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He’d always called her by her last name. He didn’t consistently do that to any of the male officers and it had always rankled her.
But he was one man who’d never intimidated her. “No, it just seems that this town isn’t the sweet little hamlet by the sea that some people like to pretend that it is.”
He studied her for a minute. “That’s what you’re going with? You don’t think it looks oddly coincidental to us that years ago you were in a relationship with a suspect while you were an officer, aided him in getting away with the crimes he committed, and now you’re back and there’s trouble at the museum?”
“I wasn’t in a relationship with a suspect.” Kelsey took a deep breath, pushed back memories of the past, and kept talking. She’d let a guilty man go because she’d misjudged him, that was it. How had the rumor mill managed to morph the story from the truth to something so salacious was beyond her. “I looked up all the information on the museum before I took the job here, Lieutenant. I’m well aware that there’s been trouble at the museum since the idea was barely a spark in the historical society’s eye.” The museum had suffered several bouts of sabotage in a failed attempt to avoid the discovery of a years-old murder victim on the grounds.
Davies had nothing to say to that. Keeping quiet, he set down a stack of manila envelopes on the table, took a seat at the chair opposite her and stared.
The chief walked in just then. “Kelsey, I’ve got almost all my men at the museum—they’re collecting evidence on Mr. Wingate’s death, but they also started looking for any clues as to your attacker as soon as they heard the shots fired.” He turned to Davies. “I actually need you back there now, supervising.”
The lieutenant walked out without another word to Kelsey, which was fine with her.
Although facing the chief when he was wearing his current expression was a bit intimidating.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“You believe you witnessed a murder tonight.”
“Yes.”
“We don’t have any evidence of foul play yet, nothing except your testimony to tell us it was anything other than an accidental death.” The older man shook his head. “It’d be likely this won’t be treated as a murder, except that we went through a similar case recently. Because of that we will treat this one as though it is a homicide, whether preliminary evidence supports that or not.”
Kelsey let out a breath. At least she could let go of the worry that the department wouldn’t take this seriously.
“Did you see anything that could help us find the person responsible?”
“Just dark shapes. I heard more than I saw. As soon as I walked into that room I knew something wasn’t right. There was just a feeling...” She shook her head. “I guess that sounds ridiculous. There was no concrete reason to check things out any further, and yet I couldn’t stop myself.”
“It’s called following your instincts, Kelsey. It’s what made you such a good officer.”
She snorted.
“That last case doesn’t define you. Overall, you did good work here. Sure you don’t want to come back?”
Not an option, not for any reason. The dream she’d worked so hard for was within her reach now, and it was a sure thing. She wasn’t going back to a world of guesses and suspicions when she had certainty in her new job, that and an opportunity to see the world outside of Treasure Point.
“All right, I know when to give up.” The chief cleared his throat. “So you heard a scuffle. You’re sure you didn’t see anything specific?”
“Just shapes, sir. I could tell someone was pushed off the balcony, but I couldn’t make out any identifying features of either of the people.”
“We’ve got Shiloh there now trying to get prints from the crime scene. Maybe we’ll catch a break and she’ll find something right away.”
“Maybe,” Kelsey echoed, but she knew that as valuable as forensic evidence was, if the criminal had been extremely careful, there might not be much. Besides, there had been a number of people in and around the museum in the past few days, setting up for the event. The evidence would be difficult to find.
“As for where we go from here...tell me about what happened when you returned to the museum.”
She described the note she had found on the windshield, and the shots that had been fired shortly after. She even, grudgingly, shared Sawyer’s theory that the note might have been a ploy just to get her to stand still. She didn’t like the man, but she couldn’t deny that the suggestion made sense.
“If someone is trying to kill you, we need to take that seriously,” the chief said when she had finished.
“Sir, you know I’m capable of defending myself.”
The chief folded his arms across his barrel chest and leaned back in his chair. “You still have your Georgia concealed carry permit, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And a weapon?”
“Not on me.” Something she’d regretted most of the evening, but where was she supposed to put a holster when she was wearing a semiformal dress? Kelsey knew it could be done, but figuring out the logistics when she was a private citizen going to a party where she’d had no reason to expect trouble hadn’t been a high priority.
“Locked up at home?”
She nodded.
“Fix that. Keep it on you at all times when you go out.”
“Yes, sir.”
He was quiet for a minute, and maybe Kelsey was out of line in asking what she was about to ask, but she was tired, hungry and felt oddly chilled even though she wasn’t cold at all. The night was hot and sticky, like any June night in Treasure Point. “Is there anything else, sir?”
The chief’s heavy eyebrows did raise in surprise, but she didn’t see any judgment or anger in his eyes at her abrupt question. He’d always been very understanding.
“That’s all for tonight.”
Kelsey stood and walked toward the door.
“One more thing.”
She turned back to her old boss. “Yes?”
“Is that Hamilton boy still here?”
She laughed a little at his description. The chief was well into his sixties, though, so it made sense he’d refer to Sawyer that way.
“He’s waiting around here somewhere,” Kelsey admitted.
“If he’ll take you home, take him up on it. It’s less likely anyone will try something if there are two of you.”
“There were two of us when I was shot at.”
“I know, Kelsey, but I can’t spare anyone for a protection detail right now, so this is the best I can do.”
“I’ll ask him,” she conceded, mostly because the chief was looking at her with that protective look on his face that she recognized from her time on the force. He was a man who was never okay with one of his own getting hurt, and sexist or not, he had always seemed to be even more careful with Kelsey and Shiloh, the only two woman officers. Kelsey was afraid if she didn’t agree to ask Sawyer, the chief himself would insist on giving her a ride home.
“You do that. Good night, Kelsey. Stay safe.”
She nodded, then moved away from his door. She’d barely made it out of that hallway into the main area of the building when she spotted Sawyer. She’d half hoped he’d gone and she could find another ride, but that was apparently too much to wish for.
“Ready to go home?” he asked her.
Actually, it was about the last thing she was ready for. But she didn’t have many other options, because while running from this town, this situation, might seem unbearably tempting, it also wasn’t an option. Her job, her dreams, her life away from here depended on her sticking this out, finishing the work she’d come here to do.
“I’m ready.” She tried to sound convincing.
Thankfully, Sawyer didn’t seem to notice everything she wasn’t saying. Like the fact that she wasn’t really ready at all. The fact that she was scared.
And the fact that facing Treasure Point again, after all that had happened, was almost as scary as someone wanting her dead.
* * *
Sawyer had only just dropped Kelsey off when he heard the screams.
He turned the truck off, threw the door open and ran to where she was standing on the front porch.
“What?”
“I, uh, I thought I saw a spider.”
“You didn’t.” Sawyer didn’t believe that for a second.
“I really did. He went back in that corner.”
She motioned to a darkened corner of the porch filled with who knew what. “What is all that?” She’d always seemed so organized and attentive to little details, he was surprised she was able to live here with that mess.
“I’m not sure.”
“This is your house, right?”
“My parents’ house.”
“Where are they?”
“They moved to Savannah when I finished high school. They’ve been renting the house, but the last renters did a number on the place, as you can see, so my folks want to sell it and get out of the landlord business.”
Sawyer couldn’t stop the raising of his eyebrows. “And they’re going to sell it like this?”
“No, of course not. When I told them I would be working in the area for a few weeks, they asked if I’d start getting the place cleaned up while I was here.”
He took in the chipping blue paint—really, blue?—the unidentified mess in the corner and the general disrepair of the place. There was nothing structurally unsound as far as he could tell. It wasn’t in awful condition. But it wasn’t in great shape to sell, either. That he did know something about since, as his dad always said, “Hamiltons know real estate, son.” He decided not to comment on it, changing the subject instead. “So, what are you doing in town? You never said.”
She explained about her insurance job and the work she was doing with the museum. “I’ve got an assignment lined up in St. Simons next, so I’ll be staying in town for that, too.”
He nodded. “That explains why you were at the museum tonight—but not why someone was shooting at you. Or what happened to make you scream just now, because I know you don’t expect me to believe it was a spider.”
“I really did think I saw one.”
Something about the way she said that...
“Is that all?”
“No. And if you’re going to ask me what it was, you may as well come in. I didn’t get to eat much at the party and I’m starving.”
“You’re cooking?”
“If you consider bologna sandwiches cooking, then yes.”
“Any chance I could get one of those?”
Kelsey’s snort of laughter wasn’t quite ladylike, but it was cute when she did it. She shook her head as she stuck her key in the doorknob and pushed the door open. “Sawyer Hamilton eats bologna?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He followed her inside, noting that the inside of the house was in better condition than the outside. That made him feel better about her staying here.
“You’re a Hamilton.”
“Who still has to eat to stay alive.”
“But bologna is such...such peasant food.”
The ridiculousness of this conversation was getting to him. At least, that’s the only excuse Sawyer could formulate for what he did next. He reached for Kelsey’s hand, laid it on top of his own palm and brushed her fingers over the calluses on his fingers and palm.
Their eyes met. Held. Sawyer swallowed hard. He hadn’t expected touching her to focus all his senses quite this way, narrow his gaze to where he only saw her. Her green eyes. Staring right at him.
He dropped her hand, tried to recover his composure. “Those are a working man’s hands, Kelsey. When I’m not at work, I’m outside, doing things in the yard, working with my hands as much as I can. I guess I’m just a ‘peasant’ like you. Now, how about that bologna while you tell me what really had you spooked?”
She locked the front door behind them and nodded. “Okay, give me one minute.” And she ran up the stairs.
Not two minutes later she was back, dressed in jeans and a sleeveless button-down shirt. He couldn’t blame her. He was suffocating in his suit. He tugged at his tie, rolled it up and put it in his suit pocket, then slid out of the jacket. “Good idea with the clothes.”
“Yeah, I don’t stay dressed up any longer than I have to. Besides, I needed my gun.”
He didn’t see any gun.
Kelsey grinned, patted her hip. “It’s a good concealment holster. I got my permit as soon as I wasn’t law enforcement anymore. I let the cops do their job and I’m not out to be a vigilante with it, but as far as protecting myself goes, I’d prefer to be able to.”
Sawyer nodded. It was a common attitude in the South, and one that gave him great relief when it came to Kelsey’s safety.
“So, tell me why you really screamed.” He finally brought the subject back to the one she’d managed to dance gracefully away from two different times now.
“Any chance you’ll just let it go?”
“Nope.”
“Fine. There was another note on the door.”
“And you just stood there? Didn’t the shooter use a note earlier to get you to stay in one place so they could shoot at you?”
