Dangerous Reunion (Love Inspired Suspense) (9 page)

He dried his hands and hung the towel back on the rack by the sink. He stared at it for a moment before he reached out and adjusted the towel so that it hung evenly over the rung. Nice and tidy, that was the way he liked things. Just like today when he’d pretended to have car trouble.

He knew that deputy, whose name tag said Doug McNeil, would stop and ask if he could help. Kate had trained him well.

He pulled the deputy’s cell phone from his pocket, flipped it open and scrolled through the list of contacts until he found Kate’s number. Chuckling, he closed the phone, stuck it back in his pocket, and moved from the bathroom into the bedroom. He stopped to straighten a picture that hung on the wall before he crossed the room to sit in the chair by the window. An edition of the island publication that listed all upcoming events lay on a table beside the chair. He picked it up and began to skim the articles about the weekend festival. It seemed that everybody was gearing up to cater to the crowds that would arrive in a few days.

His eye caught sight of the article about the play
Blackbeard’s Last Stand
that would be presented at the Hurricane Theater on Friday and Saturday nights. The caption underneath a picture depicting a scene from the play identified Emma Michaels as the young girl standing beside a wooden table where a group of pirates sat eating.

He pulled the paper closer and studied the girl’s features. Kate’s little sister would be playing a part in the production. He hadn’t expected this opportunity. How could he use this to his advantage?

He folded the paper and laid it on the table beside him. The play was several days away. He had time to plan how he could make Friday night’s performance unforgettable.

O
n Friday morning Kate pulled the squad car to a stop behind Treasury’s bed-and-breakfast, climbed out, and glanced up at the clear sky. The forecast predicted temperatures in the mid-eighties for the day. That should make it perfect weather for the opening of the festival.

It was only seven-thirty, but the local merchants and artists were already setting up booths when she’d driven through the village. She expected a busy day and was glad that Brock was riding patrol with her, as he had every day since Doug’s murder.

She bit down on her bottom lip at the thought of the young deputy. She missed him so much. Several times yesterday she’d reached for her cell phone to give Doug a call and then been hit with the cold reality that she would never talk with him again.

It didn’t make any sense why the killer would target Doug. She was the one he wanted, not a young man who hoped only to make a difference in this world. His dreams and plans for the future had been cut short. She would never understand what caused some people to have so little regard for human life. Doug didn’t deserve what happened to him on that deserted road, and she was determined to bring his killer to justice.

She slammed the door of the car and strode across the backyard. She’d just stepped onto the back porch when the door opened and Dillon McAllister emerged. He smiled when he saw her.

“Hi, Kate. What are you doing here so early?”

“Brock’s riding with me on patrol. I came by to get him.” She noticed that today he wore jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt. “Are you off for another day with Grady?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Thanks for introducing me to him. He’s been a great help, and I’ve gotten to see parts of the island that most tourists never see.”

Kate cocked an eyebrow. “Just be careful about using the information he gives you. Some of it is pure speculation and other parts are stories that have been passed down in his family.”

“I know, but he really does have a grasp of that period of history. Even though he insists that Blackbeard’s money tree is out there somewhere, I doubt it. I think you’re right about Blackbeard’s treasure. All you have to do is study the way this island has shifted and changed in the past two hundred years to realize that anything that was here then is now washed out to sea or at the bottom of a salt marsh.”

“Yeah.” Before she could add another comment, angry voices blared through the open back door.

“Tracey, will you leave me alone? You know this is my only vacation of the year.”

Kate and Dillon glanced at each other. “That’s Sam and Tracey,” he whispered. “They started fighting at breakfast. It still seems to be going on.”

“But why do you have to fish every day? I’m tired of being alone. Why can’t you go with me to the beach, or at least let me go on the boat with you? I can work on my tan while you fish.” The whine in Tracey’s voice reminded Kate of Emma when she didn’t get her way. Tracey, however, was an adult, while Emma was still a child.

“We’ve been over this a hundred times,” Sam yelled. “I’ve tried taking you fishing, and you just get bored. Then you want to go back to shore. I want to fish, and I can’t do that with you along.”

“You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” Sam roared. “You’re a fine one to talk. Take this money and go shopping today or do whatever you want. Just let me have some peace and quiet for a change. Now I’m off to the marina. I’m going to rent me a boat, and when I come back, I’ll take you to the festival tonight.”

“But Sam—” Tracey’s last words were cut off by Sam’s hurried exit through the back door.

Sam stepped onto the back porch and halted as he came face-to-face with Kate and Dillon. His face turned crimson, and he gave a nervous laugh. “I’m afraid my wife is a little upset this morning. Sorry about that.”

Kate tried to breathe, but she felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. It wasn’t the argument she’d just heard or Sam’s obvious embarrassment that shocked her into silence. It was what he was wearing—a hooded sweatshirt. The memory of a fishing skiff captained by a lone figure in a hooded sweatshirt returned. That person had also made an ominous promise that he would be seeing her. Had Doug’s killer been this close to her all along? She tried to respond, but her vocal chords felt frozen.

Dillon glanced at her, frowned, and turned to Sam. “Have a good day on the water. Maybe we can get together at the festival tonight.”

“Okay.” Sam glanced at Kate once more before he ducked his head, walked past them, and hurried down the steps.

Kate’s stomach roiled and her pulse raced at the sight of Sam’s retreating figure. She didn’t move until he disappeared around the side of the house toward the area where Treasury’s guests parked their cars.

Dillon stepped closer to her. “What’s the matter, Kate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She pulled her attention back to Dillon. “It’s nothing. I was just looking at that sweatshirt Sam was wearing. It seems strange that he would wear a sweatshirt to go fishing.”

Dillon nodded. “Yeah. I wondered that, too. It’s going to get hotter as the day goes on.” He glanced at his watch and gasped. “I’ve got to get going. Grady is going to wonder what happened to me.”

“Have a good day. I’ll see you at the festival tonight.”

With a wave Dillon disappeared in the same direction that Sam had gone. After a moment Kate turned and walked into the kitchen. Treasury stood at the sink but looked up when Kate entered.

Kate walked over and put her arms around Treasury’s shoulders. “Good morning, Treasury. I’m here to pick up Brock. Do you know where he is?”

“Morning, darling.” She arched her eyebrows and nodded toward the dining room. “He’s in there.”

The sound of muffled crying came from inside. Kate frowned and walked to the dining-room door. The soft tone of Brock’s voice kept her from entering.

“I’m sure Sam will be as sorry about your argument as you are. Now you need to dry those tears and decide what you’re going to do to occupy yourself today.”

“But it’s no fun doing something by yourself.” The whine of Tracey’s voice set Kate’s teeth on edge. It reminded her of how Jake Morgan used to scratch his fingernails down the blackboard at school when the teacher was out of the room.

Brock chuckled. “Go on out to the beach. I’m sure you won’t be alone for long.”

“Why don’t you go with me? We could have a good time together.”

The whine of Tracey’s voice had softened into a purr like a kitten. Kate sucked in her breath and waited for Brock’s answer.

“I can’t, Tracey. I’m waiting for Kate so I can go on patrol with her. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Why do you want to ride around in an old police car all day when you could be lying on the beach in the sun?”

Brock laughed. “I’d probably get sunburned, but you go on and have a good time.”

“But Brock…”

Kate had heard enough. She stepped into the room. Tracey and Brock sat at the dining-room table. Brock’s arm rested on the table. Tracey’s fingers trailed up the back of his hand and stopped above his wrist. Her eyelids drooped, and her mouth curled into a smile as her hand tightened.

Kate coughed, and they jerked their attention to her. She looked from one to the other and smiled. “Good morning. Are you ready to go, Brock?”

Tracey’s face hardened into a stare, but Brock pulled free of Tracey and jumped to his feet. “I am.” He pushed his chair in and hurried around the table toward her. “Tracey offered to keep me company while I was waiting.”

“It’s good to see you again, Tracey. I hope you enjoy your day on the island. Everybody is getting ready for the festival tonight, so there ought to be a lot of activity around today.”

“So I’ve heard.” Anger flickered in Tracey’s eyes. She gave a curt nod and pushed to her feet. “Thanks.”

Kate watched Tracey hurry from the room before she followed Brock into the kitchen and stopped beside Treasury at the sink. “Don’t forget we’re going to see Emma in the play tonight.”

“I haven’t forgotten, but you remember to be careful today.” Treasury dried her hands on a towel before she cast a worried look in Brock’s direction. “I feel better knowing that Brock’s with you, but both of you take care. There’s a killer out there, and I don’t want anyone I love to be hurt.”

Kate reached over and gave Treasury a peck on the cheek. “I will be careful. See you later.”

She walked out the back door with Brock on her heels, but she stopped on the back porch and turned to him. “Brock, you don’t have to go with me if there’s something else you’d rather do today.”

A puzzled expression covered his face. “I’ve gone with you every morning for the past three days. Why would you think I wouldn’t want to go today?”

She nodded toward the house. “I heard Tracey asking you to go to the beach with her. You haven’t had time to relax since you’ve been here. If you’d rather go with her, I’ll understand.”

His eyes grew wide, and his mouth dropped open. After a moment he shook his head. “Sam and Tracey started arguing at breakfast this morning, then they took it to their room. We could hear them downstairs. After he left, she came in the dining room crying. I was trying to comfort her when you came in. That’s all it was.”

She looked down at the key ring in her hand as if she’d never seen it before. Her face burned from his scrutiny, but she avoided meeting his gaze. “It sounded like it was more than that.”

The sound of his loud gasp caused her to glance up. With teeth gritted, he took a step toward her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged. “Just that Tracey’s a very attractive woman. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to spend the day with her instead of in
an old police car.
” She tried to mimic the sound Tracey had made when she spoke those words.

He exhaled and shook his head. “Tracey is a
married
woman. I didn’t realize that your opinion of me was so low that you’d think I could be interested in a married woman.”

The hurt in his eyes pricked her heart, but of more concern was the fact that she had spoken without thinking. She struggled to say something that would ease the sting of her words. “I just thought—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t bother explaining. I understand.” He sidestepped her and started down the steps toward the car. “Come on. It’s time we started patrol.”

Kate stood on the back porch, her heart pounding in her chest. What was wrong with her? She knew in her heart that Brock would never do what she had accused him of. And yet, the words she’d used held a not-so-subtle meaning that she didn’t trust him. Why had she done that?

The truth hit her, and her mind reeled from the impact. When she’d heard Tracey flirting with Brock, she’d been jealous. She had ignored Brock’s responses and concentrated on Tracey’s words. In so doing, she had allowed a long-buried feeling for him to emerge, and she had reacted as she might have done six years ago. She had to make sure that didn’t happen again.

Since Brock had been on the island, they had been finding their way to a new relationship—a friendship that would take the place of what they’d once had. Now she was trying to come to grips with the past and forgive him for hurting her, but it was so hard.

Her words had hurt Brock, and she was sorry for that. She would find some way today to ask his forgiveness. But if she couldn’t forgive him, why did she think he would forgive her? Maybe it would be best if she and Brock didn’t discuss personal matters but instead concentrated on finding the killer who was stalking her.

Brock sighed and glanced at his watch as Kate pulled the squad car to a stop in front of the police station. Five o’clock. It had been a long and trying day. The chill inside the car hadn’t been caused by the air conditioner. It came directly from the frosty responses he’d gotten every time he tried to engage Kate in conversation. She had given so many one-syllable answers that he finally gave up even trying to talk with her.

Thankfully, there hadn’t been any problems or emergencies. In fact all the people he’d encountered had been in a festive mood as they’d prepared for the opening of the festival tonight. He thought back over the islanders he’d met. Some he remembered. Others were new to Ocracoke. They’d all been so excited about the upcoming festivities. It would have been easy to get swept up in the excitement if it hadn’t been for the silent treatment he’d gotten from Kate since they left the bed-and-breakfast that morning.

Beside him, she opened the door and glanced at him. “Are you coming inside?”

He looked at her and tried to see a sign that she wanted him to go with her, but her face held a blank expression. He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think so. I promised Will Scott I’d come back by his booth to help him unload the pottery he’s bringing from his studio. I’ll walk back to Treasury’s house after we get his booth set up.”

“Are you coming to the festival tonight?”

He reached for the handle and opened the door. “I promised Emma I’d come to see her performance. I’ll be there.”

“The Hurricane Theater is an open-air area. There aren’t any seats. We’ll bring a lawn chair for you. Emma wants you to sit with us.”

He bit his lip. Emma, not Kate, and certainly not Betsy, wanted him to sit with them. He wondered how Treasury felt about him. He sighed and stepped from the car. When he turned back to close the door, she was standing next to the driver’s side, staring at him over the top of the car.

Even after a day of patrol and being in and out of the heat, she looked as fresh as the morning glories that used to bloom outside his window when he was a boy. Her face glowed in the late afternoon sun, and he was struck once again with how beautiful she was. A longing for what had been between them flowed through him, and he slammed the car door with a force that almost rattled the windows.

“I’ll see you at the theater,” he mumbled, and turned away.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode down the street without a backward glance. A longing for his apartment in Nashville overtook him, and he wished he was there. He could go home if he wanted to. It didn’t look as if his trip to Ocracoke was going to produce what he’d hoped.