Dark Harbor. Christy Barritt

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

TWO

      Zach dodged trees and stumps and underbrush as he rushed after the figure in the distance. The woods were thick and hard to navigate. But he needed to figure out who was out there.

      Maybe the person fleeing was a hunter who’d stumbled across them and feared getting caught without a permit. It was a possibility. And some hunters would run rather than face fines.

      Zach reached a slight clearing and paused. He’d lost sight of the man he was following. Where had he gone?

      He listened, hoping for a clue. Nothing signaled the man’s location. Cautiously, he took a step forward. He surveyed the area, his instincts on alert.

      The man couldn’t have just disappeared. Was he hiding? Waiting to ambush Zach?

      He had to be careful. He’d seen firsthand just how easy it was for an officer of the law to lose his life. Too many good people had died in the line of duty.

      As he took another step toward an especially thick section of trees, he heard something click.

      A gun, he realized.

      Zach ducked to the ground. His heart pounded in his ears. He listened for footsteps, for any sign the gunman was getting closer or trying to stage an ambush.

      Nothing.

      Then a crack filled the air.

      Something whizzed over him and splinters rained on his shoulders.

      A bullet had hit the tree above him, he realized. A few more inches, and he would have been toast.

      Heavy footsteps darted away. Branches snapped. Underbrush rustled.

      Zach sprang to his feet, darting toward the sound. The man busted through the woods. Zach caught a glimpse of a long-sleeved black shirt, black pants and a black hat. Whoever was out here wasn’t a hunter. But he was trying to remain concealed. That was the only reason someone dressed like that.

      Zach thrust himself through the wilderness, trying to reach the man. Shooting at a police officer was a serious crime. Zach had to do everything he could to catch the man.

      A clearing stretched ahead. This was his chance.

      Zach pushed himself harder.

      A whistle sounded in the distance. He glanced over and saw a train traveling toward them down the tracks. His breath caught.

      No...

      With a burst of energy, he sprinted toward the man, gaining speed by the moment.

      Just as the man crested the tracks, the train barreled past.

      Zach stepped back as the force of the engine brought with it a rush of wind. His hands went to his hips and he shook his head.

      The shooter’s timing had been impeccable. Two more minutes’ difference would have yielded different results. Zach could have caught him, pulled that mask off and figured out who the man was, once and for all.

      Zach stared down the length of the train—it was long. Really long. He knew by the time it went past, the man would be gone.

      Shaking his head, Zach stomped back toward the sight of the shooting. He found the bullet lodged into the tree and studied it for a moment. He couldn’t tell much about it. He only knew it had come way too close to his head.

      He pulled some tweezers and a bag from his pocket and collected the bullet. He used his phone to take some pictures.

      He searched the ground for footprints, but they’d had a dry summer and the soil was rock hard. Just as he suspected, he found nothing.

      He gave one last glance in the direction the bullet had come from and then turned back.

      He had to make sure Madelyn Sawyer was okay. Because he had a feeling this all led back to her.

      * * *

      Madelyn felt beside herself. She’d been followed, stranded in the middle of nowhere and then she’d heard a gunshot. Had the chief been injured? Or had Zach Davis shot someone? Who had that man in the woods been?

      The questions all collided in her mind.

      She heard someone moving through the woods and froze.

      Was it Zach? Or could it be the driver of the white truck? Her nerves were getting the best of her and making it hard to breathe.

      In the quiet moments by herself, she’d remembered the truck. She’d remembered the risks she was taking by coming here. This could be her big break, she reminded herself. If she was able to get some dirt on Zach Davis, it could be the story of her life. The story that would make her boss proud. That would cement her role in the world of respected journalists who’d written stories that made a difference.

      She backed away from the tree line, putting her car between her and whoever was coming her way. This was how it all ended in scary movies. A woman alone in the woods, thinking help was coming when it was really the killer.

      She swallowed hard and glanced around for something to protect СКАЧАТЬ