to her feet. Already, imaginary spiders were crawling across her skin. Her body let out an involuntary tremble as fear rose in her.
Alone...the word echoed in her head. The thought caused adrenaline to surge in her.
She pounded at the door. “Let me out of here!”
She stopped after several minutes and listened.
Between the music playing on the beach and everyone milling around eating oysters and other seafood, what were the chances that someone would hear her? Or even come looking for her? Eva might just assume she’d gone back to her apartment. It was a logical assumption since it was getting late.
She’d call for help, except she must have dropped her purse when the man grabbed her. Her phone had been tucked inside.
She banged on the door again, trying hard to get someone’s attention. “Please, help me!”
She waited, but there was nothing.
She pressed her forehead against the door a moment, trying to collect herself before she fell completely apart. She hated the dark. She hated confined spaces. She hated being alone.
Don’t think like that. Get focused. Come up with solutions.
Had Zach Davis locked her in here? Had he lured her to the shed and tried to scare her? Maybe he knew her real reason for being in town and needed to stop her. He was the most logical choice because he had the most to lose.
But how would he have found out Madelyn’s true intentions? Had he felt intimidated because he knew she was from Baltimore?
That realization ignited something in her. If Zach thought he would bully her into leaving, he was wrong. She was going to fight until the end.
She hit the door again, harder this time. “Please, help me!”
With no one responding still, she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. She glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything inside the small space. It smelled like gasoline and oil and lawn equipment. And though it was balmy outside, the inside of this shed was stuffy and humid after collecting heat all day.
How long would she be in here? What if no one found her? This space wasn’t large enough for the grill she’d seen outside. For all she knew, no one ever came out here except for the maintenance man on occasion.
That thought made her throat tighten.
No, she couldn’t think worst-case scenarios. She had to stay positive. Worrying would only pull her under.
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
She hadn’t thought of that verse from Matthew in a long time. Not since she’d been to church with her parents when she was a teenager. That had been ten years ago, yet at once the memories seemed so strong.
The ache in her chest deepened.
Would her parents be proud of her now? She couldn’t imagine them approving of her going undercover for a story. Though she considered her alias a cover and this whole scenario an effort for the greater good, her parents would consider it a lie.
Paula always said her parents sounded too stuffy and saw things too much in black-and-white. Madelyn couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that, though.
As the music continued outside the shed, Madelyn sank to the wooden floor.
Maybe Zach Davis was desperate to maintain his good reputation in the community. The only way to keep up this ruse was to get rid of Madelyn. She had no idea how he would have found what she was really up to. But he was probably resourceful.
Okay, Madelyn. Think.
She was in a shed. Certainly there were tools in here, some type of resource she could use to escape.
Blindly, she began feeling the space around her. Finally, she felt what she thought was a hammer. Could she bang her way out of here?
She didn’t have many options, so she decided to give it a shot. She pounded the tool against the wood, trying to make as much noise as possible.
“Please help me!”
Just then she heard a rustling on the other side. Had the man come back? Was he determined to keep her quiet once and for all?
She raised the hammer, determined not to be a victim.
The door opened.
The man standing on the other side caused her blood to go cold.
* * *
Zach blinked with surprise when he saw Madelyn Sawyer inside the shed with a hammer raised above her head. He thought he’d heard a noise coming from the building as he walked back to his truck. But he’d never expected this.
Madelyn looked frightened and rightfully so. Why was she in the shed with an unclasped padlock holding the door shut?
Before he could ask, she scrambled out, moving so frantically that she tumbled into his arms. As quickly as his hands went to her waist, she pulled back, obviously flustered. She raised the hammer again.
Her hands were shaking and her knuckles bleeding. Her normally well-placed hair looked disheveled. But that was nothing compared to the panic in her gaze.
The brief moment of relief in her eyes quickly turned to anger. Anger over what?
His concern morphed into curiosity.
“You can put the hammer down,” he urged, realizing how ugly this could turn.
The outrage remained in her gaze. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Madelyn. Please, put the hammer down. Assaulting the police chief isn’t the way you want to start your stay here.”
At that moment, she looked down at his feet. He followed her gaze and glanced at his tan boat shoes. Something about his footwear must have reassured her because she dropped the hammer on the ground and squeezed the skin between her eyes.
“What are you doing in the shed?” He felt like he should reach out to her, to reassure her, to offer some kind of comfort in the midst of her frightened state. But he also sensed that she would reject any touch he offered. For that reason, Zach stayed back, trying to give her space and time to compose herself as the sounds of the party continued to murmur in the background.
“I just thought I would check it out for my article.” She straightened her clothes—now stained—and raised her chin, some of her pride returning. She’d pushed aside her broken state, and determination now stained her gaze.
She started past him, but Zach grabbed her arm. Had a crime happened here? He couldn’t just pretend like he hadn’t seen any of this. He had a duty to the law. “No, really. I need to know what’s going on.”
She turned toward him, heat in her gaze.
It wasn’t the normal reaction he received after he’d helped someone. But nothing about Madelyn seemed normal. Not her uneasiness, her beauty, her interactions with him.
“A man locked me in there,” she said, her voice low and hard. “I don’t suppose you know anything about it?”
Surprise flashed through him. Was she accusing him? “Why would I know anything about it?”
She grabbed her purse, which was lying outside the shed like she’d dropped it, and reached inside. A moment later, she shoved her phone in his face. “Does this text message look familiar?”
His eyes widened as he read the words there. “That’s not my number, and I never sent that text to you.”
“Sure it’s not.”
As she started to storm away again, he gently touched her arm. Compassion echoed through him as he realized she was frightened and shaken. The implications of what had happened washed over him. “No, really. It’s