Hidden Identity. Carol J. Post

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СКАЧАТЬ caught under one of the oar brackets, pulled out by the roots. There would have been only one conclusion: in her delirious state, she’d taken the boat out, hit her head, tumbled overboard and drowned. In spring-fed lakes, bodies could disappear indefinitely. Edmund knew her fear of water. And that she couldn’t swim.

      He had underestimated her determination. And the effectiveness of YouTube videos.

      A day and a half later, she’d shown up in Cedar Key with all the accoutrements of her new life—two changes of clothes, a few toiletries, a single loved photo, a bag of cash and new IDs. And an old book of poetry, cherished because it had belonged to the closest thing to a friend she’d had in over a year.

      She cast a glance back at Seahorse Key. The reporters had turned their attention from Hunter and appeared to be speaking with the woman who had ratted her out. Tension spread through Meagan’s shoulders, and she shook it off. The woman didn’t know anything that could hurt her. Hunter did, but he had read her fear and, without knowing her past, had chosen to protect her.

      She released a sigh and turned back around. The mouth of the channel was ahead, the route that would take her home.

      Home. The word didn’t mean what it used to. But she had come to accept that. With no real connections to the community, home would never be any more than an address. And a temporary one at that.

      The night she fled from California, she’d walked away from everything—her family, her possessions, a promising art career.

      But she was alive. Her mother and sister were alive.

      And that was all that mattered.

      * * *

      Clouds hung low in a steel-gray sky, and a rain-scented breeze swept down Second Street. Another August thundershower on its way. It was only five-thirty, but already the heaviness of impending dusk had settled over Cedar Key.

      Hunter walked around the corner of Tony’s Seafood Restaurant. He was still in uniform and had just picked up dinner to go. Ahead of him, Meagan stepped from The Market, a plastic grocery bag hanging from each arm. Since the plane crash two weeks ago, he’d seen her a handful of times. But never alone. Maybe this was his opportunity to find out how she was doing.

      She’d been in such a hurry to get off Seahorse Key. It hadn’t worked. The story was big news, with variations of it airing several times. And with each clip, at some point her picture was front and center. One reporter had dubbed her “Angel in a Johnboat.” The senator had even expressed a desire to find her and thank her publicly.

      The problem was, Meagan Berry didn’t want to be found.

      Hunter passed the Tundra he’d left parked at the curb and continued down the sidewalk. But before he could reach her, a silver Intrepid pulled into the space in front of her. Anna Johnson climbed out and approached her.

      “Someone came into Nature’s Landing looking for you this morning.”

      Hunter slowed his pace, then stopped. He was close enough to hear the conversation, but Meagan hadn’t yet noticed him.

      “Oh, yeah?” Her tone was nonchalant. Her posture was anything but. She stood in profile, back stiff, and her face had lost three shades of color.

      “Yeah. Said he was a reporter. He had a picture of you printed from that news story they did on the senator.”

      If Hunter wasn’t sure before, now he had no doubt. With Anna’s comment, the last of the blood drained from Meagan’s face. She dropped both bags into the basket on the front of her bike, swung her leg over the bar and sank onto the seat.

      “What did you tell him?”

      “Absolutely nothing.” Anna pushed her salt-and-pepper hair away from her face and continued. “I didn’t like the guy. Something about him put me off the minute he walked in the door. He seemed like a tough guy, used to pushing people around and getting his own way. He threw your picture down on the counter, demanding to know whether you had stayed in any of the vacation rentals we manage. I told him I couldn’t give him that information, that it was confidential.”

      “Thank you.” Meagan’s tone was heavy with gratitude. “You probably gathered from the news coverage that I’m not too crazy about reporters.”

      “I did. And I didn’t like this one. He said that since he was a member of the press, I had to give him the information. I guess he thought if he got a little threatening, I’d be intimidated enough to spill the beans.” She planted her hands on her hips and took a stubborn stance. “He underestimated this old Southerner. I don’t like bullies. You bully me, and I’ll just dig in my heels harder.”

      Hunter smiled. He hadn’t seen this side of Anna before. Raised in Alabama, she was the epitome of the Southern belle. But she apparently had a stubborn streak.

      She dropped her hands, then crossed her arms. “Just before he stormed out the door, I told him not to bother checking with any of the other establishments on the island, because they wouldn’t tell him anything, either.”

      “Thank you.” The gratitude was still there. “Did he happen to say what news agency he was with, or did he have a press badge?”

      Creases appeared between Anna’s eyebrows as she pondered the question. “No, I can’t say that he did, which is odd. You would think if he was trying to throw around his status as a reporter, he would have at least flashed a badge.”

      “What did he look like? You know, so I can be sure to avoid him.”

      “Maybe five-ten, muscular, dark hair really close cropped, like a buzz cut. And he had a faint scar. Right here.” She traced a short diagonal line across her cheek with one painted nail.

      Meagan’s eyes widened only briefly before the facade of nonchalance fell back into place. But Hunter had seen what he needed to during that brief, unguarded moment—recognition. And dread.

      She gave a jerky nod. “I’ll be on the lookout.”

      Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Anna headed into The Market. He resumed his walk down the sidewalk. Meagan wouldn’t be happy if she thought he’d been eavesdropping.

      He called out a greeting. “How’s it going?”

      Concern flashed across her features. Then she gave him a forced smile. She was probably wondering how much he had heard.

      “It’s good. I just rode down for some milk and eggs. I didn’t have anything for breakfast tomorrow.”

      He cast a glance upward. The sky was darker now, the rain closer. “I can put your bike in the back of the truck and drive you home.”

      “Thanks, but I’m all right.” She eased her bicycle into the road. A sudden flash lit up the sky, followed by a much-too-close crash, and she ducked. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

      Once seated in the truck, she folded her hands in her lap and sat straight and stiff, avoiding his gaze. He pulled away from the curb and headed down D Street. After turning onto Fifth, he glanced her way. She looked every bit as uncomfortable as she had when she climbed into the truck. Unfortunately, it was going to take a lot more than a four-block drive for her to let go of her uneasiness and relax with him.

      As СКАЧАТЬ