Treasure Point Secrets

by Sarah Varland

  “I appreciate what you’ve been able to tell me, though. Isn’t it interesting how history and economics tie so closely together?”

  “It is. That sounds like a subject to explore in a doctoral thesis.”

  Shiloh smiled. “It does, doesn’t it? Thanks again and have a good day, sir.”

  She hung up and shook her head. Back to square one. But at least she was left with this reassurance—if someone as well educated as Professor Slate didn’t have any better guess for the location of Blackbeard’s famous treasure than “between Savannah and Florida,” then chances were that the criminals hadn’t found it yet, either. Which meant she still had a chance to be the first to reach it.

  * * *

  It was amazing what a few hours of sleep in a comfortable bed could do. Adam had come home and crashed. He’d woken rested and refreshed and ready to head to the office. He’d found a message on his voice mail after he’d gotten out of the shower from someone at the church who had nice things to say about his recent sermon and had also wanted to set up a counseling appointment sometime in the next week.

  It had been less than two weeks, but it seemed as though he’d been trying to prove himself to the people of Treasure Point for a lifetime, and finally, they were letting him in. No longer did he have occasional doubts whispering in his ear about whether or not he was the man for this job. He still knew he couldn’t do any of it without God—Adam hadn’t gotten that dumb or prideful—but finally, he felt as if he was accomplishing something for God’s Kingdom.

  He was humming as he walked across the church parking lot. When he reached the building, he noticed the door was already unlocked. He felt his shoulders tense. Maybe he’d left them unlocked the last time he’d been here. Or maybe one of the groups who met here had. Surely danger from the treasure hunters wouldn’t follow him into a church building.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered it hadn’t. And then caught his breath again as he realized danger in another form had found him—all of the board members were sitting or standing in his office. Waiting. And with them was a very disgruntled older woman who he’d been warned was a gossip.

  None of this looked good.

  Still, he’d done nothing wrong and responses to his sermons had been good, so he forced a smile. “Good afternoon, gentlemen, Mrs. Winslow. I didn’t see your cars outside. How can I help you?”

  “We walked over, actually,” one of them clarified.

  This was feeling more and more like an ambush. He reached his hand to his throat to loosen his tie and then realized he didn’t have a tie on—it was just the almost-palpable tension in the room causing his throat to tighten.

  “How can I help you?” he repeated.

  “We have a moral issue to discuss with you, Pastor.” One of the men spoke up, his voice more serious than Adam had ever heard it.

  Adam eyed Mrs. Winslow, wondering what her part in this was and if the board intended to have this whole unofficial meeting in front of her. Generally, church matters were handled confidentially. Unless Mrs. Winslow herself had the moral issue. And from the sour look on her face, as though she was eager to see someone pay for whatever horrendous crime she thought they’d committed, he doubted it was her issue personally.

  “All right, well, let’s discuss it. Should we go somewhere with more room?”

  “We’re fine here.”

  Adam sat in his chair. He was slightly uncomfortable sitting since so many of the men were standing, but it was clearly what they wanted him to do.

  “Look, Pastor, let’s shoot straight here. We’ve heard some upsetting news about you being at a woman’s house all night.” Hal Smith, one of the more down-to-earth members of the congregation, spoke up. Adam felt himself relax. His presence at Shiloh’s, sleeping in her driveway, was easily explainable and within the bounds of what he’d consider moral.

  Maybe there was a way to defuse this situation after all.

  “I assume you’re referring to last night?”

  He was answered by grim nods.

  “Shiloh Evans was almost killed yesterday.” He hesitated to give too many details for fear it could jeopardize the case somehow, but news in a small town traveled fast. He was surprised they hadn’t already heard, especially since the doctor was a member of this congregation.

  “I was with her when she was poisoned, and after she received treatment, I stayed with her inside until she’d passed through the worst of the ill effects. Once I felt okay about leaving her, I went outside and slept in my car. I didn’t feel comfortable with her not having someone close she could call in case there was more trouble.” He eyed the stack of commentaries on his desk, his mind already shifting to focus on Sunday’s sermon. “Was there anything else I could clarify for you?”

  A moment of pregnant silence passed. Adam felt his tension returning. Shouldn’t this be the point where they laughed off the misunderstanding and went about their business?

  “See, but there’s still the appearance of evil there, Pastor.”

  He was hardly paying attention to who was doing the talking anymore, since all of their voices seemed joined against him in some kind of lynch-mob mentality.

  “‘The appearance of evil’?” He felt his blood pressure rise. “I’m well aware of the necessity of avoiding that. But in certain circumstances I think being practical is more important. Anyone—” he turned his gaze on Mrs. Winslow, since it appeared she was most likely the informant here “—who saw my car parked in front of Shiloh’s house could have walked over to it and seen that I was sleeping in it. Alone. And was not in her house past a little after midnight.”

  “That’s still awfully late.”

  What part about her being poisoned did these people not understand? And what was it he was on trial for here, anyway? “I wasn’t aware there was a certain hour past which I wasn’t allowed to be inside someone’s house.” He heard the attitude in his words, knew it probably wasn’t his best move, but felt powerless to change his tone. He silently prayed for help and took several deep breaths.

  “It’s not just that. We believe you that nothing inappropriate happened.”

  He relaxed slightly.

  “At the same time, we know this isn’t the first time you’ve been at her house late. And we think it’s important, for your ministry, that you’re more careful about how things look.”

  In normal circumstances, he could see they were right. Last night was still an exception in his mind, but maybe in everyday circumstances he should make sure to be out of her house early enough that neighboring busybodies didn’t have anything to get themselves all in a tizzy about.

  “And it’s Shiloh Evans herself, Pastor.”

  “Shiloh... I’m not sure what you mean.”

  The men shifted uncomfortably.

  Good. He wanted them to.

  “If you’re going to get caught carrying on with someone...”

  He thought they had established there was no carrying on.

  “It should at least be someone...suitable. A pastor has to marry a certain kind of woman, you know...” Hal had the good grace to blush. “She’s not really pastor’s wife material.”

  “She hasn’t even been to church since she moved to town,” someone mumbled.

  “It’s not that we think it’s our right to choose who you date,” another chimed in. “But if you’re not careful, you’ll make decisions that could affect your ministry here, drive people away from the church. We know it’s going above and beyond to concern ourselves in your personal...friendships, but don’t you think someone’s spiritual life, maybe even their salvation, is more important than who you’d prefer to date?”

  “Wait—am I hearing this right?” Adam interrupted. “You’re not upset that the car in her driveway looked bad, which I’ve already explained. You’re upset that
I’ve been spending time with Shiloh specifically? She loves this town, the people here. And I was under the impression everyone liked her, too.”

  “We do. Everyone loves Shiloh—as a person—and respects her. But you’re a pastor. The woman you date should be someone who is already involved in the church, who goes to church. Not just a well-respected member of the community.”

  Adam’s head pounded, and he caught a glimpse of how Shiloh must’ve felt after waking up with that poison in her system. Even though it was technically Shiloh they objected to, it seemed almost like a personal affront—that they didn’t trust him to make these decisions for himself and to be a good judge of character.

  He wanted to fight back somehow. At the same time...he knew they were right about Shiloh not attending church. Not that church attendance was the sole basis for a relationship with God, but it did say something. Or did it? Didn’t he know Shiloh, know that her heart was in the right place? But did he have the right to put his opinions and beliefs ahead of those of his congregation? If his choices made them uncomfortable, and harmed their trust in him, wasn’t that reason enough for him to reconsider?

  He was called to this job. He knew he was. And though he cared deeply for Shiloh, he couldn’t sacrifice God’s call to have the relationship with her that he’d wanted for years...could he?

  Adam rubbed his temples.

  “I think we’ve given you enough to think about. You’ll make the right decision.”

  The men and Mrs. Winslow filed out silently. Adam didn’t look up from where he sat staring at his desk, but he heard the last man pull the door shut behind him.

  They’d gone about this wrong. Adam knew that much. But their hearts appeared to be genuinely in the right place. And he couldn’t deny their accusations. Though he knew Shiloh was a Christian, she hadn’t spent much time in church in years. Was that a bad witness for him to date someone who didn’t outwardly prioritize faith in her life? Was he putting his own desires ahead of what God wanted and what was best for the congregation where Adam believed God had sent him?

  He looked up and whispered a prayer, but no audible voice spoke from beyond the ceiling, telling him what to do. In his heart he believed the deacons’ accusations were unfair. But when he thought about it logically, and about the progress he’d made in the past two weeks, such as the people who had opened up to him, he knew he didn’t want to sacrifice that.

  “Is this what You want, God?” he asked aloud, hoping somehow that speaking the words would make God’s answer clearer.

  But he got nothing. All he could sense was his own desire to succeed in this job. Make God proud. Make his dad proud.

  While the thought of backing off from this relationship with Shiloh, even a little, felt as if someone was ripping out Adam’s heart and stomping on it, he couldn’t give up on his calling so easily.

  He couldn’t fail at this. With sickening clarity, he realized he’d been left with no choice.

  FOURTEEN

  The clock had just chimed six when the doorbell rang. Shiloh’s stomach growled, and she laughed at her hunger as she walked to open the door.

  “Hi!” she greeted with a smile.

  Only it wasn’t Adam. It was Matt O’Dell. He held a bag of take-out Mexican food in front of him. “Adam sent this. He dropped it off a few minutes ago and asked if I could bring it to you. I’m supposed to tell you he can’t make it tonight. But he’s sorry.” O’Dell raised an eyebrow. “What is this, middle school and I’m the messenger?”

  Shiloh’s heart dropped to her stomach, which was ridiculous, since there wasn’t really anything going on with Adam anyway. Or there shouldn’t be. She shrugged. “Sorry you got caught in the middle. Thanks for passing on the message.” She motioned to the car outside. “And for keeping watch out there.”

  His face sobered. “I’m glad to do that. I don’t like that someone’s after you, Shiloh.”

  “Well, I appreciate it.” She smiled at him, thankful he was the guy watching her house. She liked Matt. Maybe even would have considered him attractive if she hadn’t still been in love with Adam when they’d first met after she’d come to town. Now he was more like a brother.

  She took the bag from him and motioned inside. “Want to come in and eat? It looks like there’s plenty.”

  “Nah.” He was already shaking his head. “I need to stay out here where I can see the perimeter. But thanks. Have a good night, Shiloh.”

  And then he was gone, and she was alone again. Shiloh reached into her pocket to see if she’d missed a call from Adam on her cell only to realize she’d left it on the kitchen counter. She picked it up and checked the screen. No missed calls. No new messages.

  The exhaustion she’d been fighting since she’d gotten up from her nap threatened to overwhelm her again but the hunger gnawing at her stomach won out. Shiloh opened one of the to-go boxes and took a few bites of the house special, then decided she wasn’t hungry after all.

  She put the food in the fridge.

  Then she checked the door locks, turned out the lights and went to sleep.

  * * *

  The first thing Shiloh did when she woke up the next morning was to check for messages from Adam. There weren’t any.

  So she did what any self-respecting woman would do. She drove to town to the coffee shop and ordered herself a large latte with extra whip.

  Surely he hadn’t lost interest in her all within a matter of hours, she reasoned with herself as she walked from the coffee shop back to her car.

  Still, she felt odd about the fact that she hadn’t heard from him. But she refused to put her life or investigation on hold because of her feelings.

  She unlocked her car and climbed in, driving straight in the direction of Mary Hamilton’s house. As Shiloh had showered this morning, it had occurred to her that the treasure could be hidden farther inland. The town had gotten its name from rumors of pirate treasure, but Shiloh had never taken those rumors seriously. Maybe there was something to them after all. And if anyone would know, Mary Hamilton would.

  Besides, she reasoned as she took another sip of her latte and navigated her way down the long driveway to Mary’s house, if a pirate was going to hide his treasure in town, the Hamilton estate was as logical a location as any. Shiloh laughed out loud. She was probably reaching with that one; she’d seen the house for herself and knew it wasn’t nearly old enough to have been standing when Blackbeard had haunted these shores. But the residence did come awfully close to the water...

  She took a long look around as she pulled her car in, enjoying the old Southern feeling of the estate and the beautiful weather. Nothing about the place was foreboding today. She parked her car and walked toward the long sidewalk that would take her to the house.

  She’d almost reached the pathway when she saw the flash of an explosion, and an invisible wall of heat threw her backward and to the ground.

  The boom registered just as she hit the dirt. She lay still, not sure if she should or could move, spitting dirt out of her mouth and trying to decide if any bones were broken.

  Then urgency jolted her to action. Mary was still in that house. Shiloh had seen her car parked in the detached garage. Shiloh rolled to her side and sat up, turning to face the blast’s point of origin.

  The entire structure—every beautiful, carefully crafted, historical piece—was engulfed in angry orange flames.

  She forced herself to stay on the ground, fighting against the urge to run inside to find Mary. A blast that inclusive most likely would have killed the old woman within seconds, and the flames were so widespread by this point that Shiloh knew she didn’t have the training to get inside and come back out alive.

  She fumbled in her pocket for her cell phone and dialed the fire department.

  “There’s a fire—an explosion—at the Hamilton estate,” sh
e told the dispatcher. “This is Officer Shiloh Evans from the police department. I saw the whole thing, and I’m okay, but Widow Hamilton...” Shiloh choked back sobs as the horror of what she was watching enveloped her as the smoke did. “I believe she was inside.”

  “We have a truck on its way.” The woman’s professional tone never wavered. Shiloh knew the dispatchers were trained for that, but Shiloh didn’t know how they actually did it. She couldn’t keep herself detached any longer.

  As she waited for the fire department to show up—along with the police department, who she was sure had been notified, given the suspicious circumstances—Shiloh tried desperately to focus her eyes on something besides the flames and the crumbling structure before her.

  But she couldn’t look away.

  She had no idea how long it took for the emergency vehicles to arrive. Probably not long. But Shiloh had time to run through a thousand different scenarios. What if she’d come sooner? Would she have noticed something suspicious and been able to convince Mary to leave? Or would she just have found herself a victim of the blast, too?

  Along with sadness and anger over Mary’s death, thoughts about the probable killers vied for attention in her brain. Had her gut feeling that this place could somehow be linked to the treasure been correct? She tried to dismiss that thought, but why would the men have destroyed the entire building, killing a woman in the process, if that weren’t the case?

  Perhaps she’d never know. Shiloh hated it when life didn’t resolve itself the way she wanted it to and left her with unanswered questions.

  She hated it most of all when her failure to find answers meant that someone else got hurt.

  She was shivering, though it was at least eighty degrees even without the heat of the fire, which was making the surrounding area much hotter. She recognized it as a symptom of shock but did her best to ignore it as she finally stood and walked numbly to where the chief stood, watching the horrific scene unfold.