Still running, she dropped the beam of the flashlight to the ground. “I’m alone.”
The crack in Emma’s voice raised his worry level. She’d never been afraid of anything, and if she was scared, something bad had happened. Sam holstered his gun as she barreled into his chest. Automatically, he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her body tremble. “Are you hurt?”
Emma shook her head. “H-he missed when he shot at me.”
His arms tightened around her. “Someone fired at you?” No wonder she was shaking.
She pulled away from his embrace.
“Uh, sorry.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I shouldn’t have crashed into you like that.”
“No problem.”
Her stiff, boardlike stance conveyed how uncomfortable she was. That made two of them. Sam made a conscious effort to relax. Even though they worked different sides of the National Park Service, with Emma working as an interpretive ranger at Mount Locust and him the district law enforcement ranger, they would run into each other fairly often. No need to make it harder than it had to be. “Why’d you leave your truck at the gate?”
“I forgot the key to the lock.”
Sam had never known Emma to be forgetful. The overhead lights barely reached the area, but they were strong enough for her full lips and heart-shaped face to capture his attention. He gulped. Staring at her had been the wrong thing to do and only reminded him of what he’d lost.
In spite of that, he couldn’t look away. Were her eyes as green as he remembered? Don’t go there. The low lighting didn’t allow him to see that anyway. As if she’d read his thoughts, Emma dropped her gaze to the ground, her arms still wrapped across her body as if to ward him off. “What were you doing here this late? And by yourself?”
Her head snapped up. “Excuse me? Don’t use that tone of voice with me. And I hardly think 9:00 p.m. qualifies as late.”
“If someone was shooting at you, you could’ve been killed!” He swept his hand around the area. “This place is deserted at night. You of all people should know the Trace isn’t always safe after dark.”
“Who do you think closes up every night? And there’s no if—someone fired at me!”
So much for hoping they could avoid fireworks. Little Miss Independent hadn’t changed one whit, still packed with dynamite in her five-foot-three frame. Sam raked his fingers through his hair as another SUV with flashing blue lights pulled into Mount Locust then turned on the same road Clayton had taken. Sam caught the logo on the side of the door when it rounded the curve. He spoke into his mic. “Clayton, you have an Adams County deputy on your tail for backup. I’m staying here with Ranger Winters.”
“Roger that,” Clayton said.
Sam turned to the woman he’d planned to marry at one time. “Tell me what happened.”
She stared at him briefly, hurt in her eyes, then she toed her sandal in the dirt, unearthing a rock. “I’m not sure. After dinner I realized I’d left a report here and came back to retrieve it.”
Which explained why she wasn’t in uniform. “So, you forgot the gate key and walked to the visitor center.”
“Yes. Then as I was locking up, I heard a backhoe. Thought it might be the maintenance supervisor or even the teenagers that had been messing around earlier.”
He listened as she filled him in about the teenage boys she’d caught around the slave cemetery and then the shots fired. He doubted the boys would have shot at her.
“The bullet plowed into the post where I’d been standing,” Emma said.
“And you didn’t see anyone?”
She shook her head. “But I think it was a man.”
“Why’s that?”
“The way he tromped through the woods. I think it was just one person, and it sounded like someone heavier than the boys who were here earlier.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Explain to me why you decided to investigate this noise? Most people would have called 911 and let us handle it.”
Tension crackled between them as her eyes narrowed. Emma opened her mouth and then closed it. He thought she might explode, but instead she blew out a hard breath.
“Like I said, I thought it was the maintenance supervisor at first,” she said, her voice in control mode, enunciating each word. “Then I thought it might be the teenagers, and I figured I could handle them since we’d talked earlier. Besides, it’s not like I don’t know this place inside and out. I could walk every path around here blindfolded.”
He bet that was true. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“Well, you did.”
He needed to start over, instill a little confidence between them. “Are you up to walking to the inn? Maybe we can find that bullet.”
Emma eyed him suspiciously. “Won’t that contaminate the crime scene?”
“We’ll go the long way around, through the gate to the visitor center, and then up to the inn.” That way they wouldn’t disturb anything in the wooded area between the tractor shed and the slave cemetery. “And could we start over? We seem to have gotten off to a rough start.”
When she didn’t shoot him down immediately, he stuck out his hand. “Hello, I’m District Ranger Samuel Ryker, and I apologize for being heavy-handed. I understand you’ve had a little problem here tonight, Ranger Winters.”
Her mouth twitched. “I’d say it was more than a ‘little’ problem.”
“Right.”
Indecision played on her face, and then she took his hand, gripping it firmly. He hadn’t expected the electricity that her touch brought. “Thank you, Ranger Winters, for being willing to start over.”
“We can try starting over,” she said dryly. “And you can call me Emma.”
“Probably should stay with Ranger Winters for now,” he said, swallowing a smile.
She saluted. “Why would anyone mess with the equipment, anyway, Mr. District Ranger?”
“They may have been trying to steal it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. The vehicle I heard leaving didn’t have a trailer attached to it.”
“Good point. Why don’t we check out the inn?”
They walked the gravel road in silence, their past hovering overhead like a storm cloud pregnant with water. Sam wasn’t one to avoid a problem, especially with someone he would come in contact with on a regular basis. “Have you heard from Ryan?” he asked, breaking the quiet.
A small gasp came from Emma, and she stumbled. Sam grabbed for her, but she brushed his hand away. “I don’t need your help.” She lifted her chin. “And no, I haven’t heard from my brother since the night you left him on his own.”
Her accusation hit him like a 9mm slug. Bad question and even worse answer. How could one night have changed so many lives? He’d hoped her twin brother had been in contact with the family.
But he wasn’t apologizing. Not again. His apology hadn’t done any good ten years ago when Emma broke their engagement, and he doubted it’d do any good now. Not that Sam had anything to apologize for. Ryan had been a grown man, responsible for his own choices. But if what almost everyone believed at the time he disappeared was true, it shouldn’t surprise Sam that Emma’s brother hadn’t contacted anyone.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “But he didn’t kill that girl.”
3
Before Sam could respond, another siren drew his attention toward the road. A vehicle approached on the Trace from the north, lights flashing and siren blaring. It turned into Mount Locust and pulled up to the gate where they stood. He shaded his eyes against the glare from the headlights.
The driver doused his lights, and after killing the engine, a man climbed out of the vehicle. He was glad to see the Adams County sheriff. Sam’s first order of business after he took over the district office had been to introduce himself to the Purple Heart recipient and first African American to be elected sheriff in Adams County since Reconstruction. Rawlings hitched his belt and then strode toward them. When he was c
lose enough, Sam extended his hand. “Good to see you again, Sheriff, although I’m a little surprised.”
The sheriff’s hand gripped his. “I wasn’t far away when I heard the call and thought you might need help. And just call me Nate. Still getting used to being called Sheriff.”
Sam nodded. Rawlings, who was a good ten years older than Sam’s thirty-one, had won the November election but had taken office only two weeks ago, moving from chief deputy to the top job. “Thanks for sending a deputy to back up Clayton.”
“No problem.” Nate’s gaze slid to Emma and he smiled. “You okay?”
“Better than I was,” she said with a shiver.
“Fill me in.” He made no comment until she finished explaining what had happened. “Do you often come here after dark?”
“It’s dark when I lock up,” she said, her voice testy.
Nate palmed his hands. “Whoa!”
“I’m sorry,” she said, making a face. “I didn’t mean to snap, but I’m used to it being dark when I leave, so I didn’t think anything about returning to pick up a file I needed.”
Nate dipped his head. “I understand. So, unless someone was following you, they wouldn’t have expected you to be here.”
“No one followed me—I would have seen their headlights in my rearview mirror.”
“Then it sounds like you may have interrupted something,” the sheriff said.
“I think so too.” Sam nodded toward the inn. “Ranger Winters here says one of the bullets splintered the post on the porch at the inn. We were taking the long way around so we wouldn’t contaminate the crime scene. Want to join us?”
Nate’s expression was noncommittal as he raised his hat and smoothed his short-cropped hair. “We don’t have adequate light, but I don’t see any harm in doing a preliminary look-see. Who knows, if they were operating the backhoe, they may have been burying a body.”
The three of them walked past the visitor center, up the pathway, and then climbed the steps to the Mount Locust Inn. The restored four-room cabin was a favorite for modern-day visitors on the Trace, but it was hard for Sam to imagine the early 1800s when fifteen or twenty travelers might stop overnight at the inn and sleep on the front porch or the ground.
“This is where I was standing when someone fired at me,” Emma said after they walked through the dogtrot to the back porch. Sam used his phone app to shine a light up and down the post she pointed to, stopping where the wood was splintered.
“The backhoe is over there.” Emma flipped on her flashlight and pointed it toward the trees.
“Stay here with Emma. I’ll check out the backhoe,” Nate said as he unhooked his flashlight and set out for the machine.
“You didn’t see anyone?” Sam asked.
“No,” Emma said. “I only heard whoever it was.”
A few minutes later, Nate returned. “It looks like someone was digging a hole when you interrupted them, but I didn’t find evidence of anything they were burying.”
Like a body. “Do you want to rig up lights and search the area?” Sam asked.
“No. I have to justify any overtime pay for my crime scene techs, and this doesn’t warrant it,” he said. “The evidence isn’t going anywhere, so we’ll wait until daylight. Otherwise we might blunder around here and destroy something. I’ll get one of my deputies to secure the premises.” The sheriff pressed the button on his mic. “Where are you, Trey?”
“On my way to Mount Locust.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Emma stiffen and jerk her head toward the Trace.
“You okay?” he asked quietly as the sheriff talked with his deputy.
She nodded curtly.
“Trey is on his way,” Nate said, turning back to them. “And if you’re ready, we’ll head back to the gate.”
“My field ranger can help with guarding the scene as well,” Sam said, keeping an eye on Emma as she drummed her fingers against her leg, a sure sign she was nervous, at least it had been ten years ago.
Another transmission came in, and Nate stopped while they continued on. Sam turned to her. “Do you have a problem with Carter? Other than him being Sheriff Carter’s son?”
“I never held who his father was against him. Trey has always taken up for Ryan.” Her fingers stilled. “He might not be glad to see me, though. We dated a while back, and he’s not happy just being friends.”
“You dated Trey?” He’d figured Emma had left a string of broken hearts through the years, but he never dreamed the deputy would’ve been one of them. “I’m sure his dad wasn’t too happy about that.”
“I doubt he ever knew. Our former sheriff has Alzheimer’s.”
“I didn’t know,” Sam said. “Any particular reason for the breakup?”
“That isn’t any of your business.”
“It’s my business if there’s bad blood between the two of you.”
“It’s nothing like that. Between my job and finishing up my master’s degree, I haven’t had time for dating.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m usually better at breaking off a relationship, anyway.”
They had reached the low brick building that housed the visitor center, and she glanced past him toward her pickup. “I’m tired. I think I’ll pick up my backpack and head on home.”
“Not a good idea,” he said. “Since I can’t leave yet.”
“I don’t know what your leaving has to do with me.”
He counted to ten to keep from snapping at her. “Now you sound like one of the heroines in a horror movie.”
Emma frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know, a serial killer is on the loose and the woman hears a noise in her basement and decides to check it out. The audience is yelling, ‘Don’t go!’ as she creeps down the stairs . . .”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. There’s no serial killer, and I’m not going down in a basement. Just going home.”
He stared at her, not believing she didn’t get it. “Someone just shot at you. We don’t know if you were the target or just in the wrong place, but either way, you shouldn’t be on the road alone.”
“As far as I know, I don’t have any enemies, so there’s no reason for me to be the target. Someone was probably just trying to scare me so they could finish whatever they were doing.”
“Indulge me. I shouldn’t be much longer,” he said.
Indecision played on her face. “Okay,” she said. “But I’ll wait in my truck.”
A small but grudging victory. Emma was as exasperating now as she’d been years ago. But he had to hand it to her—she was gutsy. A lot of women would have folded after being shot at.
Emma was halfway to the gate when another SUV pulled into Mount Locust and a deputy climbed out and walked toward her. Had to be Trey Carter. He frowned as the chief deputy stopped to talk with Emma, then a minute later he turned and marched away.
“I see Trey made it,” Nate said as he rejoined Sam. “Where is Emma going?”
“Her truck. She’s waiting for me to follow her home.”
“Good deal. I was afraid she would want to leave by herself.”
They both turned as the chief deputy sauntered toward them. Back in high school, Trey had thought highly of himself, and judging by his swagger, he still did.
The deputy removed the toothpick hanging from his mouth and nodded to Sam. “I heard you’d taken the district ranger job,” he said. “Came here all the way from Wyoming. Don’t know that I would’ve traded that gig for Natchez.”
“To each his own.” Sam wasn’t answering Trey’s implied question of why. “Congratulations on making chief deputy.”
For the briefest second, the muscle in Trey’s jaw twitched, then he tipped his head. “Thanks. I expect to learn a lot working with the sheriff.”
From the newspaper accounts Sam had read, Trey had come in a distant second in the November election. Sam turned to Nate. “What time in the morning do you want to meet here?”
“Eight too early?”
“Perfect,” he replied. “I better catch up with Emma, or she’ll leave me behind.”
“You got that right,” Trey said, narrowing his eyes as he looked past Sam to Emma’s truck.
She was right—the chief deputy wasn’t happy just being friends.
4
Sam Ryker. Emma’s face burned at the way she’d run to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. It’d only been a gut reaction to being shot at. Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that. She leaned her head back on the headrest. Did she really want to think about the only man she regretted breaking up with?
Thinking about Sam was better than letting the events of the last hour run through her mind in an endless loop. He did look good and had filled out from the beanpole he’d been back in high school and college. Yet there wasn’t an ounce of fat around his waist.
Sam wasn’t pretty-boy handsome like Trey Carter. More rugged with his square jaw and intense brown eyes. Don’t go there. But it was hard not to. If her brother hadn’t disappeared, she and Sam probably would have been married by now and had a couple of kids running around.
But no, Ryan had deserted her, and so had Sam, because that’s what men did. Really? Okay. She’d been the one to return Sam’s ring, but only to preempt him. And maybe she should have given him his ring in person instead of handing it over to his sister, but Emma had been furious with Sam for leaving Ryan at the Hideaway after he’d promised to stay with her brother. If she’d known he wasn’t going to keep his promise, she would have stayed, even though the stress of Ryan’s drinking had triggered a migraine.
Liar. That’s not why you gave his ring back. Emma jerked her attention to where the three men stood. “Come on, Sam,” she muttered, shoving thoughts of him away, but they bounced right back.
Ranger Winters. That’s what he’d called her. She crossed her arms. He acted as though they had no history at all. Emma sat up abruptly and glanced toward the gate again to see if Sam was coming yet.
He had not moved. Why did she even need anyone to follow her home? Because Sam and Nate thought she was the shooter’s target . . . or she had an enemy. That option was impossible. She wasn’t the kind of woman who had enemies. Not even Trey. Breaking up with him had been a little messy . . . okay, so a lot messy. Even so, Trey would never shoot at her.
Obsession Page 2