Treasure Point Secrets. Sarah Varland
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The chief turned to him.
“What if I want to ride with Shiloh—Officer Evans?”
The chief’s eyes narrowed a little. “As I said,” he replied slowly, “she would have been my first choice. But considering the fact that she could be in danger—and you’re an untrained civilian—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I noticed on Saturday that Shiloh rode alone. Was her partner out, or is she always solo?”
“She doesn’t have a partner at the moment.”
“So there’s no one to watch her back.” Adam’s heart pounded harder as the plan solidified in his mind. “If I’m with her, at least someone will have her six. I’ll stay in the car when you think I should, but if you think the attack by the bridge is serious enough to warrant an investigation, then that means she’s at risk. And in that case, I want to be there, at least as another set of eyes.”
The older man studied him for a full minute or more before speaking. “All right. You can ride with her. But your job as far as protecting her goes no further than being there to call for backup if she’s unable to do so. I won’t have civilians getting injured in my department. Are we clear?”
Relief and utter fear overwhelmed him. “Yes. Thank you, sir,” Adam said as he stood and left the office, his mind still spinning out of control until it finally landed on one clear thought.
Shiloh was going to kill him.
* * *
Shiloh returned home after a downright boring shift and sorted through a stack of mail on the counter. Electric bill. Water bill. A letter from an old friend from college.
A hand-addressed envelope. No postage. The sender was in town and wanted to make sure she knew it.
Shiloh dropped the envelope and found her gaze immediately drawn to the window several feet from her. The woods—though they were far in the distance—would make good cover for someone wanting to hide. She felt her skin crawl at the knowledge that she could be standing in the crosshairs of someone’s sniper rifle.
She pulled the cord and dropped the blinds, startling at the crash they made as the bottom landed on the windowsill. Every sense went on alert as Shiloh chided herself for being so careless. Someone had tried to kill her just days ago and she’d gone about life as though it was business as usual. This wasn’t the time to relax. Relaxing got you killed.
She turned, studied the envelope where it sat on the counter. Shiloh weighed her options. Even in a department as small as Treasure Point’s, the police station would have tools she didn’t have to confirm or deny whether anything dangerous could be sealed inside. But the contents of the letter might include information about her past that she wasn’t ready to share. Did she take the risk?
She eyed the envelope again. It was stupid to handle this herself. She knew it was. She knew it when she walked to the cabinet under the kitchen sink where she kept her latex gloves, and when she pulled the collar of her shirt over her mouth and nose as she gently unsealed the letter.
Once it was open, she let out a breath. No suspicious substances, nothing out of the ordinary except for the note inside.
Forget about the past and the people from your past. It won’t do anyone any good for you to keep remembering. You don’t want to end up like your cousin.
Shiloh choked out a muffled sob at the mention of her cousin. Annie had been just shy of her thirtieth birthday. Too young—much, much too young—to die in the line of duty. But her cousin had eaten, slept and breathed law enforcement and given each case everything she had had. In this instance, that had been her life.
The room spun, and Shiloh closed her eyes to escape it, shoving the note back inside the envelope as she did so. The tone didn’t seem blatantly threatening. The first part seemed almost concerned about her; the last line was the only one to speak of danger.
Something didn’t feel right. Shiloh shook her head and opened her eyes. Why would this person try to kill her and then send her a warning note? In situations like this, the crimes and attacks usually escalated; they didn’t go backward in terms of threat level, as this did. She searched her mind for explanations, something that would make everything clear, but found nothing. Were they toying with her? Trying to confuse and scare her?
Shiloh didn’t know.
She left the mail on the counter and walked to her bedroom. She’d take a hot shower, read the book she was in the middle of and see if she could make sense of everything happening in her life. The resurgence of the threat she’d thought had dissipated, Adam’s reappearance in her life... It was all too much to take in within a few days.
Yet again she wondered if the two were connected but dismissed the idea. Whoever was threatening her had no connection to Adam—she was certain of that. Adam may be a lot of things—she could make a long, insulting list—but he’d never threaten or attack her. That made one person—two, if she counted the chief—in this town that she could trust if she needed help.
As much as Shiloh preferred to rely on herself, she knew it was smart to have contingency plans. Too bad the one man she felt she could trust the most was the one she’d handed her heart to, only to have it stomped to bits and then returned.
Shiloh turned the shower on to a scalding temperature and breathed in the steam. She always felt better after a good, long shower. Even though these were bigger problems than she’d faced in a while, it would help with those, too, at least a little.
Shiloh was in the middle of shampooing her hair when she heard the first rumble of thunder in the distance. Her long, relaxing shower would have to be a quick one. She hurried her pace and tried to calm the pounding of her heart as the thunder grew louder and more frequent. By the time she had showered and then dressed, rain pelted her little house, and thunder shook the windows violently.
It was a fitting end for the afternoon she’d had, and Shiloh was confident of one thing: it was going to be a very long night.
* * *
Adam sat in his rented house, listening to the howling storm trying to find its way inside. It had succeeded in the kitchen via a leak in the corner of the ceiling. He’d have to fix that once it dried.
He made his way to the garage, eager to work out the tension of the day on his boxing bag. He’d hung it up Sunday afternoon after going back to Savannah following church to pick up his dog, his belongings, which he’d put in a storage unit after moving from Atlanta, and a U-Haul trailer. He hadn’t boxed seriously since he’d finished college, but it was the best way he knew to burn off stress. It also helped him focus while he prayed, especially if he was wrestling with something.
Tonight it was Shiloh.
He’d seen her in town once or twice, but they hadn’t spoken since that first day. Not that it seemed to matter to Adam’s heart or mind. He kept thinking of her, of the way things used to be. Wondering if she was in danger now. Wishing he could do something to protect her if she was. His tumultuous thoughts about her made it difficult for him to focus on anything else.
He’d been in love with her once—before she’d broken his heart