She expected them to go farther than just down the dirt road. “What do you want with Travis?”
Hunter parked his FWC truck in the gravel lot in front of the Outpost and turned to look at her. “Follow my lead, okay?” He came around to her side before she could ask what he meant.
He took her arm in a surprisingly gentle hold, once again throwing Charlee for an emotional loop. Just when she thought he was rock-hard, through and through, he showed these glimpses of softness that had her insides puddling at her feet. She straightened and shoved such nonsense from her mind. Right now, they had to talk to Travis. And she had to convince her family she was fine, so they wouldn’t worry.
They found Natalie behind the counter, talking on the phone. Her eyes lit up, then narrowed as she eyed Charlee up and down. She ended the call, then came around the counter to wrap her in a careful hug. “What are you doing out, Charlee?” She glared at Hunter. “I thought the doctor said she should rest.”
“He did, and I did, but I’m much better now.” She looked around. “Is Travis here?”
Natalie raised her eyebrows. “He’s out by the shed, doing some maintenance on the canoes and kayaks. Why are you looking for him? Usually, you’re avoiding him.”
“We need to ask him a few questions about what happened,” Hunter said from behind Charlee.
Natalie planted her hands on her hips and studied her. “You sure you’re okay, Charlee?”
Charlee crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, hoping to get her little sister to laugh, but ended up swaying slightly, mortified when Hunter steadied her from behind. “Getting better all the time. I should be back to work tomorrow.”
Natalie looked at Hunter, then back at Charlee. “Take your time, Sis. It’s all good.”
“We’ll just go check in with Loverboy Travis,” Hunter said and casually took Charlee’s arm again.
“Loverboy Travis?” Charlee couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t let him hear you say that. The last thing I want is to encourage him.”
Hunter grinned, the hand on her arm distracting her. They found Loverboy in the shed, sitting on a sawhorse, playing a video game on his phone.
“Hey, Travis,” Charlee said.
He jumped and spun around so fast, the phone landed in the dirt. He scooped it up, then hurried over. “Charlee. I didn’t expect to see you today. Are you okay? You look good.”
Hunter interrupted his nervous chatter. “I need to ask you a few questions about what happened the other day.”
“Sure, of course. Whatever you need.”
Hunter waved him back to the sawhorse and leaned against a rack of canoes. Charlee stood beside him, determined to see Travis’s face as he answered the questions. “Walk me through what happened, Travis. You were here at the Outpost in the morning…” He let the statement trail off.
Travis picked up the story. “Right. Once Charlee and the group left, I did a little work for Mr. Tanner, and then he told me I could have the rest of the day off, since Natalie was there.”
“Did you ask for the time off?”
Charlee saw Travis freeze at Hunter’s question.
“I, uh, yeah. I wanted to get out on the river for a while.”
Charlee narrowed her eyes. “You followed me. Why?”
Travis fidgeted with his phone, head down, not meeting their eyes. “I knew it was going to be a tough day for you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“What made it tough for Charlee?”
Hunter’s question made Travis look from one to the other. “The anniversary. Everyone knew that.”
“Not everyone.” Hunter crossed his arms and leaned forward in interrogator pose. “How did you know about it?”
Again, Travis fidgeted. “I heard Mr. Tanner and Pete talking about it a couple days ago.” He paused. “It wasn’t hard to find on the internet.”
Charlee stiffened. “Why did you think I wouldn’t be okay?”
Beside her, she sensed Hunter’s focus sharpen.
Travis’s head snapped up. “You’re awesome, Charlee. A great guide. I just thought you might want a friend along. Especially with that Oliver guy around.” He snapped his jaw shut as though he’d said too much.
“What’s wrong with Oliver?” Hunter asked.
Travis’s chin came up. “He just seemed like he spent too much time watching Charlee.”
“Afraid he was poaching on your territory?” Hunter demanded.
“What? No. Nothing like that.” He turned pleading eyes on Charlee. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all.”
“Maybe you got there and saw Oliver paying a little too much attention to Charlee, so you thought you’d play the hero. Create a little accident and then show up to save the girl and win Charlee’s affection.”
Charlee didn’t think Travis had it in him to devise such a plan.
He jumped to his feet. “No. That’s crazy. I would never hurt anyone.”
“Do you own a gun, Travis?”
His face paled. “No. I hate guns. I’ve never even fired one.”
Hunter motioned for Travis to sit back down. “Okay. Where were you when you heard the gunshots?”
“Not far. Just a few minutes. But as soon as I heard them, I started paddling like crazy.”
“Why? Gunshots aren’t that uncommon out here.”
Travis shrugged. “They sounded different, sorta like a machine gun.”
“How do you know what machine guns sound like? I thought you said you hated guns.”
His head shot up. “I play a lot of first-person-shooter video games. Shotguns sound different.”
“What did you see when you arrived?”
“You were there. You know. Why are you asking me?”
Hunter just waited.
Travis swallowed. Shook his head. “It was horrible. There was blood in the water, and I didn’t see anyone at first. Everyone was hiding in the trees. I thought”—he swallowed hard—“I thought at first that Charlee was dead. That the girl was dead, too.”
“But they weren’t.”
“No.” He looked at Charlee. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”
“When did you call 911?”
A flush crept up his cheeks. “Um, I didn’t. I saw your boat and thought you probably did that.”
Charlee leaped toward Travis, but Hunter’s grip on her arm kept her from getting to him. “Why didn’t you call 911? Did you help do CPR on Brittany?”
When he looked down, shook his head, Charlee shouted, “What is the matter with you? You’ve been trained better than that.”
Travis hitched his chin toward Hunter. “He was already there, doing that. I had to make sure you were okay first. Don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t see at all.” Charlee broke free of Hunter’s grasp to tower over Travis. “We had a guest in trouble, and you did nothing.”
Travis swallowed hard. Hunter made a calming motion with his hands, then looked back at Travis. “Did you pass anyone else on the river on your way there? Anyone who can verify your whereabouts at the time of the shooting?”
Travis paled so much, you could see the veins under his blotchy skin. “I didn’t hurt anyone. You have to believe me.” He looked from one to the other. “I know there was another group of canoes on the river.” He slumped back down. “But I don’t really remember when I passed them. I didn’t shoot anyone.” He looked up, expression stricken. “I’d never hurt you, Charlee.”
“Let’s go,” Charlee said.
Anger spurted through her veins, and she wanted to shake Travis until his teeth rattled. She stomped back toward Hunter’s truck. “That measly coward. He’s done working here. I’ll make sure of that. He should have started CPR right away. He—”
Hunter stepped in front of her. “Take a breath, cher. He thinks he’s in love with you, so his brain is scrambled. What we don’t know is if he fired those shots.”
Charlee took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart, get her anger under control.
Hunter helped her inside the truck, cranked up the air conditioner. “I’ll let your sister know we’re leaving.”
When they pulled up in front of her cottage, she turned to Hunter. “He could easily be the shooter. He knows the river, knows the woods around here. And if he plays those shooter games, he’d know how.”
“Concussion or not, your mind is sharp, cher. I’m thinking along those lines, too.”
As she opened her door, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen, then put the phone to her ear. “Hey, Liz. What’s up?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you. The news about the girl is all over town. It’s horrible. Are you okay?” Before Charlee could answer, Liz fired off more questions.
Charlee understood her worry and waited until Liz finally wound down. “If you stop and take a breath, I’ll answer all forty-two of those questions.”
“Sorry. I’m worried, that’s all. People care about you, and they’re sad and angry—and scared. They’re coming here for comfort food and answers. Do you have any information I can give them?”
“No. That would be up to Hunter. The investigation has barely gotten started.”
“Can you stop by? I need to see you, hug your neck, make sure you’re okay.”
Charlee glanced at Hunter. “Can we pick up some cupcakes and drop them off at the Corner Café?” At his affirmative nod, she said to Liz, “It’s going to take me a little while to get them frosted.”
“That’s fine. As long as I know you’re okay. I really appreciate you bringing more. Are you still with Mr. Yummy?”
Liz had a voice that carried, and when Hunter quirked a brow at that, Charlee felt the blood rush to her face. “Yes, I’m still with Lieutenant Boudreau.”
Liz laughed. “Right. Bet your face is red now, too, isn’t it?”
“Thanks for that, girlfriend.”
Liz chuckled. “Just get over here. Bring cupcakes. And him.” When Charlee started to protest, Liz’s laughter died, and she added quietly, “Be safe, okay? Promise me, Charlee.”
A lump formed in Charlee’s throat. “I will. Thanks.”
* * *
He watched her climb out of the FWC pickup and scowled. He didn’t like the way the lieutenant hovered around her. Didn’t he have other things to do? Like try to figure out what had happened to Brittany? He hadn’t wanted to handle her death that way, and it annoyed him that he’d had to modify his plans. He could, of course, if he wanted to. But he hadn’t wanted to. He liked coming up with a plan, a perfect plan, and then executing it brilliantly. The plan was for Brittany to die on the river. Like Nora.
He ran a hand over his head. No, not like Nora. Because of Charlee, Nora hadn’t died. JJ had. Beautiful JJ, who hadn’t done anything wrong except have females around who constantly belittled him and criticized him and made him feel small. He knew what that was like. Knew what happened when you didn’t have a champion to stand up to the bullies, those ugly female creatures who smiled so sweetly but had all the power and used it to beat you down. JJ should never have died.
And that was Charlee’s fault. If she hadn’t been so worried about stupid Nora, she would have gotten there in time.
He narrowed his eyes when that Boudreau jerk put his hand at the small of Charlee’s back to guide her. Like she was his. Like he’d put his own stamp on her.
Anger tried to burst out, break free. Had the cop dared to do more than look? He’d pay for that. Charlee would pay for that, too. Charlee was his, and it was time she understood that. They had a connection, he and Charlee, a bond, strong and permanent. It had been forged on the Suwannee a year ago and had only gotten stronger in the time since. She might not realize it, but he’d seen how she’d changed this year, how she’d gotten sad, seen how much she needed him. Some Johnny-come-lately wasn’t going to get in the way of that. Not while he was around to stop it.
No, Charlee was his. Until he decided her time was up. Then she wouldn’t be anybody’s. But he would decide when that time came. He alone.
“I’m hungry. Can we eat soon?”
He started at the voice. Had forgotten he wasn’t alone. He took all the anger and all the anticipation and carefully hid them inside so there was no trace of his agitation on his face. He turned, smiled gently. “Of course. What would you like? Should I grill us a couple of burgers?”
A big toothy grin accompanied vigorous head nodding. “Can we get more cupcakes? At the Corner Café? They’re really good.”
He reached over and ruffled his hair. “How about burgers first, then cupcakes later, before we have to work. Sound good?”
The big goofy grin was answer enough. He took meat out of the freezer and then went outside to fire up the grill. The Corner Café was always a good place to pick up the local news and gossip.
* * *
Charlee was surprised at the size of the crowd at the café when she and Hunter arrived.
Liz elbowed her way through the well-wishers and swept the cupcake holders out of Charlee’s hands, then pulled her into a desperate hug.
Charlee tried to lighten the mood as Liz swiped tears from her cheeks. “Great, now you look like a raccoon, with mascara everywhere.”
“Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”
Charlee rolled her eyes. “I’ll do my best.”
She spent the next few minutes getting hugged and questioned by the locals, giving vague answers, and trying to ignore the ache behind her eyeballs. Time for a few more ibuprofen.
Hunter had positioned himself at a little table in the back corner and alternately watched her and everyone coming and going. Which was both unnerving and comforting. As a former cop, she found herself studying people she’d known her whole life with a new and uncomfortable suspicion.
Sammy bounded through the door and wrapped Charlee in a hug that knocked the breath out of her. “Charlee! You’re here. Did you bring more cupcakes?”
She laughed. “For you, Sammy. Always.” She nudged him toward the counter, met Liz’s eyes. “Sammy wants at least two cupcakes, Liz.”
Liz smiled. “Coming right up. Show me which ones you want, Sammy.”
Charlee swept her gaze around the café and had a sudden, unbidden urge to leave, right then. She glanced at Hunter, and something must have shown on her face, because he stood and reached her in three quick strides. “You ready to hit the road?”
She nodded, hugged Liz, and they were out the door.
But as they crossed the threshold, Charlee stopped, scanned the parking lot. Then looked over her shoulder, studied the faces in the café. Someone was watching her. She could feel it.
Hunter stepped up behind her. “Something wrong, cher?”
She studied the parking lot again. Nothing looked out of place, and no one seemed to be paying her any attention. But the feeling persisted. “No, let’s go.”
* * *
Hunter stood behind her as Charlee opened the door to her cottage. She crossed the threshold and almost landed on her butt when she stepped on an envelope and it slid out from under her flip-flop. She took several stumbling steps into the living room but managed to stay on her feet.
“What in the world?” She reached down for the envelope.
“Don’t touch it.” Hunter went back to his truck for gloves and an evidence bag. He carefully opened the manila envelope and pulled out a photo.
Charlee leaned over his shoulder and gasped when she realized what it was. The picture was of her, standing on the porch, holding the newspaper clipping of last year’s death. Her head snapped up, and she looked around. “Somebody’s watching me. Whoever sent this was here the day the clipping came.” A shiver passed over her skin, and she rubbed her arms as she paced.
Hunter slid the photo and envelope into the evidence bag. “Maybe. Maybe not. They wouldn’t have known exactly when it would arrive. It came in the mail?”
Charlee thought back. “Yes, definitely. I saw the Lake City postmark.” She stopped, looked at Hunter. “Someone is trying to creep me out, and they are succeeding.”
“It’s more than that, cher, and you’re too smart not to know it.”
“I do. But until Brittany’s murder, I figured it was Tommy or Sally Jennings, maybe even James, Tommy’s brother, trying to make me pay for some of their anguish, like I said. Now I don’t know what to think.”
“We need to talk to them.”
“Tommy and Sally’s relationship wasn’t great to begin with. I can’t imagine trying to deal with the loss of a child.”
“It’s got to be the hardest thing in the world. But if one of them crossed the line from grieving to revenge, we’ll find out.”
Charlee nodded, her mind spinning. Despite the temperature outside, she felt chilled all the way to her bones and rubbed her arms, wondering if she’d ever feel warm again.
She stood at the kitchen window, looking out. Sunlight flashed between the branches of the huge live oaks that surrounded her cottage, giving the area a fairy-tale feel. The breeze swept through the strands of Spanish moss that swayed from the branches, rustling the leaves.
Something glinted, then disappeared.
Charlee watched, waited.
There.
“Hunter.” The word came out a whisper. He didn’t respond, so he must not have heard her. She said his name again, and he appeared at her elbow.
“What’s wrong?”
She ignored the way the words whispered across the back of her neck and pointed. “There’s something—or someone—in the tree out there. See?”
Together, they waited, watched the moss and leaves.
Whatever is was flashed again, and Hunter muttered, “Stay put,” before he pulled his gun and eased out the back door.