Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #1 (54 page)

“You're probably right.”

He picked up a knife and spread some jelly on his toast. “Guess what she drives.”

“A white sedan with tinted windows.”

“Yep, a Cadillac DeVille.”

“Any pink paint?”

“No. But she could have had it touched up. Or maybe it didn't leave any, especially since the bike was probably already lying down when she ran over it. We actually had checked out the car previously. It was one of the three with plates beginning 56Y. We didn't make the connection to the pilot, though, because the last name was different. Sally Ferguson is Bruce Jennings's half sister. Same mother, different fathers.”

“Wow.” Meagan wiped her mouth with her napkin and shook her head. “All this time I've been thinking about Charlie, wondering how someone connected with him could have found me in Cedar Key.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“So where does Sally live?”

“At her brother's place in Fanning Springs.” At Meagan's raised brow, he continued. “It's a little town at the northernmost edge of Levy County. At this very moment, we're waiting for a warrant to search the place. Gorman's going to let me know, and I'll head there once I drop you off at work.”

Meagan finished the last of her omelet and sat back in her chair. “I can't believe this might be over soon.” A relaxed smile climbed up her cheeks and settled in her eyes. “It's going to feel so good to have my life back. And I have you to thank.”

“Me and a bunch of other people.”

“But you're the one who has stuck by me the closest, above and beyond the call of duty.” Her eyes filled with admiration. “You're a good man, Hunter Kingston.”

“And you're a special lady.”

She gave him a rueful smile. “I'm a mess.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “With everything you've been through in the past year, you have every right to be a mess. But you're not. You're amazing.” And if he wasn't careful, he was going to find himself caring for her much more than he should.

The waitress approached with their check, and he pulled back his hand. After paying the bill, he walked Meagan to the door. The moment they stepped into the crisp morning air, a notification sounded on his phone. It was a text from Gorman, short and sweet—
We have the warrant
—followed by an address.

Meagan climbed into his truck, excitement radiating from her. “Let me know what you find out.”

“I will.” He closed the door and circled around to the driver's side. He was supposed to be off today. But they were possibly on the verge of their big break. And he wouldn't miss it for anything.

He eased to a stop in front of Darci's store and watched Meagan enter before pulling away from the curb. There was one thing he hadn't told her, something he would never tell her.

Yesterday they'd received the preliminary autopsy report. And it wasn't at all what he had expected. The pilot didn't die from injuries sustained in the crash. True, he had a broken neck, but that wasn't what had killed him. He had drowned.

Hearing the news was like having a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. He couldn't tell Meagan. If she learned the truth, she would be devastated.

When he pulled up to the address Levy County had given him, the detectives were at the door, warrant in hand. This was no little cabin in the woods. It was an impressive two-story house situated on an acre or two right on the river. The pilot obviously had had some money. Or maybe it was his daddy's money. At any rate, he had lived well.

Hunter stepped from the car and approached the house. The three-car garage was to the left, the top quarter of each door sporting a row of windows.

He peeked inside. The white sedan was there. So was a red Ford Explorer. A sticker on the bumper of the SUV said I'd Rather Be Flying,
and there was a Browning deer hunting logo on the back window.

His pulse picked up speed. He knew that Explorer. He had seen it around town, driven by a woman, if he remembered correctly. After trying to run over Meagan, she had apparently kept the sedan hidden and found a way back home, maybe took a cab. All while they had been looking for a white sedan, Sally Ferguson had been moving freely about town in a Ford Explorer.

None of the management companies on Cedar Key had a record of her renting a house or condo. He had checked yesterday. But that didn't mean anything. She could have checked in under an assumed name and paid cash. Or rented from an individual.

Hunter moved toward the front door. As he stepped onto the porch, the two detectives turned around. He introduced himself, although it wasn't necessary. They had communicated via phone several times during the past three days.

Detective Gorman tilted his head toward the door. “She's not answering. We may have to enter forcibly.”

Hunter nodded. “The sedan is in the garage, along with a red Ford Explorer that I know I've seen around Cedar Key over the past couple of weeks.”

Detective Franklin frowned. “When we talked to her a few weeks ago, she insisted that she hadn't been to Cedar Key in years. Obviously, she was lying.”

After finding all the doors locked, Franklin kicked in the front one and the three of them entered, weapons drawn. Hunter crept through the house with the detectives as they cleared each room, his senses on full alert. Chances were good that she was gone. But he wasn't counting on it. She was dangerous. He knew that firsthand.

Once certain they were alone, the detectives spread out, going in different directions. Hunter chose his own. Off the side of the foyer was a den. He'd gotten a brief look when Gorman checked the room on first entering.

He pushed open the massive double doors and stepped inside. This was Bruce Jennings's space, definitely a man cave—from the dark walnut paneling, to the large mahogany desk and other heavy furniture, to the half-dozen deer heads mounted on the walls, trophies from hunting trips.

But what snagged his gaze and held it was the impressive collection of bows and arrows on display. Some were simple archery bows, made of gracefully curved wood, a grip and a taut bowstring. Others were metal crossbows, much more complicated. And much more lethal. Capable of killing someone with the pull of a trigger.

In the center of one wall was an empty hook. One bow was missing—likely the weapon that had fired the shot intended to kill Meagan. His right hand went to his shoulder. Two and a half weeks had passed, and as long as he didn't lift his arm, he was doing well. He hardly knew he'd been injured, except for occasional twinges. And a nasty red scar. If Sally Ferguson was the expert archer her brother had been, Meagan would be dead.

Now they had two obvious things linking Sally to the attempts on Meagan's life—the white sedan and a missing crossbow. A bottle of cyanide would seal the case up tight.

He moved to the other side of the room, where an oak gun cabinet stood against the wall. Although it wasn't full, an array of rifles and shotguns were displayed in the wide center portion, and several pistols occupied the two narrower side sections. The glass doors were locked. But that didn't mean Sally didn't have a key. Chances were good that she did. And had already armed herself.

Hunter had just stepped into the foyer when Detective Franklin's voice came from the back of the house. “Hey, Gorman, Kingston.”

When he entered the kitchen, Franklin was holding a jar in one latex-covered hand. “I found this under the sink.”

Hunter raised a brow. “Cyanide?”

“The label says sodium ferrocyanide.” The detective unscrewed the lid and tilted the jar. It was half empty. Yellow crystalline granules filled the bottom.

“What is it?” Hunter was no chemist, but cyanide in the name didn't sound good.

“Not exactly cyanide.” Gorman squatted to look under the sink. “But it can be used to make cyanide.” He stood moments later, holding a canister. “Sodium carbonate, for adjusting a pool's pH. It's available at any pool supply store. Combine it with sodium ferrocyanide in the right proportions, heat it up and you have almost pure cyanide. There are a few more steps than that, but you get the gist.”

“I think we have a pretty good idea of who made the cyanide-laced brownies.” Franklin's tone was serious.

They didn't find anything else while searching the rest of the house. But they didn't need to. With a pool out back, Sally Ferguson would be expected to have sodium carbonate. But the average homeowner had no reason to be in possession of a jar of sodium ferrocyanide. Combined with her access to a wide assortment of bows, one of which was missing, and the fact that she owned a car fitting the description of the one that had almost hit Meagan, Hunter had no doubt they had identified Meagan's stalker. They would swear out a warrant for her arrest and watch the house until she was caught.

As he walked into the afternoon sun with Gorman and Franklin, relief swept over him, even excitement. They had done it. They had solved the case. He could hardly wait to call Meagan.

But as he got into his truck, a sudden dose of reality punched him in the chest. Soon Sally Ferguson would no longer be a threat.

But Edmund was still out there. And Edmund wanted her dead just as surely as Sally did. Maybe he wasn't as immediate a threat. Maybe the tough guy who had come to Nature's Landing and questioned Anna really had been a reporter.

But whatever Meagan did, wherever she went, there was always the chance that someday Edmund would find her. That knowledge was like an ominous black cloud. Although it seemed farther away at times, it never really lifted.

As long as Edmund was still out there, Meagan would never be truly free.

SEVEN

M
eagan put a piece of key lime pie into her mouth and closed her eyes, savoring the tangy sweetness. Hunter had thought that, since they had finally identified her stalker, it was time to celebrate. She had insisted that their celebration was premature and should wait until Sally Ferguson was actually apprehended. Hunter won the argument.

So here they were, for the second time that day, sitting across the table from each other. This time it was at the Island Hotel Restaurant, one of Cedar Key's finest dining establishments. Dessert plates sat in front of them, and a candle flickered in the middle of the table. The quaint setting, the dim lighting and the soft music playing in the background contributed to the romantic atmosphere. So much so that Meagan had to keep telling herself there was no romance between her and Hunter. With each reminder, disappointment stabbed through her.

She hadn't wanted to fall for him. She hadn't wanted to fall for anyone. But from the moment he'd pulled her out of the water after the plane crash, their lives had become inextricably bound. And no matter how she fought to hold on to her resolve, every time she saw the concern in those blue eyes, the wall she had placed around her heart got a little thinner, until now there was nothing left.

She swallowed the bite she had just taken, and smiled at Hunter. Their dinner conversation had spanned all kinds of topics, the last of which was his sister, Amber. Before that, they had covered everything from their childhoods, to their likes and dislikes, to life in Cedar Key. Everything except Edmund and Sally Ferguson. Hunter had probably planned it that way. And she was grateful. The evening had been a true escape.

He sliced into a piece of hot apple pie. “Amber's planning to spend a few days here next month.”

“Will she stay with you?”

“I hope not.” He laughed. “She's coming with three friends. Four women in my small two-bedroom house would be estrogen overload.” He once again grew serious. “When she comes, I'll introduce you. She would like you.”

Meagan's heart fluttered at the thought of Hunter introducing her to his family. Then she silently scolded herself. Introducing his sister to his friends when she came to visit wasn't the same as bringing the new girlfriend to meet the parents. Far from it.

“So I assume it's just you and Amber, right? No other siblings?”

His gaze dipped to the table before he answered. “No, I have a twin brother.”

“Really? Where is he?” His sister had come up in conversation a couple times, but he had never mentioned having a brother.

“Starke.” Disdain underscored the word. Or maybe it was embarrassment.

“Starke?”

He met her eyes. “Florida State Prison.”

“Hey, almost every family has someone who has ended up on the wrong side of the law. It's not a big deal.”

He scowled at her. “I'm a cop, and I have a brother who's doing fifteen years.”

“That's still no reflection on you.” She speared her last piece of pie and put it into her mouth. “So who's older, you guys or Amber?”

“We are, by five years.”

“I'm the older child, too, by six years. My sister and I had our issues, but if anybody picked on her, I was all over them.” She started to smile at the fond memories. Then a pang of homesickness shot through her, turning that warmth into searing pain.

Hunter's eyes filled with tenderness. “I can tell you miss her. Someday you'll be with her again. Your mom, too. Don't give up hope.”

Meagan nodded. “When I see Darci with her mom, I feel so homesick for my own I can hardly stand it. But I'm glad Darci has her, especially now.”

“How is she doing with getting Jayden into a program?”

Meagan frowned. “That's a good question. She had an appointment with someone Friday afternoon, but we were so busy at the store this morning, we never got a chance to talk about it. Then she left, and I was by myself this afternoon.”

“I'll see her in church tomorrow.” Hunter took a sip of the coffee that the waitress had just refilled. “Why don't you join us? We can give
him
a break.” He tilted his head toward the undercover detective who sat two tables away. He was just starting what looked like a slice of some kind of chocolate decadence.

She smiled. “Right now he's probably not minding this assignment too much.”

“You're probably right. At least this part of it. Hanging out in Darci's store all day or hiding in your neighbor's bushes isn't nearly as pleasant. But I suppose you have to take the good with the bad.” Hunter scooped up another bite of apple pie. “So what do you say?”

She lifted her brows. “About what?”

“Going to church with me.”

“Thanks, but I think I'll pass.”

“Come on, it's got to beat sitting at home, bored.”

“I don't get bored. I read, I draw, I paint. I've never had time for boredom.” She took a sip of coffee, its warmth soothing. Something had been bothering her ever since learning of Jayden's diagnosis. “I'm a little upset at God right now.”

“Why? What did God do to you?”

“It's not what He did to me. It's what He
didn't
do for somebody who really deserved it.”

“Darci,” he answered immediately. The man was perceptive, if nothing else.

She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “During the time she was waiting for Jayden's test results, she was praying so hard for the diagnosis to come back good. I know her mom was praying, and you were, and she said everyone at church was, too.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Darci's such a good person. She's always giving of herself. Those middle school girls she teaches adore her. It's obvious every time one of them comes into the store. You don't get that kind of love and respect unless you give it. And no matter what she says, I know she offered me this job because I was at the end of my rope, not because she really needed me.” She set down her fork and crossed her arms. “If anyone deserves to have their prayers answered, it's Darci. But God ignored her. And I think that just stinks.”

“God never ignores His children. Sometimes we don't get the answers we want. But the answer is always there, along with the strength to face whatever lies ahead. God has given Darci that strength. You can see she hasn't buckled under this.”

No, she hadn't. Just the opposite. She seemed to be facing the whole situation with a calm confidence that frankly didn't make sense.

But Darci was strong. She had the responsibility of her business, as well as raising a son. She had never mentioned Jayden's father, but he clearly wasn't involved in her or Jayden's lives. So she was on her own. With the diagnosis, the job of raising a child alone got a whole lot harder. But she wasn't falling apart. Yes, Darci had strength enough for ten women.

Was that strength innate? A basic part of her personality? Or was she drawing from something outside of herself, a higher power?

Hunter leaned toward her, his gaze earnest. “God doesn't promise to keep us from trouble. But He does promise to walk with us through it. To give us peace in the midst of the storm.”

Peace in the midst of the storm. Was it really possible? She had endured a lot of storms during her life. But over the past year, they had been full-blown hurricanes. And they weren't done yet. She could use some of that peace Hunter was talking about.

“I'll think about it. Probably not tomorrow, but maybe another week.” She laid her cloth napkin on the table and stood. “I'm going to go to the restroom before we head home.”

As she made her way out of the dining room, her eyes fell on a table in the corner. A woman sat there alone, a hardcover book open in front of her. She glanced up from her reading as Meagan passed. Although the woman offered her a smile, it didn't reach her eyes. Instead there was something else there, an odd sort of intensity.

Meagan shook off the sense of uneasiness that trickled over her and continued toward the restrooms. The only threat to her life right now was Sally Ferguson. Hunter had shown her pictures, and the lone woman sitting in the corner wasn't her. Sally carried an extra twenty or thirty pounds, and her auburn hair was short, tapering to a point on each side at her jawline. The woman in the restaurant had long blond hair, and if she had excess fat on her body anywhere, she was doing a great job of hiding it.

While Meagan was inside the stall, the bathroom door creaked open. The same uneasiness she had felt when passing by the woman slid over her again. She brushed it aside. She was in a restaurant, a public place. Chances were good she wouldn't have the restroom to herself.

Heels clicked against the wood floor, and the lock in the adjoining stall slid into position. Some of the tension left Meagan's body. Just a patron of the restaurant here for the same reason she was. She exited the stall and turned on the water at the sink.

As she reached for the soap, the other stall door opened. It was the blonde from the corner table. She carried a purse over her shoulder, one of those oversize bags so popular now.

When Meagan met her gaze in the mirror, coldness spread through her core. If hatred could be expressed through nothing more than the eyes, this woman had mastered the art. She walked straight to the door, reaching into her bag as she went. But instead of pulling the door open, she twisted the lock.

Meagan stiffened and drew in a sharp breath. A single scream would have both Hunter and the undercover detective kicking in the door.

But she never got the opportunity. When the woman turned, she held a pistol in her hand. And pointed it at Meagan's chest.

“You make a peep, and you'll get a bullet right through your heart.”

Meagan held up both hands. “You don't want to do that. There are two law enforcement officers in the next room. If you fire that weapon, there's no chance you'll walk out of here.”

The woman threw back her head and laughed, the sound full of contempt. “I fire this weapon and no one will know until someone walks in here and finds you dead in your own blood.”

Meagan's eyes dipped to the gun. Something was attached to the end of the barrel. Probably a silencer.

“What do you want? Money? I don't have any on me. I left my purse at the table.” Even as the words tumbled out, she knew. She wasn't being mugged. She was locked in the bathroom with Sally Ferguson. She'd been duped. They all had. Because Sally didn't look at all like her pictures.

She wore thick-rimmed glasses, and she had lost weight, at least twenty pounds, probably more. And her hair was all wrong. It was obviously a wig. Meagan silently scolded herself. She shouldn't have been so easily fooled. She was a master of disguises herself.

Her thoughts spun, ticking through her options. Sally wanted her dead and would have no qualms about shooting her and letting her die on the bathroom floor. If there was any chance of making it though this night alive, she would have to go along with whatever the woman wanted. And keep ever alert for any opportunity to escape.

Sally made a quick motion with the gun. “Over there, against the wall.” She moved to the window and opened the blinds. “Turn around. You try anything and you're dead.”

Meagan turned to face the wall. A moment later the lock clicked, and wood scraped against wood as the window slid up in its track. Her blood turned to ice. Was Sally going to shoot her in the back, then escape through the window?

“All right. Now climb out. And hurry up.”

The breath she'd been holding spilled out in a relieved sigh. She crossed the small bathroom and put her head through the window. It opened onto the hotel's patio garden. No one was there. Of course, Sally had probably already checked that out.

Meagan raised one leg and swung it through the opening. Several seconds later, she dropped to the ground and surveyed her surroundings. Wrought-iron tables and chairs sat on the brick pavers. An abundance of plants softened the area, and palm trees grew near one wall. A wooden gate opened onto Second Street. If she could make it out the gate...

Sally pointed the gun through the opening. “Don't even think about running. I'm a good shot. You'll never outrun my bullet.”

Meagan hesitated. The sun had set some time ago, but it wasn't dark. An almost-full moon shone down, assisted by two strings of lights draping the perimeter of the garden. If Sally's pistol skills were like her skills with a crossbow, Meagan might stand a chance. But she wouldn't risk her life to find out.

Sally negotiated the window easily and joined her within moments.

“Now we're going to walk. I'm putting the gun in the bag. But I can have it back out in two seconds flat. So don't get any ideas.”

Sally led her out the gate, then through a series of left turns until they were headed west on Third. It was less traveled than Second. But up ahead, a couple moved toward them, walking hand in hand.

Sally leaned closer. “If you even think about trying to get their help, they die first, so you can watch. And then you die.”

Hopelessness descended on her. The farther she got from downtown, the less chance she had of surviving the night. She squared her shoulders. Maybe she
would
die tonight. But she wasn't going to be responsible for innocent people losing their lives.

The couple passed them, and she waited to speak until they were out of hearing range. “Why are you doing this? What have I done?”

“You know what you did. You were there and didn't even try to save him.”

“I saw the plane go down. But when I motored out there, your brother was already dead.”

“No, he wasn't. He was still alive, and you let him drown. You chose to save the senator and let my brother die.”

“He was dead. His neck was broken.”

“It was broken, but you could have saved him.”

“How?”

“Gotten him out of the plane the way you did the senator. Instead, you let him drown.”