strange behavior and her presence at the police department—not in an official capacity, it seemed—pointed to her being involved, and possibly in danger, one way or another.

Somehow he felt even more responsible for her safety than he would have another woman. Maybe it was the knowledge that he’d gotten the scholarship she’d wanted—a pretty stupid thing to be trying to make up for a decade later. Especially since she probably didn’t remember, and how could she blame him? He’d had dreams to pursue, too, dreams his father hadn’t necessarily approved of and had told him in no uncertain terms he wouldn’t finance. So he’d worked like crazy on that speech, won the competition and double majored in business—his father’s dream for him—and marine biology—his dream for himself, one he never would have been able to reach without that scholarship. There had been other scholarships, but this one had covered nearly all the tuition. He hadn’t wanted to alienate his father by dropping the business degree altogether... And the fact was that while he’d gotten the marine biology degree, he hadn’t used it yet, hadn’t wanted to face the drama that was sure to come if he left the family business altogether.

He saw her reach for the car door and put his truck in Drive, keeping his foot on the brake. He didn’t like how all this made him feel, didn’t like revisiting the past. From his perspective, it had been a good past, sure, but something about it obviously bothered Kelsey, and he wasn’t much for analyzing things that had happened years before. Time to let it go, maybe time for him to let his guilt go over that scholarship money, then both of them could move on. It was clear she didn’t want anything to do with him.

Coming back to Treasure Point, being the official representative of the Hamilton family at this museum shindig and all the other official museum events coming up in the next month, was one of the ways he was earning his redemption for the business mistakes he’d had hanging over his head for the last year, ever since the project he’d taken a gamble on had come crashing down—along with most of his father’s respect for him. Doing this well was one way to earn that back, which was why he hadn’t protested much when the opportunity was offered to him. Aunt Mary couldn’t do it because her health was declining, and his parents had other obligations. That and Sawyer suspected that while they enjoyed their prominent position in the town, they viewed actually participating in town events to be somewhat beneath them. In any case, he was happy to do it in their place. He’d officially taken a month of paid vacation time from his father’s company, but unofficially, Sawyer was fairly certain he was through trying to make himself fit in a world where he didn’t belong. Marine biology had been his passion—here was his chance to look for a job where he could use those skills. The family obligations had provided a good excuse to take this vacation, a plus in his mind. He hadn’t anticipated that it would also give him the chance to make the past up to Kelsey, as well. Or at least try to, if she would let him.

She didn’t seem to want his regret, didn’t need his friendship. And Sawyer refused to sit around and let that nag at him.

Foot raised over the gas pedal, he looked at Kelsey again. Why was it taking her so long to get into the car?

Something about this wasn’t sitting well in his stomach. Slowly, he lowered his foot back to the floor and put the truck back into Park, almost in slow motion.

Was that something in her hands? What was she doing?

Kelsey looked over her shoulder first, then spun in his direction, eyes wide. She looked back at her car.

He rolled down the passenger side window. “You need something?”

“No.” She said it firmly, cutting him off before the whole sentence had even tumbled from his mouth. But he wouldn’t let her push him away that easily.

“Look, whatever you think of me, I’m not stupid. I can tell something’s wrong, Kelsey. Maybe you should get back in my truck.”

She turned toward him, eyes flashing. But no sound left her mouth. Neither of them had a chance to say anything before a sharp crack, like a firecracker, but with more weight, split the air.

“Get down!” he yelled, but she’d already dropped by the time he said it. Had she been downed by the gunshot or were her instincts that fast?

He was just about to push his own door open, run out there and see if she was all right when the passenger door opened and she jumped in.

Another shot rang out, just as she was climbing in. This one hit metal.

“Go!” Kelsey yelled. He was already working on it. He peeled out, tires squealing like they hadn’t since he was sixteen, and drove. He didn’t ease up on the gas till they were mostly down the drive that led out of the Hamilton estate and back to the main road.

Kelsey had pulled out her phone and had it lifted to her ear. He needed an explanation, wanted to know especially why she seemed to calm, so unsurprised by this. But he imagined she was probably calling the police, and that was more important right now.

He heard someone on the other end answer. The voice was low. Male. The chief?

“This is Kelsey. You need to know that somebody wants me dead.”

She said it calmly. Like it was a fact, nothing more, no feelings attached.

Someone wanted her dead. Why? Was it connected to whatever had happened at the museum? What had she gotten mixed up in? Uncertainty clouded the edges of his judgment. What did he really know about Kelsey Jackson? Nothing. And hadn’t he heard rumors here and there—he tried not to pay attention to small-town gossip, but it was impossible to avoid altogether—that she hadn’t left the police department on the best terms?

She set the phone down. He glanced over at her. “Where are we going?” He kept his own voice calm and measured. The chief seemed to trust her; that had to be enough for him now. He couldn’t exactly leave her on the side of the road when someone had been shooting at her ninety seconds before.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“What are you sure of?” he asked as he kept driving. He’d grown up here, knew every back road in a thirty-mile radius, minimum, and he had a full tank of gas. If driving was what she wanted, that’s what they’d do.

She looked over at him. “You really didn’t hear anything about what happened tonight?”

He shrugged. “It’s pretty clear that something happened, but the police were being pretty closemouthed about it all.” Sawyer glanced over at her, but nothing in her expression gave away any of her thoughts. She must have been one impressive cop. He turned back to the road. “Was something vandalized?” he guessed. “Or stolen?” A theft would explain the police response, but not the gunshots. What had she done that resulted in someone wanting her dead?

“Not as far as I know. But Michael Wingate is dead.”

“The curator?” The man had been around Treasure Point for as long as Sawyer could remember, but their paths hadn’t crossed much when he was a kid—he’d guess Michael was about twenty, maybe thirty years older. He’d met him formally for the first time yesterday.

“Someone pushed him off a balcony. I overheard it happening just a few minutes before the lights went out. Now someone wants me dead.”

“What was on your car that made you stop?”

“A note.” Kelsey looked down at her lap, leaned over to look at the floor. “I must have dropped it during the shooting. It said I had twelve hours to get out of town or I’d pay for it, basically.”

“They didn’t give you until morning, though.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t know why.”

“Maybe the note was a trap itself, just to get you to stand in one place.”

“Could be. Who knows?”

Sawyer kept driving, winding his way through the tall pine trees that towered over the darkened back roads.

Kelsey said nothing. He got the feeling she was still deciding whether or not she could trust him.

And Sawyer was trying to decide the same thing. One thing was certain, though. He wasn’t going to be able to drive away and put the dangers of Kelsey’s situation behind him.