Treasure Point Secrets

by Sarah Varland

  Two things needed her attention right now: finding the treasure so she could trap the criminals and working on a suspect list in her mind.

  Shiloh and Annie had had no suspects, though they had been fairly certain—based on the nature of the injuries of the murder victims—that more than one person was involved and that they were male. Shiloh had believed them to be locals, because of the familiarity they’d shown with the Savannah area.

  Shiloh rounded a corner, tensing slightly at the overhanging branches blocking her view of what was ahead. She relaxed upon seeing that the area was clear and kept running.

  Now that the case had followed her to Treasure Point, she wondered if she should suspect one of the townspeople. It almost had to be someone local here, as well—outsiders stuck out in a town this small. But who could it be? One of her neighbors? One of the fishermen at the docks? Someone she saw at the grocery store?

  Any random townsperson may as well be added to her mental list. She suspected them all equally—and with equally little probability. The killer had to have a solid knowledge of Blackbeard’s history, but none of that information was hard to find—anyone with an internet connection and enough determination could figure it out.

  The trickier part was figuring out how they’d learned about her, how they knew enough to be able to track her, follow her around without her spotting them. It had her suspecting that one of the assailants could be connected to the police department.

  Several times she’d felt as though someone had been listening to a private conversation only to turn around and see no one out of place. Shiloh had always respected law enforcement, especially because her cousin and several other members of her extended family had been police officers.

  But everything pointed to someone at the department being involved.

  Not the chief. She trusted him. So who could it be? The idea of Hitchcock, or even Lieutenant Davies—much as he wasn’t her favorite person—being involved made her almost sick to her stomach. Still, she had to acknowledge that it was a possibility.

  If only the forensics from the crimes in Savannah had told them more. Even when they’d managed to get partial fingerprints at the crime scenes, the prints hadn’t matched any on record. So either the murderers had successfully avoided arrest during an extended criminal career or Shiloh was searching for someone who’d become a criminal relatively recently. She was searching for a needle in a haystack.

  Or a pirate treasure in hundreds of miles of coastline.

  A snap in the woods alongside the jogging track jerked Shiloh to attention. She tried to tell herself it was probably a deer. Quickening her pace slightly, telling herself it was to push herself physically, not because she was scared, she rounded another bend in the trail.

  A crack shattered the silence, and dust flew through the air less than ten feet from where Shiloh stood. Someone was shooting at her. She put her hand on her weapon. Instinct told her to seek cover from which she could return fire, but even after her scan of the area, she couldn’t see where the shots were coming from exactly. To hide might put her directly in the shooter’s sights. At least if she ran, she stood a chance.

  She picked up her pace to a full sprint, making an effort to vary where she ran, darting left and right across the trail in an inconsistent pattern so the shooter wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot off. Shiloh estimated she was half a mile from the end of the loop and the relative safety of her car. She ran faster, the tempo of her heartbeat pulsing through her head.

  Minutes had passed since the first shot had been fired. She’d covered a lot of ground in that time. Unless the sniper was keeping the same pace as Shiloh, she should be safe. But the uneasy feeling prickling the back of her neck wouldn’t let her relax. Shooter or not, someone was still watching.

  The second crack sounded, and what felt like fire grazed her arm.

  With everything she had left, Shiloh sprinted the remaining distance to the car and ran around behind it, putting it between herself and the trail where the shots had come from. She unholstered her weapon, then ducked into her car and reached for her radio to call for backup.

  The crunch of tires on the gravel behind her made her swivel to face the new arrival, extending her arms and her gun in shooting position as she did.

  Shiloh startled and lowered her gun when she realized it was another Treasure Point police car pulling into the lot. Still, she kept her finger near the trigger just in case.

  Lieutenant Davies parked his car and stepped out. “You want to put that weapon away and tell me what you think you’re doing?”

  Shiloh’s mind raced. Was it coincidence that he had shown up so soon after the shooting? There had been no more shots since he’d arrived. Could he have parked somewhere close and hidden in the woods to shoot her, then driven his car here to “discover” her body? Was he the one behind the attacks on her, trying to get her out of the way without blowing his cover?

  The full sting of the graze on her arm and the anger at getting shot hit her all at once with more emotions than she could process.

  “Someone shot at me.” She said the words numbly, since he probably already knew. No, she was almost sure of it, since the gunshots had stopped as soon as he’d arrived.

  It couldn’t really be true.

  But it had to be.

  Any trace of a smile fell from Davies’s face. “Did you radio it in?”

  “I was about to when you showed up.”

  “Sure this isn’t just something you’re making up to get attention? Like when someone ‘broke into your house’ just to rearrange your bookshelf?”

  She tensed. “Someone was there.”

  “There was no evidence. Only your word.”

  She wanted to scream. “Let me radio the chief.”

  “You should do that. Heard you had words with him earlier.”

  More pieces fell into place. Had Davies been eavesdropping? Her trip here to run had been spur of the moment. She’d only mentioned it that once in the chief’s office. For someone to have been waiting here to shoot her, they would have had to overhear her and react immediately. If anyone had the opportunity to do it, it would be this man in front of her.

  “Stop looking at me like that and radio the chief. He sent me over here to check on you and tell you he wanted to talk to you again when you were done with your run.”

  “How did you know about my run?” she shot back with suspicion coloring her tone.

  “The chief told me.” He glanced around, taking in the sunny day and peaceful scene. “You’re sure someone was shooting?”

  She angled her injured arm toward him. “Does it look like I’m making it up?”

  He took in the red streak on her arm and raised his eyebrows. “Could be a scratch from anything.”

  “It’s a bullet-graze mark,” she ground out between her closed teeth. “You didn’t hear the shots?”

  “Can’t say that I did.”

  Suspicion weighing like blocks of ice on her soul, Shiloh reached for the radio and called in the incident. Since there had been no more shots, she took a seat in her car to wait, deciding she’d prefer not to talk to the other officer at the moment.

  Someone had shot her. Someone who’d known her plans to go for a run. And though she’d only suspected it until now, she now knew someone at the police department was involved. And unfortunately, she was afraid she knew exactly who it was. She hated the idea of a dirty cop. She hated even more the fact that Lieutenant Davies was well respected in the department. Unless she had solid proof that he was involved, no one, not even the chief, would believe a word she said.

  * * *

  Adam had been in his church office staring at a commentary for over an hour and still saw only words blurred together. He was too distracted by the look of defeat he’d seen on Shiloh’s face earlier in the day
.

  With a sigh and a shake of his head, he shut the book. His inability to focus wasn’t likely to resolve itself anytime soon.

  A knock at his open door made him jerk his head up.

  “Hello, Pastor.” Winston Howell, one of the older men at the church, stood in the doorway wearing his trademark overalls. “I was in the area, picking up some parts for a truck I’m fixing, and wanted to drop by to talk to you about Sunday’s sermon.”

  Sunday. Adam had been moderately happy with the message he’d gotten across but felt some of his points could have been better articulated. Half of his mind had been with Shiloh, stressing over the break-in at her house. Anxiety swirled in his stomach as he waited for what the man would say.

  Winston stuck out his hand. “You’re a real man of God, Pastor Cole. I can tell that from the way you preached His word. Thank you for the job you’re doing here.”

  Adam shook his hand, unable for a moment to find the words to respond. Finally, he managed a thank-you. After the insinuations from one of his deacons that Adam’s propriety couldn’t be trusted, this man’s words lifted his spirit. Maybe there was hope that he could make an impact on this community after all.

  And make his father proud in the process.

  “Thank you.” He echoed the words again. “I appreciate the encouragement.”

  Winston nodded in his easygoing way and stepped out of the office. “I won’t keep you, Pastor. I know you have work to do. I just felt led to say something.”

  “And I’m glad you did.”

  As he listened to the man’s muffled footsteps travel down the hallway, Adam looked back down at the commentary and opened it again. This time thoughts flowed in his mind as he read, and he jotted notes down on the legal pad beside him, eager to see another week’s sermon taking shape.

  The next moment he looked up at his clock, it was later than he had expected. As he sat there, concern for Shiloh invaded his mind, and Adam felt a clear compulsion to find her. He closed his commentary and drove to her house. After several minutes of standing on her porch and ringing her doorbell, his worry had intensified. He pulled out his cell phone, wondering why he hadn’t thought to call her in the first place. He dialed her number. No answer. He drove to the police station, noticing there were fewer cars in the lot than usual—implying they were out on calls. Or maybe one big call. He hurried inside as fast as he could.

  The atmosphere told him immediately that something wasn’t right. It was a combination of frenetic energy and eerie silence.

  “Reverend Cole.” The secretary, Hazel White, her face lined with stress, let out a sigh of relief. “I couldn’t find the paperwork with your cell phone number anywhere, but I knew they’d want you at the scene. Do you need directions?”

  A lump gathered in his throat and he felt his chest physically tighten. “Scene?”

  The secretary blinked wide eyes. “You haven’t heard? It’s one of the officers. Someone shot her while she was running on the marsh trail.”

  He was pretty sure he was going to throw up. “Which officer?”

  Several beats of silence passed, and he could see the secretary hesitate as his emotions played across his face.

  “The one you’ve been riding with. Officer Evans.”

  He ran out of the building. Wished he’d listened to the urge to find Shiloh sooner. And prayed he wasn’t too late.

  TEN

  “I’m fine,” Shiloh repeated—for what had to be the tenth time—to the EMT working on her arm. No one listened, which came as no surprise since they hadn’t listened so far.

  “What happened?” The chief’s gruff voice—the very thing that had angered her so much not an hour ago and had caused her to go for a run on this trail to calm down—seemed comforting and familiar now.

  “I rounded the corner there—” She motioned with her good arm, which apparently still bothered the EMTs since one of them grunted and told her to be still. “And shots were fired. Two. The first was low and kicked up the dirt maybe five to seven feet away from me. The second grazed my arm. Whoever we’re looking for is not the best shot.”

  “Shiloh, it’s becoming clear that these aren’t idle threats. Someone is trying to kill you.”

  She snorted, still feeling the adrenaline rushing through her. “They’re not doing a very good job.”

  The glance the chief shot her was less than amused.

  Shiloh shrugged apologetically. “Look. I thought about what you said. And while I still don’t love the idea...” She was ready to tell him the rest of what had happened. But as she glanced at the horde of people around her, she realized now wasn’t the time to communicate that to the chief.

  He nodded, apparently having seen her thoughts in her eyes. “Come to my office when they’re done with you. I’m going to go look around, give Hitchcock another set of eyes.”

  Ah, their crime-scene team of one. Once again her town’s need for a real crime-scene team was glaringly apparent. Nothing against Hitchcock. But there was only one of him, and his training didn’t qualify him as an expert in forensics. Hopefully, he’d be savvy enough not to waste the gift they’d been given here now that their criminals had gone this far.

  Shiloh just nodded. “See you later, Chief.” She sat still as the medical people continued to clean her wound. It seemed to be taking a long time, particularly when it was nothing more than a scratch, but when she’d suggested initially that someone let her have a bandage and call it good, the reaction hadn’t been favorable.

  “Where is she?”

  What had been a thunder of different voices in the background gave way to one very clear, panicked voice that she didn’t have to work to recognize.

  “Adam! I’m over here!”

  She thought she saw the top of his head as he ducked around people and made his way to her. Finally, there he was.

  “Are you okay?” His eyes flickered to her arm. “No. You’re not.”

  His face was paler than she’d ever seen it, and his eyes looked softer, less guarded than they had since he had come to Treasure Point. In that instant, it would’ve been easy to believe that the past five years had never happened, that they were still engaged. That maybe, just maybe, he still loved her.

  “I’m fine.”

  His eyes searched hers, and Shiloh wasn’t sure if it was the emotion of the moment or something else, but she wanted nothing more than to lean forward and touch her lips to his.

  If they hadn’t been surrounded by a crowd of people, she probably would have done it. For the first time in the past forty-five minutes, she was a little thankful for the attentive group around her.

  “We’re all done here, Officer Evans. Make sure you keep that clean. Come in next week for a checkup.”

  She nodded. It wasn’t the first time she’d been grazed by a bullet—though the last time she’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. This time the shot had been meant for her. “I will. Thanks. I know I’m not the best patient.”

  The EMT had no comment. Or if he did, he kept it to himself.

  Just like that, the crowds of people wandered away, apparently having decided that nothing too exciting was going on. A few officers were still around, but they’d spread out to canvass the area. Right here, it was just Shiloh and Adam.

  And her ridiculous urge to kiss him.

  He reached for her hand and gently rubbed her fingers with his thumb. “When they told me you’d been shot...” His voice, deeper than usual, trailed off. “I’d been worrying about you for a little while before I left the office, wondering if I’d done enough to keep you safe.”

  “I’m fine.” How many times would she need that line today?

  Adam gripped her hand more firmly. “We’re going to end this. Soon. We need to figure out what happened.”

  “Don
’t make promises we both know you can’t keep, Adam. I have to go talk to the chief. I’ll talk to you later.”

  * * *

  “I am not taking time off.” If Shiloh’d had any idea that this was what the chief had wanted to talk about, she’d have refused to come to his office, even at risk of losing her job. As it was, she risked losing it anyway. Forced leave? That wasn’t something that happened to good cops. That was the stuff of internal-affairs investigations, something that happened to people who had messed up.

  She’d done nothing wrong, besides attract trouble, and that was hardly her fault.

  The chief’s expression didn’t change. “Just a few days, Shiloh. Go on vacation. Stay home and read a book. I just think you should lie low and give us some time to look into this.”

  “Us?” That fanned the embers of indignation more than anything else had. “Us is the department. I’m part of that. You’d put me on leave, make me take vacation, whatever it is you’re calling it, when we’re already short staffed?”

  “Let’s give it a few days, and maybe you can come back and work on it again. But you and I both know you’re not just an officer here, Shiloh. You’re a victim, and from the research I did, it’s plain to see that these threats against you could be connected to what happened to your cousin in Savannah.” He leveled her with a glance. “Though I still don’t know why they’d be interested in you, since you were a civilian in Savannah.”

  Shiloh was quiet. She’d come into this office ready to tell him everything about the case, but if he was taking her off duty temporarily because she was too close to the situation, there was no way he’d let her return to work if he knew the whole story. Which left only one option.

  He couldn’t know.

  “Take those days off.” His tone left no room for argument. “I’ll put you back on the shift schedule for next week.”

  “It’s Tuesday.” Shiloh blinked. “Three days off?”

  “Five days with the weekend.”

  Never had she wanted to pitch a screaming-toddler-type tantrum so badly. “I’ll see you Monday, then.”