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She had a weekend to change things.
A weekend to convince him to listen.
First, she had to make sure he was okay.
The moon had inched above the trees, and it glowed gold-green, illuminating the dead leaves and scrub that littered the forest floor. The path should be right up ahead, and she headed in that direction, moving as quietly as she could, afraid to break the ominous silence.
She reached the path and hesitated, her skin crawling, her pulse racing. Voices carried through the trees, drifting up from the beach. None of them frantic or excited. Whatever had happened, whatever the gunfire had meant, it was over, but Trinity still felt uneasy.
She stepped onto the path and turned toward the beach, skirting past giant pine trees that could have been hiding anyone or anything.
Sounds drifted up from the shore, men and women talking, a dog barking, radios buzzing with activity.
She thought about calling out, but she was afraid of who else might be listening. Not just the law-enforcement officials who’d converged on the property. There’d been at least two men in the woods and it was possible both of them were still free.
She shivered, her teeth chattering as she jogged toward the beach. The slope was easy, but her feet were numb and she could barely feel the ground beneath them. She tripped over roots, stumbled over rocks. Her foot got caught in a tangle of weeds spreading across the path and she fell hard.
Someone grabbed her arm, dragged her up.
She went fighting, swinging her fist toward a shadowy face.
“Let’s not,” Mason growled, snagging her hand before she could make contact.
“How did you get here?” she asked, taking a couple of quick steps back to put some distance between them.
“I walked. Now, how about you tell me why you didn’t stay where I left you.”
“I heard gunshots.”
“And that made you think you should jump into whatever chaos was happening?”
“The gunfire stopped. I heard the police. I figured it was safe enough to come out.”
“Just like you figured it was safe enough to swim in a lake that has a temperature hovering in the thirties?”
“For the record,” she said, “I wasn’t exactly thinking when I jumped into the lake.”
“For the record,” he replied, cupping her elbow and tugging her along the path. “I like quiet. I like peace. I do not like people bringing drama to my property.”
“I didn’t bring this. It was here when I arrived.”
“If you’d stayed away, you wouldn’t have walked into it.”
“If I’d stayed away, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to meet you. Which was the entire purpose of my trip to Maine.”
“Normal people don’t travel six hundred miles to meet with strangers. Especially if the strangers they plan to meet don’t know they’re coming.”
“I never said I was normal.” She pulled his coat a little closer, using the movement to dislodge his hand from her elbow.
“If you’re not, then we have something in common.” He grabbed her arm, and this time she didn’t think she was going to maneuver away from him. “Because I’m not the typical hospitable rural resident who’d happily offer food and ride to someone who broke down in front of his house. I don’t like unexpected visitors, Trinity. Generally speaking, I ignore them.”
“I got that impression from the interviews you did a couple of years back.”
“I don’t like having my work interrupted,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “And, I for sure don’t like to be lied to, manipulated, or used.”
“I hope you’re not implying that I’m trying to do any of those things.”
“The timing of your arrival is suspect.”
“What does that mean?”
“The sheriff wants to speak with you.”
“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working. I didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m happy to speak with the sheriff.”
“I’m sure Judah will be happy to hear that.”
“Judah?”
“Dillon. He’s the sheriff. We’ve been friends for a long time.”
“Sounds like you’re still trying to scare me.”
“Why would I? Unless you’ve done something wrong, you’ve got nothing to be scared of.”
He’d given her an opening, another opportunity to try to tell him about Henry. She wasn’t going to miss it. “I already told you, I’m here for a friend. Her son has cancer in his right femur, and the leg will have to be amputated. I came to—”
“You can tell Judah. He’ll be able to fact-check.”
“Is there some reason why you don’t want to hear what I have to say?”
“Aside from the things I already mentioned? No.”
“Then maybe I should clear things up for you. I have no intention of lying to you, of using you or of manipulating you.”
“I noticed you didn’t mention not arriving unexpectedly, not bringing chaos and not distracting me from my work.”
“I didn’t bring chaos, and—”
“Tell that to the guy who’s bleeding on the beach.”
“Was he shot?” she asked, hurrying along beside him.
“Yes.”
“Was he one of the guys who chased me through the woods?”
“I have no idea. He did have a gun.”
“Is he dead?”
“Not yet.”
“Is he going to die?”
“How about we play Twenty Questions after you talk to the sheriff?”
She’d rather ask the questions now, but she had the feeling she’d pushed Mason as far as he was willing to be pushed. Any more questions and he might shut her out completely. That would make it a lot more difficult to broach the subject of Henry again.
She pressed her lips together, sealing in a dozen more things she wanted to ask.
Let him have what he wanted—silence and peace.
For now.
They reached the beach and stepped off the trail, heading toward a group of people standing near the water’s edge. Several more people were kneeling beside a prone figure. A man. Trinity couldn’t see his face, but she could see the dark blood spreading beneath him. A lot of blood. Too much. If they didn’t get him to the hospital soon, he’d die. The tense silence of the crowd said they knew it.
Someone stepped away from the group, walking toward Trinity and Mason with a long brisk stride that reminded her of her Chance. Her oldest brother had a way of commanding attention without even trying. This guy seemed to do the same. He met her eyes as he approached.
“Ma’am,” he said. “I’m Sheriff Judah Dillon, Whisper Sheriff’s Department.”
“I’m Trinity Miller.”
“From Annapolis, Maryland,” he said. “We ran the plates on your Jeep. You want to tell me what brought you to Whisper?” he asked.
“I came to see Mason.”
“He says he doesn’t know you.”
“He doesn’t. I wanted to speak with him about a friend.” She glanced at Mason. He was watching her dispassionately and didn’t seem inclined to verify her story.
“I see,” the sheriff said.
It was obvious that he didn’t. He hadn’t asked enough questions to understand her motive, and it didn’t look like he was going to.
“Sheriff—” she began, but he raised a hand, cutting her off.
“I’ll have a deputy take you to the station. You can warm up there. I’ll take your statement when I finish here.”
“I’d rather not—”
Too late, he’d already motioned to a young-looking deputy who seemed eager to do whatever the sheriff wanted. What he wanted was to get Trinity out of the way.
“Get her some coffee and let her wait in my office. We’ll make a decision about pressing charges after I figure out what’s going on,” he said as the deputy took her arm and started leading her away.
“Charges? For what?” she protested, suddenly understanding something her nearly frozen brain hadn’t been able to process before. They thought she was a criminal, that she was someone connected to the guy who was lying on the ground bleeding.
“We’ll make that decision later,” the sheriff repeated, already turning away and walking back toward the fallen man.
“But, I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Ma’am,” the sheriff said, turning to face her again. “Trespassing is a misdemeanor offense. I don’t think I need to explain that to you.”
“But—”
He was moving again, and Mason was walking with him, the two of them talking quietly, probably discussing whatever trumped-up charges they planned to make.
Then again, she had trespassed. That wasn’t trumped up, and she couldn’t even say she wasn’t guilty if the sheriff decided to book her on the charges.
“This is all a mistake,” she said, but the deputy didn’t respond. He had his mission, and he seemed intent on it. Maybe he wanted to prove himself. He was young. Probably a couple of years younger than her. He couldn’t have been a deputy for long.
“It really is a mistake.” She tried again, and this time he did look at her, his dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
“It’ll all get sorted out. Right now, let’s just concentrate on getting you inside and warmed up.”
They’d reached the path, and she wanted to yank her arm from his, run back to Mason and the sheriff and explain herself.
But she thought that might cause more trouble than she already had, so she kept moving, stepping onto the path and glancing back.
Mason had stopped halfway to the crowd of people and had turned in her direction. His face was hidden in shadows, but she thought he might have been smiling.
* * *
Trinity looked like she was being led to the gallows, and she was eyeing Mason as if he were the reason for it. In point of fact, he was. He’d asked Judah to have her transported to the station. He hadn’t wanted to expend energy keeping an eye on her, and he was still uncertain of her status. She was either a criminal or an innocent bystander. Until he knew for sure which she was, he wasn’t giving her the opportunity to escape.
“You know I can’t hold her there for long, right?” Judah asked as Trinity and the deputy stepped onto the path and disappeared from view.
“You don’t need to hold her for any longer than it takes to get her statement. I just need her out of the way. I don’t want to deal with more chaos than I’ve already got.”
“You don’t have chaos. I do. It’s my town, my jurisdiction. My problem. I’ll take care of it. All you need to do is answer questions and stay out of the way.”
“You know that’s not going happen, right?”
“Yeah, but I thought I’d give it a shot. You really think Trinity has something to do with this?” He waved toward the fallen man. EMTs were lifting him onto a stretcher, and Mason thought he could smell the scent of blood in the chilly night air. His stomach heaved, but he ignored it.
“I’m not sure, but I’m not much into coincidence,” he responded and was relieved that his tone was even and controlled. He’d spent years learning to compartmentalize the past, keep it tucked neatly away so that he could be in traumatic situations and not panic.
“Me, neither. Which is why it strikes me as odd that your house was broken into on a night when you were supposed to be out of town. Who knew you were going to the funeral?”
“You and John’s widow, Sally. That about covers it.”
“And, Sally knew you were coming back tonight? I was under the impression you’d be away until Sunday.”
“That was the plan. It changed.”
“Because?”
“I attended the funeral out of a sense of obligation, but John and I weren’t exactly buddies these last few years, and I’ve never been all that fond of his wife. I thought she might need help settling John’s estate, but all she really wanted to do was sob in my arms. I decided to cut the trip short.”
“Was she happy about that?”
“She tried to convince me to stay. At least for another night. So that she didn’t have to face the empty house.” Those had been her exact words. When he’d refused to stay the night, she’d begged him to stay for a couple more hours. Through dinner. Or lunch.
“She knows what happened between you and John, right?”
“They were married when he and I were business partners. Seeing as how he signed over his share of our company in exchange for me not pressing charges, I’d say she does.”
“You should have pressed charges,” Judah said.
Maybe, but Mason had partially blamed himself for what had happened. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the financial aspects of the company. He’d left it to John, trusting him because they’d been army buddies and friends. He’d known John’s weakness—that he drank too much, partied too hard, sometimes hung with the wrong kind of people. He’d also known that John was a computer programming whiz. It was his program that allowed Mason to design the kind of prosthetics he created. John was also the one who’d had the idea of implanting a computer chip into the prosthetic limb. If he’d been honest, if he’d played by the rules, if he hadn’t cheated someone he’d called friend, he’d have died a millionaire. Instead, he and Sally had been living in a single-wide trailer in a run-down trailer park.
Mason tried not to think about that, tried not to wonder if he should have handled things differently when he’d found out about John’s crimes.
“Instead of pressing charges, I got his half of the company,” he said.
That had been the agreement.
The quarter of a million dollars John had syphoned from their business account had been a little more than half the value of the company. In exchange for not having charges brought against him and not having to repay the money, John had agreed to hand the company over to Mason.
“In my opinion, you let him off easy, but we’ve talked it out a dozen times. The past is past. What I’m wondering now is what tonight has to do with John and his widow.”
“Maybe nothing.”
“You really think that?” Judah eyed the EMTs who were carrying the injured man away.
“No. John and I were still working together when I had this house built. He knew I had a hidden office, and he knew I was keeping sensitive material there.”
“And you think he sent someone here to access that material?”
“Have you heard of Tate Whitman?”
“The name is vaguely familiar.”
“You know that court-martial case that’s been all over the news?”
“Bigwig army general accused of selling information that got half his battalion killed? Who doesn’t know about it?”
“Tate is the star witness in the case. He’s also one of my clients. He entered witness protection a while back. Last week, a couple of government officials came here asking for information about his whereabouts. The MPs came, too. Apparently he’s on the run.”
“And they think you can find him?”
“I can find him. I won’t. There are tracking devices in all my prosthetics, Judah. They’re part of the program that allows me to design the best possible limb for the client. It’s common knowledge among people who work with me. I’m contracted by several government agencies, so there’s no secret to what I do and how I do it. They want to track Tate using that chip. I refused to allow it.”
“Do you think the guys who came tonight are feds?”
“No. Their work was too sloppy.”
“Then what do you think?”
“If the MPs and the feds are looking for information about Tate here, they probably aren’t the only ones. If Tate doesn’t testify, it’s going to make the case against the general really hard to prove.”
“You think someone affiliated with the general knows you have the ability to track Tate?”
“It makes as much sense as anything else does.”
“If that’s true, the information could have come from one of your employees or from—”
“John? Exactly. He was my first thought. For the right price, he’d sell his own mother out.” He sounded bitter, and he didn’t like it. He’d forgiven John a long time ago. He didn’t trust him. He wasn’t friends with him. But he had forgiven.
“What about his wife? Would she do the same?”
“Sally? She’s an unknown to me. We were never friends, and I’m not sure what she’s capable of.”
“I’ll check her out. See what I can dig up. If she and John were passing information along, we can probably assume they were getting paid for it. I’ll get a warrant to access bank and cell phone records. It could take a few days, but I think I can prove probable cause.”
“I don’t know how much John shared with her. He might have told her everything about the way the prosthetics are designed, or he might have told her nothing. They had a rocky relationship most of the—”
A gunshot rang out, cutting off Mason’s words.
Seconds later a woman screamed, the sound chilling Mason’s blood.
Trinity.
It had to be.
He took off, sprinting toward the trees. He didn’t know the woman, he wasn’t sure of her agenda, but he didn’t want her hurt. He sure didn’t want her killed.
She’d made her way onto his property.
He needed to make certain she made it off. Alive. Unharmed. Capable of answering all the questions he needed to ask.
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