Cold Case Witness

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Cold Case Witness Page 8

by Sarah Varland


  “Hello?” Her voice echoed a little. Matt looked up to see her shadow in the doorway. “Sorry to barge in, but I knocked and you didn’t answer. That’s when I noticed the path over here.”

  She sounded so apologetic, as though she’d interrupted something important. Not many people knew he did this in his spare time, but it wasn’t a secret, either. It just...was.

  “It’s no problem, come in.”

  Her footsteps clicked on the concrete floor and Matt’s smile grew a little when he realized she was wearing heels. City life must have rubbed off on her.

  “Oh, wow. This is beautiful.” Her eyes widened as she approached the kayak. She studied it for a minute, then looked up at him. “You built this?”

  “I did.”

  “May I?” She reached for the kayak and at his nod, ran her hand over it.

  “It’s as smooth as it looks. You seriously built this?”

  “I did.” Matt shrugged. “It’s no big deal.” He shifted his weight a little, looked toward the door. He hadn’t meant for them to talk about the case out here. First, because he didn’t like people making a big deal out of things like this—if people were going to admire him, he wanted it to be because he’d done something worthwhile, like bring justice and keep people safe on the job, not because of a silly hobby. Second, this was where he relaxed. He’d rather keep the case separate. It was with that in mind that he spoke up again, before she could say anything else. “Mind if we talk inside?”

  “Oh, sure.” Gemma stepped away from the kayak, removing her hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my going on like that...”

  “It’s fine. I’d just rather not be out here when we’re discussing the case. It’s...more of a laid-back place out here. Inside keeps things professional.”

  He’d added that last line mostly for himself, after noticing too many times how feminine and lovely she looked in heels. Her hair was down, loose curls hanging around her shoulders, and everything about her looked approachable, inviting, appealing.

  Not a good combo in a person that close friends like Shiloh were warning him to be careful around. Of course, hadn’t he stood up for Gemma several times already, insisted that he knew her true character?

  And he did. Time to stop letting himself doubt that at all.

  “After you.” Matt grinned at her as he motioned for her to leave the shed first.

  Gemma smiled back at him, full and brilliant, and he had to swallow hard and remind himself that they were working on a case together. Nothing more.

  * * *

  Gemma had felt like an intruder from the moment she’d stepped into that shop. And no wonder. He obviously poured a lot of time and care into those kayaks. It was almost like seeing a glimpse into some part of him inside that he kept hidden. She pushed down the feeling of hurt that he clearly hadn’t wanted her to stay long in his private space. He was right—they should keep things professional.

  “Want any coffee?” Matt asked as soon as they were inside the house. Gemma took the offering for the olive branch that it was.

  “Sure.”

  Neither of them said much as the coffee brewed, so the dripping of the coffee and the occasional call of a bird outside were the only sounds in the silence. Gemma walked to the window, peeked through the blinds and looked out at the marsh and the river beyond.

  “You’ve got an amazing view. I didn’t notice last night. I don’t think I’d ever close these windows.”

  “I don’t usually.”

  That was all it took, that one comment from him, to remind Gemma that the windows were closed on her account. Because someone out there was watching her. Wanted her gone...whatever that took.

  “We’ve got to find the guy after me,” she muttered. “I’m not going to keep living this way.” But for now she let the blinds close. No need to take risks that weren’t necessary.

  “We will.” Matt said it like a promise.

  “I hope you’re right.” She walked back to the couch and sat down, then took the coffee cup Matt offered her not long afterward.

  “So. You thought talking again tonight would help?” Gemma couldn’t think of a more smooth way to open the conversation.

  “I wanted to tell you what I found in the case files. I haven’t gotten to read all of them yet, but I do have a list of places that artifacts and antiques were stolen from. And I know what the stolen items were, in case that helps us any.”

  “Really?” Gemma had never known. They hadn’t been discussed in detail in the part of the trial she’d been present for. Because of some legalities, she’d only been allowed to be present during the times she was testifying, and her parents had done a thorough job of sheltering her from newspaper articles about the case, so she didn’t know all the details. “So what were they?”

  “Maps.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, they were searching for and stealing old maps. Think about it and it’s brilliant. Even if someone saw them with the stolen items, no one would see one and guess it was valuable—”

  “How valuable are we talking?”

  “Up to thirty thousand dollars.”

  Gemma almost spewed her coffee. “For one map?” She shook her head. “Yeah, I can see why they chose maps, then.”

  “So I want us to make our own map and plot out the places that had maps stolen from them. It would be helpful to learn more about the targets. You said that the argument you overheard was because Harris wanted more money—that was why he was threatening the other man. That makes me think that the killer must have been the man in charge—the one who found out about the maps, coordinated the team to steal them and decided how much each of them would be paid. If we find out who knew where to find the maps and how to steal them, we might find our killer. So to start with, let’s map out the locations that were broken into.”

  Matt rifled through a desk in the corner of the room, walked back toward Gemma with pens and paper. “I know it’s not much, but I figured at least we’re doing something that may help.”

  She needed to feel like she was making progress as much as he probably did. “All right, let’s do it.” She reached for the case file.

  Matt snatched it away. “I’ll tell you the addresses, if you want to make the marks on the map.”

  “You don’t want me reading those case files. Why?”

  Gemma couldn’t read the expression on his face right now. It was too odd a mix of too many emotions. Almost like he was fighting with himself. And maybe protecting her from something?

  She didn’t ask again. And he didn’t say. They stayed focused on creating maps of the locations where things had been stolen, and after an hour or so, Gemma told him she had to head home.

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do in the office tomorrow. I’ll probably hole up there for most of the day if you think that’s relatively safe.”

  Was it her, or did he look relieved that they didn’t have plans to spend time together? “It shouldn’t be a problem. Either me or another officer will be patrolling the whole time.”

  “Okay...good. I guess I’ll go, then.”

  Matt didn’t argue with her. Every time she’d seen him since they’d been reunited, it seemed like they’d taken two steps forward in their friendship. Tonight was the exception. The entire thing felt like two steps back.

  EIGHT

  Matt knew that the clouds gathering in the distance, coupled with the scent in the air, meant that a storm was coming. He liked storms when he could sit at home on his deck and listen to the rain, watch the lightning like it was his own private fireworks show—but tonight he was working a rare night shift. He didn’t like working in bad weather.

  Too often people didn’t take the danger of the storm seriously and then ended up getting hurt by driving too fast on slick roads. Sometimes they even got stuck in floodwaters in the time or two a flash flood had swelled the banks of Hamilton Creek. And then he and other police and firefighters had to risk thei
r lives to get them out of the trouble they’d caused.

  A low rumble in the distance confirmed his thoughts about tonight.

  This was a night he didn’t need.

  His shift started at 11:00 p.m.—an odd shift for him—so he had a while before he had to be in. He’d already grabbed a quick nap.

  Matt looked at his phone. Thought about the idea he had. But calling Gemma when he didn’t have anything new to ask her or report about the case would look suspiciously like he just wanted to talk to her because he enjoyed her company.

  But last night had left him confused, to say the least. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing her in his shop, looking over the kayaks he was working on. For some reason it felt like their relationship had gone one step further, like she knew him a little better, and he’d been extra reserved the rest of the night because of it.

  Matt wasn’t sure why. What was his deal? Fear of rejection? Fear that Shiloh and the others might be right, and Gemma couldn’t be trusted after all? Fear of messing things up with the one girl in town who looked at him and didn’t seem to see his father? Maybe all three. But if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was feeling like he was making decisions based on fear. Besides, hiding from Gemma wouldn’t help him solve this case. If he felt nervous about calling her, then that just told him that he should be spending more time with her to get this awkwardness out of the way. He picked up his phone.

  Just a few punches of the buttons on the screen and her phone was ringing. “Gemma, it’s Matt.”

  “Hey.” The soft accent in her voice was untouched by her years in the city. She still sounded like home. “What is it? Did you find something this afternoon?”

  He shook his head even though she couldn’t see. “No.” This whole plan was feeling stupider by the second. But there was no graceful way to back out now. “I was calling to see if...if you might want to go to dinner with me tonight?”

  “Dinner?”

  Her voice said this conversation felt as weird to her as it did to him. And yet...she wasn’t saying no yet, was she? “That fish and barbecue place off the highway, A Pig and a Pond, is pretty good. Have you been there since you’ve been back?” He wanted to take back that last sentence as soon as he said it. He was pretty sure that was the last place high-class, cultured Gemma would have been since she’d been back in town.

  “Claire and I went last week, actually. I’m a sucker for fried catfish.” She laughed and Matt relaxed. Smiled a little. “I’d love to go with you tonight.”

  Really? “Great, I’ll pick you up in about an hour if that works?”

  “I’ll meet you there if it’s okay.”

  Because she had something to do beforehand? Or because she wanted to keep it more casual, make it feel less like a date? Either way, Matt was fine with it. “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  They met in the parking lot an hour later and walked inside together. A familiar country song played over the speakers when they walked inside, the twang of the steel guitar matching the atmosphere of the place perfectly. Matt cared more about the food at a place than the style, so it didn’t bother him that the plain brown tables and forest-green chairs looked like they’d been pulled straight from an old-school cafeteria. “Does over here work for you?” He motioned to a table near the window, since this was a seat-yourself kind of place and he liked the view of the pond.

  Gemma nodded. “Looks great.”

  They sat down and a waitress came with menus. Matt started reading the choices, even though he was pretty sure he’d get a barbecue-fish combination plate, like he usually did.

  Across the table, Gemma hadn’t moved.

  “Everything okay?” he asked her, just in case, expecting her to laugh at his overprotectiveness. How it had sprung up so fast was anyone’s guess, but it had. He hated the idea of her being hurt or even uncomfortable.

  She didn’t respond. He focused all his attention on her now, looked her over, but couldn’t see anything that could indicate a problem.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Gemma wouldn’t meet his eyes. Wouldn’t move her gaze at all, actually, from where it was fixed on the menu in front of her.

  Finally, a whisper.

  “I feel like someone is watching me.”

  The words robbed him of his appetite and slowed everything in the room down, made him hyper alert. Matt swallowed hard, stayed in his seat, did his best not to react to her words in a way that anyone would notice. If she was right, then this situation had the potential to go from bad to worse if he wasn’t careful.

  “Can you tell who? Or even which corner of the room?” For that matter, was it someone inside the restaurant at all?

  Gemma shook her head. She looked up at him and he saw the panic in her eyes, the way she’d turned pale. Whether or not she was being watched, she was reacting badly to the idea of it, sinking deep into what looked to him from the outside like a full-on panic attack.

  “Nothing is going to happen right now, not while I’m sitting here with you in this restaurant. I’ve got my duty weapon, and besides, I see two other officers in here. Right now, we are going to see if we can narrow it down at all, maybe come closer to figuring out who is after you, but nothing bad is going to happen.”

  It was a lot to promise, Matt knew even as he said the words, and he prayed that he’d be able to keep his promise. He thought the tension in Gemma’s shoulders eased slightly at his words. But he knew it wasn’t enough. Threat aside, their dinner was over for now. He needed to get her outside in the fresh air, get her thinking about something besides her panic, or things were going to get worse.

  Matt motioned to the waitress, ignoring Gemma’s eyes, which widened when he made any movements at all. It was almost as if she was afraid to move and draw attention to them, lest the man or woman watching her know she was there, which was of course illogical reasoning...but who could reason with fear? Nobody could. It took God working to overcome it at a person’s core.

  “Could I get two sweet teas to go? That’s going to be all for us tonight.” Matt kept his tone casual, smiled naturally, and the waitress didn’t ask questions. When she returned with two large disposable cups—a hallmark of a country restaurant around here—he left enough money on the table to cover the drinks and a tip, and touched Gemma’s arm. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

  This was the tricky part. Matt had scanned the room, hoping he’d be able to figure out who’d caused the panic reaction on Gemma’s part, but he couldn’t be sure. The killer whose voice she heard was a man—but he might have a female accomplice. His voice had sounded familiar to her, so he was probably someone who lived in the area ten years ago, but that didn’t necessarily rule out the out-of-towners. In short, there was no way to know who might have been watching her...or if anyone was at all. Still, he wasn’t going to discount her feelings—there had to be a reason for them—so he did his best to stay between her and most of the people they had to pass on their way out of the door. And he ruled out a walk by the pond to calm her down. He still didn’t know if someone could have been watching from outside.

  But he had to do something.

  Matt helped Gemma climb into his truck—which had seemed a better choice for a dinner like this than the patrol car he often drove even when off duty. She still wasn’t talking and she still looked like she might be sick.

  All he knew to do was drive her to where he went when life didn’t make sense.

  So he took her to the Hamilton Estate, led her down the path in the woods to his beach...their beach, apparently. Matt didn’t know why he’d never noticed Gemma down there back in the day. He guessed maybe because he’d wanted to be alone and so he’d assumed that he was.

  He sat down in front of a large piece of driftwood. It served as a sort of backrest for them to use as they sat in the sand in front of it.

  Several minutes passed. Matt would watch Gemma for a few seconds, then realize that might be contributing to her stress, and he wou
ld look away, before feeling like he needed to check on her and glance that direction again.

  He guessed about five minutes of sitting on the beach passed before she looked at him with a hint of a smile. When she did, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

  “I think I’m okay.” The words were soft, a little wavery, but she nodded her head with certainty like she’d decided to be okay and therefore would be. “I’m sorry.”

  Matt shook his head. “No need to apologize.”

  “It happens, you know. Since that day in the woods...”

  “Often?”

  Gemma shook her head, smiled a little more. “Thankfully, no. They’re very rare. Although since being back in Treasure Point I worry they’re getting worse.”

  * * *

  She didn’t know how long they’d sat there, but she knew that the sun had set with a brilliant peach-and-pink flourish and darkness had settled before either of them looked at the time.

  She finally pulled out her phone. “Ten o’clock. Didn’t you say you had to work tonight?” Gemma thought Matt had mentioned something earlier about working a night shift.

  “Ten? I’ve got to get going. I’m on at eleven, and the guys getting off their shift get cranky if the night shift is late. They’re ready to go home and sleep.”

  He probably was, too, Gemma thought—not to mention hungry, since she’d kept him from getting dinner—but he’d never say so. Different as they were, that part of him reminded her of her dad.

  “I probably won’t see you tomorrow,” Gemma said as they started down the path through the woods. She shivered a little in the dark, wishing now that they hadn’t stayed out so late. “I’m guessing you’ll sleep most of the day, and then tomorrow night I’ve got dinner at my parents’ house. They asked if Claire and I could both come—somehow we haven’t managed to get together for a meal since I’ve been back in town, so...”

  “I hope dinner goes well.”

  She laughed. “My family is pretty easygoing most of the time, unless they’re concerned for one of us.” Her voice trailed off as she said the last part. “I wonder what the chances are that my parents haven’t heard about everything going on?”

 

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