Was it her imagination or did Zach’s gaze darken at her question?
“A few months.” He didn’t offer any more details.
“So you’re not a local.” She tried to sound surprised. “I always imagined a town like Waterman’s Reach to be the kind where jobs like police chief were handed down generationally.”
He smiled softly, maybe sadly. “No, I’m an outsider, which has brought some challenges of its own. In fact, the prior police chief’s nephew works under me. But the mayor thought some change would be good for the town.”
“Has it been?” she asked.
“You’ll have to ask the people in town that question.” Just as he said that, he turned off the main highway and into Waterman’s Reach. A quaint-looking town came into view. She quickly glimpsed the cobblestone sidewalks, antique-looking streetlights and picturesque storefronts.
Before she could soak too much of it in, Madelyn looked down at the paper where she’d jotted her travel information and rattled off the address. Zach turned off Main Street and pulled to a stop in a parking lot behind the downtown area in Waterman’s Reach.
“This is where you’re going?” Zach looked around as if confused. There were no bed-and-breakfasts or hotels close, which might explain why he looked baffled.
She pointed to a house across the lot. “Right there, if I understand correctly.”
Thank goodness she’d taken the time to look up the address online, so she had some idea of how the duplex looked. Dusk had fallen now, casting dim shadows on everything. She’d wanted to get here while it was still daylight outside, but that plan had been interrupted.
“Mayor Ron Alan’s rental property?” Zach asked.
“Yes, that’s correct. He’s letting me use it while I’m in town.” She still felt a little guilty about it. The mayor had gone out of his way to make her feel welcome. How would he feel when he found out she wasn’t writing a travel article but instead a hit piece on the town’s police chief?
“Mayor Alan owns quite a bit of real estate in the area,” Zach told her. “That’s how he originally made a name for himself. He used his inheritance to buy up real estate when the prices were low, and now he rents them out. In fact, even my house belongs to the man.”
“Small-town dynamics, huh? You’ve got to love them.”
He put the car in Park and started to get out.
“I can get my suitcase. Don’t worry about it,” Madelyn insisted.
He paused, one leg already on the ground. “I don’t mind. I can walk it up for you.”
“No, really. I’ve already put you out today, and I know you have reports to file, especially since that bullet came your way. Let me handle my suitcase.” She really wanted to be away from the man. She needed space to collect her thoughts.
“If you insist.” He shrugged, closing his door again. “If you have any more problems while you’re in town, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll call a tow truck to pick up your car. Fisher’s Auto Repair is the closest. Next shop is about thirty minutes out.”
“Fisher’s will be fine.”
“Will do.”
Her hands trembled as she stepped from the car and onto the cracked asphalt of the small, shadowed parking lot. Zach popped the trunk, and she ran around to grab her suitcase. Handle in hand, she leaned into the car once more. “Thanks again.”
“Hope you get that article written without any trouble,” he said.
His words froze her a moment. Then she realized it wasn’t a threat, but an observation based on what had happened earlier today.
She let out an airy laugh. Not a smooth move, Madelyn. You’ve got to be on the ball here.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She waved and took a step back.
“I’ll wait until you get inside.”
“I’ll be fine. I want to stretch my legs for a moment.” She needed to be away from his scrutiny as soon as possible.
He raised his eyebrows, as if he doubted her words. “As you wish.”
She waited until he pulled away to survey the area for any sign of danger, hating how her body had gone into fight-or-flight mode. All she spotted was the back side of the shops lining Main Street. A municipal lot was located dead center between buildings and houses that formed a U around it.
That U shape also meant she was hidden from eyesight from anyone walking the town’s sidewalks. The area back here was deserted, as most of the businesses had already closed for the evening.
The good news was that she didn’t see the white truck anywhere.
The bad news was that, if the truck’s driver did show up, no one would be around to hear her scream.
She shivered at the thought. All the craziness from earlier had shaken her up. Being followed. Meeting Zach the way she had. Hearing he’d been shot at.
It would leave anyone unsettled.
She glanced up at the house in front of her. Her temporary home was a two-level duplex the mayor owned and used as rental property. The home looked contemporary, well kept and clean with its blue siding and white trim. She was staying on the second floor, and if she understood correctly, the first floor was currently unoccupied.
She approached the stoop. A cardboard box had been left there with her name on it. Cautiously, she took the note on top off.
“For Madelyn, welcome to Waterman’s Reach. Here are some of our famous oysters to give you a taste of the town. Cordially, Mayor Alan.”
Madelyn swallowed a bitter taste in her mouth.
Instead of dwelling on her deceit now, she glanced around. Where was that lockbox where she could get the key?
By the garage, she remembered. She walked to the small building at the side of the house, found a small case beside the electrical box and turned the numbers there until the code was entered. The mechanism clicked open, and she pulled the key out.
As she walked back toward the door, she shuddered. There was something about being alone in a new place that always got to her. She tried to be tough. But on the inside, she constantly battled herself and her fears.
It wasn’t a fun position to be in.
She was going to get through this and prove to her colleagues that she was someone to watch out for in the field of investigative journalism.
She wanted to—no, make that needed to—prove herself.
The realization seemed a bit pitiful. She shouldn’t have to prove herself. But something was programmed into her thoughts, something at gut level, that made her believe that her self-worth was based on a certain set of criteria, no matter how much she might deny it.
She paused when she heard a sound behind her. Her shoulders instantly tightened. What was that?
She turned but saw nothing. Just trash cans, some old pallets and a broom.
Strange.
With a touch of hesitation, Madelyn hurried toward the door, her heels clacking against the pavement. That was rule number one that her mentor had taught her: always dress for success.
Madelyn heard that sound behind her again and paused. Fear began to gel in her stomach. Before she could turn, a hand covered her mouth.
Her heart surged with panic. What was happening?
Was she being robbed? Mugged? Murdered?
“Get out of this town,” someone whispered in her ear.