Killer Exposure

by Jessica R. Patch

  He hadn’t expected to find Greer. Certainly not battling a crazed dude in the woods. He thought he’d heard screams earlier and was making his way toward them when Greer had slammed into him. Then he’d seen the attacker and realized the woman was in serious danger. He hadn’t known it was Greer until she’d called him by his full first name. Locklin. He’d been so stunned and distracted that the man got away. How had she witnessed the crime? Why was she hanging out around employee living grounds and why was she calling in crimes like it was her...? “Do you work for the police now?”

  They dashed through a row of campers, and Greer slowed down. “Sheriff’s department. Deputy and crime-scene photographer when they need one. Thus, me needing to get photos.”

  Locke had met her in one of their criminal justice classes, but they’d gotten to know each other working for the college paper. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest since you’re a witness to this crime?”

  “Are you serious right now? It’s about to storm. I’m the only one around. Who else is going to do it?”

  She had a point. And it wasn’t like Locke was in law enforcement now. He’d dropped out. School wasn’t for him, and he never wanted to follow the Gallagher-Flynn lineage into the military and law enforcement. Locke just chased storms and had disappointed everyone, as usual, including Dad. God rest his soul.

  Greer shined a light and entered the gloomy scene. Locke followed but stayed outside the door. He wasn’t dumb enough to contaminate a crime scene. The deceased was lying in a pool of blood. This right here—this was why Locke never wanted to go into the criminal justice field. His stomach wasn’t fragile, but he detested violence. The marring of humans. The evil. His heart couldn’t handle this day in and day out.

  Dad would probably consider it weak. Locke simply didn’t like looking at death every single day. Greer used a broom handle to lift debris and then she went to work clicking the camera as if she hadn’t been chased and attacked in the woods. He admired her tenacity. Her drive to help fight injustice.

  But Locke would rather use his camera to capture the terrifying glory of a whirlwind. Even in the wake of its destruction, there was still beauty and wonder to be found. In that tragedy, communities rallied to support one another. He had hundreds of photos of humanity doing its best.

  Police sirens sounded.

  “Who was this guy?” Locke asked, and studied Greer. Maybe she wasn’t as held together—he caught her hands trembling.

  “Don’t know yet.”

  “You probably need a doctor or something.”

  She paused and poked her head outside the camper; a gentleness softened her features. “I sincerely appreciate your concern. But honestly, Locklin, I’m good. I’m not trying to ignore you. I just... I gotta work. Gotta do the job and it helps me not think about the fact I almost bit it out there tonight.”

  The thought of that sent a shock to his system. But if she said she was okay, he’d go with it. Greer was a strong woman. She wasn’t blowing him off like she had almost two years ago. He’d try to be more patient. Patience wasn’t exactly a virtue he possessed, though. It required being still and Locke had always struggled with being still. School, church, events and the list went on. He was full of energy and always antsy. Just the way he was made.

  Lights flashed in the distance. Sheriff’s deputies had arrived. They went to work sealing off the scene and forcing Locke to the other side of the tape, where he stood in the rain getting wetter with each second. A chill had already numbed his skin but he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until he was sure she was safe. Didn’t matter that other police were around and were capable.

  “Sir,” another crime tech said. “I need to collect evidence from your hands. Deputy Montgomery said you hit the attacker’s face. I’d like to get a sample before this storm washes it away.” Locke complied while the officer did his thing. Another deputy walked up—he was an inch shorter than Locke’s six-foot-one frame. “I’m Deputy Crisp.”

  “Locke Gallagher.”

  “I’m gonna need your statement. I’ve already gotten Deputy Montgomery’s.”

  Locke gave him the lowdown, while keeping an eye on Greer as she talked with other deputies.

  When Greer finally slipped out from under the tape, he headed straight for her.

  She cocked her head. “You don’t have to stick around, Locke. They got everything they needed and as I said before, I’m okay.” She sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small pouch. She tossed it to him. “Poncho. Though, it’s a little late for staying dry.” A smirk pulled at her lips as if she was totally fine, but her eyes betrayed her.

  “I know I don’t need to stay. I want to. And I know you too well. You’re not okay.” It was clear Greer didn’t want anything to do with him. He got that. He’d repeatedly been over her reasons for going cold turkey on him. She might have changed her mind about the traveling life. And the bigger one—the night they’d crossed a line—could have seriously factored into her not returning. He’d made a huge mistake. Shouldn’t have let it get so out of control. Epic fail on his part and he blamed himself completely. Not that he hadn’t moved on since she’d broken his heart—he had—but of all the adventures Locke ever loved, Greer was his greatest. Couldn’t they even be friends?

  “Greer, I should have known you’d be here working.” A tall man with thick silver hair approached. Locke hung back but could still hear the conversation.

  “Hey, Sheriff. I’m not letting this one get away.” She told him what happened. “What we know right now is the vic’s name is Fred ‘Flip’ Bomer. He’s worked the Stellar Entertainment carnival for eight years. Done an array of things from games to running the bumper cars. Thirty-seven. Not married. The carnival manager, Rudy Dennison, is getting us his file, but you know that’s going to be thin. Carnivals don’t require background checks or too much information.”

  “True. Listen, I appreciate you taking the initiative and getting the photos, but you were attacked. Get some rest. Let Crisp take it from here.” The fatherly figure laid a hand on her shoulder. “You sure you don’t need medical attention?”

  Greer bristled. “No, sir. I’m going to work with Burt on a sketch of the man who killed Flip and attacked me. Manager said they have multiple maintenance workers on staff. We’re rounding them up now. I need to stay on this. Need to ID this guy.”

  He seemed to debate the idea. “Let Crisp and Garrison do it. When they get the workers corralled, you can make the ID.” He gave her a slight side-hug. “Glad you’re okay.” He then turned to Locke. “Sheriff Randy Wright.”

  “Locke Gallagher.”

  “Thank you for being in the woods.” He squinted, rain dripping off his poncho. “Why were you out here in the woods?”

  Locke glanced at Greer. The truth was he was trying to figure out what to do about seeing or not seeing her while photographing nature. “I’m with a group researching storms. Y’all have several supercells coming in this week, prime weather for twisters. I photograph them.”

  “A storm chaser?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He grinned. “Glad you were here. Not that I don’t think Greer could have made it out, but sometimes we need a little help.”

  “I guess so.”

  The sheriff shook his hand again and left them alone as the rain let up. Wasn’t over yet, though. “Locke, I’m safe. Seriously, you can get back to what you were doing,” Greer said.

  “I know.” But he didn’t want to leave. “How long will the sketch take? I can wait. We can get dry...and get coffee?”

  “I’m not sure. And I worked all last night, picking up overtime, so I’m pretty tired.” As if on cue, she yawned, then sheepishly grinned. His heart slammed into his throat. Those wide, thick lips on a heart-shaped face. The straightest nose he’d ever seen. Her chocolate-brown eyes revealed true exhaustion. But there wasn’t a measure of fear in
her tone—she was so like the Greer he used to know. Used to love.

  Overtime and exhaustion, he understood. “Okay...well, maybe sometime this week?”

  She shifted and shoved a thick mass of wet hair from her face. It still cascaded past her shoulders all in one length. Probably the same corn-silk blond, but now damp from rain it was the color of sand after the ocean washed over it. Man, he’d loved her hair. “I’m going to be pretty tied up now with this case.”

  “Too tied up you can’t eat?”

  “I work more than one job, Locke. I’m a part-time photographer. Family portraits, senior pictures, community events. You know, the kind you never wanted to be. The kind that boxed you into nine-to-five.”

  He had said that. There was too much adventure in life to settle down and do one single thing every day. Too many places to see, too much to experience. Not a single storm was the same. The thrill. The challenge. Locke did what he wanted, when he wanted. At one time, Greer was onboard and living that life with him. And they were having fun, were happy. “There’s no challenge in that,” he teased.

  “Try getting four children under the age of six to all sit still and face the camera and smile at the same time.” She half laughed, but it seemed sad. “It’s not the wild adventure you chase, but it’s satisfying. I like documenting family milestones and memories. I like keeping my town and county safe. I like the people. I like this life.”

  Whole lotta like. No mention of love. Once, she’d told Locke she loved chasing storms. Loved capturing them. Loved...him. “I’m glad you’re happy, Greer. I’ve never wanted anything else. I guess...guess it just stinks you couldn’t be happy with me.” There, he said it. “But I’m over it.” She needed to know he wasn’t going to be stalking her and groveling. She’d made clear what she wanted. And he wasn’t a part of it. “If that’s what’s holdin’ you back from having a meal or coffee with me. Friends is cool. I can do friends.”

  Greer cleared her throat, glanced away. “Good, okay,” she whispered. “I’ll...I’ll think about it.”

  Better than “get lost.” “Hey, you witnessed a murder tonight. This guy...are you worried he’ll come back?” She was clearly worried about something. Would he try to finish her off? The thought sent a blip of panic to his chest. “You want me to see you home?”

  “No.” A flash of fear splashed through her eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I can see myself home.”

  “Not saying you aren’t capable or anything.” He shrugged.

  “We’ll find this guy, Locke. Probably tonight. I’m not worried.” She lowered the hood of her poncho now that the rain had stopped. She wasn’t fooling Locke. Greer’s hand had a tremor and the truth showed in her eyes. She wasn’t only shaken, she was scared. It had crossed her mind that he would try and finish the job. Even if it was a fleeting thought. It was there. Locke could read it on her face. “I have to get back to work.”

  An awkward silence ballooned around them.

  “Be careful chasing those storms,” she said. “Hope you find what you’re looking for, but also I kind of hope you don’t.” She grinned. Genuine again. Sincere.

  No one wanted tornadoes ravaging their towns, and about twelve years ago, three had come through this county, tearing them to pieces. A state of emergency had been declared. But over time, the community had rebuilt, with some outside help. That’s why this research was so important.

  “And thank you. For...being in the woods and coming to my aid. All that martial arts training paid off.”

  Finally, a real thank-you. The soft side of Greer. The side he’d always admired. One of the many facets he fell in love with. “Well, when you have uncontainable, boundless energy and your dad’s military, and a cop, he finds a way to burn it off and prepare you for your calling.” One he never felt called to. He ran his hand through his wet hair and shivered. “But you’re welcome.”

  “I really gotta go now.”

  With that, she spun and disappeared into the rain-soaked night.

  * * *

  Sitting in her car, soggy, freezing, exhausted and sore, Greer laid her head on the driver’s seat and closed her eyes. After stomping away from Locke, she’d worked with the sketch artist and hung around a little longer at the scene until Sheriff Wright basically tossed her in the car and sent her home. Too much had happened tonight. Death. Her near-death and then Locke showing up. She was grateful that he’d been there. His usual self. Brave. Kind. A little snarky and humorous and attentive. For being a man she was sure had ADHD, he never seemed to have an issue giving her his undivided attention, and it hurt beyond belief, so she’d avoided him. Old feelings. Fear. Guilt. Locke had a daughter, and he didn’t even know. He’d never wanted children. He’d been adamant about that up front. They got in the way and wouldn’t fit into his lifestyle—his words. They would cramp everything. So Greer had taken the chicken’s way out and not told him.

  But tonight proved in a small way that she had made the right decision to protect her daughter by not telling him the truth. He’d said it himself, years ago—he would not be boxed in. Locke had always rebelled against social norms and family expectations. He wanted to live the way he chose. No chains. No being tied to what the world said being an adult ought to look like. And no children.

  They’d been dating a year when the conversation came up again about having a family, and it had turned into an argument. Locke hadn’t changed his mind and never would. Greer had been so head over heels in love with him that she’d agreed and wouldn’t bring it up again. But Greer had always wanted a family. A husband who wouldn’t leave. Who wanted his child always and forever. Clearly, that man wasn’t Locke. She’d considered breaking it off after that last heated discussion, but she’d loved him too much and couldn’t make the tough choice.

  Then Mama got sick. And she found out she was pregnant. That made the decision for her.

  Besides, Locke was finally getting his dream, making a mark on the storm-photography world. Greer didn’t want to rob him of that. But mostly, she was terrified he would give it all up for them and one day he’d do exactly what her father had done—abandon them. Locke would feel imprisoned by his own daughter. Greer’s pregnancy would be nothing but a trap, a means to get her way of having a family—at least that’s how he’d eventually see it. He’d blame his child and Greer for all the years he lost. Just like Dad. Then he would walk out and Lin would have to live with the same fear, the same guilt, the same heartache as Greer. Dad’s words to Mama echoed in Greer’s ears every day.

  “You got pregnant and trapped me! I never wanted this life. I want to do what I want. I want my life back.” And Dad had left Mama.

  And Greer and her older brother, Hollister.

  The pain had been overwhelming. Greer would never let Lin experience that kind of heartache. She was no one’s prison. She would never have to grow up feeling unwanted or unloved. Greer would never reject and abandon her.

  But now, as she sat in her driveway, she wondered how in the world she was going to keep Locke from finding out. Deep in the marrow of her bones, a whisper formed that he had every right to know and always had.

  Fear held her hostage from listening to it.

  She climbed from her vehicle, exhausted. Her best friend, Tori, had already offered to keep Lin for the night since it was so late, and she was available to watch her tomorrow. Tori’s job as a nurse at the hospital allowed her to keep Lin a couple of days and nights a week, depending on what shift she was working. Greer didn’t have a lot of money for day care, so she appreciated having friends who could help. She still had medical bills for Mama. A house payment. Insurance. Ugh. The thought of bills only further soured her mood.

  Trudging up the walkway to the small home Mama had lived in, Greer held back tears. Being a single mama was no joke. No one to help her. No one to help carry the pressures of daily life, finances or parenting. Fear and dread of how she was
going to manage each day, how she was going to provide for Lin. But she wouldn’t change it. And she’d move heaven and earth to make sure Lin was happy and had everything she needed to feel loved and successful. Like her own mama had, working extra shifts and jobs at Christmas to provide for Greer and Hollister. As children they’d never appreciated or understood the sacrifices Mama had made.

  Greer knew now.

  She unlocked the front door and entered. Still smelled like Mama’s White Diamonds perfume. The ache swept through her empty stomach and clutched her ribs.

  As she switched on the lamp in the cozy living room, Greer’s hairs on her arms rose. She froze and scanned the area. Nothing looked out of place. Her adrenaline raced again. Too much commotion and devastation tonight. She was paranoid.

  Creeping down the small hallway, she entered the only bathroom in the two-bedroom home and switched on the shower to scalding hot, then closed the door to let the steam rise. Greer popped into the nursery, turned on the light and inhaled Lin’s scent. She missed her baby girl. She entered her bedroom, which the bathroom separated from Lin’s, and stripped off her outer hoodie, tossing it into the hall to wash. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. She had dozens of carnies to question. Hopefully they’d find this guy tonight. Maybe she should have stuck around regardless. But she was no good to anyone or to the investigation right now with so little sleep.

  Hairs on her neck spiked.

  She whirled toward the closet, reaching for her gun as the killer from the woods lunged and knocked her to the bedroom floor before she could grab it.

  TWO

  Locke haphazardly punched his steering wheel, sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He needed a haircut, but during storm-chasing season he didn’t pay attention to haircuts or daily shaving. He was parked down the street from Greer’s. It wasn’t hard to find. Not when he’d been here before.