the record,” he replied, cupping her elbow and tugging her along the path. “I like quiet. I like peace. I do not like people bringing drama to my property.”
“I didn’t bring this. It was here when I arrived.”
“If you’d stayed away, you wouldn’t have walked into it.”
“If I’d stayed away, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to meet you. Which was the entire purpose of my trip to Maine.”
“Normal people don’t travel six hundred miles to meet with strangers. Especially if the strangers they plan to meet don’t know they’re coming.”
“I never said I was normal.” She pulled his coat a little closer, using the movement to dislodge his hand from her elbow.
“If you’re not, then we have something in common.” He grabbed her arm, and this time she didn’t think she was going to maneuver away from him. “Because I’m not the typical hospitable rural resident who’d happily offer food and ride to someone who broke down in front of his house. I don’t like unexpected visitors, Trinity. Generally speaking, I ignore them.”
“I got that impression from the interviews you did a couple of years back.”
“I don’t like having my work interrupted,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “And, I for sure don’t like to be lied to, manipulated, or used.”
“I hope you’re not implying that I’m trying to do any of those things.”
“The timing of your arrival is suspect.”
“What does that mean?”
“The sheriff wants to speak with you.”
“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m happy to speak with the sheriff.”
“I’m sure Judah will be happy to hear that.”
“Judah?”
“Dillon. He’s the sheriff. We’ve been friends for a long time.”
“Sounds like you’re still trying to scare me.”
“Why would I? Unless you’ve done something wrong, you’ve got nothing to be scared of.”
He’d given her an opening, another opportunity to try to tell him about Henry. She wasn’t going to miss it. “I already told you, I’m here for a friend. Her son has cancer in his right femur, and the leg will have to be amputated. I came to—”
“You can tell Judah. He’ll be able to fact-check.”
“Is there some reason why you don’t want to hear what I have to say?”
“Aside from the things I already mentioned? No.”
“Then maybe I should clear things up for you. I have no intention of lying to you, of using you or of manipulating you.”
“I noticed you didn’t mention not arriving unexpectedly, not bringing chaos and not distracting me from my work.”
“I didn’t bring chaos, and—”
“Tell that to the guy who’s bleeding on the beach.”
“Was he shot?” she asked, hurrying along beside him.
“Yes.”
“Was he one of the guys who chased me through the woods?”
“I have no idea. He did have a gun.”
“Is he dead?”
“Not yet.”
“Is he going to die?”
“How about we play Twenty Questions after you talk to the sheriff?”
She’d rather ask the questions now, but she had the feeling she’d pushed Mason as far as he was willing to be pushed. Any more questions and he might shut her out completely. That would make it a lot more difficult to broach the subject of Henry again.
She pressed her lips together, sealing in a dozen more things she wanted to ask.
Let him have what he wanted—silence and peace.
For now.
They reached the beach and stepped off the trail, heading toward a group of people standing near the water’s edge. Several more people were kneeling beside a prone figure. A man. Trinity couldn’t see his face, but she could see the dark blood spreading beneath him. A lot of blood. Too much. If they didn’t get him to the hospital soon, he’d die. The tense silence of the crowd said they knew it.
Someone stepped away from the group, walking toward Trinity and Mason with a long brisk stride that reminded her of her Chance. Her oldest brother had a way of commanding attention without even trying. This guy seemed to do the same. He met her eyes as he approached.
“Ma’am,” he said. “I’m Sheriff Judah Dillon, Whisper Sheriff’s Department.”
“I’m Trinity Miller.”
“From Annapolis, Maryland,” he said. “We ran the plates on your Jeep. You want to tell me what brought you to Whisper?” he asked.
“I came to see Mason.”
“He says he doesn’t know you.”
“He doesn’t. I wanted to speak with him about a friend.” She glanced at Mason. He was watching her dispassionately and didn’t seem inclined to verify her story.
“I see,” the sheriff said.
It was obvious that he didn’t. He hadn’t asked enough questions to understand her motive, and it didn’t look like he was going to.
“Sheriff—” she began, but he raised a hand, cutting her off.
“I’ll have a deputy take you to the station. You can warm up there. I’ll take your statement when I finish here.”
“I’d rather not—”
Too late, he’d already motioned to a young-looking deputy who seemed eager to do whatever the sheriff wanted. What he wanted was to get Trinity out of the way.
“Get her some coffee and let her wait in my office. We’ll make a decision about pressing charges after I figure out what’s going on,” he said as the deputy took her arm and started leading her away.
“Charges? For what?” she protested, suddenly understanding something her nearly frozen brain hadn’t been able to process before. They thought she was a criminal, that she was someone connected to the guy who was lying on the ground bleeding.
“We’ll make that decision later,” the sheriff repeated, already turning away and walking back toward the fallen man.
“But,
