by Connie Mann
* * *
Hunter had found Travis behind the counter at the Outpost, playing a video game on his phone.
When he saw Hunter, all the color drained out of Travis’s face. “Is Josh okay? Mr. Tanner said he got hurt. He’s in the hospital.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice, though there was nobody else in the store. “He said Josh’s boat blew up. That can’t be right, can it?”
Hunter rested a hand on his weapon as he focused on Travis. “That’s why I’m here. What do you know about it?”
Travis jumped up, and the stool he’d been sitting on crashed into the wall behind the counter. “What do I know about it? Are you crazy? I don’t know anything about it. Why would I?”
Hunter folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Let’s try this instead. What do you know about some dead alligators?”
“You mean the three that were down on the bank a couple miles downriver?” He shrugged. “Yeah, they stank pretty bad.”
“When exactly did you see them?”
Travis’s eyes bounced back and forth across the room. “Uh, yesterday morning, before work. I, ah, took a ride in my kayak.” He looked away. “I’m trying to get in shape.”
Since he looked like the only thing he bench-pressed was a video game controller, Hunter figured he had a long way to go. But he never criticized anyone trying to improve.
“Why didn’t you report the dead alligators?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” He cocked his head. “I’m supposed to tell you guys stuff like that, huh?”
Hunter suppressed a sigh. “Yes, Travis, you’re supposed to report stuff like that.”
He shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t know. But what’s the big deal? They weren’t hurting anyone. They were already dead.”
“When did you kill them?”
Travis’s head whipped around so fast, Hunter thought he heard a snap. “I didn’t kill them. Why would I?”
Hunter stepped around the counter. Travis inched backward until his back hit the wall. “You’ve done it before. Why did you do it again?”
Travis’s eyes narrowed, and his fists clenched at his sides. “You had no right to go digging in my past. That happened a long time ago. When I was a kid. I don’t do that anymore.”
Hunter kept his eyes on Travis, voice low. “Because you’re hunting people now?”
Travis’s eyes blazed, and he lunged toward Hunter, who stepped back, hand in easy reach of his weapon.
“You don’t want to do that, Travis,” Hunter warned quietly.
Travis took a step back, threw his hands in the air, and shook his head. “I didn’t hurt anybody. I didn’t kill those gators either.”
“Where were you three days ago?”
“What day was that?” He huffed out a breath, whipped out his phone, checked the calendar app. “I had class, I think. Yeah, I had class.” He tapped the phone. “Then I went out in my kayak for a while. After that, I went back to my cabin, played video games.”
“Can anyone vouch for any of that?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know I’d need an alibi for my life. Geez.” At Hunter’s look, he shrugged. “My professor should be able to vouch for me. And people saw me on the river.”
“What people?”
“I don’t know. People people. Geez. I didn’t hurt anybody.”
Hunter took down the professor’s name. “Mind if I look around your cabin, Travis?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you need a search warrant for that?”
“Why would I need that if you’re innocent? I just want to look around.”
A family with two small children came into the office, wanting to rent a canoe. Travis hurried in their direction. Over his shoulder, he said, “Go ahead and look. But I haven’t done anything wrong.”
But Hunter noticed that his hands were trembling as he handed out release forms.
* * *
Charlee leaned against the open doorway of Travis’s one-room staff cabin and covered her nose. It smelled like a locker room and looked like a storm had torn it apart. “Find anything?”
Hunter looked up, frowned. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Travis said he didn’t care if I came, too.” When Hunter opened his mouth to say something, she added, “Don’t worry. I’m staying right here. Civilian. Evidence. I know.”
Hunter had opened the blinds and turned on the ceiling fan to let light in and the stench of sweat and old pizza out. He wore gloves and poked here and there, but nothing caught his attention until he moved the mouse on the computer and the big monitor clicked to life. The screen filled with images of Charlee.
He uttered a string of curses and turned the monitor so she could see. She gasped as row after row of pictures of her filled the screen, starting right after she’d gotten home last year and continuing until recently.
“He’s been following me.” She tried to process what she was seeing. And what it meant. “Could he be the one who put the camera outside my cottage? Did he send the clipping?”
Hunter already had his phone out. He held up one finger. “Byte, this is Boudreau. You’ve processed everything from the gator scene, right? Great. I need you to get over to Travis’s cottage at the Outpost and see what you can find, especially on his computer. See if he’s the one who set up the camera outside Charlee’s cottage, or if he’s spying on her in any other way. I’ll send Sanchez to grab the SD card out of the camera I installed, too. Yeah, thanks.”
Charlee’s stomach churned. She’d known he had a crush on her, but this took it to a whole new level. “He’s been taking pictures of me, following me, for a whole year.” She should stop repeating herself, but the words kept coming.
“That seems clear. How he fits into the rest of it, we don’t know yet.” Hunter stepped closer, put a hand under her chin, and forced her to look at him. “I want to kick his sick butt into next week, but we need to keep him close, keep an eye on him until we figure out his part in all this, okay?”
His words snapped her back into investigative thinking. “He’ll know we found the photos.”
Hunter nodded. “And I’m sure that’s making him very, very nervous. But we don’t want him to run. We may need him.”
Fury and bile filled her throat. “I need to get outside.”
She hopped off the small porch and walked to the edge of the woods surrounding the cottage, where she paced while she cleared her head. Could Travis have killed Brittany? Possibly, but unless he had been playacting all along, she didn’t think he had the smarts to plan such a thing or the guts to carry it out. But she couldn’t be sure.
One thing was crystal clear. Until they had someone in custody, she had to protect her family. Someone had tried to kill her brother yesterday, no matter what Hunter said. The bomb was on Josh’s boat. Whoever put it there had no way of knowing she or Hunter would be aboard.
She didn’t know who or why—yet—but because of her, someone had targeted her family.
She marched back to Hunter’s truck and grabbed her backpack. She pulled out her spare Glock, checked the magazine. She’d been keeping the gun nearby out of habit. From now on, she’d do more than that. She’d keep it on her person. She tucked it behind her back, in the waistband of her shorts, and pulled her T-shirt over it. No one was going to hurt the people she loved. Not without going through her first.
Chapter 14
Hunter scanned the patrons coming in and out of the Corner Café, surprised at how busy they were on a Friday, long after the early-morning coffee rush. Liz had chosen the location well, making it an easy stop for people heading west on SR-40 to go to work in Ocala or for anyone heading east toward Daytona Beach. The coffee and cupcakes were awesome, but he figured most people came for the company as much as the coffee, as in most small towns. He glanced around the renovated Victorian. The wood
floors gleamed, and the bold paint colors and quirky artwork gave the place a comfy vibe, without making a guy feel like he was drowning in lace.
He’d run home for clean clothes and now sipped his coffee and watched Charlee work the counter with Liz. They made a great team. Charlee looked relaxed here in a way she never did while at the Outpost. While he couldn’t fathom not being near the water, he understood how a place you once loved could make you want to run. He hadn’t been able to go back to his Grandmere’s place outside New Orleans since she’d passed. Her death, so soon after his brother’s, made his insides knot and the walls feel like they were crushing him with guilt. So he didn’t go back.
Charlee laughed at something Liz said, and he looked up, struck again by her unconscious beauty. From what he could see, she never wore more than the tiniest hint of makeup, but she took his breath away. Every time. Part of it was her reemerging confidence in herself. Even though she wasn’t FWC anymore, that cop presence was coming to the forefront more and more, too. She’d never wait to be rescued but would organize it herself—and save everyone else, too.
He forced his attention back to his laptop and finished the status update for his captain. They still didn’t have all the pieces to the puzzle, and it was making him crazy. He looked up as Pete pulled out a chair, turned it around, and straddled it. “Anything new on your end?”
“No. How about you? Did you find Tommy Jennings?”
“Not yet. He hasn’t been to work, and I asked a local deputy to stop by. He said the place looked deserted. No signs that anyone had been there recently.” He took a breath. “Look, about yesterday—”
Before he said any more, Hunter interrupted. “Appreciate you following up. Is it possible—”
“Hear me out,” Pete said, eyes steady on his. “I didn’t blow off the meeting, none of us did. But Rick did call us out there, and we went. That’s on us. Won’t happen again.”
Hunter nodded, the relief quick and sharp. This was the Bulldog he knew. Honest to a fault, responsible, a team player. Sometimes hotheaded? Sure. But a guy you wanted watching your back if bullets were flying. He kept his eyes on his friend. “Any possibility Abrams is somehow connected to all this?”
Pete reared back at the unexpected question. “Now hold on just a minute—”
Hunter held up a hand. “I have to ask, Pete. You know I do. And in my shoes, you’d do the same.”
Pete let out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“There’s a lot about this case none of us like.”
Pete scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Our sister has caught the eye of a killer, Boudreau. You, more than most, should understand how that feels.”
Touché. “I do. We’ll need to work together to stop him.”
“Agreed. This is your investigation. But I think you’re way out in left field thinking Abrams had anything to do with it.”
“It makes sense, though. He and Charlee had a thing, even though it was a while back. Now he’s been fired. If he shows up and solves the case, he’s a hero. Maybe has a chance to win her back, maybe even get his job back.”
Pete’s brow furrowed. “They’d never hire him back, but as for the rest, I can’t see it. Sure, he had a thing for Charlee, but I know this guy. He’s not like that.”
“We don’t always know what churns underneath. You know that, Pete.”
Their eyes met and held for a long moment. When Pete nodded, Hunter knew they’d found their footing again.
“Yeah. Sometimes reality bites.” Pete stood. “I need to get going. I’ll be in touch. Keep an eye on Charlee. This guy isn’t done.”
“Watch your back, too. My gut says Hollywood was the target yesterday. Which could make you next.”
Pete’s look said he’d been thinking the same thing. He gave a two-fingered salute. “Roger that.”
Hunter watched him give Charlee a kiss on the cheek before he left. He hadn’t written another sentence before Charlee slid into the seat Pete had vacated. She still had dark circles under her eyes, but a bit of her usual bounce was back in her step.
“Josh looked better than he did last night, didn’t he?”
“Much better.” They’d stopped by the hospital on the way at Charlee’s insistence. Personally, he thought Josh looked like he’d been keelhauled, but he didn’t say that. “He’s going to be fine, cher. It’ll just take time.”
She propped her elbows on the table. “I know you’re just humoring me, since he looks terrible, but thanks for letting me pretend. I’m ready when you are.”
He got a refill for his coffee, and as he paid for it, his cell phone rang. “Boudreau.”
“Hi, Lieutenant. Byte here.” Young and eager, Officer Brad Griffin could make computers stand up and dance, a skill Hunter definitely appreciated. “I finally got all the background info you wanted on Oliver Dunn, and unfortunately, there isn’t much. Nothing, in fact. He owns no property, doesn’t have a social security number, no bank accounts or credit cards, no school records, no military. Nothing. On paper, the man doesn’t exist. Oh, and his phone was a burner. Sorry.”
Hunter cursed softly. He had suspected as much. “Thanks, Byte. Appreciate it.”
“Sorry, Lieutenant. I’m working on everything from Travis’s cottage and computer next. I’ll be in touch once I finish.”
He tucked the phone back in the holder and met Charlee’s concerned gaze. “Oliver Dunn doesn’t exist in any database. There is no record of him anywhere.”
Charlee cocked her head, thinking. “He told me he sold his house a while back. Said he loved the adventure of the open road, of being able to come and go with nothing more than a duffel bag.” She swallowed hard. “He also said he didn’t like the whole big-brother way technology was going, so he paid cash for everything.” She took a sip of water. “But…he had a cell phone, right?”
Hunter nodded. “Burner. Pretty much untraceable. We might be able to find where it was purchased, but not much more than that.”
“We need something we can use,” she muttered, and he had to agree.
* * *
When they got back to the cottage, Charlee curled up on the sofa with the magazine her mother had given her. Hunter sat at the kitchen table with his laptop, urgency nipping at his heels.
He opened a new file and started two lists: everything he knew as of right now and everything he didn’t. He looked up a while later when he saw a flash of lightning, followed by a crack of thunder that shook the cottage.
The storm blew in quickly, Florida style, with howling wind, swaying trees, and bolts of lightning followed by thunder bursts rumbling overhead. Hunter figured they were through the worst of it when the power suddenly went out.
Probably just the storm, but he wasn’t taking chances. He grabbed his flashlight and went into the living room, where Charlee had just lit several candles and two kerosene lamps. He saw her scanning the area outside the window.
“I’m going to take a walk around outside, take a quick look.”
She turned to him. “You think someone cut the power?”
Her sharp cop mind made him feel like they were a team, and he found it sexy as hell. “It was probably the storm, but I want to be sure.”
Outside, the rain pounded down in what locals called a frog strangler. He couldn’t see past the end of his arm and was soaked to the skin in seconds. Still, he made a careful circuit around the house. The power lines were all intact, and there was no evidence anyone had tampered with any of the windows. With this rain, there were obviously no footprints to be found, but he was confident no one was lurking around.
Charlee met him on the porch with a stack of towels. He scrubbed his hair dry and then stripped off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. He looked up and realized Charlee hadn’t moved, just watched him dry his upper body, her features shadowed i
n the eerie glow of the storm. The rain pounded just beyond the porch, creating a curtain and enclosing them in their own little world. He stepped closer and met her eyes, surprised by what he saw. He stilled at the storm raging in her chocolate-brown eyes. It rivaled the one beyond the metal roof and made desire slide over his skin. He saw want and doubt reflected back at him, uncertainty and desire. The same confusing, tempting, sexy mix he’d been battling for days. Months. Knowing she felt it too loosened something inside him that had been nailed shut.
He took another step closer.
* * *
Charlee’s mouth went dry at the sight of Hunter’s bare chest. She’d seen him shirtless before, but this time, she couldn’t seem to stop staring. She studied his wide shoulders, washboard abs, and that intriguing patch of chest hair that disappeared inside his waistband. Without thought, she reached out a hand to touch his chest and then snatched it back before she made contact, embarrassed.
Slowly, he tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes and then gently took her other hand and placed it on his chest. Her eyes widened, and she curled her fingers in his chest hair, loving the way it felt under her palm. When he sucked in a breath, she felt emboldened and ran her hand over his pecs, over the flat male nipples and down his stomach. He shivered, and an answering quiver spread through her belly.
He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek, then cupped her face. “You are so beautiful, cher.”
His words shattered the fantasy. “Don’t lie to me,” she whispered and tried to move away. She couldn’t take it, not from Hunter.
He gently tightened his grip, eyes steady on hers. “I’m your best friend. You know I’d never lie.”
He picked up her hand and traced a finger over her palm, over the calluses from the gun range and holding a kayak paddle. She tried to close her fist. She didn’t have soft, pretty hands. But he wouldn’t let her.
“Your hands are strong, capable. And when you touch me, I go up in flames.” He placed a kiss on those calluses and then reached up and cupped both her cheeks.