Perilous Homecoming

by Sarah Varland

“So I can come over.”

  “But why?” This wasn’t making any sense. “You don’t have to look after me. I’m not your responsibility, and I can take care of myself.”

  “You shouldn’t have to,” he replied, taking the wind right out of her sails. “Dealing with threats and attacks isn’t something anyone should have to do on their own. I know the police will do what they can, but they have lots of responsibilities to handle, whereas I’m here in town with time on my hands. I can help. I want to help. Will you let me?”

  He looked so hopeful that Kelsey couldn’t bring herself to say no—it would feel like kicking a puppy. An unwanted puppy who seemed to want nothing more than to get underfoot. So, fine, she’d agree to let him help, and then she’d just conveniently forget to contact him later. Problem solved.

  Satisfied with her assurance that she’d let him know when she needed him—which would be at a quarter past never—Kelsey went inside and got to work.

  She spent the day wandering the museum, estimating the value of some of the antiques that she could identify easily, and researching others to figure out comparisons that would tell her what they might be worth. She’d done the job before, many times, but always with direct supervision. It was a big vote of confidence from her employer that she was being allowed to do this, as well as another job, on her own.

  Kelsey was supposed to spend tomorrow in St. Simons at the estate that was her other large project right now. At first, the Treasure Point Historical Society hadn’t been excited at the prospect of her attention being divided, but Kelsey had insisted she could handle both of the jobs. Her boss hadn’t given her a choice about the museum job, since the town had asked for her specifically, but the Medlin Estate was something that would advance her career more, and she wasn’t giving that up for anything.

  Kelsey knew she could do it, but it was still overwhelming to think about, which was why—on her way back into town—she pulled her car into the parking lot that connected to the coastal trail. She exhaled even before she got out, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders as she thought about running. It was one of the best ways she knew to relieve stress.

  She’d changed into running clothes before leaving the museum, so she climbed from her car, set her phone to her running playlist and put it on her armband. Hesitating for a second, she pulled the phone back out for a second and sent a quick text to Sawyer, just to let someone know where she was. She regretted the message the moment she’d sent it. Sawyer didn’t need to know where she was, especially since the day had been quiet and it seemed like maybe...like maybe the threat from last night hadn’t been as big as she’d feared.

  Then again, Michael Wingate’s body was in the McIntosh County morgue right now, so Kelsey knew that wasn’t true.

  Either way, the text message was sent and Kelsey needed this run, had plenty of things in her brain that needed to be sorted out.

  She started out at a comfortable pace and eased into her workout. The first thought her mind landed on was Sawyer. Nope. She wasn’t going there. She sped up a little, felt her feet pound the ground a little harder at the thought of the boy-turned-man who’d thrown her so off balance earlier in the day.

  No. No matter what, she wasn’t going to think of him right now.

  Instead she thought about work. Had Matt overreacted by keeping Gemma away from the museum for now? Kelsey wanted to say yes, especially since she didn’t want to believe she was truly in danger from her work there...but what other reason could someone have for killing Michael Wingate if it wasn’t connected to his job?

  She pushed herself a little harder. Today had been calm. Boring, even. She’d walked through most of the exhibits, accompanied by an officer. He was a younger guy, not a native of the town, but he seemed nice enough, even if his couldn’t-be-more-than-twenty-one-year-old self kept calling her “ma’am.” She loved Southern charm and manners, except when they made her feel like she was much older than pushing thirty.

  Kelsey had gotten a lot accomplished as far as her insurance job, but where the investigation was concerned, she wished she could have spent time in the room where the murder had taken place. She’d remembered while she was working that Michael had acted strangely around one exhibit in there in particular, like there was something about it that made him uncomfortable. It was the most fascinating exhibit in the museum—there wasn’t any doubt about that. Many of the rooms and exhibits focused on Treasure Point’s history in general, but this particular exhibit was exclusively geared toward Treasure Point’s pirate history. Blackbeard was only one of the many pirates who had loved this corner of the Eastern Seaboard for all its barrier islands, mysterious swamps and places to hide smuggled goods.

  It was Treasure Point’s little claim to fame, its most valuable asset as a town trying to grow its tourist trade, as well as its greatest liability. The last few years had seen an upswing in crime for many of the reasons pirates had frequented the area years before.

  The exhibit was interesting, but she hadn’t seen anything in there worth killing over. Most of it talked about shipwrecks that had happened over a hundred years ago.

  Who would kill over that?

  Kelsey shook her head, picked up the pace a little. She was coming up on the parking lot. One more lap, she told herself, and then she’d jump into the water to cool off, take a swim in her workout clothes—she had a spare towel in her car she could sit on—before heading back to the house to tackle a few cleaning projects there and eat another sandwich for dinner.

  She’d had more fun having that impromptu dinner with Sawyer last night than she liked to admit.

  Sawyer? Where had that come from?

  She ran faster. Enough of that.

  The second lap went quickly, and then she was carefully picking her way along the narrow game trail through the woods that led to the beach. Not many people accessed the beach from here, but it had always been a favorite place of hers to swim. The main beach of Treasure Point wasn’t very big, and as a result it was usually crowded.

  Kelsey liked having this quiet space to herself.

  She narrowly avoided some thorns and pushed her way through the last bit of underbrush until she emerged onto a clearer area, where the dirt of the forest gradually gave way to sand. It was a unique area, in general and environmentally, and Kelsey loved everything about it. This was why, though she’d longed for a big city, she’d settled on Savannah rather than somewhere farther like Atlanta, or even Charleston. This place would always be home in a way, and Savannah was the most similar to Treasure Point.

  Kelsey waded into the waves, the water felt good against her hot skin after the initial jolt of cold. The waves lapped against her and she let herself float on them, relax with them and even stayed there on her back for a few minutes, looking up at the blue sky dotted with cotton-ball clouds.

  The sound of the waves hitting the beach was loud, but the noise relaxed her. After a few minutes of floating she moved upright again, swam a little closer to the shore since she’d drifted. Then she found the two trees in the distance she liked to use as markers for herself and swam a few laps.

  Finally, exhausted, she lay on her back again, exhaled the stress of the day into the warm salty air and let herself relax.

  Something snatched her arm, jerked her underwater before Kelsey could react, before she could draw in one more long breath of air to sustain her.

  She kept her eyes open even though the salty ocean water stung, but her attempts to see her attacker were useless. The water here was far from clear, and though the sun was shining, all she could see were particles and a shape. Definitely human. She struggled, fought to get away, and managed to wrench her arm free before throwing herself toward the shore and kicking with every bit of strength she had left.

  Was that someone on the beach? Did her attacker have an accomplice?

  She kicked har
der, moved her arms in the freestyle motion, only to be jerked backward again by the man—she was fairly certain that the shape was too large to be a woman—and pulled back under. This time she’d taken a breath, so she had more energy to fight.

  Still, as she kicked and struggled, she knew that she didn’t have long. She couldn’t keep holding her breath, but to stop trying was to give up and die.

  And Kelsey wasn’t a quitter. Never had been. Wasn’t about to start now.

  “Kelsey!”

  She heard the shouts from the beach. Was the person she’d seen someone on her side, not her attacker’s?

  The knowledge gave her confidence to give this struggle all she had, and she landed one solid kick to her opponent’s gut.

  The pressure on her arm released. She was free.

  And he was gone. Untraceable.

  Kelsey surfaced and gasped, never as thankful as she was right now to be able to draw in air. Someone had tried to drown her. Someone had almost succeeded.

  “Kelsey!” The voice came again and this time she recognized it. It was Sawyer on the beach.

  He’d gotten her message. He’d come.

  And, like it or not, whatever her past grudges against him were, he’d saved her life. She owed him a second chance.

  * * *

  Sawyer hadn’t been clear about what he’d encountered on the beach. All he knew was that Kelsey had been underwater, then back up, then under for longer than it seemed like someone would stay under intentionally. Though he hadn’t seen anyone but her, the way she’d flailed in the water said she’d been fighting someone.

  The same person who’d fired warning shots at her last night?

  “Kelsey!” he yelled again. He hadn’t gone into the water after her since she’d seemed to get free before he’d had a chance, but even though no one seemed to be attacking her now, he knew he’d keep worrying until he could talk to her and make sure she was uninjured.

  This time she met his eyes. The fear he saw in hers unnerved him, like he could almost feel it for himself.

  Finally, she emerged from the water and he stepped forward to meet her. Her leggings and her bright green tank top were soaked, as was the ponytail she’d pulled her hair back into. Mascara was smudged on her cheeks and she looked...

  Brave. That was how she looked to Sawyer right now. Brave.

  He watched her draw in a breath, look behind her again and hurry toward him. When she finally reached his side, she stopped.

  “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. Then nodded. “I’m not sure. I’m alive, but...”

  “But someone tried to kill you again.”

  She nodded.

  Whoever this was meant business. Those notes weren’t meant to intimidate, weren’t just bluffs. The killer had told her if she didn’t leave town he’d kill her. Clearly he meant to follow through on his promise.

  “We need to call the police.” Sawyer reached out a hand.

  Kelsey nodded. “Yes. And they’ll want us to stay here so they can ask you questions at the scene. What do you think, should we wait in the car, though?”

  “I think we’re okay. You don’t see anyone out there anymore, do you?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hiding somewhere. I still don’t know where he came from, or how long he was watching me before he came after me. He couldn’t have known when I’d get in the water, or even that I’d come to this specific spot, so he must have followed me here.”

  “And you didn’t notice anything suspicious?”

  She shook her head, frowning. “I should have...but no, I didn’t notice a thing.” She looked shaky, now that the adrenaline had faded, so he suggested they sit.

  Sawyer tried to keep his distance but at the same time not get farther than a couple of feet from her since she was in danger.

  Until he noticed her hand was shaking. Then he reached out and took it in his. Squeezed.

  She looked at him funny, but didn’t let go until they’d reached the edge of the sand nearest to the trees, where a piece of driftwood formed a more secure spot for them to sit than on the open beach.

  “I can’t believe that just happened,” she said. “That it was really real.”

  “I’m sure. It’s crazy.”

  “I’ve got to figure out why this is happening.”

  “I’m sure when the police get here, they’ll do the best they can to—”

  “No. I have to do it.”

  Sawyer looked at her face, saw in her eyes that she meant it. “Why? You have enough on your plate with the museum job and trying to stay alive, don’t you think? Not to mention fixing up your parents’ house.”

  “Look, I respect the officers at the department here just as much as anyone, probably more since I worked with many of them and got along well with them. But this is personal for me. I feel like if I can focus and put some pieces of whatever kind of puzzle this is together, then I have a better chance of figuring out who is behind this than the police department does.”

  “You know they’re going to put every resource they can toward this, Kelsey. It’s not like it won’t be taken seriously—a man was already been killed and you’ve been nearly killed twice.”

  “I’m not saying that I think they won’t give it all they’ve got. But I’m not going to sit around and either ignore the fact that I’m in danger or hide under the blankets while I wait for someone else to take care of it. I have the skills I need to investigate by myself and so that’s what I’m going to do. Just a little digging, maybe enough to find something I can pass on to my friends at the police department that might help them. You know they’re like most departments, anyway, perpetually short-staffed, so it’s not like they couldn’t use the help.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t really argue that she didn’t have the right or the ability to look into this herself, but at the same time, the concept of her diving back into investigating—how many years had it been?—with no team behind her didn’t sit well with him. He’d decided earlier that he wanted to help her, that he’d give her some backup and support, but that was when he’d assumed that she’d mostly be lying low, acting defensively to protect herself rather than confronting danger head-on.

  “I have to try,” she insisted.

  As he met her eyes this time, he saw how much she meant it, how determined she was.

  “Do you want a ride home when we’re done here? I’m guessing the police are going to want to check your car to make sure nothing was tampered with.”

  She blinked, apparently not prepared for him to give up with so little fight.

  “Why do you keep trying to help me? I still don’t understand why.”

  Did she really think he’d just stand by and do nothing while she was in danger? She always seemed to assume the worst of him, and he’d never quite understood why. The truth of it was that he had always liked her, always wished they could be friends, but for whatever reason, she’d always seemed to dislike him more than anyone else. He didn’t know if she was just that competitive, but what he’d always viewed as a friendly academic competition between them, she’d always seemed to view as a fight to the death. The way she interacted with him had only gotten worse after the scholarship speech contest he’d beaten her in, in their senior year, right before they graduated. But here they were, adults now, and it seemed like Sawyer was being handed a second chance to be her friend.

  And he wanted to take it.

  “Like I said before, I’m in town without too many daily responsibilities and you need help.” Better to let the rest of his motives speak for themselves.

  “See, only a Hamilton would be able to say that. The rest of us? We can’t afford to sit around with minimal responsibilities and do nothing all day.”

  She was soaked, had
nearly drowned, and the last thing she needed was someone snapping at her—even if she had it coming—Sawyer reminded himself as she flung the stinging words at him. He wouldn’t have guessed they would hurt so much, but they did.

  “It’s not that I’m doing nothing.” He started to defend himself, though he didn’t know why he was bothering. She had made up her mind about him and his family—lumped them all together, apparently—long ago, but he still had to try to change her opinion of him. “I’m looking for a job right now.”

  Her eyebrows raised. The lack of respect on her face was too much.

  “You know what, never mind,” Sawyer said, voice flat. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. If you don’t want my help then that’s your choice, but lashing out at me isn’t going to fix anything.”

  He watched as her facial expression changed, as she looked down, then back up at him with tears shining in her eyes. “You’re right. That was awful of me.”

  “Can you explain why you dislike me so much?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry. Thank you for offering to help.” She hesitated. “I’m not very good at accepting help.”

  “I know.”

  Kelsey looked confused, like she wasn’t aware of how much he’d watched her in high school. He’d always found her fascinating, especially since—in contrast to the other girls at school who fawned over him—he hadn’t been able to get Kelsey to so much as crack a smile at the jokes he liked to tell. She was serious, competitive and incredibly smart. And she’d never been willing to give him the time of day. She still seemed pretty unenthused about the idea of spending time with him...but she hadn’t said no. She’d even apologized for what she’d said. Maybe they could make this work after all.

  “So...truce?” he offered, trying to brush off her words for good, ready to start over. He held out a hand.

  “Truce.” She shook it.

  Officers arrived then—Clay and Officer Ryan, according to the other officer’s nametag. He must be new in town, Sawyer didn’t know him.