Christy Barritt - Dark Harbor

She’d gotten off the highway twice to test the truck. The vehicle may have disappeared for short periods, but it always appeared again behind her. She didn’t know what was going on or why someone would follow her.

But she had to end this. Now.

With her grip tight on the steering wheel, she swerved onto a side street. She hoped her GPS would reroute her to the duplex where she was staying and that being on a secluded road with the truck wouldn’t lead to more danger. Losing the truck was all she could think of.

Unfortunately, she’d been trained as a journalist and not in defensive or evasive driving techniques. Maybe she should add those to her bucket list. At times like this it would come in handy.

Though the speed limit was only thirty-five, she gunned the engine of her eight-year-old sedan. The Nissan wasn’t what it used to be, and her motor groaned as she accelerated.

She didn’t care. She’d worry about her car later. Right now she wanted to get away and lose this truck once and for all. She feared her very life might depend on it.

The road was narrow with deep ditches on either side. Maybe pulling off hadn’t been the greatest of ideas. Her location allowed little room for error. She became more secluded with every rotation of the tires.

Madelyn glanced in the rearview mirror again. The truck had turned after her!

Her heart rate ratcheted again. What was she going to do? None of this made sense.

Only one person knew her real reason for coming here—her editor. Paula would have no reason to expose Madelyn’s true intentions—it would cost them the story of a lifetime if she did. Something was seriously wrong.

A half a mile later she swerved into a gravel lane and gunned it, traveling down the street as quickly as possible. She had to lose the truck. As she pulled into a service road ending in the woods, she heard a pop. Her car bounced and bumped.

She’d busted a tire, she realized.

Great.

She’d have to address that in a moment. For now, she cut her car lights, hoping she’d remain concealed in the shadows.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited. Would the truck follow her? Trap her here?

If that happened, what would the driver do to her? Did he want to hurt her?

None of this made sense.

She continued to wait, her heart pounding out of control. She imagined the pain she might endure if the wrong person found her. Torture. Suffering. Who knew what else?

Each thought caused her anxiety to skyrocket even more.

As perspiration sprinkled her forehead, she glanced at the time. It had been five minutes and no truck. Could she really have lost him? It seemed too good to be true.

She sucked on her bottom lip a moment, still trying to figure out why she would be followed. There was only one person who wouldn’t want her to write the article, and that was the town’s police chief, Zach Davis. But even he didn’t know she was coming or what her real motivation was.

As far as everyone else knew, she was writing a travel article on the quaint town. Its location between the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean made it an ideal spot for the flourishing seafood industry.

Madelyn wasn’t here for the fishing, though. She didn’t even like to eat seafood, truth be told. But she was here to fish for what could be the story of her life.

Being here was precarious. Her assignment involved a trace amount of deceit. But the rewards outweighed the risks. At least, that’s what she told herself. Her conscience kept contradicting the thought.

She justified her actions with one word: justice. She could expose wrongs done by the arrogant and help them to get the negative exposure they deserved. It was what every good journalist wanted—to be a voice of change and reason. To make a difference. To impact the world.

She held her breath as a shadow overtook the mouth of the service road. Another vehicle was coming toward her, she realized.

Her blood spiked with adrenaline. She needed a weapon, a way to protect herself. But she had nothing. And she’d secluded herself in the middle of the woods where no one would hear her scream.

Her cell phone, she realized. She could call for help! Except when Madelyn turned it on, her screen showed she had no reception.

Before she could second-guess herself, Madelyn climbed from the car, grabbed her purse and darted into the woods. She ran as hard as she could, her ankles twisting in her heels. She couldn’t be sure how far she’d gotten. But when she saw the car pull up behind hers, she froze, ducking behind a tree. She couldn’t risk being spotted.

Peering out, she watched carefully as the vehicle came to a stop behind hers, essentially blocking her in. Only, it wasn’t the white truck. It was a police cruiser.

She sucked in a quick breath.

A police cruiser?

Dread filled her when she saw the man who’d stepped out. Zach Davis. She’d recognize him anywhere thanks to all of the research she’d done on the man. Just because he was knock-me-over gorgeous with his curly blond hair and blue eyes didn’t mean he was a good guy.

Was he trying to stop Madelyn before she got to town and uncovered all of the unsavory moments of his life?

Was he somehow working with the driver of that white truck? It was the only thing that made sense. He must have somehow found out Madelyn was coming and planned his defense. All of her assumptions about the man were proving to be true. He deserved to be locked behind bars.

He marched toward her car and peered inside.

Madelyn made sure not to move, to remain perfectly still.

As the police chief straightened, his gaze skimmed the area.

Madelyn held her breath. Would he see her? For her safety, she prayed he didn’t. Because if he was as dangerous as she thought, she was in real trouble.

* * *

Zach Davis sensed he was being watched. As he scanned the woods, his gaze tried to zero in on something out of place. Proof teased the edge of awareness. Something was there. Hidden yet possible to find.

His hand went to his gun, just to be safe.

He’d gotten a report of a car driving erratically in this area. Since he was already close by, he’d decided to check it out. He’d followed the trail of dust on the gravel lane and found the burgundy Nissan. Where had the driver gone?

He’d already recorded the license plate number, and the car’s make and model. He’d run them soon. Until then, he had to pinpoint why he felt like he was being watched.

“I know you’re there. Come out.” His hand remained on his gun. “Let’s make this easy on both of us.”

A squirrel scattered up a tree. A bird chirped as it hurried across the canopy of branches overhead. A fly buzzed at his ear.

But silence was the only response from the person hiding. Usually people only hid when they were guilty of something. What was this person up to?

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he continued. He shifted, trying to get a better look. He saw a gleam as sunlight hit something reflective. Sunglasses maybe?

A woman, he realized.

“I’m Police Chief Zach Davis from Waterman’s Reach. I won’t hurt you. We just need to talk.”

Again, nothing.

He stepped closer, afraid he would scare the woman and she’d take off in a run. She’d get lost in these woods. There were miles and miles of them out here. If the woods didn’t get to her, the wild animals would. Cottonmouths had been especially rampant this year.

“I have all of the time in the world,” he continued. “You can try to wait me out, but it won’t work. You can run, but you’re going to put yourself at risk of getting lost, getting injured or being dinner for some of the wildlife out here. It’s your choice. I’d say I’m the least scary of all of them.”