Elizabeth Goddard - Stormy Haven

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Ian had caught a glimpse of Jonna before she ducked out of sight. He shivered. “Could we talk about this someplace warm?”

“I think any evidence left behind is long gone, so there’s no reason to dig around out here. Let’s get inside,” Sheriff Garrison said.

Ian gestured for them to head back toward the lodge. Jonna stepped out at that moment. “Sheriff Garrison, thanks for coming.”

“Under the circumstances, I can’t say I’m glad to be here. Are you all right?”

“I’ve been better,” she said. “Let’s go inside and grab something warm to drink while we chat in the kitchen. If you don’t mind, I don’t want to worry my guests, so I haven’t yet shared with them what happened.”

Ian and Sheriff Garrison followed Jonna into the lodge and then the kitchen. Ian gladly shrugged out of the jacket, hung it on a peg at the door and rubbed his hands together. He would’ve much preferred to have this conversation near the big roaring fire, but other guests would hear their discussion.

“I’ll make you some coffee or hot chocolate,” Jonna said. “Which would you prefer?” She ushered Ian to a chair at the table, and the sheriff joined them.

Sheriff Garrison shrugged out of his jacket too. “Coffee’s good.”

Jonna sent Ian an acknowledging glance—she already knew his preference.

“You were just about to tell me why you were on the beach when there are warning signs about this storm.”

Ian stiffened. “I usually jog every day. Just ask Jonna. But I had decided to avoid it this morning because of the storm—” he eyed Jonna “—and because of the signs. Then I heard one of the guests mention they’d seen Jonna going for a run and they were worried about her since the storm was moving in faster than expected. The waves had grown bigger.”

The sheriff scrutinized him as if trying to figure out if Ian had some special interest in Jonna. Ian kept it cool.

“So you took it on yourself to check on her.”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? Seemed like the right thing to do.” There. Try to make something out of that. “I’d gone to the landing to see if she was close by and that’s when I spotted someone suspicious over behind the rocks.”

“Suspicious, how? And why would you decide to confront a man who looked suspicious rather than calling 9-1-1?”

Really? There’d been no time! “He pulled a gun. And he was aiming it at Jonna. What would you have done?”

“You told me that part. And you’re right, I would have taken action.” The sheriff still scrutinized Ian. He would probably run a background check on him. Ian hadn’t broken any laws, so he wouldn’t worry about it. But he wasn’t sure he wanted the man to know the kind of security he’d worked. At least not yet.

“Ian was a hero today, Sheriff. He saved my life. Now, don’t you want to hear my side of the story?” Jonna turned and handed the sheriff and Ian cups of coffee, then crossed her arms, watching Ian, studying. She didn’t miss a thing, this one. But she’d tried to divert the sheriff’s undue attention from Ian.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“I saw a guy up on the cliff, keeping pace with me. It was only unusual because of the storm. Only a crazy person would jog in this. So I noticed him.”

Ian shared a look with the sheriff, then stared at Jonna.

Jonna pursed her lips. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“So you’re a committed runner. Continue with your story,” Sheriff Garrison said.

“I suspected he was up to no good. When the guy disappeared I figured I was just being paranoid. Still, I couldn’t wait to get out of the storm. The waves were coming in hard and fast and I could get trapped on the beach. Then the man stepped out from behind the rocks and pointed a gun at me. That’s when Ian tackled him. He got a bloody nose for his heroic efforts,” she added.

The sheriff’s sharp gaze shot up from his pad and paper. “The guy you believed was pacing you on the ledge, are you sure it was the same man who tried to shoot you?”

“I’m pretty sure. He had on the same hoodie. No one else was out there.” Her gaze flicked to Ian.

The sheriff scratched his chin, then eyed them both. “There can’t be too many joggers out here in this kind of weather in the winter, so it’s possible someone else noticed him too, but did either of you get a good look?”

“With the wind, rain and sea spray, it was a blur for me,” Ian said. “His hood covered his face, but I’d say five-eleven, muscular build. Pasty white skin and dark hair.”

“That’s a pretty good description for it being a blur,” the sheriff said.

Ian hoped he and the man weren’t going to have a problem. He’d talk to Uncle Gil about it first, but maybe he should pull the sheriff aside and tell him the real reason he was here. It would mean sharing about Jonna’s past—that is, if she didn’t fess up herself. Maybe the sheriff already knew.

“What about you, Jonna? Can you add anything or do you disagree?”

“When he pointed the gun at me,” Jonna said, “I looked at him long and hard. But it was from a distance and the storm had picked up, so I couldn’t see him very clearly. I think Ian’s description is right.”

“We’ll get you two down to the station to look at some photos. Maybe we can get a forensic artist in too.”

“Do you think it could be the Shoreline Killer?” she asked.

Creases grew around the sheriff’s eyes and mouth. “I think it’s too soon to say. But I have to ask you, Jonna—can you think of any reason someone would want to kill you?”

Ian resisted the urge to hold his breath. Now, there was a loaded question. Would Jonna tell the sheriff about her past career in Miami? It was clear he didn’t already know or he would be bringing that up now. Ian looked forward to hearing her answer.

The sheriff glanced his way. “Mind if I speak with Jonna alone, Mr. Brady?”

“Of course not.” Ian scooted from the chair. “I’ll just be waiting by the fire if you need me for anything else.”

Ian left the room. At first, he hung near the door hoping to hear what Jonna would say, but DiAnn came around the corner. Ian nodded, smiled and headed to the main room to watch the storm through the window and stand by the fire. Instantly, the guests gathered around him to question him about what was going on.

Uncertain how much either the sheriff or Jonna wanted him to say, Ian begged off and headed to his room. He needed to call Uncle Gil anyway. Uncle Gil needed to know about what happened today. Maybe he would release Ian to be forthcoming, though the more he found out about the woman, the more he understood his uncle’s reasons for sending someone to watch over her—from a distance.

It would help if his uncle had more details to share about that old case in Miami, but Jonna hadn’t known who had shot and left her for dead. Amnesia. Too bad. For all they knew the same guy had shown up on the beach today.

Ian hated not knowing whom he was up against in protecting a woman who didn’t want protection. Her survival could depend on it. But this wasn’t the first time he was expected to protect someone against an unknown enemy. Except he’d failed before.

God, please don’t let me fail this time.

THREE

Utter darkness pressed down on Jonna as she lay in bed, tossing and turning. Doing everything except sleeping. The storm should pass in a few hours only to be followed by another. In the meantime, the howling wind brought to mind images of ghouls. She didn’t believe in those, of course, but goosebumps still rose on her flesh. That probably had more to do with the fact that every time she closed her eyes she saw the man pointing a weapon at her today. Then her thoughts immediately shifted to her past. She’d worked hard to forget the scattered, broken memories she had about what happened in Miami, but the events of today brought those distorted, gruesome images rushing back.