by Laura Scott
“Where is...what?” she squeaked.
“Don’t play dumb now. I want the information you have.”
Dandy’s notes! Giving them up wouldn’t save her.
“I don’t have it.” She couldn’t even manage a garbled cry.
“Liar. I’m gonna shut your mouth for good and I’ll find it myself. Put an end to this and you.”
She clawed at his hands, but he wore gloves. She thrashed like a fish out of water, but to no avail as spots dotted her vision.
The world grew dim as her oxygen dropped, weakening her fight.
Georgia was going to die.
Not without a fight.
Georgia kneed him in the groin. His groan roared and his grip loosened. Sucking in precious air and taking her shot, she scrambled out from under him and bolted. Screaming bloody murder, she hightailed it away from him, but out here...who would hear her? Help her?
God, make a way to help me!
Georgia headed for the house, but he cut her off. She zigzagged and turned toward her half-mile drive that led to the main road. Her lungs burned like red-hot lava, but adrenaline kept her legs pumping.
Behind her, gravel crunched as he gained on her.
* * *
Colt turned on the long gravel road that led to Georgia’s house. Lights glowed. She appeared to be home.
His stomach knotted as he approached. After all these years, would it be awkward?
His headlights shone on a figure. Running. Wait. A woman. He hurriedly turned down the podcast. Screaming.
“Help me! Help!”
Georgia! Colt sprinted into action and bolted from his truck, racing toward her. Not far behind was another figure. Taller. Bulkier.
She plowed into Colt, nearly knocking him down. “Help me, please!”
Behind her, the man veered right, heading for the woods. “Go get in my truck and lock the doors!” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He chased the figure toward the tree line.
“Freeze! Police!” Colt bellowed and entered the woods, but it was pitch-black and he had no light. He kicked a fallen branch, irritated the man had gotten away. He should have brought a light, a cell phone, something.
He turned around and jogged back to his vehicle. Georgia had listened to him and was inside the truck with a couple of furry dogs.
“You’re safe now,” he said as he approached, hoping to put her at ease.
She stepped out into the darkness. Time had filled her out and shortened her blond hair to her collarbone. “I’ve been thanking God. I’m sure He must have sent you.”
He finally approached, and the interior light of the truck gave him access to better see her features. Dainty nose. Full lips.
“Well, you know what the Bible says about all things being possible.”
She blinked as if trying to focus, then recognition hit, and she collapsed against him, wrapping her long arms around his back. “Colt? Oh, Colt. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Yep, it was awkward. For him. But he returned the embrace, feeling the softness of her body and the fearful shaking.
“Why are you here?” She drew back and frowned. “I mean, yay and all but...” Her knees buckled, and he caught her, moved a hair from her eyes.
“Didn’t you already answer that?” He smirked. Humor was way easier than any other emotion that accompanied seeing, touching or hearing her.
“I did?” She seemed confused. “Oh.” She laughed at her earlier remark, but it was fear-laced and wobbly. “Right. Well, I definitely prayed for help.”
God had a sense of humor sending Colt, but right now Georgia was safe and alive, so he was okay being used in any way God saw fit. “Get in. Let’s get on up to the house.”
Once he parked next to her car and opened the door, the dogs bounded up the porch. “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked as he helped her into the spacious living area that opened into the kitchen. A stone fireplace nestled between two windows, and open wood beams lined the ceiling. Hardwood floors were dotted with colorful rugs. Yes, this was most definitely Georgia. Colorful, cozy and down-home. All the things he’d loved about her in the past when he’d felt gray, cold and out of place.
He guided her to the brown leather sofa and draped a multicolored quilt on her lap. Her hands shook, and she placed her head over her knees and breathed.
“Georgia?”
“Need...a minute.” She continued even breathing, then deliberately raised her head. “I almost died, Colt.”
What if he had turned around? Georgia would be dead. Now he was the one who needed some deep breathing. “Tell me what happened. Take your time.”
She explained how she’d been attacked because she’d stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.
Same reason he was here. But how did the attacker know Georgia was the podcaster? “Who all knows you’re Christi Cold?”
“Just Susan Towers at the moment. Remember her?”
“Volleyball captain. She missed a serve and nailed me in the head during a game. Pretty sure on purpose. You and I were fighting and she did a good job holding grudges for you.” He chuckled and rubbed his head as if it still hurt.
“It was on purpose, but I’m sure she’s over it now.”
“Let’s hope so. Anyone else? Could she have told someone?”
“Nah. How did you know it was me?”
“I didn’t.” He explained who he worked for and what his analyst did to link Georgia’s IP address to her physical address. It would take some computer hacking skills to do it. Would anyone who may have killed Jared fifteen years ago have those skills or know someone who did?
“Oh. Well, guess you’ve unmasked me.”
“Yes, and it appears you’ve been a meddling menace.” He smirked as the Scooby-Doo reference came naturally.
“Thanks, Fred.”
He’d forgotten to miss this banter. “No problem.”
“How long have you worked for the Mississippi Bureau of Investigation over in Batesville?”
“About four years. Was in Jackson before that.” An awkward silence ballooned in the air. He turned direction. “Are you sure you couldn’t identify your attacker? Even his voice?”
Georgia closed her eyes and after a few moments responded. “No. It happened so fast and it was pitch-black out. He wore black. He was as big as you. As for the voice, it was low and growly. Things happened so fast, if I heard it again I don’t know if I’d recognize it.”
Six foot one wasn’t exactly unusually tall. That could be the build of a lot of men.
“Sorry I can’t be of more help.” She rubbed her neck, her fingers massaging over the small red splotches the attacker’s fingers had left behind. Colt’s blood burned hot.
“You raised valid points and insightful conjecture in your podcast, which we can discuss further, but right now we need to call the sheriff and reopen Jared’s case now that we have a path to track down.” Colt might not be able to finish up the investigation if it stretched past six weeks, but the investigators in his unit and whoever they hired for unit chief to replace him would be more than capable of seeing it through.
Georgia slicked her hair back, but it immediately fell into her eyes. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want a cup?”
“No, thanks, but I can make it for you.” She ran her hands up and down her thighs, and her breathing was uneven. She might be talking a levelheaded game, but she was rattled. “I can talk to the sheriff and make tea at the same time. I call it multitasking.”
She graced him with a tight-lipped smile.
“Sit here and get your bearings.” He headed for the kitchen. “Point me to the tea bags and I’m gold from there.”
“Thanks, Colt. By the way, our sheriff is Susan’s older brother, Buck.”
Colt cocked his head. “Didn’t he used to faint at the sight of blood?”
“Still does to my knowledge.” She found herself snickering and pointed to the cabinet above the microwave. The tricolor pooch followed at his feet as he called Buck and worked on filling up a teakettle that had been sitting on the stove.
He hung up with Buck. “He’ll be out for questioning.”
“I figured.”
Colt dropped a tea bag into the boiling water, and immediately hints of something flowery and spicy filled the kitchen. “I need to see the information you referenced in your podcast—the evidence the attacker wanted. I also need to know how you obtained it. No giving me confidential information garbage.”
He brought her the cup, and she thanked him again then wrapped her hands around the steaming mug. “It’s at the Gazette. In a locked drawer, and it’s notes, really. Ideas. The beginning of an investigation and a possible two-part podcast.”
His frustration released in a pent-up breath. “That’s not how you put it last night.”
“It’s a podcast. I’m allowed to embellish, Colt.” She sipped her tea.
“You embellished a killer right to your front door. Well done,” he smarted off and picked up his cell phone. “I have to call my unit. I don’t suppose you’ll allow me get you out of town while we investigate.”
She avoided eye contact. “Negative.”
He huffed and made the calls, then pocketed his phone. “Now isn’t the time to be stubborn. You’re not being weak by getting out of dodge to a safe house or somewhere more public. You’re a target out here.”
Georgia pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not about being stubborn. Well, part of it might be. I owe it to Dandy.”
“Why do you owe it to Dandy? Is she your informant?”
“No. She died four months ago. I found her notes.” He listened as she explained how Dandy died and what was in the notes and where Georgia wanted to take the investigation. She was passionate, and he commended her for wanting to finish a deceased colleague’s work. It was noble and there was merit to it. “She would have done it for me, Colton. I know it.”
Colt would rather get her out of town until everything blew over, but she wasn’t going to let him and he wasn’t sure they had the budget to keep her up in a safe house if this thing dragged on too long. And it was possible. “Fine. But first thing in the morning, I want to see those notes, and we gotta figure out how to keep you safe 24/7. One of those names you tossed out may have been your attacker.”
She dipped her chin in a grateful nod. “I’m sorry to be such a burden.”
Georgia had nearly died tonight. They might not be a couple in love anymore, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t always care about her and want the best for her. She’d been his first and only love. Fond memories tempered his frustration at not being able to get her somewhere safer. “Don’t worry. It’s my job.”
And whatever it cost, he’d make sure he kept her safe.
TWO
Georgia awoke dazed and groggy, as if her attack and the reports taken by the sheriff had all been part of a terrible dream.
But it had happened. Colt’s team would arrive later today, and they’d begin their investigation.
Now she smelled coffee and bacon.
Where were the dogs? She swung her legs over the bed and rubbed her eyes, then padded to her bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth and combed her hair. She moseyed into the living room, still wearing the sweatpants and sweatshirt she’d fallen asleep in.
Colt loomed over sizzling and popping bacon. Wyatt and Doc lay at his feet with hopes for a meaty morsel. Colt raised the spatula and a guilty grin. “Hope you don’t mind me snooping through your kitchen drawers and making breakfast. I didn’t know how long you’d sleep, and I thought you might wake hungry.”
Mind? Her greatest daydream was a full-time chef who also did the shopping and cleaning. Her stomach rumbled, and the dark-roasted scent drew her farther on to the full coffeepot. No, she did not mind. She smirked and pointed at him. “And this had nothing to do with the fact you might be hungry? Not a single selfish motive at play?” she teased and poured a cup of strong, rich brew. Exactly what she needed.
“Okay, so there might have been an underlying motive, like my own stomach gnawin’ on my backbone, but it’s so minuscule it can’t even be counted. Because really, it is about you.”
She raised an eyebrow at his poor attempt at innocence.
“I let the dogs out earlier, but I haven’t fed them. I found the food bin, but I wasn’t sure how much to give them.”
She left her coffee on the counter and fed the boys while Colt plated their breakfast and brought it to the table. She stole a peek at him as he laid out the napkins and forks. His clothes were rumpled, and his pecan-colored hair was a little disheveled. He could pass for a Hemsworth brother, looking way too good and scruffy for nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.
“After breakfast, I’d like to run up to the paper and get Dandy’s notes.” Colt scraped a heap of eggs on his toast and folded it over, then took a bite.
“Sure. Paper is closed on Saturday, so it should be a quick in and out. The dogs can have their walk a little later.” Georgia sipped orange juice and concentrated on not staring at Colt’s facial features and physique. Girls had dogged his heels since junior high, but he’d never thought much of it. Instead, he stayed more confused by all the female attention rather than flattered. Georgia had always found his lack of vanity appealing, and then when she discovered it was based on insecurity, it drew a deep sadness and a need to try to fix him. Colt might have always looked good, but his home never was. He favored his daddy a lot, but he’d never want to hear that he looked like his father.
After breakfast and mostly catch-up conversation, they loaded the dogs in the back seat of Colt’s truck. “How long is ole Charlie going to run that show?” Colt asked. “He was putting out the paper when I was a kid. Used to give us suckers when we rode our bikes to town.”
“He’s retiring at the end of the year, and yours truly is next in line to hand out sweets to cute little boys. That sounded better before it came out of my mouth.”
Colt chuckled and turned on his blinker. “Georgia Maxwell. Editor in chief. Sounds well deserved.”
“I have a whole binder of improvements. Making it more relevant to our culture but keeping that small-town feel.” She’d had her hopes up before, though. The past three years Charlie had told her he was retiring and passing the paper on to her, then every year about late December he changed his mind.
“Looks like we’re both moving up in the world. Actually made something of ourselves.”
She’d always thought Colt was something. His accomplishments hadn’t made him the person she’d fallen in love with. It was his kindness, his big heart and the way he liked all people regardless of who they were or where they came from. As for her, the only thing she’d made was a life that kept her safe, except now she’d been physically attacked. At least she still had her emotional cocoon in place.
Colt parked along the curb outside the office. Georgia loved downtown in the fall. Big pots of mums bookended wooden benches that dotted the sidewalks. Scents from boutiques, bakeries and shops filled the air with the seasonal flavors of pumpkin, apples and cinnamon.
The Magnolia Gazette sign squeaked in the breeze. She would love to have control of this place. The first thing to go would be the navy curtains that had been pulled across the lower half of the large windows. “I have a key,” she said as she retrieved her key ring from her purse. The dogs poked their nosy heads from the truck windows and barked. “Oh, hush, you two. You aren’t missing anything. In and out.”
She unlocked the door, pushed it open and gasped.
Colt leaned inside and whistled low.
The office had been ransacked, and papers littered the floor. Desk drawers had been emptied. Bookshelves no longer held a single book. Georgia started to
rush inside.
“Whoa, slow down. We don’t know if someone is still here hiding. Let me clear it.” Colt drew his weapon and entered the building. After clearing it, he waved his hand for her to enter. “Looks like he got in through the back door. Lock’s been tampered with.”
She rushed to her desk and knelt at the bottom drawer. She’d locked Dandy’s notes inside, and based on the scratched metal, someone had tried to pick the lock or bash in the drawer, without success.
Georgia unlocked the drawer and held up the notebook. “They were looking for this. I’ve never been more grateful for this ancient metal box.” Newer models weren’t as sturdy. “But I have a feeling they aren’t going to give up so easily.”
Her workplace had been turned upside down.
Colt pursed his lips. “I’ll call Buck. Again.”
“Charlie’s gonna have a duck fit.”
Dandy must have hit the nail squarely on the head for someone to bring this kind of trouble. Illegal recruiting must be happening on some level, and it was possible Georgia had identified Jared’s killer. Between secrets that people wanted to keep under wraps and Jared’s murder, things were about to go from bad to worse. Worse being more attempts on Georgia’s life.
Colt hung up. “Sheriff’ll be out ASAP.”
Georgia called Charlie with the news, and after warning her to be careful but thorough in her investigation, he said he’d call in the staff to help with cleanup. An hour later, she and Colt arrived back at Georgia’s. She turned the boys loose. They’d been cooped up too long.
“How long have you had the dogs?” Colt asked.
“About a year. They bring me comfort, and they’re great watchdogs. They let me know when the delivery guy drives up, if a stray dog is in the area or if there’s, you know, a dangerous leaf blowing across the yard.” They’d tried to warn her last night.
The sun was bright in the clear sky, and the array of gold, rust, orange and crimson leaves showered the treetops with such beauty it was almost like nothing bad could happen. Smoke drifted overhead, accompanied by the scent of burning leaves. She ought to be raking, too. Instead, she enjoyed the quiet, the company and the sounds of birds twittering in the branches.