Hidden Identity. Carol J. Post

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СКАЧАТЬ Daniels. He’s one of our US senators.”

      The dread morphed to full-blown anxiety. Reporters. News cameras. She had to get out of there before they arrived. She began to swim toward her boat. It had drifted about thirty feet from where she had left it.

      Hunter’s voice stopped her. “Need some help?”

      “I could use it.” Hers was a small johnboat, and she wasn’t sure she could get in without capsizing it.

      Hunter helped her onto his boat, then pulled up beside hers and held it steady while she stepped in. Once she had settled onto the seat, she looked back at him, ready to offer her thanks. But her words caught in her throat. He was smiling over at her, a warmth in his gaze that she’d never seen before.

      “You saved Daniels’s life. You kept your head and acted fast. You should be proud.”

      Proud? She hadn’t thought about it. But Hunter was proud of her. She could tell. And it created an odd flutter in her stomach. With that soft, sandy blond hair, those gorgeous blue eyes and the fact that he was just an all-around nice guy, she was surprised he was still single. But from what she’d heard, he was too busy to devote time to romance. Besides his full-time job with Cedar Key Police Department, he taught a middle school boys Sunday school class and had his hand in almost every volunteer activity on Cedar Key.

      Yes, Hunter was a special man. A year ago she would have been interested. Now she knew better. She’d been there and done that. And had the scars to prove it.

      Hunter tilted his head toward the island. “Let’s get you to shore.”

      She followed his gaze to where a small group had gathered. When the plane went down, she’d been alone. Now three boats dotted the shoreline. With her focus on the fire guys, and their motor left idling, she hadn’t even heard the others approach. At least none of them looked to be reporters.

      Within moments, a low rumble filled the air and a helicopter approached to circle the island, Channel 20 News, WCJB-TV painted clearly on the side. Meagan flinched, the instinct to run and hide overpowering. Seahorse Key was covered in trees, but at low tide there would be any number of places for the aircraft to land.

      She gave a couple sharp tugs on the pull rope, and her motor roared to life. As she raced toward the island, Hunter matched her speed. Ten or twelve sets of eyes watched them approach. One of the bystanders was Buddy, a local fisherman. The others she didn’t know. Probably tourists.

      The moment she stepped ashore, she was inundated with questions. She held up a hand. “The pilot didn’t make it. The other guy’s unconscious. That’s all I know.”

      The terse answer had the intended effect. The curious group fell back, and she hurried down the path leading to the lighthouse. Hunter followed. The chopper descended a short distance east of them and disappeared behind the trees. She corralled the urge to leave everything and run back to her boat, and instead willed herself to remain calm. But as she jammed the unfinished canvas into her portfolio case, anxiety chipped away at her composure and her hands shook.

      Hunter lightly touched her forearm. “Are you all right?”

      He had likely intended the gesture to be comforting. But she jumped as if she’d been burned. “I’m fine. I’m just ready to head home and get into some dry clothes.” She pushed her dripping bangs aside and forced a smile.

      He didn’t return it. His mouth was set in a firm line. Of course he would see right through her excuses. He was a cop. And behind that handsome face was a discerning mind that wouldn’t give up its quest for the truth.

      She snatched up the chair and began to fold it. Hunter picked up the cloth cover and held it open.

      “Tell me what’s going on. What are you afraid of?”

      Her heart began to pound, and moisture coated her palms. As she slid the chair into its case, she gave an uneasy laugh. “Spiders. Snakes. The usual things women are afraid of.” Drowning. Edmund.

      More than anything, Edmund. Her dream come true. How quickly dreams could become nightmares.

      She tucked her portfolio case under one arm and slipped the other through the camera bag strap. Leaving Hunter to follow with the chair, she started back up the path at a full jog.

      His footsteps pounded behind her. “That’s not what I meant.”

      No, that wasn’t what he meant. But it was the only answer she could give. Her life depended on keeping her identity secret.

      From everyone. Even handsome, kindhearted cops.

      Especially handsome, kindhearted cops.

      When they reached the beach, three people had joined the others, two loaded down with camera equipment and a third holding a microphone.

      One of the tourists pointed. “That’s her there.”

      Before Meagan could react, all attention turned to her. A camera clicked, and a DVR began to record. She threw her hand up a half second too late.

      No! They couldn’t put her picture on the news. The only reason she was alive was because the world believed Elaina Thomas was dead. Her hair was different, cut short and dyed dark. But her face was still the same.

      “Excuse me, ma’am. Can you tell us what happened?”

      With her head dipped, she placed her portfolio and camera bag into the boat, ignoring the reporter’s words. Hunter loaded the chair, and she continued her tasks—pushing the boat off the beach and into the water, moving her things to make way for her wet feet, and finally stepping into the boat.

      Not getting anywhere with her, the reporter turned his attention to Hunter. “Someone said the lady pulled Senator Daniels from the plane. Can you verify that?”

      Meagan gripped the pull rope and started the motor. As she began to back away, Hunter’s voice came to her over the rumble of the four-horse.

      “She did. She’s a hero.” He glanced toward her, then continued. “But apparently she’s a modest hero and doesn’t want the recognition. I think we should respect that.”

      “What’s her name?”

      She shifted into forward, holding her breath. Hunter wouldn’t give her away, would he?

      He gave a noncommittal shrug. “She’s not from around here.”

      She turned the throttle and let her breath out in a rush. The reporter would assume she was a tourist and wouldn’t look any further. And since Buddy had returned to his fishing, no one on the beach knew her. At that moment, she could have kissed Hunter.

      What he had said was true—she wasn’t from around there. She’d been in Cedar Key all of two months. Ever since her cross-country bus trip following her middle-of-the-night escape from her psycho ex-fiancé.

      It wasn’t just the abuse. It was the threats to her family. And the fact that she had learned Edmund’s secret. And Edmund knew it. So she’d had no choice. Edmund would have never let her go.

      Unless she was dead.

      So she’d faked a fever СКАЧАТЬ