Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #1 (57 page)

And she would know what it felt like to be loved.

The thought was like a dash of cold water thrown into his face. He backed away and returned to his seat. He was offering her something that wasn't his to give, making promises he would never be able to keep.

The boat moved with a gentle rocking motion, mocking the turmoil within him.

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what? That you kissed me?” Her eyes held sadness. And loss. As if she had touched something wonderful for the briefest moment before it slipped through her hands.

Or maybe that was what he felt.

She frowned over at him. “Why do you do it? Why do you pour yourself into work and church and volunteer activities, to the exclusion of relationships?”

“I don't exclude relationships. I have a lot of close friendships.”

“During the four years you've lived on Cedar Key, no one has known you to have a girlfriend or even go on a date. And it's not because no one is interested. Half the town's female population would kill for a chance to be with the elusive Hunter Kingston.”

“I think someone's doing a lot of exaggerating.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

“What happened? Why are you afraid?”

“I'm not afraid.” The argument flowed out with no forethought.

Meagan untangled her arm from the blanket and put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me. What happened to you? Did someone leave you?”

He drew in a deep breath, preparing to speak the sentence that he always avoided vocalizing aloud. In fact, he tried to avoid thinking about it, too. “She was killed by a drunk driver three weeks before our wedding.”

“I'm so sorry.” Meagan dropped her arm.

Four years ago, he had vowed that he would never open himself up to that kind of pain again. He had never been willing to break that vow.

Until now.

What he was feeling was a mistake. He didn't want to fall in love again. And he didn't want to fall in love with Meagan. She had deceived everyone on Cedar Key. It wasn't that he didn't understand, because he did. He could justify everything she had done. But she was a good liar. Too good. Like his brother. How would he ever be able to fully trust her?

He eased the throttle forward. He needed to get a grip on his emotions. But that would take keeping his distance from Meagan.

The problem was, he didn't want to keep his distance. In fact, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until all the raw places in his heart healed over.

And every bad experience she had ever had was nothing but a distant memory.

* * *

The sun shone from high in a cloudless sky, its heat tempered by the cool breeze blowing off the Gulf. Meagan drew in a cleansing breath and let it out slowly. Two days had passed since Sally's capture. Two whole days of living without fear. Two days of freedom.

She smiled over at Blake's wife, Allison. Blake had left them in search of something to drink. They currently stood in the park, enjoying the sunshine and mild temperatures, along with dozens of...pirates. On the beach, a bunch of them had formed two rows and squared off. Musket fire boomed, and smoke rose. Between them, two pirates lay dead next to a treasure chest.

But it was all in good fun. It was the weekend of the annual Cedar Key Pirate Invasion. The day had started with pirates invading the city park, then sauntering through the streets in full garb, singing pirate songs. Now was the epic Battle for Cedar Key, wherein Jean Lafitte's men tried to remove his treasure from the island, while pirates from all over tried to take it. The Spanish Garrison was there to keep the peace.

“Hey, ladies.”

Meagan turned to see Hunter approach, handsome as always in his police uniform. He smiled, and her heart gave an answering flutter.

She had spent Thursday night and part of yesterday in the hospital. Then Hunter had brought her home. He had offered to sleep on her couch so she wouldn't have to be alone, at least that first night, but she had declined the offer. Knowing he was lying twenty feet away would have kept her awake until the wee hours of the morning.

Especially after that kiss. No one had ever kissed her like that. Or made her feel the way Hunter had. She kept reminding herself that it didn't mean anything. She had, in so many words, asked him to kiss her. She had wanted him to show her what it was like to feel loved and cherished.

And he had. So well that she didn't want it to end. But it wasn't real. At least it wasn't personal. That was just the way Hunter was—gentle, caring, concerned for others.

And as long as he kept his heart closed, he wouldn't
let
it be real. With anyone. But that didn't stop her pulse from skipping a beat every time he approached, or keep her from longing for what she could never have.

She shook off the thoughts and returned Hunter's smile. “Hey, yourself.”

“I thought you were supposed to be at the store today.”

“I was, but Darci gave me the day off. She didn't want me to miss the activities.”

Meagan had taken yesterday off, too. It had been so late when she got in Thursday night, and when Darci heard what had happened, she was adamant—Meagan needed time for some rest and relaxation. Darci promised she could make up the hours next week.

Blake returned with three bottles of water. After some casual conversation, Hunter turned to go back to his duties, most of which involved roaming the crowds and making sure the only thieving and rabble-rousing going on were part of the planned activities. Hunter's shift would end at six. Then he would meet Blake and Allison and Meagan for dinner. If it weren't for the fact that Darci and Jayden would be joining them, it would feel a lot like a double date. Except Hunter didn't date.

As Meagan watched him walk away, a sigh escaped her mouth. She had come to Cedar Key determined that no man would ever again charm his way into her life. But Hunter had a way of blowing holes through barricades without even trying.

“Don't give up on him.”

Blake's words cut across her thoughts. “What?”

“Don't give up on him. Right now, he doesn't know what he wants. But I'm working on him.”

Was she that obvious? “He might not appreciate you playing matchmaker.”

“I'm just returning the favor.” Blake put his arm around his wife and pulled her close. “He put
us
together.”

“Well,” Allison interjected, “not exactly put us together. More like knocked some sense into
him
when he was going to leave Cedar Key and go back to Texas.”

Meagan laughed. “That's a story I want to hear sometime.” She loved happy endings. They just always seemed to belong to someone else.

As the sun sank low, the three of them made their way down Dock Street to the Seabreeze. When Hunter, Darci and Jayden arrived, they had just been seated.

Allison smiled up at the newcomers. “Perfect timing. Are you hungry?”

“Hungry and thankful to get off my feet for an hour or so.” Hunter sank into one of the two empty chairs. The third was a high chair.

By the time their meals arrived, the final remnants of daylight were fading to dusk. Pirates still roamed the streets, along with residents and visitors who had just come to observe. The table where Meagan and her friends were sitting was on the side. Large windows offered an unbroken view of the park. This weekend, it was home to an authentic pirate encampment, as well as Thieves Row, a dozen or so pirate-themed vendors.

Two men moved down the sidewalk toward her, navigating the curve where A Street became Dock. They were dressed in full pirate garb, their tricorne hats casting their faces in shadow. One was tall and slender, the other shorter and stocky.

Meagan tensed, unease trickling through her. Based on their sizes, they could be Edmund and Lou. Of course, they could also be any number of other men on Cedar Key that day. She silently scolded herself. If she was going to have any semblance of a happy life, she was going to have to stop looking for the devil under every rock.

Then the taller pirate tipped back his head, and for a brief moment, his eyes locked with hers. Actually, it was just one eye—the other was covered with a black patch.

She let out a gasp. All conversation at the table stopped, and every head except Jayden's turned to her.

Meagan tightened her hand around her fork. “I think I just saw Edmund.” She had nothing to hide. Darci knew her past. So did Blake. Allison likely didn't, but Blake could explain later.

Allison's eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

Okay, so she knew, too. Meagan didn't mind. Allison had experienced her own terror.

“I—I think so.” The eye contact had been brief, not more than a second or two. But he had looked right at her. And projected hatred—cold and lethal.

Or maybe it was her imagination. Maybe it wasn't Edmund at all.

“It looked just like him. And he was with someone Lou's size. But I could be wrong. The lighting isn't good.”

She tried to push the concerns from her mind, determined to enjoy her dinner. But later, as people gathered in front of the Seabreeze and formed a large circle to watch the fire performers, she found herself scanning the faces of the crowd. Then the music started, and within moments, she was mesmerized.

Flames lit up the darkness as the dancers stepped and turned and twisted to a rock beat. One performer held what looked like a long baton, lit at both ends. He twirled it in front, overhead and behind his back, at times so quickly that there almost seemed to be an unbroken circle of fire. A female performer had a flame trailing from each arm. She dropped to her knees, then eased herself backward until she was lying faceup, with the flames dipping and twirling over her body.

As the first song ended and the second one began, Meagan cast a glance at Hunter. She started to return her attention to the performers, but one of the observers caught her gaze and held it. It was the tall pirate. The flickering light cast dancing shadows across his face, but she had no doubt he was watching her.

She grasped Hunter's forearm and held it in a viselike grip. “There he is.”

“Where?”

She pointed almost straight across the circle. “Over there, in the tricorne hat and eye patch.”

Hunter looked at her askance. “You just described several dozen people.”

The crowd shifted, and the tall pirate fell back. Maybe it wasn't Edmund. But maybe it was. Either way, she had to know.

She grabbed Hunter's hand and pulled him around the back of the circle. Then she stood on her tiptoes, searching.

Just as she caught a glimpse of him, a heavyset man moved to the side and blocked her view. By the time she was able to slip around him, she had lost the tall pirate.

At the end of Dock Street, she broke from the crowd and looked up A Street toward the park. There they were. The pair she had seen from the window of the Seabreeze.

She charged off in that direction, Hunter right on her heels. They caught up to the two men between the boat ramp and the park.

“Hey, you. Stop.” Hunter's voice held undeniable authority. He still wore the uniform to back it up.

The men spun around. Neither had an eye patch and neither was Edmund or Lou. They had followed the wrong men.

Or maybe they hadn't. Maybe the men she'd seen from the Seabreeze were just ordinary people, in Cedar Key for a good time.

Hunter looked at her, clearly waiting for direction.

She offered the men a weak smile. “I'm sorry. We mistook you for someone else.”

Hunter held up a hand. “Sorry to bother you. Go about your evening.”

She dropped her gaze to the sidewalk, embarrassment washing over her. “I'm sorry. I just led you on a wild-goose chase.”

Hunter hooked a finger under her chin and gently tilted her face upward until she was looking at him.

“Don't ever apologize for letting me know you feel threatened. And don't ever feel like you can't come to me with any concerns. I don't care how small they seem.”

He stared down at her, his gaze tender. It was the same gentleness she had felt in his kiss. And longed to experience again, but refused to ask.

She cleared her throat and shifted her weight. “Thanks. I'll probably be doing a lot of that.”

Chances were good that she was worrying for nothing, that Edmund never saw the report about the plane crash. A month and a half had passed. There was the possibility that Lou had visited Nature's Landing, but other than that, Edmund hadn't attempted to come after her.

He was patient, though—cold and calculating. And he was careful. He wouldn't risk getting caught.

The pirate festival offered the perfect opportunity. What better time to come looking for her than during an event that drew hundreds of people?

An event one could attend in costume and slip in and out of the crowd undetected.

Then strike when least expected.

NINE

T
he final strains of guitar and keyboard filtered through the sanctuary, then faded to silence. Meagan stood with her hands resting on the pew in front of her, Hunter on one side and Blake on the other.

She had finally done it. Although both Hunter and Darci had invited her several times, she had always managed to come up with an excuse not to attend church with them. Then last night, after the pirate festival, Allison had hit her up. Meagan must have been feeling especially vulnerable, because before she knew what she was doing, she had agreed to come.

Maybe it was the months of isolation—first imposed by Edmund, then the prison she had erected around herself to keep others from finding out her secret. If so, that was only part of it.

Last night Wade and Sydney had joined them, and they had all gone over to Allison and Blake's for cake and ice cream. And as Meagan sat listening to the laughter and the teasing and the storytelling, a hollow emptiness had started deep inside, a need to belong.

These people weren't just friends. They were family. And although most of them knew her background, they accepted her as one of them.

Meagan took a seat with the other worshippers while Allison and Darci made their way off the platform. They had both sung with the praise team, and their job was apparently finished, at least for the time being. Allison circled around to sit next to Blake, and Darci chose a seat on the other side of Hunter. She reached across him to squeeze Meagan's hand, her face radiant.

Meagan smiled over at her. Looking at Darci, one would think her life was all sunshine and happiness. But Meagan knew better. Darci had found the secret to having joy
in spite of
what was going on around her. All the people who had sat in Allison's living room last night had discovered it, too. And the common denominator was their faith.

So aside from the need for friendship, there was one other thing that had lured her out of the house on a Sunday morning. She was on a quest. For what, she wasn't sure. But something told her whatever it was that her new friends seemed to possess, it was probably offered at the small white church on the corner.

When the service was over, she made her way down the aisle toward the back, while the worship team performed “Friend of God.” That had been the topic of the pastor's sermon, one she had found intriguing.

Sometimes she thought of God as the Creator, having spoken everything into being, then turned it loose. Other times she thought of Him as the Judge, ready to zap people with lightning bolts if they got too out of line. Usually she didn't think of Him at all.

But
Friend
? That was a new concept. Maybe that was what Hunter was referring to when he said that while God didn't always keep His people from trouble, he walked with them
through
it. That didn't take away from Him being Creator and Judge and probably a dozen other titles. But thinking of Him as Friend had appeal. Maybe because she had been without one for too long.

Once they stepped into the sunshine, Hunter led her to his truck. He had insisted on picking her up, even though Sydney and Wade would be driving right past her house.

“What are you doing for lunch?”

“Warming up leftover enchiladas.” She grinned at him. “That's the problem with living alone. You'd better like whatever you cook, because you're going to be eating on it for the next three days.”

“Tell me about it.” He unlocked the passenger door and helped her in.

“If you like Mexican, you're welcome to join me.”

“Since I've got to be at the station in an hour, I think I'll take you up on that.”

A few minutes later, Hunter waited on her porch while she inserted her key into the lock. She tensed, a sense of uneasiness sliding through her. It wasn't that long ago that they had been in this exact location and Hunter had been shot with an arrow.

But Sally was no longer a threat. And taking potshots from across the street wasn't Edmund's style. She shook off the uneasiness and led Hunter inside. He helped her set the table, and once she had warmed the enchiladas, she took a seat opposite him.

Conversation started out light, but soon creases appeared between Hunter's brows. “Are you staying inside the rest of the day?”

“I'm planning to. I might work on some painting. Or I might be lazy and read this afternoon. I picked up two paperbacks at a garage sale and haven't gotten to them yet.”

He nodded. “I'm going to patrol past here regularly. Blake and Bobby are going to be driving by, too. And if you see anything suspicious, you know to call.” The creases between his brows deepened, and his eyes darkened with concern. “I'm a little uneasy with the idea that Edmund might have been in Cedar Key yesterday.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” She tried to force a smile. “But maybe it was just someone who looked like him. They say everyone has a twin somewhere in the world.” She cut off a bite and picked it up with her fork, but didn't put it in her mouth. “Actually, Edmund really does have a twin. In Italy. They were born Eduardo and Edmondo. But Edmondo changed his name to Edmund when he came to America.”

Hunter's expression grew thoughtful. “Are they identical twins?”

“Yeah. I've never met Eduardo, but I've seen pictures. And you can't tell them apart.” They had the same angled features, the same jet-black hair, the same dark charm. Even the same cruelness in their eyes.

“Eduardo may have provided Edmund with his alibi.”

Her eyes widened. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“It would be interesting to see if Eduardo took a flight from Italy to California just before Charlie's death.”

“Interesting, but still not enough to convict Edmund of murder. I'm not willing to go up against him unless it's an open-and-shut case.” And she would have her doubts, even then. “I was so afraid he was going to figure out what I was doing before I got a chance to make my escape. He and Lou were both watching me so closely, I was lucky I got out of there.”

Or maybe it wasn't luck. Maybe God had had a hand in it. That was what Hunter believed.

“How did you manage to get fake IDs made?”

“I found a website where you can order them. I took a picture of myself, edited it with Photoshop to give myself short, dark hair, and emailed it to them. But I knew I couldn't just have the IDs sent in an envelope addressed to me. Lou always inspected my mail before handing it over.”

Hunter laid down his fork, but didn't lean back in the chair, even though he had finished eating. “So what did you do?”

“I paid them an extra hundred dollars to purchase and send me three tubes of paint, and address the box from American Artist Supplies. I had them put the fake Social Security card and Florida driver's license in a blank envelope under the paint. I figured if Edmund or Lou checked the box and found the envelope, I'd just say it apparently belonged to an employee at the store, and I'd call and straighten it out.”

“Wow, you thought of everything.” Respect shone in Hunter's eyes. “That was brilliant.”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling shy. “It's amazing what you can come up with when your life is at stake. The only trail I couldn't cover was the credit card I used to pay for all that. But I hadn't used the card in over a year.” She hadn't needed to. Edmund had insisted on paying for everything. “The credit card company still had my old PO box and no forwarding address. So I figured I was pretty safe.”

Hunter pushed back his chair and stood, but there was reluctance in the motion. “If I'm going to make it to work on time, I'd better get going.”

She walked him to the door, but instead of stepping over the threshold, he turned to face her. “Are you going to be okay alone?”

“I'll be fine. If not, I've got my phone. You go on.”

He hesitated a moment longer. Concern had crept back into his eyes. He lifted a hand and cupped her jaw with his palm. The worry was still obvious on his face, along with something else—indecision. Was it possible Hunter was struggling with the same feelings for her that she was for him? Her stomach rolled over at the thought. But what difference would it make? As long as he kept his heart guarded, it didn't matter what he felt; he would never act on it.

He let his hand fall. “Stay inside...please.”

She gave him an uneasy smile. “You won't get any argument from me.”

After watching him walk to his truck, she closed and locked the door, then leaned against it with a sigh. Not only was he more handsome than any man had a right to be, but he was honest and gentle and caring and selfless and...his good qualities were too many to name. No wonder so many of the single women in Cedar Key had fantasies of someday winning Hunter's heart.

Meagan pushed herself away from the door and headed toward her desk. The Visqueen she had used to protect its surface Friday afternoon was still there, her latest project lying on top. She frowned down at her work. The reading she had mentioned earlier sounded really good. Immersing herself in someone else's life for a few hours held a lot of appeal.

She opened the desk drawer and pulled out one of the paperback books, then rested her leg against the drawer, ready to push it closed. Beneath the other paperback was the old book of poetry. For almost four months it had lain there untouched. She hadn't been able to bring herself to read it. It reminded her too much of California, her life with Edmund, everything she had left behind.

But now it seemed to call to her. Maybe it was time to move on. She was a survivor. She had survived not only Edmund, but Sally, too. She had found new friends, good friends, and begun a search for meaning in her life. It was time to come to terms with all that had happened in the past and put it behind her.

She reached into the drawer and pulled out the old book. As she settled onto the couch, a wonderful sense of contentment filled her. Nothing had changed. She was still an unknown artist working part time in a small gift shop to try to make ends meet. She was still cut off from her family, filled with longing to see them again. But now her focus was on what she had gained instead of what she had lost. And the future looked much brighter because of it.

She let the book fall open to a random page one third of the way through, and her eyes dipped to the title, “How Did You Die?” by Edmund Vance Cooke. Maybe the page wasn't so random. The poem was a favorite of both hers and Charlie's, read and reread so many times the volume naturally fell open there. The theme was facing trouble with strength and character, and during her darkest moments with Edmund, she had returned to it again and again for encouragement to keep going and not give up. And Charlie apparently had, too.

At the time, they both had “trouble a ton.” Charlie had brought a lot of his on himself. But he didn't deserve to die. Edmund had snuffed out the life of a creative, kindhearted man, and had gotten away with it.

Meagan's heart twisted at the thought. Other than Edmund and possibly Lou, she was the only person alive who knew the truth. But there was nothing she could do about it. Even if she had the courage to go up against Edmund, she didn't have the power, strength or financial resources. No one did.

She turned the page and began to read the next poem, determined to banish Edmund from her thoughts. Someday she would be able to pick up the book and just enjoy it for the beautiful, thought-provoking words, and not be reminded of its link to California and Edmund and a yearlong ordeal that she hadn't been sure she would survive.

That would have been Charlie's wish, that the book would provide her many hours of enjoyment. He had known that what he was attempting was risky, that he might not leave Edmund's estate alive. So he had left the book in the atrium where she would be the one to find it.

She read several more poems, skipping large sections, choosing pages at random. Then she flipped to the back. It had been a library book at one time. The sleeve that had held the card was still there, although the card had been removed long ago.

Meagan frowned. There was a small bulge in the center of the pouch. She reached in with two fingers and pulled out something hard and flat. A memory card. Did it belong to Charlie?

Confusion warred with anticipation. It had to have been his. No one else ever handled the book besides the two of them. Did the card just hold ordinary pictures, and the pouch happened to be a convenient place to tuck it at the time?

Or was it what he'd claimed to have found, the evidence that would put Edmund away? Had Charlie put it in there the night he was killed, hoping she would find it if his plan went awry?

Meagan swung her feet down from the coffee table and headed to her room. She didn't have a computer, but she had a camera. Hopefully, the card would fit. It looked compatible.

Within moments, she had pulled her camera from its bag, removed the old card and inserted the new one. After a few clicks, a picture filled the screen. A tree stood against a blue sky, although with the small size of the display, she couldn't tell what kind.

She advanced to the next frame. It was another landscape photo, grass dotted with wildflowers, greenery in the background. The next several pictures were more of the same.

Her heart fell. The card just contained samples of his work. She clicked through the rest of the pictures, not giving them much more than a cursory glance. Then she got to one that was different and had to back up when she moved past it.

The photo seemed to have been shot at more of a downward angle. There was no sky visible in the upper one third, as with the others. Wildflowers filled the entire frame, except for a darkened area at the bottom. Was it the edge of a hole?

A chill swept through her, and the fine hairs on her neck stood on end. She advanced to the next picture. The darkened area on the previous slide was definitely a hole. This shot was taken from above, looking down.

Something was there, in the dirt—fabric and a stick or rod of some type, and... Ice pumped slowly through her veins and lodged in her core. She set down the camera and picked up her phone. Hunter answered on the second ring.