He realized with a pang that it was his fault she was lying there. She’d had all the water in her backpack, and he’d been the one to insist she take some out and leave them in the boat. Had someone overheard their conversation? Or just looked around her boat for something to sabotage and gotten lucky? He knew he’d locked that storage compartment, but picking the lock would be easy enough.
After several minutes of sitting, the boat getting tossed by the waves, he finally remembered his cell phone. He may not be able to physically do anything to help at the moment, but he could call for help.
One of the men at his church was a doctor. Adam found his number, which was programmed into his phone, and called him first. He explained the situation as fast as he could and agreed to meet the man at the launch ramp.
“Do you need me to call someone else for help?” Dr. Barry asked before he hung up.
“No, my next call is to the police chief. He’ll be the fastest at getting someone out here.” Or he could at least get hold of the Coast Guard or someone who could.
As Adam had suspected, the chief told him to look for someone within ten minutes. The heaviness in his stomach eased a little. Ten minutes. Just ten minutes until help arrived.
Then he looked at Shiloh’s still body on the floor of the boat, the hair around her forehead getting damp with sweat from the fever she was running.
And he hoped ten minutes wouldn’t be too late.
* * *
When what seemed like eternity had passed, Shiloh’s eyes blinked open and Adam started to breathe again.
“Where are we?”
Her speech was a little muddled, but he supposed that was to be expected. Once Adam had gotten her to the doctor, described her symptoms and waited while the doctor had examined her, Adam had learned she’d been given dangerous levels of a common sedative—enough to kill her. The doctor had said if Adam had been thirty minutes later, she wouldn’t have made it. The doctor had given her low doses of drugs to counteract the ones she’d been given and had pumped her full of fluid through an IV.
What followed were several agonizing hours of observation at the doctor’s office. Once her vitals had shown signs of improvement and the doctor had declared she was in stable condition, they’d moved Shiloh to her house, where she’d be more comfortable. Adam and the doctor had settled a still-sleeping Shiloh onto her couch. Dr. Barry left to see other patients, instructing Adam to call if necessary but reassuring him that she’d be fine.
Relief had flooded Adam when the doctor had said that. And then panic followed closely behind as he realized that whoever had tried to kill her once would likely try again.
“Adam?” Her tone said she’d called his name more than once, and he hadn’t heard. He forced himself to stop dwelling on what could have happened and instead focus on the blessing that she was sitting in front of him, relatively unharmed.
“Are we at my house?” The frown on her face deepened. “My head is killing me.”
He cringed at those words, knowing how close they’d been to coming true just hours before. “Yes, we’re at your house.”
“I remember being at the island.” She squinted her eyes as if she was straining to see the memories materialize in front of her. “And I remember getting back to the boat. And being thirsty...”
“You were poisoned.” His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. He wished he could soften it into something more reassuring for Shiloh’s sake, but was there any nice way to cushion those words anyway?
“I feel like death.”
He really wished she’d quit using words like killing and death. Did the woman not realize she held his heart firmly in her hands and that this went beyond wanting her to be safe, that he actually needed her to be safe?
In that instant he saw he was in a lose-lose situation. He could side with the chief, who had been none too happy to learn they’d been at Blackbeard Island and clearly suspected it had something to do with the case. If Adam took that route, he’d tell her that she needed to give up the case and let the other officers handle it. She looked vulnerable enough right now that she might listen.
But then he’d be doing the same thing he had done before—not supporting her after Annie’s death when she’d told him that she wanted to become a police officer. Maybe not now, but eventually she’d resent him for that.
Or he could let her keep working and maybe have her end up...hurt worse than she was today.
Either way, it was looking as if he was going to lose her. And Adam wasn’t happy just to sit by and let that happen. He might not be the best partner for solving a puzzle as complex as this one was turning out to be, but he was strong and muscular enough to work as a bodyguard. He knew without a doubt that he wasn’t leaving her property until the chief listened to reason and put a guard near her house.
This had gone beyond professional—whoever was after Shiloh was getting too personal. She and Adam hadn’t even uncovered anything lately, which made the escalation in the threat against her even more unreasonable.
Or had they discovered more than they thought? Enough that the criminals watching them were getting scared?
He turned his attention back to Shiloh. “I’m sorry you feel so bad. It’s all the drugs in your system—the bad ones and the ones that are working against those.”
She nodded, closing her eyes again. “I’m so tired, but I can’t go back to sleep.”
He couldn’t blame her. After today, he wasn’t sure he’d ever sleep again.
“Talk to me about something.”
He hated how bad she must be feeling but loved hearing her voice ask him for help, knowing he could make her feel better. “About what?”
She shrugged. “Anything. Maybe about your house and how you want it to look, so I can figure out how we’re going to decorate it.”
“‘We’?”
She blushed. “Not ‘we’...like that. Just thought I’d help you get it set up. It’s too typical bachelor right now. You have a living room and basically nothing else. I saw your room when I walked by it on the way to the bathroom. You are in desperate need of some furniture.”
He’d already realized it needed a woman’s touch. “In my defense, my library is set up, too.”
“You have a library?” Her eyes fluttered open, and he could see he’d sparked her interest.
“Sure. I love to read. You know that. I’ve got quite the book collection, actually.”
“On shelves, even? Not just stacked on the floor?”
Her voice was still slurred, but the return of her sense of humor and ability to tease him reassured him that her condition was improving.
“On shelves. You should come look sometime. I can’t believe I didn’t tell you to when you were over the other day. Especially with how much you love staring at books.” He laughed when he thought about their time at the widow’s house. “Did you memorize everything in Mary Hamilton’s library the day we were there? You’d come in handy as a kind of modern card-catalog system.”
“Ha-ha.”
She tried to glare, but with the sleepiness in her gaze, it lost some fierceness in the translation and just ended up looking cute.
“I was trying to remember all the books she has. You never know—some little detail like that could tie in to the case.”
“So you say.”
A couple of seconds went by, and Adam searched his mind for another topic, but a glance down at Shiloh told him that she’d finally fallen back asleep. He reached for the light blanket on the back of her couch and covered her with it, then returned to his chair. It was already past ten o’clock at night, and his stomach was protesting the fact that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but he had no intention of leaving Shiloh’s side anytime soon.
In fact, when he did leave her two hours later, realizing that as long as they
weren’t married he couldn’t stay in her house alone with her all night long, he only went as far as the driveway. Adam felt a little relief when he saw a patrol car parked across the street from her house, a couple of doors down. The chief must have sent someone to keep an eye on the place.
It made him feel better, but still—he wanted to know for himself that she was okay. Adam unlocked his car, leaned the seat back, set his cell phone on the armrest and closed his eyes. At least this way he’d be close enough to come immediately if she called. No one was getting to Shiloh. Not tonight. Not if he could help it.
THIRTEEN
Morning came, bringing along with it the closest thing to a hangover Shiloh had ever experienced. Her head throbbed, and she felt a little as if she’d been run over by a lawn mower. Not to mention she had some kind of pain in her back.
She shifted to get more comfortable, noting finally that she wasn’t in her bed but on her couch.
Yesterday came rushing back to her with all the grace of an entire team of football players.
At least that explained the headache. The pain in her back was probably from sleeping on the couch. And the run-over feeling was likely a side effect of someone almost succeeding in taking her out of the picture.
Details from the day before were fuzzy, but she did remember Adam sitting with her. In fact, she remembered starting to wake up several times early in the evening, panic overtaking her from the nightmares that had invaded her sleep, but he had been there and each time had made gentle shushing noises and had held her hand until she’d fallen back asleep.
She looked around the room. He wasn’t here now. Of course not. It wouldn’t look right if he’d stayed all night.
Dragging the blanket she was covered in with her, Shiloh shuffled to her bedroom, determined to go back to sleep.
A knock at the door made other thoughts enter her mind. Was it Adam? Or someone coming to finish the job he’d botched yet again? Of course, criminals didn’t usually knock...but maybe it was a ruse to get her outside?
Shiloh rubbed her head. She definitely needed more sleep to recover. Either way, she wasn’t answering that door. She climbed into bed, taking her cell phone out of her pocket and setting it on her bedside table.
The knock on the door grew more frantic. Shiloh pulled up the covers over her.
Then her cell phone rang, the shrillness of the ringtone making her wince. “Hello?” Her voice didn’t sound so great. All in all, yesterday had not been the best day of her life.
“Shiloh, are you okay?”
Adam’s voice carried a panicked urgency—she was coherent enough for that to register. She tried to summon her senses to full alert but still felt groggy around the edges—a normal, though frustrating, side effect. “What’s wrong?” she shot back.
“With me? Nothing. What about you?” Now he seemed confused. Which confused her. Why wouldn’t she be okay?
“I’m fine. I mean, considering.”
“Then why didn’t you answer your door?”
“That was you?”
“Yeah. I finally woke up and wanted to check on you.”
“So you drove all the way over here? Don’t you have to work at some point? I don’t want to cause your job to suffer.” And to her surprise, it was true. The more she had watched Adam, the more she’d seen him live out his Christianity in little ways, like being so kind to the widow. His dad hadn’t been like that—he’d been more into the power of leadership, Shiloh had always thought, than in truly following Christ.
Not so with Adam. In fact, the way he lived was enough to tempt her to darken the door of a church again, something she hadn’t done since shortly after her cousin had been killed.
Sunday, she thought resolutely. She’d go Sunday and surprise him.
“...didn’t need to drive because I stayed here.”
Adam was explaining something. She’d missed the first part, but his point was clear enough. He’d been here? All night? “You weren’t inside. At least, I didn’t see you.”
“Nah. I’ve been out in your driveway.”
She peeked out of the window and saw his vehicle, as well as a police cruiser across the street. Shiloh smiled.
Adam must have slept in the car. That meant he’d probably slept far less comfortably than even Shiloh had on the couch. Something warmed inside her to know he hadn’t wanted to leave her. It made her feel...safe.
“You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever known—do you know that?”
“Just trying to make sure you’re safe.”
Now that she knew he hadn’t slept well, she could hear the deep gruffness in his voice that betrayed how tired he was.
“Why don’t you head home and get some sleep?”
“Someone should stay here and watch your house.”
“I’m guessing that’s what the car across the street is for.” She smiled a little as she said it. “I appreciate that you stayed last night. But really, one bodyguard will be okay for a little while.”
He was considering her request. So as long as he was being reasonable, she made another.
“So go home and work on your sermon some more or something. I’ve kept you away from your office enough this week, and I don’t want a half-done sermon my first time in church in years.”
It took a second for her statement to register with him. “You’re coming?” Pleasure and surprise fought for dominance in his tone.
Both made her smile. Even though returning to church was for her, something she wanted to do, it was nice to be able to do something to make him happy. “I thought I would, yeah.”
“Great—that’s awesome. You have no idea how happy that makes me, Shiloh.”
Anticipation churned in Shiloh’s stomach. She was nervous about going back to church for the first time in years. But she was ready, and it was something she needed to do. Partially because she wanted a future with Adam and knew that would entail being more involved in church.
But mostly because she could see God working in her life again, not only in keeping her alive through so many attacks, but also in giving her peace at times when her circumstances were the opposite of peaceful, and she was willing—hesitant, but willing—to take steps toward trusting Him again. She still saw no logic behind Him allowing her cousin to be killed, but He’d kept Shiloh alive so many times now that she couldn’t deny His care and involvement.
“Okay,” Adam finally conceded. “If you’re sure you’ll be fine, I’ll go catch a few more hours of sleep and then go work at the office. On the condition that we have dinner together tonight.”
The prospect of seeing him brightened her outlook on the day. She’d gotten so used to his presence, with them riding together at work, that spending an extended period of the day without him felt as if something was missing. “Sounds good to me. I can cook something, I’m sure.”
“No. I’ll bring takeout. Pizza or Chinese?”
“Chinese sounds delicious, but you won’t find any in Treasure Point.” One of the few downsides to life in a small town.
“You leave the details to me. If it’s Chinese you want, it’s Chinese you’ll have.”
She laughed at the chivalry in his tone over something so inconsequential. But it was nice to be taken care of. She could definitely get used to this.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“See you tonight, then.”
Shiloh shut her phone and settled back into her bed. Her whole body still felt the aftereffects of the day before, but her mind was racing to find new possibilities. She refused to let yesterday’s defeat paralyze her. She might not be able to get out and investigate, but she had contacts she could get in touch with and talk to about history and pirate lore. Maybe something in one of those conversations could give her another lead.
She picked up h
er phone and dialed Professor Slate, her former mentor and the head of the history department at the college where she used to work.
“Professor Slate here.”
“Good morning, it’s Shiloh Evans. How are you?”
“Shiloh, how are you?”
She fought the urge to laugh at the reply she could give but gave a safe answer. “I’m fine.”
“Still taking time off from teaching?”
They’d emailed a few times since she had left, and while Professor Slate had seemed to understand her desire to take a break from teaching, he’d told her many times that he had hoped she’d return someday. She hadn’t told him what she was doing instead—he had probably assumed she was researching, learning more about history. Which was basically true at the moment.
“Yes, I’m enjoying it. I can’t step away from the subject of history completely, though. It seems like there are always questions I need to find answers to.”
Professor Slate’s low laugh filled her ears. “I can relate to that. Let me know if I can help in any way. I know I’ve benefited before from getting a colleague and fellow history lover’s opinion.”
Shiloh saw her opening and took it. “Actually, I would love your thoughts on Blackbeard. You know how much interest I’ve always taken in studying Georgia’s pirate history.”
“Thinking about making it the subject of your thesis and going for a doctorate? You should, Shiloh. It would be very beneficial professionally. You know if you ever want to teach here again, I’ll make sure there’s a spot for you, but that would be easier with a more advanced degree.”
“I appreciate that,” she told him sincerely, dancing around his question.
“As far as Blackbeard, we know he spent time near Savannah. People have even found small stashes of coins that are rumored to have been his. He’s said to have left larger stashes of treasures farther south, I believe, between Savannah and Florida.” He switched to his professor voice. “It would have been impossible for pirates to use a bank, so they’d have to store their treasures in places where they could access them, make withdrawals and deposits as needed.” He sighed. “But you probably know all of that. I don’t know many additional specifics. I’m sorry I can’t help you more.”
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