Dark Harbor
Author
Christy Barritt
Reads
15.9K
Chapters
29
Chapter 1
ONE
Madelyn Sawyer glanced into her rearview mirror again and her pulse spiked. The white truck with the dent in its front bumper was still there. Still following her.
She drew in an uneven breath as she dragged her eyes back to the highway in front of her. The road ahead was fairly empty aside from a tractor trailer that had passed her a few minutes earlier and an old school bus full of migrant workers that had just pulled onto the street.
Madelyn was still ten minutes away from her end destination: the small bay town of Waterman’s Reach. Would the truck follow her all the way there?
As the sun continued to sink lower on the horizon, her thoughts raced. Was someone trying to scare her, keep tabs on her or harm her? None of the options made her feel better.
There was already enough secrecy surrounding her assignment in the small fishing community. The last thing she needed was to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Apparently, she already had.
She glanced in the mirror again. Each glimpse of the truck ratcheted up her nerves. What was she going to do?
The truck had been behind her for the past twenty miles. Madelyn had tried to blow it off by rationalizing that many people traveled this route straight from Maryland all the way to Norfolk, Virginia. The region, known as the Eastern Shore, was a strip of land, a peninsula that was surrounded by the ocean on one side and the Chesapeake Bay on the other.
She’d gotten off the highway twice to test the truck. The vehicle may have disappeared for short periods, but it always appeared again behind her. She didn’t know what was going on or why someone would follow her.
But she had to end this. Now.
With her grip tight on the steering wheel, she swerved onto a side street. She hoped her GPS would reroute her to the duplex where she was staying and that being on a secluded road with the truck wouldn’t lead to more danger. Losing the truck was all she could think of.
Unfortunately, she’d been trained as a journalist and not in defensive or evasive driving techniques. Maybe she should add those to her bucket list. At times like this it would come in handy.
Though the speed limit was only thirty-five, she gunned the engine of her eight-year-old sedan. The Nissan wasn’t what it used to be, and her motor groaned as she accelerated.
She didn’t care. She’d worry about her car later. Right now she wanted to get away and lose this truck once and for all. She feared her very life might depend on it.
The road was narrow with deep ditches on either side. Maybe pulling off hadn’t been the greatest of ideas. Her location allowed little room for error. She became more secluded with every rotation of the tires.
Madelyn glanced in the rearview mirror again. The truck had turned after her!
Her heart rate ratcheted again. What was she going to do? None of this made sense.
Only one person knew her real reason for coming here—her editor. Paula would have no reason to expose Madelyn’s true intentions—it would cost them the story of a lifetime if she did. Something was seriously wrong.
A half a mile later she swerved into a gravel lane and gunned it, traveling down the street as quickly as possible. She had to lose the truck. As she pulled into a service road ending in the woods, she heard a pop. Her car bounced and bumped.
She’d busted a tire, she realized.
Great.
She’d have to address that in a moment. For now, she cut her car lights, hoping she’d remain concealed in the shadows.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited. Would the truck follow her? Trap her here?
If that happened, what would the driver do to her? Did he want to hurt her?
None of this made sense.
She continued to wait, her heart pounding out of control. She imagined the pain she might endure if the wrong person found her. Torture. Suffering. Who knew what else?
Each thought caused her anxiety to skyrocket even more.
As perspiration sprinkled her forehead, she glanced at the time. It had been five minutes and no truck. Could she really have lost him? It seemed too good to be true.
She sucked on her bottom lip a moment, still trying to figure out why she would be followed. There was only one person who wouldn’t want her to write the article, and that was the town’s police chief, Zach Davis. But even he didn’t know she was coming or what her real motivation was.
As far as everyone else knew, she was writing a travel article on the quaint town. Its location between the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean made it an ideal spot for the flourishing seafood industry.
Madelyn wasn’t here for the fishing, though. She didn’t even like to eat seafood, truth be told. But she was here to fish for what could be the story of her life.
Being here was precarious. Her assignment involved a trace amount of deceit. But the rewards outweighed the risks. At least, that’s what she told herself. Her conscience kept contradicting the thought.
She justified her actions with one word: justice. She could expose wrongs done by the arrogant and help them to get the negative exposure they deserved. It was what every good journalist wanted—to be a voice of change and reason. To make a difference. To impact the world.
She held her breath as a shadow overtook the mouth of the service road. Another vehicle was coming toward her, she realized.
Her blood spiked with adrenaline. She needed a weapon, a way to protect herself. But she had nothing. And she’d secluded herself in the middle of the woods where no one would hear her scream.
Her cell phone, she realized. She could call for help! Except when Madelyn turned it on, her screen showed she had no reception.
Before she could second-guess herself, Madelyn climbed from the car, grabbed her purse and darted into the woods. She ran as hard as she could, her ankles twisting in her heels. She couldn’t be sure how far she’d gotten. But when she saw the car pull up behind hers, she froze, ducking behind a tree. She couldn’t risk being spotted.
Peering out, she watched carefully as the vehicle came to a stop behind hers, essentially blocking her in. Only, it wasn’t the white truck. It was a police cruiser.
She sucked in a quick breath.
A police cruiser?
Dread filled her when she saw the man who’d stepped out. Zach Davis. She’d recognize him anywhere thanks to all of the research she’d done on the man. Just because he was knock-me-over gorgeous with his curly blond hair and blue eyes didn’t mean he was a good guy.
Was he trying to stop Madelyn before she got to town and uncovered all of the unsavory moments of his life?
Was he somehow working with the driver of that white truck? It was the only thing that made sense. He must have somehow found out Madelyn was coming and planned his defense. All of her assumptions about the man were proving to be true. He deserved to be locked behind bars.
He marched toward her car and peered inside.
Madelyn made sure not to move, to remain perfectly still.
As the police chief straightened, his gaze skimmed the area.
Madelyn held her breath. Would he see her? For her safety, she prayed he didn’t. Because if he was as dangerous as she thought, she was in real trouble.
* * *
Zach Davis sensed he was being watched. As he scanned the woods, his gaze tried to zero in on something out of place. Proof teased the edge of awareness. Something was there. Hidden yet possible to find.
His hand went to his gun, just to be safe.
He’d gotten a report of a car driving erratically in this area. Since he was already close by, he’d decided to check it out. He’d followed the trail of dust on the gravel lane and found the burgundy Nissan. Where had the driver gone?
He’d already recorded the license plate number, and the car’s make and model. He’d run them soon. Until then, he had to pinpoint why he felt like he was being watched.
“I know you’re there. Come out.” His hand remained on his gun. “Let’s make this easy on both of us.”
A squirrel scattered up a tree. A bird chirped as it hurried across the canopy of branches overhead. A fly buzzed at his ear.
But silence was the only response from the person hiding. Usually people only hid when they were guilty of something. What was this person up to?
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he continued. He shifted, trying to get a better look. He saw a gleam as sunlight hit something reflective. Sunglasses maybe?
A woman, he realized.
“I’m Police Chief Zach Davis from Waterman’s Reach. I won’t hurt you. We just need to talk.”
Again, nothing.
He stepped closer, afraid he would scare the woman and she’d take off in a run. She’d get lost in these woods. There were miles and miles of them out here. If the woods didn’t get to her, the wild animals would. Cottonmouths had been especially rampant this year.
“I have all of the time in the world,” he continued. “You can try to wait me out, but it won’t work. You can run, but you’re going to put yourself at risk of getting lost, getting injured or being dinner for some of the wildlife out here. It’s your choice. I’d say I’m the least scary of all of them.”
That seemed to do the trick. The woman stepped out ever so slightly, her hands in the air and an untrusting look in her eyes. “I assure you, I’m not looking for trouble.”
“Then why are you running?”
“Why are you chasing me?” she countered.
“Chasing you? I’m just following the lead of a citizen who was concerned by careless driving.”
“I was only driving carelessly because someone was following me.”
Following her? Was he dealing with someone who struggled with paranoia? Or was someone actually following the woman?
“Why don’t you step out here so we can talk like two rational human beings?” he asked.
“How do I know I can trust you?” Her voice wavered.
“I’m a cop. I have no reason to hurt you. Unless you’re aiming a gun at me, we should be just fine.”
Finally the woman emerged from the woods, wobbly in her high heels. Her gray skirt was stained and there was a leaf in her hair.
His breath caught for a moment.
She definitely didn’t look like she was from around here. Her hair was brown and glossy and cut neatly to her shoulders. She wore a white top with black polka dots and a straight gray skirt that reached her knees. Her heels looked uncomfortably high, and her purse probably cost more than Zach made in one week.
Both her words and the way she spoke indicated she was well educated. Just who was she, though? She just didn’t fit into the dynamic he’d experienced so far in the town. Most people here were grounded in the fishing industry. They had deep tans, easy accents and chose jeans to pencil skirts.
Most people who came into town for work had something to do with the seafood industry. But this woman did not appear to be the type to deal with fish or oysters. She looked too big-city.
Despite his initial attraction, his next thought quickly dampened the surge. She reminded him of Julia, he realized, the woman who’d broken his heart after the Baltimore fiasco when she’d left him faster than someone fleeing an oncoming tornado.
“A white truck followed me on my way down from Maryland,” the woman started. “I pulled off the main road trying to get away from it. I thought you could be connected with the other driver.”
She sounded scared but otherwise rational.
Concern filled him. If she was telling the truth—and he was beginning to think she was—then this could be a bad situation. “Any idea why someone might be following you?”
“None.” She crossed her arms.
“An ex-boyfriend?”
She shook her head. “No. Not a current boyfriend or spouse either. I have no good ideas as to whom this might be.”
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
She licked her lips, looking almost reluctant. “Madelyn Sawyer.”
“Where are you headed, Madelyn?”
Her frown deepened. “Waterman’s Reach.”
His eyebrows shot up. The town didn’t have that many visitors. City council wished they did. They pushed to have more people. But especially this time of the year, the place was mostly locals—5,479 to be exact. As the new chief, he made sure he knew all he could about the town.
“What brings you there?”
Her chin jutted up. “I’m writing an article, if you must know. A travel article. I’ve already been in touch with Eva Rogers, and she’s expecting me.”
He shifted, finally moving his hand from his gun. He had received some kind of memo about a visit from a reporter. The mayor had encouraged city employees to make her feel welcome and had reminded them how important this push for tourism was.
Zach had essentially ignored the memo. He’d had no intention of interacting with the reporter. No, a reporter was the last person he wanted to have contact with. He didn’t need some nosy journalist digging into his background. If she did, his whole investigation could be ruined.
“Do you remember anything about this truck that was following you?” he asked, suddenly ready to have this conversation done.
“Not much. It was white, probably ten years old, with tinted windows and a dent in the front bumper. Sound familiar?” Was that a challenge in her voice? What sense did that make?
“Can’t say it does. But I’ll see what I can find out.”
“I’d appreciate it.” She stared at her flat tire.
“Do you have a spare?” Zach asked. As much as he’d like to limit their interaction, that wasn’t going to be possible, was it?
She shook her head. “The last time I had a flat, my spare popped. I’ve had a bit of bad luck when it comes to car problems lately.”
“I can give you a ride back.” It was the least he could do. If there was some kind of threat on this woman’s life, he needed to do his duty as police chief. Then he wanted to be done with her.
He paused before climbing into his cruiser. A branch snapped in the woods. It wasn’t an unusual sound in itself. It could be a deer or even a raccoon. But that familiar feeling of being watched filled him again.
He glanced around but saw no one. What if Madelyn was telling the truth? What if the driver of that white truck was out in those woods somewhere watching them?
He scanned the woods one more time.
Then he heard the sound of someone crashing through the underbrush.
“Stay here!” he shouted before darting into the forest.
