Perilous Homecoming. Sarah Varland

Wingate’s murder.”

      Murder. Kelsey shivered.

      “But I’m not looking at you as a suspect. This town and this department has had enough foh-paaahs lately.”

      She tamped down the giggle that his overly Southern pronunciation of faux pas had brought on.

      “Tell me what you saw, Kelsey.” He pulled out the chair across from her. Leaned back.

      Kelsey weighed her options. She could still ask for a lawyer and refuse to answer any questions until counsel arrived. She was taking a chance sharing everything she knew. If someone was eager to frame her, they could twist the information she gave against her.

      But she knew from her time on the force that the chief was a man of honor. She wouldn’t end up locked up without a cause, and the best thing she could do was give him the story he was asking her for, just in case any of it helped. Besides, the information would clear her name for good in case anyone was wondering. The balcony should show signs of a struggle between a pair of people much larger than she was. They might even get footprints that clearly didn’t match her heels, or other pieces of physical evidence like hairs or fibers.

      “I needed some air.” Kelsey began, and she told the chief about leaving the main party area, finding a darkened room, then hearing voices and the sounds of a struggle.

      “I went straight to Clay and told him and he went out to investigate. The next thing I knew, the lights were off.”

      “The lights?”

      “All of them, sir. Someone flipped a breaker, I would guess. But what I want to know is why? It’s not as if the murderer needed to sneak up on Mr. Wingate. The murder had already taken place. And if the darkness was to cover his escape, why bother? The museum has multiple exits. Even if he looked as though he’d been in a struggle, it would have been easy enough for him to sneak away without being seen after the body fell. Why draw attention to the fact that something was going on when he had the chance for a clean getaway?”

      “Maybe he panicked?”

      She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. Something about this feels cold-blooded to me. I don’t think it was premeditated, but I don’t think the pushing was an accident. I do think whoever the other man was, he meant to kill Wingate.”

      “Solid reason for that?”

      “No. Just gut instinct.”

      The chief said nothing to that. She wouldn’t have expected him to—no words were necessary to remind her that her gut instinct had been wrong before. With devastating consequences for her career. In the case that had ended her tenure with the Treasure Point police department, she’d had a pair of conflicting statements to reconcile regarding a theft from Sawyer Hamilton’s wealthy, influential parents. The senior Hamiltons had pointed fingers at a former employee of theirs, a man named Scott Nicholson.

      Given her own grudge against Sawyer, it hadn’t taken much for Kelsey to feel sympathy for Nicholson, a man from humble beginnings who seemed to be suffering from the Hamiltons’ prejudice. Believing in his innocence, she chose to release him from custody, not knowing that they’d find ironclad evidence against him just a few hours later. Her bad judgment meant that he almost managed to escape punishment entirely—they barely managed to catch him before he fled town.

      “So, where do we go from here?” Kelsey spoke up, recognizing that she did so because the silence made her uncomfortable. Too much silence gave her time to think about the past, something she preferred to avoid.

      “From here, you’re free to go. I only wanted your testimony. Davies was being a bit overzealous for justice in this case. He could have taken your statement at the scene. Bringing you down here in the back of the squad car was unnecessary.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry about that.”

      “Thank you.”

      Kelsey rose to her feet and preceded the chief out of the office. She’d just turned back to him to ask about a ride when he motioned ahead of her and said “Watch out.” But it was one second too late.

      This time she didn’t see the person she ran into. But the odd sense of déjà vu—mixed with the smell of his woodsy cologne—confirmed there was a good chance it was...

      “Sawyer Hamilton. Good to see you.” The chief stuck a hand past Kelsey. She was more than happy to step out of the way.

      Everything about taking this job had thrown her off balance—literally, it seemed. Clearly staying away from the young heir to the Hamilton name and all it entailed was her only option to regain her equilibrium. Which suited Kelsey just fine.

      “Did you need to see me?” the chief asked when Sawyer offered no explanation for why he was there.

      The other man’s eyes darted to Kelsey. She looked away. Why was he looking at her?

      “No, sir, I actually came to check on Kelsey. I heard she was here and thought she might need a ride home.”

      She’d rather walk the four miles to her family’s old farmhouse on the edge of town than accept. Four miles in the dark in heels and a dress would be preferable to—

      “That’s very kind of you, Sawyer.” The chief had softened his voice to what Kelsey had used to refer to as his “fatherly” tone. He looked over at her. “I would feel better if you accepted his offer.”

      What, could he read her mind?

      Unfortunately, it often seemed like the answer was yes. And he’d always been kind to her, even when most in the department had written her off as a failure and a fool. Which meant that while there was a large group of people Kelsey would mouth off to in this situation without hesitation, and then do what she wanted—trek home in the dark—she couldn’t do that to the chief. She owed him better than that.

      “I will, sir,” she said, forcing herself to turn to face the last man on earth she wanted anything to do with. “I’d appreciate a ride.” She forced the words out.

      “I’m right out front.”

      Without a backward glance, Kelsey followed him down the hall and outside. Might as well get this over with.

THREE

      The F-150 wasn’t what she would have guessed Sawyer Hamilton would drive. Sure, it was a nice truck, but it was the same exact one he’d driven in high school. She’d have assumed he’d moved on by now, maybe to a new BMW or something more like that.

      He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She raised an eyebrow. “Uh, thanks?”

      He just laughed softly, a laugh that some women—most women—might have thought was endearing. “You’re welcome. I haven’t been gone from Treasure Point so long, Kelsey, that I forgot how I was raised.”

      Another reminder that he was still a Hamilton—one of the haves when she was a have not. And while he hadn’t played any role in the fiasco where she’d lost her job, he was the man who’d chosen to compete for a scholarship he didn’t need, who’d stolen her chance to go right to college, finish in four years, and get her career moving when all of her peers had.

      No, instead she’d stayed in Treasure Point, worked at the police department while she struggled to put herself though school, and now was just beginning to see the fruits of her labor, was just now approaching where she wanted to be in life.

      Kelsey glared at him as he shut her door, walked around to the other side of the truck, then climbed in.

      He’d barely sat down when she stopped in the middle of fastening her seatbelt. Loyalty to the chief only went so far. She wasn’t doing this to herself. “You know what? I’d actually like the walk. Thanks, though.” She reached for the door handle, but his voice stopped her.

      “What problem do you have with me, Kelsey? I haven’t