Cold Case Witness

by Sarah Varland

  She abandoned the idea of walking into the woods alone. It probably hadn’t been a good idea in the first place, but the mysterious call, timed so perfectly, had convinced her that it wasn’t smart. Instead, she turned around, walked back to the construction site. A stack of materials had been moved just in the past few minutes, forcing her to walk a bit closer to the work site than she normally did, since she usually tried to stay out of their way.

  She looked up at what they were doing. They seemed to be working on the framing, and it looked like there were guys everywhere—on the ground working on various things and walking on beams across the structure to work up there. Gemma shook her head as she looked down. She didn’t mind heights, but she didn’t think she could treat working on top of a building quite as carelessly as these guys seemed to.

  Gemma heard her phone ring in her pocket. Again? She looked down and started to pull it out of her pocket.

  Movement caught the corner of her eye. She turned enough to see something light coming at her, but it was moving too fast for her to get completely out of the way. Instead, she lifted her arm over her head, did her best to dodge.

  Impact. In her wrist, sending electric shocks of pain down her forearm. She heard a scream—more high-pitched than hers should have been—only to realize it was her scream.

  And the pain. She’d never felt anything like this, but she tried to keep her mind off it even as she hit the ground and instinctively rolled away from...whatever had hit her.

  “Help!” she yelled.

  Ryan Townsend, the construction foreman, was the first one to reach her, though she’d seen people running all over the place. “Are you okay?”

  “My arm. Someone dropped something...”

  He helped her up. “I don’t see anyone working nearby. But it must have been an accident.”

  Gemma was already shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so. You don’t see anyone suspicious at all?” She gritted her teeth against the pain in her arm while she waited for him to answer.

  “I don’t see anyone around here but my guys. Sorry, he must have gotten away.”

  Gemma nodded. Of course he had. He was one step ahead of them, all the time.

  * * *

  It took all the good manners within Matt to knock on the door of Gemma’s house when all he wanted to do was throw it open and make sure she was really okay.

  Claire opened the door, looking like he felt.

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. The doctor says that her wrist is broken, but all things considered...” Claire trailed off. Matt knew what she meant. A broken wrist was one of the best things it could have been when they considered all of the possible outcomes from the “accident.”

  “Where is she?”

  “On the back porch. I tried to get her inside...” Claire shook her head. “This whole thing is changing her. At least I don’t remember her being this stubborn when we were kids.”

  Matt started off in the direction Claire had indicated.

  “Oh, and, Matt?”

  He turned around.

  “I’m sorry for how my parents treated you the other night. I’m not sure I’m your biggest fan myself, but...well...it wasn’t fair of them. Or kind.”

  “Thanks, but not your fault. We can’t be responsible for our parents’ actions.”

  Understanding passed across Claire’s face. She nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll keep thinking about it.” She left the room and Matt walked toward the back porch.

  “Should you be out here surrounded by windows?”

  “He’s not going to shoot me. I think he’s still holding out hope that the police department doesn’t believe that someone’s really after me, even after the evidence from the car wreck, so that he can pass off my death as an accident. Shooting would be too obvious. He’s being very creative—this last attempt with one of the beams from the construction site... I can see how people might have assumed that was an accident. No wonder not everyone believes me.”

  “Your sister told me she thinks this is making you more stubborn, this whole...situation.” He could think of a whole list of other things to call it, but situation seemed the least inflammatory at the moment. Especially since he was accusing her of being hardheaded, something people didn’t usually take well.

  Gemma’s head shake was vehement. “Not true. I’ve always been like this, just...kept it hidden.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Why do we do the things we do? I don’t think we realize half the reasons.”

  She was right. Matt nodded, studied her for a minute. “You know what I think?” he began.

  “What?”

  “I think your whole life you’ve been trying so hard to make sure you don’t disappoint anybody that you kept half of Gemma locked away in case she could possibly offend someone.”

  She looked like she wanted to contradict him. But she didn’t. Instead, she was moving toward him, first lifting her face just a bit toward his, then leaning in his direction.

  Matt didn’t know why it took his mind so long to realize what she was doing. Maybe because it was so unexpected, now or ever. Gemma Phillips, starting a kiss with him?

  But she was. And they were. And for the seconds that it lasted, he couldn’t think straight. Or at all.

  He was the one to pull away. He knew it was the right thing to do, even though it was something he’d probably beat himself up for later.

  Gemma blinked up at him, confusion in her eyes, and for a split second he wondered if everything between them was ruined.

  “I’m sorry, Matt.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry—”

  She cut him off. “I got a little carried away. You just seem to know me so well. Better than my family sometimes. About my parents the other night—”

  “I know they mean well for you, Gemma. They love you with all their hearts, that’s obvious to anyone.”

  “I...I know.” She didn’t seem sure to him. “But the way they talked to you...”

  “They’re your parents. Don’t try to understand them or explain them or apologize for them, okay? Just know that they do what they do because they love you. I didn’t enjoy meeting them—but I know their hearts were in the right place. They just want what’s best for you.” It went unspoken that he was considered far from the “best.”

  And in a way, they were right. Oh, he didn’t believe that his father or his background made him in any way unworthy to date Gemma, but it really wouldn’t be best for her—or him—to get distracted with romance right now when they needed to focus on finding the man who was trying to kill her.

  With that in mind, he took another step back, and saw in Gemma’s expression that she understood he was deliberately putting distance between them.

  “But...” Her voice trailed off.

  “Let’s not worry about it right now.” Maybe he shouldn’t suggest it.

  Gemma took a minute to think, biting her lip for a minute, and then finally nodded. “You’re right. We’ll just...wait and see.”

  Matt nodded.

  “Ahem.” Intentional throat clearing from the doorway made both Matt and Gemma turn.

  Claire’s eyebrows were raised and the expression on her face—a cross between curiosity and concern—made Matt wonder just how much of their conversation she’d overheard and seen.

  “Gemma, I just wanted to know if you thought you could eat. I made Brunswick stew.”

  “I’d love some.”

  Claire nodded and then walked away, leaving the two of them alone. But they sat in silence anyway, nothing more to say. Just Gemma sitting there looking wistful and Matt wishing there was something he could do to push all her sadness and anxiety away.

  Unfortunately, wishing didn’t do much good. Solving the case would.

  “I’ve got to go,” he finally told Gemma. “I’ll see you...”

  Gemma winced. “I’m supposed to take a couple of days off, according to the doctor. I don’t know
why, since it’s just a broken wrist...”

  Matt guessed it had something to do with the pain she’d be feeling as shock wore off. “So maybe not much for the next couple of days. I want to see you...” He felt like she needed to know that. “But I need to focus. Need to take advantage of the attack today to see if I can generate any more leads. I want to find this guy.”

  “Not as much as I want you to. Or me to. Anyone, really. I just want him in prison.”

  “I’m going to do my best.” It had never mattered so much. This wasn’t just proving himself anymore. This was Gemma’s life. The pressure was on.

  * * *

  The first day he didn’t see Gemma seemed to last forever. By the second day, he missed her but was neck deep in the case. And possibly making progress for the first time.

  Evidence in the estate theft indicated that more than one person had been involved in stealing the maps. The news was unexpected—Matt along with everyone else had been assuming that one man was responsible. The idea that there were more people working with him...

  Too many possibilities opened up at that point. Was the man they were seeking—the one directly responsible for the threat to Gemma’s life—the one in charge? Or was he just a random part of a crime ring of some sort?

  Or did more than one person want Gemma dead? The only reason to believe there was a single suspect was based on the assumption that it was the man Gemma had overheard arguing with Harris Walker, who’d ended up dead and buried on Hamilton land. That was another development these past few days—in addition to having his identity confirmed by autopsy, the Treasure Point Police Department had managed to dig up a few other things on the deceased. From the way it looked to Matt, Walker had been involved in the crime Gemma had seen, then argued with someone and ended up dead. Unfortunately, that was all he had.

  Would Matt’s dad know more?

  He hated the question, wished his dad didn’t factor into this at all, but he had to wonder. And would going to the prison where he was being held, even if it was for an official law enforcement interview, damage Matt’s career? Mar the reputation he was trying so hard to build—the one entirely separate from his father?

  His phone rang. Chief flashed on his screen. “Hello?”

  “O’Dell. I need to talk to you. How soon can you get to the station?”

  “I can be there in five minutes.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Matt drove to the police station and walked into the chief’s office. He hadn’t been called in there many times. Matt tended to keep a low profile on the job—he didn’t get in trouble for anything because he did his job well, took pride in it. But he didn’t get called in to talk to the chief much, either, because he’d never worked any big cases like this or done anything noteworthy enough to be singled out for it.

  “Good to see you, O’Dell.” The chief stood from where he’d been sitting behind his desk. He shook Matt’s hand firmly and motioned to the chairs across the desk. “Sit. I need to update you on the investigation into the wreck Gemma Phillips had the other day.”

  “What did they discover?”

  The chief shook his head. “Shiloh can tell you the details about the paint markings, the damage and the rate of speed and what it proves—but what matters is that we’re certain someone intentionally caused that wreck. Which means that everything that’s happened to Gemma which was initially...overlooked...should be reconsidered as probable attempts on her life.”

  What was he supposed to say to that? Hadn’t they assumed so the other night? Matt didn’t know, so he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “You were sure already, weren’t you? No confirmation necessary.” The older man’s eyes narrowed slightly, but not in a negative way, just in a way that looked like he was considering what Matt wasn’t saying. He leaned back in his chair. Nodded his head like he’d decided something. “Tell me what you think, O’Dell. From the beginning.”

  “I think someone is after her, sir. From the first night after she got her new job, when someone locked her in the office and gassed her... That wasn’t an accident. And nothing after it was, either. I think...no, I’m sure that whoever wants her dead would also like for us, the police, to believe that she is overreacting at the best. Deliberately deceiving us or being paranoid at the worst.”

  “We’re past that now for sure. Since the body discovered does belong to the man Gemma claimed was involved in the smuggling ring, she’s a confirmed witness in this case now. A homicide investigation. That’s big. Full-time-security kind of big.”

  “What if... Sir, right now, her stalker thinks no one but me believes her.”

  “Okay. Where are you going with this, O’Dell?”

  “If we put an officer at her house, her workplace, anywhere and everywhere, then someone watching her is going to notice security stepping up, going to know that we are listening to her, which would have us getting closer to finding him. For Gemma’s safety, I think we should actually keep the security as low profile as possible here.” As long as the chief was asking for his opinion, he was going to give it to him.

  “Say we do that... I’m assuming you’re going to provide security for her personally during the day. But what about nonworking hours? You have to sleep sometime.”

  Matt had already thought of this, too. “Shiloh doesn’t live far from her. I imagine she’d be willing to provide some backup if necessary. But I admit I don’t have a good solution for nights.”

  “You’re right about the necessity of a low profile, though. We let the killer know we’re closing in, he’ll know we’re giving weight to her testimony and he’ll pull out all the stops to silence her.”

  Matt couldn’t think about that statement too long. The implications, the events that could take place...

  The kiss made it easier to admit. He cared about her more than he should care about someone he was trying to protect as part of his job.

  Although had keeping her safe ever really been about his job? Or had it mostly been about wanting to see her smile, wanting to know she was taken care of?

  Matt focused back on work. On why he was here in the chief’s office.

  Another few seconds of silence passed and the chief finally stood. “Well, I don’t know what else to say about this right now. Except that I think you’re on the right track.” He clapped a hand on Matt’s back. “Keep at it. And don’t let any of the other officers like Davies try to hone in on this. This is your case. Use their help as you need it, but you’ve done a better job at it so far than anyone else would have or could have. I’m glad we have you, Officer O’Dell.”

  And with that Matt knew for sure. He couldn’t fail at this assignment. Not if someone was finally putting their confidence in him to do this job.

  ELEVEN

  Gemma had broken her wrist on Monday. By Thursday she was a little worried she was going to go crazy cooped up in the house.

  “Anything I can get you?” Claire stuck her head into Gemma’s room. Again. For the fifth time in the past hour. Gemma knew because she’d gotten bored enough to start keeping track, just out of curiosity. She’d also gotten into the habit of waving to Phil Winters, the mailman, every day when he dropped the mail off at their house.

  Pretty soon she was going to get really desperate and take up a hobby. Knitting. Scrapbooking. Crossword puzzles. Underwater basket weaving. Anything to occupy her mind. Gemma laughed at herself, causing Claire to look over at her with her eyebrows raised. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Really.” She was thankful that Claire cared...but for the past two days she’d turned her coffee shop over to a college student who worked there part-time so she could stay home with Gemma, mostly to make sure no one broke in while she was napping and killed her.

  It sounded absurd, but that was what they were worried about, wasn’t it? No need to sugarcoat it for herself.

  Her phone rang from its spot on the bedside table. It was a new phone—a cheap one from the Walmart in B
runswick with a pay-by-the-month plan—so only people she considered essential had this number.

  Matt.

  She smiled as she picked it up to answer. “Hello?”

  “Sick of being cooped up yet?”

  “Maybe,” she teased, trying for a coy tone.

  “Well, if you want to stay home...”

  Gemma laughed. “Please get me out of this house. And tell me you’ve made progress in the case without me.” Not that she didn’t want to be needed. But it would be horrible to worry that the case had been stalled because of the past few days she’d spent napping away the pain from her wrist.

  “I have. Little things, but they’re piling up.” He hesitated. “I don’t think it will be long before we find this guy.”

  “Why don’t you sound more excited about that?”

  “Because the end is the hard part, Gemma. In a case like this, all the puzzle piecing in the world, no matter how hard it seems, isn’t the main event.”

  She heard the warning in his voice. The end was the dangerous part.

  Even more dangerous than almost dying of carbon monoxide poisoning. Having her car run off the road. The broken wrist, crushed by the heavy lumber that could easily have hit her head.

  Gemma didn’t want to believe that it could get worse. She did, though. “Okay, I believe you. Now come get me. I’m tired of sitting around wasting time when I could be helping.”

  “I’m already in your driveway.”

  Gemma glanced down at her pajamas. “Give me two minutes.”

  Three minutes later—hey, she’d been close to on time—Gemma was out the front door, wearing jean shorts and a sleeveless button-down shirt she’d borrowed from Claire’s closet. Hopefully the cute shirt and the bracelet she’d thrown on at the last minute made up for the fact that she’d pulled her dark hair into a messy ponytail, barely taking the time to run the brush through it.

  Something danced in her stomach as she walked toward Matt’s waiting car. She hadn’t seen him since the kiss that neither one of them had been sure about. Did he regret it more now? Would everything be weird between them?