The dark clad muscle scanned the landscape with a narrowed eyed gaze.
Had Daniel given away his position? Was the charming politician using his verbal skills in a con to lure Daniel into a false sense of partnership?
“Let’s apprehend her first and ask questions second, boss. We’ll take care of it. Whatever we need to.”
Daniel hated that he still couldn’t discern the pair’s meanings. Tie up those loose ends for her? Or have his wife committed before she could kill his career along with the love of Daniel’s life?
Daniel had to take a chance. He couldn’t squat forever. He stood and walked into view.
The men reacted, turning and shielding themselves. But neither reached for a weapon. He’d take that as a good sign. “I’m Sheriff Daniel Goodwin, identify yourselves and surrender any weapons.”
The husband sagged. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here. My wife Margaux is here, and I don’t know what she’s capable of. I’m Chad Simmons. I’m unarmed. This is my bodyguard, Philip.”
“Why are you here? This is private property,” Daniel interrogated, darting his gaze between both men. At least he knew the man wasn’t a federal agent. He prayed Agent Reynolds hadn’t alerted the husband if he’d known the man wanted to take action himself.
“Over twenty years ago, I think my wife…killed someone. She needs to be locked up. I’m here.” Chad pointed to Philip. “We’re here to help you.”
It wasn’t good enough. But it was the best Daniel had. So he accepted their help. “Okay. Stay low. Follow this path. I’ll be right behind you.” Friend or foe? He wouldn’t make any snap judgments, and he’d keep pertinent details close to his badge.
Sixteen
Emma had a weird taste in her mouth, like she drank from the old water fountain in her elementary school, a slightly metallic tang. Blood? She swallowed, washing away the taste. Her tongue darted around, detecting no open wounds. Thank goodness.
She opened her eyes and pressed a hand to her throbbing temple, noting as she did two simultaneous things. She was indoors, and Margaux stood nearby.
“Margaux? Where are we? What happened?” Emma croaked. Her throat was raw and scratchy.
“What do you remember?” Margaux asked, her voice distant.
Emma rubbed her eyes. Her vision was a little hazy, matching the cloudiness in her head. She scanned their surroundings, plywood floors and mismatched panel walls. Foam insulation popped out of holes. A low ceiling hung overhead. “Are we in the treehouse? How did we get here? Is Daniel getting help?”
Margaux frowned down at her.
Emma pushed herself up to sitting. She had watched Daniel walk away, shut her eyes to soak up the sunshine on her face, and that was all she could remember. Margaux must have helped her. How much time had passed? “Do you have any water?”
“Not here.”
Emma swallowed again, forcing her dry throat to open and close. She was thirsty. She longed to dive into the lake. She yearned for the cool temperature to soothe her head. This room was stuffy and hot. She wanted to get out of here. Why was she here at all?
“Where did you go? We were looking for you to tell you….” Emma shut her eyes, trying to bring back the memory.
Margaux had left. Daniel had discovered the time capsule. They had made it back to the shore where they had left the canoe. It was gone. Her limbs ached, and her bones collapsed.
“What happened? What do you remember?” Margaux’s insistent questions tripped an alarm in Emma’s mind.
But what was the warning? The urgency of the tone? Was that the key? “Why are you here? There isn’t a bathroom in this building.”
“Did you open the time capsule? Is that what you found?”
Emma shook her head, and the world spun, her stomach lurching. Daniel dug up the time capsule, but they hadn’t looked inside. They wanted to wait and look as a group. Or at least that was Emma’s interpretation. She hadn’t been in any rush to open what she suspected was a Pandora’s Box. “We didn’t look in the time capsule.”
“What do you remember?” Margaux shouted.
Emma darted her gaze to meet Margaux’s wild-eyed stare. Emma came to full awareness of her circumstances. Her arms were heavy, and she couldn’t feel her hands.
“Did you really block out everything about that night?”
“I can’t remember five minutes ago,” Emma murmured. “My head hurts. Everything is spinning, and I’m woozy.” Her head throbbed. The room was too warm. Her skin was on fire.
