Dark Harbor. Christy Barritt
they were guilty of something. What was this person up to?
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he continued. He shifted, trying to get a better look. He saw a gleam as sunlight hit something reflective. Sunglasses maybe?
A woman, he realized.
“I’m Police Chief Zach Davis from Waterman’s Reach. I won’t hurt you. We just need to talk.”
Again, nothing.
He stepped closer, afraid he would scare the woman and she’d take off in a run. She’d get lost in these woods. There were miles and miles of them out here. If the woods didn’t get to her, the wild animals would. Cottonmouths had been especially rampant this year.
“I have all of the time in the world,” he continued. “You can try to wait me out, but it won’t work. You can run, but you’re going to put yourself at risk of getting lost, getting injured or being dinner for some of the wildlife out here. It’s your choice. I’d say I’m the least scary of all of them.”
That seemed to do the trick. The woman stepped out ever so slightly, her hands in the air and an untrusting look in her eyes. “I assure you, I’m not looking for trouble.”
“Then why are you running?”
“Why are you chasing me?” she countered.
“Chasing you? I’m just following the lead of a citizen who was concerned by careless driving.”
“I was only driving carelessly because someone was following me.”
Following her? Was he dealing with someone who struggled with paranoia? Or was someone actually following the woman?
“Why don’t you step out here so we can talk like two rational human beings?” he asked.
“How do I know I can trust you?” Her voice wavered.
“I’m a cop. I have no reason to hurt you. Unless you’re aiming a gun at me, we should be just fine.”
Finally the woman emerged from the woods, wobbly in her high heels. Her gray skirt was stained and there was a leaf in her hair.
His breath caught for a moment.
She definitely didn’t look like she was from around here. Her hair was brown and glossy and cut neatly to her shoulders. She wore a white top with black polka dots and a straight gray skirt that reached her knees. Her heels looked uncomfortably high, and her purse probably cost more than Zach made in one week.
Both her words and the way she spoke indicated she was well educated. Just who was she, though? She just didn’t fit into the dynamic he’d experienced so far in the town. Most people here were grounded in the fishing industry. They had deep tans, easy accents and chose jeans to pencil skirts.
Most people who came into town for work had something to do with the seafood industry. But this woman did not appear to be the type to deal with fish or oysters. She looked too big-city.
Despite his initial attraction, his next thought quickly dampened the surge. She reminded him of Julia, he realized, the woman who’d broken his heart after the Baltimore fiasco when she’d left him faster than someone fleeing an oncoming tornado.
“A white truck followed me on my way down from Maryland,” the woman started. “I pulled off the main road trying to get away from it. I thought you could be connected with the other driver.”
She sounded scared but otherwise rational.
Concern filled him. If she was telling the truth—and he was beginning to think she was—then this could be a bad situation. “Any idea why someone might be following you?”
“None.” She crossed her arms.
“An ex-boyfriend?”
She shook her head. “No. Not a current boyfriend or spouse either. I have no good ideas as to whom this might be.”
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
She licked her lips, looking almost reluctant. “Madelyn Sawyer.”
“Where are you headed, Madelyn?”
Her frown deepened. “Waterman’s Reach.”
His eyebrows shot up. The town didn’t have that many visitors. City council wished they did. They pushed to have more people. But especially this time of the year, the place was mostly locals—5,479 to be exact. As the new chief, he made sure he knew all he could about the town.
“What brings you there?”
Her chin jutted up. “I’m writing an article, if you must know. A travel article. I’ve already been in touch with Eva Rogers, and she’s expecting me.”
He shifted, finally moving his hand from his gun. He had received some kind of memo about a visit from a reporter. The mayor had encouraged city employees to make her feel welcome and had reminded them how important this push for tourism was.
Zach had essentially ignored the memo. He’d had no intention of interacting with the reporter. No, a reporter was the last person he wanted to have contact with. He didn’t need some nosy journalist digging into his background. If she did, his whole investigation could be ruined.
“Do you remember anything about this truck that was following you?” he asked, suddenly ready to have this conversation done.
“Not much. It was white, probably ten years old, with tinted windows and a dent in the front bumper. Sound familiar?” Was that a challenge in her voice? What sense did that make?
“Can’t say it does. But I’ll see what I can find out.”
“I’d appreciate it.” She stared at her flat tire.
“Do you have a spare?” Zach asked. As much as he’d like to limit their interaction, that wasn’t going to be possible, was it?
She shook her head. “The last time I had a flat, my spare popped. I’ve had a bit of bad luck when it comes to car problems lately.”
“I can give you a ride back.” It was the least he could do. If there was some kind of threat on this woman’s life, he needed to do his duty as police chief. Then he wanted to be done with her.
He paused before climbing into his cruiser. A branch snapped in the woods. It wasn’t an unusual sound in itself. It could be a deer or even a raccoon. But that familiar feeling of being watched filled him again.
He glanced around but saw no one. What if Madelyn was telling the truth? What if the driver of that white truck was out in those woods somewhere watching them?
He scanned the woods one more time.
Then he heard the sound of someone crashing through the underbrush.
“Stay here!” he shouted before darting into the forest.
Zach dodged trees and stumps and underbrush as he rushed after the figure in the distance. The woods were thick and hard to navigate. But he needed to figure out who was out there.
Maybe the person fleeing was a hunter who’d stumbled across them and feared getting caught without a permit. It was a possibility. And some hunters would run rather than face fines.
Zach reached a slight clearing and paused. He’d lost sight of the man he was following. Where had he gone?
He listened, hoping for a clue. Nothing signaled the man’s location. Cautiously, he took a step forward. He surveyed the area, his instincts on alert.
The man couldn’t have just disappeared. Was he hiding? Waiting to ambush Zach?
He had to be careful. He’d seen firsthand just how easy it was for an officer of the law to lose his life. Too many good people had died in the line of duty.