Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #1 (52 page)

She loosened the final nut and positioned the jack. “He got out of jail six years later and did everything he could to win her back. But after so long living without having to tiptoe around a man, constantly afraid of accidentally setting him off, Mom wasn't about to give up her freedom. All his apologies and promises didn't faze her. He finally gave up and moved away. I was sixteen then and haven't heard from him since.”

Meagan shifted her position. The truck was jacked up far enough that the tire was no longer resting on the ground. She pulled it off, rolled it aside, then lifted the spare onto the lugs, helping to support it with one sneakered foot. A car sped toward them, coming from the direction of Cedar Key, and he glanced up as it passed.

His heart jumped to double time. It was a white sedan with tinted windows. He studied the car with keen alertness, trying to commit everything he could to memory over the next three or four seconds. There was a Cadillac emblem on the back. And a model he couldn't make out. Maybe a DeVille. Florida tag, number 56Y... He couldn't get the rest.

But that was at least something. Ever since Meagan was almost hit, everyone had been on the lookout for the white sedan. Apparently, it had been kept out of sight, maybe in a garage. Because no one had seen a car fitting that description. Until now.

Had the driver gotten wind of the fact that Meagan was leaving? Had he given up, figuring he had lost her? Or was he on his way to the bus station?

Hunter pulled out his cell phone. He would have the Chiefland police intercept him. And if that didn't work, he would run what information he had as soon as he got back to Cedar Key.

More than anything, he wanted to catch this guy. But this new development brought him a sliver of relief. Her stalker believed she had left Cedar Key. If she'd been sitting in his front seat, in full view behind the windshield, the guy would have known she was returning. Instead, she'd been crouched beside the truck. And he'd been standing at the front quarter panel, further blocking her from view. Yes, her stalker would believe she was gone.

And not coming back. Thanks to the flat tire.

All things work together for good
...

Hunter smiled. Maybe what he had considered a major inconvenience had just bought Meagan a reprieve.

* * *

Meagan cruised down the main channel, her four-horse motor wide-open. The sun on her face and the breeze in her hair did wonders for straightening out her tangled thoughts.

Yesterday, Darci had gotten the news they had all feared. After numerous tests, Jayden's psychologist had given a diagnosis—mild to moderate autism. Darci had accepted the news with quiet strength. But Meagan wasn't accepting anything. Fire pumped through her veins, anger that God would let this happen to someone so nice. Someone who didn't deserve it.

According to Darci, everyone had been praying—Darci, her mom, Hunter and most of their church. But God turned a deaf ear. If He didn't answer the prayers of good people like Darci, what chance did
she
have of ever being heard?

She eased to the edge of the channel to avoid the wake of an approaching powerboat. Finally being on the water again brought a wonderful sense of freedom. She'd been cooped up for so long, under the constant watchful eye of someone. Well, she still was; it just wasn't as obvious.

Today Hunter's friend Blake was the one hanging close, currently about thirty feet off her stern. She felt almost as safe with him as she did with Hunter. He was a former police detective, injured on the job. He walked with a limp and often used a cane, but he knew how to use a gun.

The one he carried was a pink Glock. He said it belonged to his wife. There was probably a story behind that, but Meagan didn't know him well enough to ask.

She eased back into the channel. A little farther and she would head southeast to Snake Key.

Almost two weeks had passed without incident. Apparently, whoever had been stalking her had finally given up. So yesterday she'd decided it was time to start living again. She hadn't bought a boat to leave it sitting idle in Darci's dad's backyard. And she wasn't living in a vacationer's paradise to restrict her comings and goings to work, home and the grocery store. Several of her paintings had sold. It was time to get busy and restock her inventory.

She had decided on Snake Key for several reasons. One, Blake said the fishing was good. He would be anchored just east of there, keeping her in his sight. Two, Snake Key was one of the islands that she hadn't yet visited. Three, it was much more open and a less popular destination than Seahorse Key or Atsena Otie, so she would have plenty of warning before anyone could get close enough to be a threat.

A wet, cold sensation against her feet drew her attention downward. About a quarter inch of water had pooled in the back of the boat. Worry chewed at the edges of her mind. It wasn't a lot, but it was too much to be sea spray. Besides, she was still in the channel.

She cast a glance over her shoulder. The Sea Ray was still back there. The sight helped to relieve the tension seeping into her shoulders. She wasn't alone. If anything went wrong, a simple hand motion would have Blake next to her in seconds.

Her gaze dipped again to her feet. The puddle was expanding. Now she had no doubt. Her boat was taking on water.

She looked around her, searching for the nearest island. None were close. Snake Key, Seahorse Key and Atsena Otie were equally distant. Her heart began to pound, and she reached for one of the life jackets. She could swim without one. She had proved it to herself over three months ago when she'd abandoned Edmund's boat in the middle of the lake and made a long, lone swim in the darkness. This would be nothing, especially with Blake to pluck her from the Gulf, if necessary.

As she dragged the life jacket onto her lap, dread trickled through her. One black strap dangled over her leg, its end cut. The plastic clasp was gone. She turned the life vest over and gasped. The orange nylon was shredded. Deep grooves marred the foam inside. She snatched the other jacket from its place on the floor. It, too, was destroyed.

Lead filled her gut, temporarily immobilizing her. What had happened to her boat wasn't wear and tear, failure due to age or accidental damage. It had been done intentionally. Someone had tampered with it so it would take on water, then ruined her life jackets, hoping she would drown. Her stalker hadn't given up.

And they were no closer to identifying him than when they had started. The information Hunter had on the sedan had led nowhere. There were three possible matches—a retired couple in Ocala, a single woman in Fanning Springs and a widow in The Villages. After questioning by law enforcement, all of them had been dismissed as possible suspects. Hunter had probably misread a number.

Meagan swung around to look at Blake, then gave him two sharp waves. In moments, he was beside her.

“I'm taking on water. I shouldn't have any problem getting to Snake Key, but hold on to my stuff, just in case.” She handed him her phone, camera bag and sketch pad, then tossed the life jackets to him. They were worthless, but they were evidence.

She ignored his raised brows and gunned the motor. There would be time to explain later.

Halfway to Snake Key, her fear turned to desperation. She would never make it. Water was coming in more and more quickly, as if flowing through an ever expanding hole.

She threw a panicked glance at Blake, but he was already uncoiling a dock line. He tossed the end to her. “Tie this off to your boat.”

She killed the motor, then made her way forward in a crouch, sloshing through six inches of water. The boat listed to one side, and her heart leaped into her throat. She crouched even lower, clutching the sides.

When she reached the front cleat, she made a knot with shaking fingers. Hopefully it would hold. If not, her boat would end up on the bottom of the Gulf.

She looked over at Blake. He was beside her, holding the two boats together. He extended his free hand. “Get on.”

When she was aboard the Sea Ray, he gradually accelerated. But with every passing second, her hopes sank. They might save her boat, but the motor would be shot.

By the time they reached Snake Key, only the bow was visible above the waves, the motor submerged. Meagan jumped into the water, and moments later Blake was beside her, helping pull the waterlogged johnboat onto the shore. They tipped it on its side, and Blake bent to inspect it. Three nickel-sized holes penetrated the hull, hidden from above by the seat. He swept a finger across the edge of one, then rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

“These were drilled, then filled with something that would dissolve after being in the water awhile.” He reached for his phone. “We need to call the police. It looks like you're not out of danger, after all.”

The police came in the form of Hunter Kingston. A fuming Hunter Kingston.

He stepped ashore and swooped down on her, eyes blazing. “What in the world were you thinking, coming out here alone?”

Blake crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey, what am I, chopped liver?”

Hunter glared at his friend, apparently not any happier with him than he was with her.

Blake glared right back. “Look, she caught me at the marina this morning and wanted to know if I was going out. I said I was, and she asked if she could tag along. She thought the danger was over. We all did. But she was still being cautious.”

“You should have called me.”

“Sorry, I didn't know you were her self-appointed guardian.” Blake stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Or maybe there's more between you two than you're willing to admit.”

In spite of the subdued tone, Meagan heard every word. Hunter didn't respond, just turned that angry glare on her. It wasn't nearly as intimidating with Blake there to absorb some of the hostility.

“You took chances today that were totally unnecessary.” His voice was still raised.

“I didn't come out alone. I made sure someone was with me.” Her volume matched his. She wasn't about to let him intimidate her.
He
was the one who was out of line. Police officers weren't supposed to yell at victims, even if they didn't agree with their choices.

She pointed a finger in his face. “You don't need to be treating me like an errant child. I didn't think I was taking chances. The sedan was gone. You saw it leave.”

“Apparently it came back. Or the creep found another mode of transportation.” Hunter's voice was still raised.

“Or maybe my boat was tampered with two or three weeks ago.” It was possible. She hadn't been out since getting the threatening note.

Blake held up both palms. “I'm going to leave you two to iron this out on your own. I promised Allison fresh fish for dinner, and you're cutting into my fishing time.” He dropped his hands and limped back to his boat.

When Hunter turned to face her again, some of the fire had left his eyes. “Please, just promise me you won't go out alone.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh. It was as if he hadn't heard a word she had said. “I
didn't
go out alone. I was with Blake. He's law enforcement, just like you. He's trained, and he's got lots of experience. And just because there could still be some slim chance that I might be in danger, he went back and got Allison's gun. So I wasn't alone. Far from it.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I don't think your concern is about me going out alone. I think it's about me going somewhere without telling you.”

Hunter threw up his hands. “Okay. I admit it. I'm going crazy worrying about you. I have been ever since I read that note in Darci's store.”

At his admission, her stomach rolled over and a watery weakness filled her legs. That didn't sound like simple professional concern.

She swallowed hard. “Do you worry about all your residents like that?”

He didn't answer immediately, just stared, searching her eyes. Or maybe he was searching within himself.

And suddenly, she didn't want to hear the answer. What if Blake was right? What if there really was more between them than Hunter was willing to admit?

What if there was more between them than
she
was willing to admit?

Please lie. Because I don't want to know the truth.

“No.” His tone was soft, but heavy with resignation. “I don't worry about all my residents like that.”

He began to walk back toward his boat.

“Hey, wait. Where are you going?”

He didn't respond.

She hurried after him. “I need to get my boat back home.”

“We will.”

“How?”

“Duct tape.”

She waded into the water with him. Her camera bag and other items were on his seat. Thank goodness Blake had had the presence of mind to think about her things. When he left, she'd been too wrapped up in her argument with Hunter.

She cast him a doubt-filled glance. “You're really going to fix my boat with duct tape.”

“Not fix it.” He reached into a bin in the back and pulled out the roll of tape. “Just keep it afloat until we get back to Cedar Key.”

He waded to shore with the tape in one hand and a towel draped over his shoulder. “First we'll move your motor to my back transom.”

“Do you think it's salvageable?” She would keep the conversation on safe topics.

“I'm sure it'll need cleaning up, maybe the carburetor rebuilt.” He moved away from the water's edge to lay the towel on dry ground, the tape on top. “I have a friend who's great with small-engine repair. He owes me a favor.”

“But he doesn't owe
me
a favor.”

“Don't worry about it. He's retired, so he's got lots of time on his hands. And he doesn't need the money. His tinkering is more of a hobby.” Hunter smiled over at her. “Besides, he'd do almost anything for a pretty lady.”

Her pulse picked up, and her stomach flipped again. She silently scolded herself. It was a general statement, not aimed specifically at her.