Treasure Point Secrets

by Sarah Varland

  Questions tumbled around in his head. Hadn’t he given up a successful career in business to follow a calling? Did callings have to be to a specific ministry? Or could Shiloh really have been called by God to be a police officer?

  In that case, he’d been wrong to give her anything less than his full support.

  “Look, Shiloh...” he began slowly, afraid he’d say something that would make her mad again. “About the other night...”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She didn’t take her eyes off the road, just stared straight ahead, giving far more attention to the driveway than it merited.

  “But I wanted to ask you—”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He breathed out a sigh as he turned away from her, instead watching as an old white plantation house came into view. He let out a low whistle. “It’s a wonder this thing is still standing.”

  “It’s a beautiful piece of history,” she defended.

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t. But it’s also showing signs of age.”

  “I suppose you’re in the camp who would just tear this one down and build a new one?”

  “No.” He looked at her pointedly. “I think sometimes houses are worth restoring. If they can be restored safely.”

  She met his gaze. Hers softened ever so slightly. And then she nodded and turned away.

  Somehow he was pretty sure neither one of them had been talking about old houses.

  Shiloh parked the car and then strode to the door without waiting for Adam.

  “Finally,” Widow Hamilton snapped when she answered Shiloh’s knock. “The chief says he sends someone every time I call, but no one ever stops to talk to me.”

  “I’m sorry about that, ma’am,” Shiloh said in a calm voice, handling the situation with more ease than Adam would have been able to muster. “I’m here now. Tell me about what you’ve been noticing.”

  She bristled. “I will not tell you as you stand there on the porch in this heat. Come inside. I’ll pour some tea and give you my report on the goings-on here.” She nodded decisively, her mind made up. “And who is this nice young man?” She raised her eyebrows. “You don’t have a uniform.”

  “I’m not an officer. I’m a chaplain and the new pastor in town. Adam Cole.” He offered his hand, and she shook it with the grace of a genteel Southern woman.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Reverend Cole. Both of you, come inside now.” She motioned them in, and they followed. “You may have a seat in the living room. I’ll bring out the tea.”

  “Would you like me to help?” Shiloh offered.

  Mrs. Hamilton’s dark brows rose. “As though I’m too old to handle pouring some tea and serving it to my guests? Hardly, dear. But thank you. You may have a seat with this nice young man and keep him company.”

  Shiloh shrugged and sat down on one end of the sofa, perched on the edge. Adam took the other end, leaning back against the cushion.

  He looked over at Shiloh. She was watching him. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable spot. As he spied Shiloh trying unsuccessfully to hold back a snicker, he realized she already knew what he’d just figured out. There was no comfortable spot on this couch.

  Thankfully, they were soon distracted by Mrs. Hamilton’s return with a tea tray.

  “This is good tea,” Adam contributed a minute later, feeling as if he should make some attempt to break the silence.

  “Thank you, dear. Now, as for you...” Widow Hamilton directed her attention to Shiloh. “Since you’ve finally come to take my report, you should know that I’ve been hearing strange noises at night for several years now.”

  Just when Shiloh had gotten her hopes up again about a real lead. Mrs. Hamilton had been hearing noises for several years? Most likely a search of her attic would reveal an entire village of squirrels or something of the sort, which would account for the noises. Shiloh held back a groan.

  “I wrote it off at first,” she continued, “as paranoia. I called the police chief, just in case, but I wasn’t terribly worried. The only real evidence I had was that things in the house, especially in my library, would be moved to places where I didn’t put them. Almost like someone was looking for something.”

  “When did you first notice this?”

  “Time goes by so fast now.” Mrs. Hamilton tilted her head to the side. “Maybe five years ago?”

  * * *

  Chills crept down Shiloh’s arms at the mention of the library and the time frame the woman had given. It was too coincidental that someone had searched both Shiloh’s and the widow’s book collections...but for what? Shiloh made a mental note to work on that question more later and focused back on the conversation.

  The woman’s voice softened as she continued. “So you can see I do have reason to believe there are prowlers on this property. I know what you people must think after so many false alarms. Maybe I was wrong to call at the slightest suspicion that something was out of the ordinary. But I know there’s something going on here now. I heard noises a few nights ago, one of the nights it stormed. The next morning, I saw footprints.”

  “Why didn’t you call the station?” Shiloh frowned—footprints would have been investigated more willingly than vague claims.

  “Whoever I spoke to wouldn’t even take a report. Can you help me?” The quaver in the elderly woman’s voice was almost too much for Shiloh to take. She nodded slowly.

  “Yes, Mrs. Hamilton, I think we can. I’ll make sure anything you report from now on is given serious consideration.” It was a promise she’d do her best to keep, even if she had to investigate every report herself. She recognized that haunted look in the widow’s eyes, had seen it too many times in the mirror. Fear was beginning to rule the widow. Shiloh had hated it when that had happened in her own life; she’d do everything she could to keep it from happening to someone else. “And to start with, I’ll investigate the premises myself today, with your permission, of course.”

  Mrs. Hamilton was already nodding, her mood considerably brighter in a matter of seconds. Funny what having someone believe in you could do.

  “Of course. And please call me Mary. None of this ‘Mrs. Hamilton’ business or ‘Mrs. Hamilton-Davis,’ which is technically correct since Davis was my husband’s name—people seemed to forget after he died that I had taken his name—or ‘Widow Hamilton,’ as rumor has it I’m known in town. I’m afraid this entire unsavory situation isn’t going to go away anytime soon, so we’re going to get to know each other very well.”

  “We’ll do the best we can to solve this quickly, but I’ll enjoy getting to know you in the meantime.” Shiloh smiled. “Now, let’s check out the library, since you’d mentioned problems there, and then we’ll investigate some of the outside areas, if you don’t mind.” Like those pathways to the coast, she added silently.

  “Certainly.”

  Shiloh followed Mary and turned to smile at Adam, who followed along behind her. He’d done an admirable job of letting her handle things. She’d have to thank him for that later.

  They traveled down a narrow hallway lined with thin wood paneling painted in a faded white. Old houses like this fascinated Shiloh. She could tell elements had been updated over the centuries but guessed from the architecture that it had been built possibly as early as the mid-1700s, not long after Georgia had been founded as a colony and Savannah, its first city, had been built.

  “Here we are.” Mary motioned to a doorway on the right. Shiloh caught her breath as she entered, stepping carefully onto the Oriental rug that covered most of the antique hardwood floor.

  The room resembled something out of a booklover’s dream. Ceiling-high bookshelves lined three of the walls, and wingback chairs sat angled toward the grand stone fireplace positioned in the center of the remaining wall. A c
handelier hung from the ceiling.

  If Shiloh hadn’t already known that the Hamiltons had come from money, she’d know it now. “This is beautiful.”

  Mary looked pleased. “I think so. My family has owned this house for several centuries. My love for it is part of the reason I’m eager for answers. I’d hate to leave it, but I’m starting to regret being here alone.”

  “I promise you,” Shiloh reassured Mary, “I’ll do the best I can to make sure everything settles down quickly.”

  “I appreciate that, dear. Now—” Mary moved to one of the shelves close to the fireplace “—they are arranged by category. This section,” she said, then motioned to a set of shelves that included hundreds of books, “is the classical Christian section. It includes books that the Hamilton family considers staples of Christian literature.” She pointed to a thick volume in the middle. “Dante’s Inferno, some of John Donne’s poetry, C. S. Lewis.” She shrugged. “The classics span hundreds of years, but they include everything from poetry to religious allegory. It’s a rather extensive collection, with at least one volume of every book of its type that the family considered a staple of such a collection.”

  Shiloh nodded as she took in the rows of books, most of which she had at least heard of. She noted other famous names: Augustine. Milton.

  “This is the section that had been...disturbed.” A look of disquiet passed over the widow’s face, and a soft frown shadowed her eyes. “I could never figure out if something was taken, or if things were only looked through. Either way, I haven’t a clue as to why. They are valuable, to be certain, but there are more valuable things in the house.” She sighed. “I’m rambling, aren’t I, dear?”

  “No, ma’am. Anything you can remember will help us,” Shiloh said with a confidence she didn’t feel. She had no more idea than Mary why someone would go through the books. Still, Shiloh’s heart pounded as she wondered if the keys to finding the treasure and putting an end to this chapter of her life were or had been right in this room.

  “I’ll leave you two to look around.” The widow cast one long gaze back at the library. “I used to love this room, but it doesn’t feel quite right to me lately. And books I could have promised you I had have disappeared, right under my nose.” She shook her head, shaking the doubt from her countenance. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

  Looking around the massive room, with no idea where to begin, Shiloh’s words to the widow about getting things solved quickly repeated in her mind. She wondered if she’d made a promise she couldn’t keep. This nightmare had dragged on five years so far. It was unlikely that it would disappear anytime soon.

  * * *

  Adam followed Shiloh out of the house and back into the heat about half an hour later, discouraged at how little they’d been able to find. But Shiloh still seemed bound and determined to find some kind of evidence before leaving the grounds. She led them to the edge of the woods and started down a trail lined with thick tangled grass and some cactus plants. He glanced at Shiloh’s silhouette up ahead but then turned away. She looked good—better than good—but if he was smart, he’d keep his eyes on the ground and not appreciate her beauty too much.

  He’d gotten a phone call that morning from one of the church deacons, asking why Adam had returned home so late the other night. At first Adam had thought the deacon was concerned that Adam’s late night was connected to a church problem, so he’d tried to put the other man’s mind at ease while being vague, but the deacon had finally come out and asked if Adam had been out so late with a woman. Integrity had forced him to admit he had, and the other man’s disapproval had been evident as he’d warned Adam to be careful.

  The implication that they didn’t trust him had rankled him. Yes, he’d been with Shiloh. Yes, it had been something like a date. But nothing untoward had happened. They’d held hands; that was it. Yet the church leaders felt they needed a detailed update? He understood accountability, but this was taking it too far. Apparently, this small town had eyes watching everywhere.

  Still, he wanted to succeed at this job. He knew he was called by God to be here. Besides, it was the first time in years that Adam felt as though his dad approved of him. Adam couldn’t fail at his first church on his own, especially not in the first month.

  Shiloh and Adam continued to wander through the woods for over an hour before she did an abrupt about-face and shook her head. “There’s nothing here. We would have seen it by now if there was.” She let out a sigh and wiped sweat from her forehead. “I’ll keep checking back. I do believe her that something’s going on, but without evidence...” She shrugged. “Let’s go patrol the rest of our area.”

  “I think you’re doing great, if that helps any.”

  “Am I?” She glanced around the thick brown forest and lowered her voice. “I’ve been chasing shadows for five years. Or trying. There had been no new leads, not one, since the night Annie was killed. I thought I’d lost my chance, that they’d gone underground, maybe found the treasure and disappeared, but now they’re back. And I have to finish this. I have to.”

  He heard the desperation in her tone and reached for her, not knowing if it would help but hoping it would.

  And she walked away. Story of his life.

  She remained silent even after they’d gotten back in the car and started patrolling around the rest of the town.

  “Hey, Shiloh?”

  Still silence.

  “I’m sorry about the whole situation. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Thanks.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if I just gave up, if maybe it would all go away.”

  Adam said nothing. She knew that wasn’t true.

  But two hours later—when she dropped him off at the station and went to finish her shift solo—she looked more defeated than he could ever remember seeing her.

  Maybe she had given up after all.

  * * *

  At the end of her shift, Shiloh drove back to the station. She headed inside to clock out, had just stepped in the door when the chief grabbed her by the arm and hauled her into his office.

  As soon as the door had shut behind them and they were alone, he said, “I know now, Shiloh.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I made some calls this afternoon and got the answers you wouldn’t give me. I know why you left Savannah. I know about your cousin’s death and the case she was working on, and I know it’s likely tied to whatever is going on now.”

  Shiloh felt her whole body tense in anticipation of the words she was sure to hear next—the ones dressing her down for not sharing this information herself.

  “Tell me everything.”

  “It sounds like you know basically all you need to,” she said with more confidence than she felt. He didn’t seem to know that she was Annie’s unnamed consultant...but Shiloh saw no reason to bring that up. Something inside stopped her.

  The chief stared at her. “This isn’t a game, Shiloh. These are real lives in danger. Not just yours, either, the entire town. Don’t you care about that at all?”

  “Of course I care.” She heard the desperate tone in her voice. How could he doubt that, when this case was becoming all she could think about? She wanted to tell him everything, just as he had asked, so he could see how untrue that implication was.

  She remained uncomfortable with the fact that she’d discussed pirate treasure with some of the guys at the department just days before the attacks against her had started. It could have been coincidence.

  Adam, a tangible link to her past in Savannah, arriving in town was a much more logical, though no less confusing, explanation for the recent attacks. But Shiloh still hesitated to discuss her secrets with anyone in the department. Not until she knew if there was a mole, and if so, who it was.

  She shook her head slowly, feeling the full weight of his disapproval as
his face tightened into a frown.

  “You don’t have a choice, Shiloh. Tell me or your job is on the line.”

  She knew it was. Which would damage the case more—her getting killed or fired? Her brain hurt from thinking through all of the options. The best thing she could do was put it off.

  “The reasons why I left Savannah aren’t pleasant memories to revisit. I’m going to need a little time. For now, I’m going for a run on the coastal trail to clear my head. Maybe we’ll talk when I’m done.”

  She walked out of the office, not waiting to hear his reply. She was so focused on the turmoil inside that she almost ran into Hazel, the department’s secretary, on her way down the hall. Shiloh apologized and hurried outside. The last thing she needed was to give the chief enough time to come after her. He’d probably fire her on the spot for walking out the way she had, and it would be justified.

  But she needed time to think.

  Shiloh climbed into her car and drove down to the remote parking lot at the edge of Treasure Point. This was where the coastal trail began. She liked to run here because it wasn’t crowded. Usually there would be no one else on the trail, just her and the ocean breeze. If that and running couldn’t clear her thoughts, nothing could. She only hoped it would help today.

  After parking the car, changing quickly in the public restroom, pulling on her running shoes and donning her service revolver once more, Shiloh started down the trail. Sunlight faded as she ran deeper into the trees, and the Spanish moss filtered the light further. Despite everything that still needed to be solved, Shiloh felt herself relaxing, felt the pieces of the puzzle that had been jumbled in her mind start to come closer to finding their places.