“Can you tell us what happened?” Clay asked.
Kelsey shook her head. “Not really. I was swimming and then someone tried to pull me under. I have no idea who.”
“Or why?”
She didn’t speak for a minute. “I believe it’s tied to the murder at the museum. You know I overheard what happened, and while I didn’t see enough to be of any help in the investigation officially, the killer has apparently decided it’s not safe to leave me alive.” She explained about the threatening notes she’d received.
The younger officer’s eyes were widening. Apparently he hadn’t been briefed yet. He must be the low man on the police force totem pole. Of course, he looked like he was still a teenager—Treasure Point did allow eighteen-year-olds to serve on the police force, unlike some other areas.
“Anything else we need to know?” Clay asked the younger officer, who Sawyer was almost certain now was in training.
The other man just stood with his eyes wide. Clay sighed and continued. “So you didn’t see anything that could help?”
“No. I’m assuming it was someone who can scuba dive, since I didn’t see anyone get in or out of the water, and he didn’t seem to need to come up for air while he was holding me under. Maybe they were waiting for me. But I don’t know how he could have known when or where I’d be in the water.”
“The scuba diving doesn’t exactly narrow it down much in a beachside town,” Sawyer commented. “I dive.”
Clay raised his eyebrows. “And where were you?”
“Really, Clay?” Kelsey shook her head. “It’s not Sawyer.”
“I was here,” Sawyer answered, “at least, for the end of it. Kelsey had texted me where she’d be and I wanted to make sure she was all right. But unless I figured out how to release Kelsey, get out of the water ahead of her, shed my scuba gear, change into dry clothes and dry my hair all before Kelsey reached the shore, it couldn’t have been me.”
“And prior to that, where were you this afternoon?” Clay pressed.
“At the library doing some research. The librarian will be able to vouch for me.”
Clay nodded and turned back to Kelsey. “We’re going to investigate here and make sure there’s nothing that could help us. I’ll check your car and then we can drop it by your house, if that works for you.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks.”
“Well, you know that’s not really police protocol, but for cousins...” Clay smiled, then continued on in a more serious tone. “I’ll go report all this to the chief and write up a report. Kelsey, you be careful. This seems to be escalating quickly.”
Unfortunately, Sawyer agreed.
The officers stayed on the beach to search for any signs a suspect might have left behind, but Sawyer didn’t hold out much hope that they’d find anything.
“You are welcome to leave, unless you’d like us to walk back with you,” Clay called to Kelsey.
She looked at Sawyer.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, assuming she’d take charge like she always did, always had.
“What do you think?”
There it was, a tiny step toward friendship. He considered it for a minute.
“It’s a risk to leave without a police escort, but I don’t think it’s more of a risk than standing here in the open. I don’t believe that whoever tried to kill you is still hanging around at all. I think he got out of here the moment he quit attacking you.”
“I think so, too. I’m ready to go home, if you don’t mind. And yes, I’d love that ride.”
They walked across the beach, Kelsey’s running shoes squishing water as they grew more and more covered with sand.
“Do you want to borrow my shoes? I know they’re too big...” Sawyer felt like he should offer, though he was pretty sure what her response would be.
“I’m fine. But thanks for offering.”
They continued the walk into the woods, onto the coastal trail that people used for running. From where the dirt trail met the bigger paved trail, it wasn’t far to the parking lot.
“Do you want dinner or anything?” Sawyer asked as he opened her door for her. “We could stop somewhere on the way to your house.”
“No, I’m not fit to be seen in public until I take a shower. If you’d just take me home, that would be great.”
Neither of them said much on the way. That was fine with Sawyer. The last few days had been a lot for his mind to process, and not just because of the murder at the museum and the danger to Kelsey’s life. He’d also been drawn right back into small-town life, something he hadn’t expected. Sawyer had assumed once he left the business his dad owned in Savannah, that he’d end up staying in the city but working with a marine biology organization, or possibly moving to South Carolina or Florida. He’d never planned to return to a little town like this one. But instead of chasing him away again, the last few days, the sense of what it was like to have a close community that cared for each other, even in the midst of crazy circumstances like these, had reminded him what he was missing.
They pulled up in front of Kelsey’s house after only a few minutes.
“Thanks for the ride.”
Kelsey climbed out of his truck and headed inside.
“Bye,” he called after her, watching her go.
Sawyer leaned his seat back and got comfortable. He might change his mind later about guarding the house for the night, if he thought about it and decided he was overreacting. But for now? He wasn’t going anywhere.
SIX
As hard as Kelsey tried to push thoughts of Sawyer away, he just wouldn’t leave her alone. Which was why she wasn’t surprised in the least to see his truck still sitting in her driveway an hour after he’d dropped her off.
She shook her head, slipped her flip-flops on, and walked outside. She stopped beside his window and raised her eyebrows.
He rolled the window down but didn’t say anything.
“Are you, like, spying on me, Sawyer, or sitting out here as some kind of unarmed security?”
“I’m a Southern boy, Kelsey. I’ve got the boots, the ball cap and the truck. Who says I’m unarmed?”
He had a point there.
“Well, what are you doing out here? Didn’t I tell you earlier that I’d be fine?”
“Sure, but for some reason words don’t mean a whole lot to me when I’ve personally watched you almost get shot and then almost drown in the same twenty-four-hour period.”
“Almost doesn’t really count, Sawyer.”
“When we’re talking about you dying? I think it counts enough.”
The fierceness in his eyes caught her off guard. She hadn’t thought he hated her or anything—no, he’d always seemed perfectly friendly, the animosity between them had always been one-sided—but the idea that he cared enough about her to get that protective look in his eyes, to sit out here in her driveway making sure she was safe...it was sort of sweet.
“So, this is your plan? Wait out here for weeks or months or who knows how long, until this whole thing has resolved?”
“I don’t have much of a plan yet.” He stopped talking, surveyed her for a minute. “But it would be a lot easier if you’d just let me help you, let me plan with you the best way to give you a little bit of unofficial backup in whatever completely unsanctioned investigation you have going on.”
For once, she pushed her instinctive stubbornness aside and considered it. Finally, she nodded. “For now, why don’t you at least come in. Want some food?”
“Bologna again?” he teased. It really was one of his favorites, but it also seemed like a good way to lighten up this conversation.
“Nah. I noticed you out here half an hour ago and went ahead and cooked for two.”
His stomach chose that moment to growl. “
I could use some food.”
Inside, they served themselves and sat down, then Kelsey started to talk.
“Listen, I talked to the chief right after everything started happening. He feels fine knowing that I have a handgun and know how to use it.”
“That’s not going to solve all your problems, Kelsey. Where was your gun this afternoon when you were swimming? They aren’t waterproof, so it’s not like you were reckless not taking it, but if you want to live as normal a life as possible while this is going on, something’s going to have to give. No one can be on guard around the clock. Not without exhausting themselves and losing effectiveness. You need backup, and despite your aversion, I just think it should be me.”
She pushed her mashed potatoes around on her plate. “I wouldn’t say I have an aversion to you.”
“Then what? You’ve made no secret of the fact that there’s something about me that makes you angry. The way you’ve said Hamilton like my last name is some kind of bad word to you... We were friends once, I thought. Can’t we go back to that?”
“We weren’t really friends, Sawyer. We were rivals. There’s a difference.”
“Friendly rivals.”
Something flashed in her eyes. “Right up until...” Then she cut herself off, cleared her throat. “Do you want any more green beans?” She lifted the pot and moved it toward him.
“No, I don’t want any more green beans. What I want is for you to tell me what it is I did a decade ago that makes you not want to be friends with me now.”
* * *
Banging on her door interrupted their conversation. The relief on her face was unmistakable.
They both stood instantly.
“You stay back a little,” she cautioned.
“What, to get a good description of the guy if he manages to shoot you when you open the door?”
The look she gave him made it clear that Sawyer wasn’t making any forward progress in the can’t we be friends department.
Fine, she could handle this. Sawyer stayed back like she’d asked—not so politely—and watched as Kelsey approached the door looking every bit as if she had a law enforcement past. She moved carefully, hand at the hip where he assumed her weapon was concealed. “Who is it?” she asked, in a voice edged with steel.
“It’s Lieutenant Davies and the chief.”
Kelsey eased the door open and stepped aside so the two men could enter, dropping her hand to her side again since there was no danger.
“Did you find anything out?”
“Nothing helpful,” Davies said, looking to the chief.
The chief continued. “As you probably guessed, there were no witnesses near that stretch of beach, besides Sawyer who we know didn’t see anything. You might want to reconsider your jogging route.”
“I’ll remember that,” Kelsey said. Sawyer noted she didn’t even come close to agreeing. He made a mental note—take up running and invite himself to join her.
“We didn’t find any evidence at the beach to contradict your story, but nothing to support it, either,” Davies added. “The crime scene team reported to me half an hour ago. There was nothing at the beach to help at all.”
“Footprints?” Sawyer asked, ignoring the look Kelsey was giving him.
“Shiloh and her team found footprints, but it’s nearly impossible to get a good footprint from sand. If this had happened on some of our red clay, we could have made a mold and identified the type of shoe, shoe size, and approximate height and weight of the wearer—lots of information.” Davies shook his head. “But in the sand, they’re more like indents than footprints. So they could tell someone had been there, but nothing more than that.”
“Why did you come by, then?” Kelsey asked.
“I wanted to check on you.” The chief shook his head. “It doesn’t seem fair that you come back to town to help out and now you’re dealing with all this.”
“Well,” Kelsey’s voice seemed a little too light, like she was trying too hard, “I didn’t come back to help but to work.”
“You did the right thing, Kelsey. The museum will benefit from having someone like you assess it, with your knowledge of Treasure Point and the history of our area.”
She seemed to shrug off the compliment. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Nevertheless, the town appreciates it. I enjoyed working with you at the police department, but I saw those books you’d read on your breaks, about antiques. It’s admirable, what you did, working all those years to save—”
“Thanks, chief,” she interrupted him, and darted a quick glance Sawyer’s way. What was that about?
“All right, we’ll be going then.” The chief moved toward the door, followed by Lieutenant Davies. “I’m sorry we didn’t have more to report. We’re still waiting on ballistics from the bullets from the other night, as well as the autopsy on Michael Wingate. We’ve also been interviewing all of his friends and associates to see if they know of any conflicts or enemies he might have had. Hopefully one of those will tell us something.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you. Let me know if I can help at all,” she called as they were leaving. The chief was already halfway to the car.
“You just focus on staying safe,” Davies said.
Then both men climbed into the car and drove away.
Sawyer looked at Kelsey. She looked away.
“What did he mean, Kelsey, about you reading books on your breaks?”
She waved him off as she headed back toward the table and the dinner they hadn’t finished. “Just books about antiques I used to read in my spare time.”
“Were they for college?”
“Not then, no.”
“I’d assumed—”
“You really shouldn’t do that.” Kelsey cut him off and reached for the bowl of biscuits, shoved them at him. “Biscuit?”
“Would you quit trying to feed me and answer my questions?”
“Are you kidding? We’re south of the Mason-Dixon. Feeding men is in my DNA.”
“Please, Kelsey.”
“There’s no reason to discuss it. It’s in the past and that’s... It’s past. It’s over. Whatever, let’s move on.”
“I would, but you don’t seem to be willing to move on, at least not where you and me are concerned.”
“There really was never a ‘you and me.’”
“Why didn’t you go to college after high school, Kelsey? I’ll just ask you that, since it’s what I’m really wondering about. You were the smartest in our class, and I always thought you’d go right after graduation, not get a job immediately.”
“Not all of us were Hamiltons.”
“And now there you go with that again. Really?”
“Hey, if the silver spoon fits.”
Sawyer stood, pushed his chair back from the table and shook his head. “I don’t know what’s up with you, Kelsey. I’m trying to help you. But for reasons I don’t get, my help is the only help you’re dead set on not having. That’s fine. I hope you have a nice night.”
Sawyer let himself out, walked back to his truck.
But he didn’t bother putting the key in the ignition. She didn’t want him to be part of her life, fine. That didn’t mean he had to abandon her when he was pretty sure she needed someone helping her stay safe.
* * *
Kelsey had been surprised at how much she’d wanted to run after Sawyer and tell him she didn’t mean it.
Except she did. Not being able to go to college right after high school was one of those life-defining moments for Kelsey. Maybe some people would consider that silly, but learning, getting that degree, had been her dream, not her parents’ or anyone else’s. And she’d worked hard in school, done everything she could to earn the scholarships she had known she would
need to make her dreams happen.
And then Sawyer interfered.
One scholarship competition, the biggest one, one she’d been so sure she had in the bag that she’d let a couple of other applications sit ignored because she’d been so sure she’d win this one. It had made sense at the time—why split her efforts between ten or so scholarship applications when pouring all her focus into this one would give her the rest of the money she’d needed. One speech, one he’d decided to give at the last minute, when until then Kelsey hadn’t seen much competition in the list of names on the speaking schedule. And the award she’d been counting on to send her to college had gone to someone else. Someone who hadn’t even needed it.
Kelsey stalked over to where Sawyer had been sitting, picked up his plate and moved to the trash can. She dumped the uneaten dinner into it and banged the plate on the side of the can to get the remaining food off.
That and because it made her feel better.
How dare Sawyer push her, try to make her talk about these things? He’d wreaked enough havoc in her life. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
She went back to her seat and sat down, but her appetite was gone. She wrapped her leftovers and put them in the fridge, then headed up the stairs. On her way up, she noticed the marker stains on the walls that the last tenants had left. That was something else she’d need to take care of before her parents put the house on the market. Like she needed anything else to think about.
Deciding it would help relax her to focus on her work for the museum, Kelsey went immediately to the large desk in her room and surveyed the papers and photographs she’d spread out there when she was working the other night. She’d been cataloguing items from the museum, taking pictures of them, then filling out sheets estimating their value and calculating the appropriate amount of insurance she’d recommend to the historical society. She hoped to have everything ready for Jim, the head of the society, to approve as soon as possible, but everything kept getting pushed back.
Maybe she could get some work done tonight, bump that timeline up a little.
It was after one in the morning by the time she noticed how late it was. Thankfully the pile on the desk was more organized, and she’d gotten a substantial amount of work done. It would have to do for tonight. She was exhausted. She readied herself for bed in record time and checked the doors to make sure they were locked. Everything was closed up tight. She should be safe tonight. Although the thought of sleeping when someone was trying to kill her was intimidating.
Perilous Homecoming Page 6