by Laura Scott
She inhaled deeply. “I was scared to tell my parents that I’d been seeing Scott. I knew he and Jared had gotten into it. Scott told me that Jared had followed him one night and taken pictures of him at the motel while he was dealing drugs. He said Jared threatened to take them to the police if he didn’t stop hanging around me.”
“So you took the card to protect Scott?”
“Scott promised to get out of the business. Said he hated it but was forced by someone older in his family. I picked up every word he put down.”
Naive girls.
“I sneaked into Jared’s car before he left to go work out at the school and stole the card. I was prepared to fight about it when he discovered it missing, but he...he died. I believed this person Scott had alluded to—who turned out to be fictitious—killed Jared over the photos and it was all my fault.”
Amber slumped to her knees and held her face in her hands. “He’s dead because of what I did.”
Amber believed Scott killed Jared. Georgia grappled with being angry with Amber for withholding important information all these years and feeling compassion for an old friend who had carried the guilt of her brother’s death.
Georgia knelt beside her. “You told the truth now. You have the card. And you don’t know for sure that Scott killed Jared.” Why would he if he knew Chance was stealing the incriminating evidence that would clear him? Unless he wasn’t as dumb as Chance suspected and knew the real card was missing. He let Chance believe it was over so he wouldn’t suspect him of killing Jared.
“Have you looked at what’s on the SD card?” Colt asked.
Amber shook her head. “I didn’t want to see it. At first for fear Scott’s boss might find me and kill me, too. That’s why I never told Scott I had it. I was too afraid to give it to the police. Over the years, I’ve forgotten about it as I’ve moved on. But every anniversary I remember and wonder what would have happened if I’d been brave enough to do the right thing.”
She’d been a seventeen-year-old girl. Teenagers make dumb decisions. Amber stood and handed Colt the SD card. “I hope whoever is on there is found and the truth comes out. I’m so sorry.”
Colt patted her shoulder and pocketed the SD card.
The secretary poked her head inside and hollered, “Hey, I’m running out. It’s just you, Amber. I turned the voice mail on to catch any calls. Be back in an hour.”
Amber nodded and waved. When she left, Amber turned to Colt. “Do you think Scott killed Jared?”
“Maybe. I need to see what’s on here first and talk to him again. Things are surfacing.”
“What did Alice say?”
“I can’t divulge detailed information, but she claims innocence.” Colt sneezed. “Hay.” He shrugged. “Is there anything else I need to know? Now really is the time to air it all out.”
“That’s it. I promise.”
Georgia wanted to believe her but she’d lied before. “We’ll be in touch.”
She followed Colt to the truck. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Georgia asked.
“That we need a digital camera or a computer that will accept the SD card?”
“Yeah.”
Colt eased down the long drive to the main road. He relayed his thoughts, which matched what she was thinking about Scott being smarter than he looked. “But wouldn’t Scott have realized that if the card was missing that Amber—who knew about it—would have it? Why not approach her?”
“No need. He was in no danger from her.”
Scott looked like the killer. But they still had Alice’s unexplained prints on Jared’s watch, which indicated she’d grabbed him by the wrist or held it on at least one finger, as if handing it back to him. Georgia tended to believe she’d grabbed him—as if to wait, or to keep him from leaving.
But why?
None of this led to the illegal recruiting ring.
Colt turned into a sharp curve on the hill, and Georgia heard his foot pumping the brakes. “What—Georgia, we have no brakes!” Colt leaned into the turn, but they were picking up speed. Georgia’s pulse spiked, and she clutched the door and braced herself.
Colt tried to turn the wheel, but it was locked in place. “Power steering is gone! I have no control, Georgia. None!” He voiced a prayer to God for help, and then the truck jumped the edge of the curve and went airborne, over a small embankment before crashing into horse fencing and landing with a deafening thud that rattled every bone in Georgia’s body.
The world tilted.
She blinked and caught Colt in her periphery, his head against the steering wheel, blood trickling down the side of his face. The windshield had been spiderwebbed after having it fixed yesterday morning. She tried to open the door.
Jammed.
“Colt,” she whispered through a hoarse throat. “Colt.” She fought to produce more sound. Had someone messed with their brakes and steering wheel? When? Must have been at the stables. They’d been followed.
Which meant the killer wasn’t far behind. He’d be expecting an accident—their death. If he’d been watching, had he seen Amber hand them the SD card? Was she in danger, too?
Her faculties were fuzzy, but she had enough of them to know they couldn’t stay here. Their saving grace was they’d gone over the hilly curve and couldn’t be seen from the road—but whoever followed them might know. Time wasn’t on their side.
Everything ached, and it was excruciating to even shift in the seat. She unbuckled and reached for Colt. What if he was dead? No. He couldn’t be.
God, Your grace is sufficient and You are strong when I am weak. I don’t know if I’ve ever been weaker, so I need Your strength. Help me, help us.
She touched Colt’s shoulder, and it slumped. This could not be happening. Her worst fears coming to reality. “Colt?” She forced her body to move and guided her shaky fingers to Colt’s neck, checking for a pulse. She found one!
“Okay. I can work with that,” she muttered aloud and glanced up the hill. She couldn’t carry Colt up it, and hitchhiking was out. They’d give their position away. Maybe the culprit behind this hadn’t seen the wreck and he was up on the road searching. That gave her a few extra moments to rouse Colt from unconsciousness.
“Come on, Colton.” Jostling him too much might further injure him if he was severely hurt. And if he was, then how on earth was she going to manage getting him to safety? With her own body protesting and her ears ringing, she leaned into him, her lips on his scruffy cheek as she murmured into his ear, “Colt, I need you to wake up.” She squeezed her eyes closed, afraid he might not make it out and she might not, either. “Wake up. You can’t die on me. I won’t let you. Do not let my worst fear become reality.”
A big engine revved nearby. Probably a truck. Adrenaline kicked in a second time. God, help me, because I have no choice.
Georgia crawled into the back seat of the truck and pulled the door handle. It opened. She stumbled out and hobbled on weak legs to the driver’s-side door. She yanked it open and carefully but quickly leaned Colt back so she could reach across him and undo his seat belt. He had a pretty sick gash on his forehead. She winced but kept moving.
She was no skinny minnie or weakling, but Colt was a big guy and solid muscle. He was a dead man if she didn’t help him. Pulling him toward her, his limp body hung over her shoulder, the weight of him pressing her down until she lost her footing but regained it.
The other truck’s engine idled, as if someone was scouring the roadside for their vehicle.
Heart and mind racing, she prayed and backed up until his entire body was slung over her, his feet dragging on the ground, but she had most of him relying on her. She ignored the fire in her shoulders, back and legs and began walking backward away from the SUV toward the small dip under the hill. If the killer came down, he’d see an empty truck, but if he looked hard enough, he’d find them. She spotted Colt’s gun on his
hip. With shaking hands, she drew it and switched off the safety.
Footfalls on debris above sounded.
He was coming.
* * *
“Mr. McCoy,” an unfamiliar feminine voice said. Colt cracked open his eyes, and a young woman with auburn hair smiled. “You gave us all a scare.” Nurse. She was in scrubs.
His head felt like it’d been hit with a two-by-four, and his entire body ached. The prior events registered. Brake lines and power steering fluid released...they’d crashed.
Georgia!
Colt bolted upright, instantly regretting it but unable to care. “Where’s Georgia?” he hollered, panic gripping him by the throat.
“I’m here. Right here.” Georgia stood and took his hand.
Rhett, Poppy and Mae were leaning against the wall by the door to the hospital room. Rhett edged to the end of his bed. “Miss Armchair Detective here saved your bacon today.”
Poppy snickered.
Georgia smiled, but the right side of her face was bruised and her wrist was wrapped. The light in her eyes didn’t shine quite so brightly.
“What happened?”
“You hit your head pretty hard and were knocked unconscious. Minor concussion,” Georgia said. She brushed hair from his forehead. “Got a few stitches from hitting your head on the steering wheel. The airbag didn’t deploy.”
“Forensics took the truck. Brake lines were cut and the powering steering fluid holder had been punctured. Probably already figured that when you couldn’t stop or turn.” Poppy huffed. “We’re gonna get this guy.”
“He almost got you,” Mae said and nodded her chin toward Georgia. “But she managed to drag and carry your big self out of the vehicle and to a little nook in the hill. When the attacker started down the slope, she fired your gun, and I guess he didn’t want to risk a shoot-out with a trained agent. Must have thought it was you shooting. He took off, but she says the truck was a big engine. Big roar.”
Colt stared at Georgia. “You...you carried me?”
“I had a pretty big shot of adrenaline running through me. I couldn’t leave you there. He would have seen you and...” Her eyes filled with moisture.
“Can we have a few moments?”
The team gave him knowing grins and left the room. “Georgia, I can’t begin to thank you enough and I’m...I’m shocked. You carried me.”
She perched on the hospital bed next to him, her hand on his. “He definitely followed us. I can’t say for sure if he knew we had the SD card or not.”
“I don’t know how he could. Unless it was Chance, Alice or Scott.”
“Or Reggie Leeway. He’s connected to everyone. Coaches. His son. Scott. I’ve had some time to think while you were in here.”
This woman was amazing. Riddled with anxiety or not, she had singlehandedly saved him. She was strong and brave. He laced his hand with hers and drew her toward him. All he could think about was the kiss they hadn’t talked about. He’d chalked it up to a mistake. But it wasn’t. In fact, it was all he wanted to do in this moment.
This wild woman had rescued him, used her brain and shot a round off to save them.
He wasn’t sure what the future held, but right now he wanted it to hold him and Georgia. “I—I know we haven’t talked about that kiss, Georgia. But I want to. And to be honest, I want to kiss you again.” They could figure out the logistics, couldn’t they? “You told me you weren’t sure if you loved me back then, but that was a lie. What about relationships? Was that a lie, too? Why did we really end?” There had to be a good reason, one they could work through.
Georgia sighed and lifted herself off the hospital bed. “I can’t.” She hesitated as if fighting the words about to come from her lips.
Rejection.
He’d put himself out there, and he was going to get it again. Even with all the effort he’d put into protecting her, showing he was a worthy man—he’d failed. What was it about him that was so easy to throw away?
Georgia closed her eyes and sniffed, then opened her eyes but refused to look at him. “You’re right. You deserve to know the truth. I’ve always wanted to get married.”
“You lied about that, too. Why?”
Georgia blinked, and tears washed down her cheeks. “I was sick all the time. Nagging you. I was tired of feeling the fear, and the only way I knew to get any peace was to end things. Because if I ended it then I’d stop loving you, and if I stopped loving you I wouldn’t worry myself into a daily frenzy over you.”
Colt didn’t understand. That made no sense. She’d loved him. He’d loved her.
“Colt... I didn’t know what was going on with me then. I do now. I avoid my triggers.”
“But I told you I’d never do anything to trigger your anxiety, Georgia Jane. All you have to do is tell me what they are and I’ll avoid them, too.” Please don’t reject me again. He wasn’t sure he’d recover from another one. Not from her. Not when he’d let his heart get out of check. Let his guard down.
Grief robbed the light in her eyes and sagged her mouth. “Oh, Colt. I wish it were that simple.”
“Why isn’t it?”
“Because you are the trigger. People I love die, and because of that, I worry about them incessantly until I’m physically too sick to function. I have acquaintances and colleagues. I don’t date. Amber and Susan are probably the closest things to a friend, but we don’t hang out or go to dinner. I can’t afford to love somebody. I can’t compromise my mental and physical health to love you. Even if I want to.”
“Do you? Want to?” He wasn’t sure which answer would kill him the most. If she did want to and wouldn’t or if she didn’t want to at all.
“I think that kiss tells the tale, don’t you?”
He clenched his jaw to hold in the emotion. “I think you owe me the words from your own lips.” If he forced her to admit she wanted to be with him, then maybe she would change her mind. There had to be a way. More medicines. Something. Anything.
Georgia touched his cheek. “You’re right. Yes, I want to. I kissed you because I feel something for you and I entertained the idea, and then you were shot and burned and now this. And it’s not only this isolated event. When the killer is caught, it won’t be over. Because it’s what you do. You said it. You signed up for this. Taking bullets and running into raging infernos and risking being in a killer’s grip every single day.”
Reality sank in like a millstone around his neck and invisible hands shoving him into the ocean deep.
“If I threw up every Friday over football, imagine what it would do to me every single day watching you strap on your gun and leave the house. Colt, trust me. You don’t want to commit yourself to this. You’ll regret it and resent me. And I’d hate myself. I already do.”
“But you made it through the gunshots—granted, with some panic, but I helped you. And then we made it through the house fire. You put my fire out. You carried me from a vehicle.”
“I did. What choice did I have? But what you can’t see isn’t happening on the outside. I know I seem fine. I look super chill most of the time, but since the fire... I’ve been a wreck. I’ve had to call my therapist three times. Not to mention I was with you in these circumstances. What happens when you have to travel and I can’t be right there to watch over you like you watch over me?”
“I have a team.”
“I know. You had a team in football, too.”
There was no point arguing. She’d resolved to go her entire life alone. While she wasn’t rejecting him over him personally, it still felt like a hot blade in his gut. His job kept them apart, but even if he offered up his job on the altar of sacrifice—she’d still turn him down. And he’d worked hard and long for his position. Even if he said he’d stay in Mississippi, she’d decline. It didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you
.” She leaned in and tenderly kissed his cheek. “Get some rest. I’ll be with the team.”
She left him speechless and feeling like he’d never been rescued from that burning quilt at all. His heart was in pieces all over again. He’d promised himself he’d never let it crumble over her—over anyone—again, but here he was.
He was her trigger. Not something he might do, but him. Hope for them was dead in the water.
And he was left alone. Not even his own father had shown up. But Colt hadn’t reached out to him, either. Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe it was the overwhelming loneliness he felt at the moment or the little boy who had only wanted his father’s approval and love—the little boy who had done everything in his power to make him proud. The junior high boy who had cleaned and cooked and never asked for anything. The high school boy who got clobbered at football practices and games to make his father proud.
Or it could be a combination of everything, but he picked up his phone to reach out with the last sliver of hope that Dad would give a flying flip that his only son had almost died.
He hit the button, and it rang once, twice, three times.
“Hello,” his dad said with that deep, raspy, impatient tone.
“Hey, Dad, it’s Colt.”
He grunted. “Heard you was in town investigating that Toledo kid’s case.”
“I am.” His stomach was in a million knots. “Taken a beatin’ but I think we’re getting somewhere. I’m...I’m actually in the hospital.” Would he come?
“I heard you got hurt. Got burned in that girl’s house fire. Still trying to be her hero?” His laugh was cold and hard. “You never gonna listen, are you, boy? That girl don’t want you. No matter how many burning homes you run into or bullets you take.”
“I know,” he whispered. Believe me, I know. “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying to save her.” Colt wiped the tear leaking from his eye. “I just—” His voice cracked, and he balled his fist. “I wanted you to know that even though I’ve been in some accidents, I’m okay.” He should have known better than to call. But a deep pressing in his bones wouldn’t let up. Even now. Even in this moment, he should forgive.