Killer Exposure

Dad would probably consider it weak. Locke simply didn’t like looking at death every single day. Greer used a broom handle to lift debris and then she went to work clicking the camera as if she hadn’t been chased and attacked in the woods. He admired her tenacity. Her drive to help fight injustice.

But Locke would rather use his camera to capture the terrifying glory of a whirlwind. Even in the wake of its destruction, there was still beauty and wonder to be found. In that tragedy, communities rallied to support one another. He had hundreds of photos of humanity doing its best.

Police sirens sounded.

“Who was this guy?” Locke asked, and studied Greer. Maybe she wasn’t as held together—he caught her hands trembling.

“Don’t know yet.”

“You probably need a doctor or something.”

She paused and poked her head outside the camper; a gentleness softened her features. “I sincerely appreciate your concern. But honestly, Locklin, I’m good. I’m not trying to ignore you. I just... I gotta work. Gotta do the job and it helps me not think about the fact I almost bit it out there tonight.”

The thought of that sent a shock to his system. But if she said she was okay, he’d go with it. Greer was a strong woman. She wasn’t blowing him off like she had almost two years ago. He’d try to be more patient. Patience wasn’t exactly a virtue he possessed, though. It required being still and Locke had always struggled with being still. School, church, events and the list went on. He was full of energy and always antsy. Just the way he was made.

Lights flashed in the distance. Sheriff’s deputies had arrived. They went to work sealing off the scene and forcing Locke to the other side of the tape, where he stood in the rain getting wetter with each second. A chill had already numbed his skin but he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until he was sure she was safe. Didn’t matter that other police were around and were capable.

“Sir,” another crime tech said. “I need to collect evidence from your hands. Deputy Montgomery said you hit the attacker’s face. I’d like to get a sample before this storm washes it away.” Locke complied while the officer did his thing. Another deputy walked up—he was an inch shorter than Locke’s six-foot-one frame. “I’m Deputy Crisp.”

“Locke Gallagher.”

“I’m gonna need your statement. I’ve already gotten Deputy Montgomery’s.”

Locke gave him the lowdown, while keeping an eye on Greer as she talked with other deputies.

When Greer finally slipped out from under the tape, he headed straight for her.

She cocked her head. “You don’t have to stick around, Locke. They got everything they needed and as I said before, I’m okay.” She sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small pouch. She tossed it to him. “Poncho. Though, it’s a little late for staying dry.” A smirk pulled at her lips as if she was totally fine, but her eyes betrayed her.

“I know I don’t need to stay. I want to. And I know you too well. You’re not okay.” It was clear Greer didn’t want anything to do with him. He got that. He’d repeatedly been over her reasons for going cold turkey on him. She might have changed her mind about the traveling life. And the bigger one—the night they’d crossed a line—could have seriously factored into her not returning. He’d made a huge mistake. Shouldn’t have let it get so out of control. Epic fail on his part and he blamed himself completely. Not that he hadn’t moved on since she’d broken his heart—he had—but of all the adventures Locke ever loved, Greer was his greatest. Couldn’t they even be friends?

“Greer, I should have known you’d be here working.” A tall man with thick silver hair approached. Locke hung back but could still hear the conversation.

“Hey, Sheriff. I’m not letting this one get away.” She told him what happened. “What we know right now is the vic’s name is Fred ‘Flip’ Bomer. He’s worked the Stellar Entertainment carnival for eight years. Done an array of things from games to running the bumper cars. Thirty-seven. Not married. The carnival manager, Rudy Dennison, is getting us his file, but you know that’s going to be thin. Carnivals don’t require background checks or too much information.”

“True. Listen, I appreciate you taking the initiative and getting the photos, but you were attacked. Get some rest. Let Crisp take it from here.” The fatherly figure laid a hand on her shoulder. “You sure you don’t need medical attention?”

Greer bristled. “No, sir. I’m going to work with Burt on a sketch of the man who killed Flip and attacked me. Manager said they have multiple maintenance workers on staff. We’re rounding them up now. I need to stay on this. Need to ID this guy.”

He seemed to debate the idea. “Let Crisp and Garrison do it. When they get the workers corralled, you can make the ID.” He gave her a slight side-hug. “Glad you’re okay.” He then turned to Locke. “Sheriff Randy Wright.”

“Locke Gallagher.”

“Thank you for being in the woods.” He squinted, rain dripping off his poncho. “Why were you out here in the woods?”

Locke glanced at Greer. The truth was he was trying to figure out what to do about seeing or not seeing her while photographing nature. “I’m with a group researching storms. Y’all have several supercells coming in this week, prime weather for twisters. I photograph them.”

“A storm chaser?”

“Yes, sir.”

He grinned. “Glad you were here. Not that I don’t think Greer could have made it out, but sometimes we need a little help.”

“I guess so.”

The sheriff shook his hand again and left them alone as the rain let up. Wasn’t over yet, though. “Locke, I’m safe. Seriously, you can get back to what you were doing,” Greer said.

“I know.” But he didn’t want to leave. “How long will the sketch take? I can wait. We can get dry...and get coffee?”

“I’m not sure. And I worked all last night, picking up overtime, so I’m pretty tired.” As if on cue, she yawned, then sheepishly grinned. His heart slammed into his throat. Those wide, thick lips on a heart-shaped face. The straightest nose he’d ever seen. Her chocolate-brown eyes revealed true exhaustion. But there wasn’t a measure of fear in her tone—she was so like the Greer he used to know. Used to love.

Overtime and exhaustion, he understood. “Okay...well, maybe sometime this week?”

She shifted and shoved a thick mass of wet hair from her face. It still cascaded past her shoulders all in one length. Probably the same corn-silk blond, but now damp from rain it was the color of sand after the ocean washed over it. Man, he’d loved her hair. “I’m going to be pretty tied up now with this case.”

“Too tied up you can’t eat?”

“I work more than one job, Locke. I’m a part-time photographer. Family portraits, senior pictures, community events. You know, the kind you never wanted to be. The kind that boxed you into nine-to-five.”

He had said that. There was too much adventure in life to settle down and do one single thing every day. Too many places to see, too much to experience. Not a single storm was the same. The thrill. The challenge. Locke did what he wanted, when he wanted. At one time, Greer was onboard and living that life with him. And they were having fun, were happy. “There’s no challenge in that,” he teased.

“Try getting four children under the age of six to all sit still and face the camera and smile at the same time.” She half laughed, but it seemed sad. “It’s not the wild adventure you chase, but it’s satisfying. I like documenting family milestones and memories. I like keeping my town and county safe. I like the people. I like this life.”

Whole lotta like. No mention of love. Once, she’d told Locke she loved chasing storms. Loved capturing them. Loved...him. “I’m glad you’re happy, Greer. I’ve never wanted anything else. I guess...guess it just stinks you couldn’t be happy with me.” There, he said it. “But I’m over it.” She needed to know he wasn’t going to be stalking her and groveling. She’d made clear what she wanted. And he wasn’t a part of it. “If that’s what’s holdin’ you back from having a meal or coffee with me. Friends is cool. I can do friends.”

Greer cleared her throat, glanced away. “Good, okay,” she whispered. “I’ll...I’ll think about it.”

Better than “get lost.” “Hey, you witnessed a murder tonight. This guy...are you worried he’ll come back?” She was clearly worried about something. Would he try to finish her off? The thought sent a blip of panic to his chest. “You want me to see you home?”

“No.” A flash of fear splashed through her eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I can see myself home.”

“Not saying you aren’t capable or anything.” He shrugged.

“We’ll find this guy, Locke. Probably tonight. I’m not worried.” She lowered the hood of her poncho now that the rain had stopped. She wasn’t fooling Locke. Greer’s hand had a tremor and the truth showed in her eyes. She wasn’t only shaken, she was scared. It had crossed her mind that he would try and finish the job. Even if it was a fleeting thought. It was there. Locke could read it on her face. “I have to get back to work.”

An awkward silence ballooned around them.

“Be careful chasing those storms,” she said. “Hope you find what you’re looking for, but also I kind of hope you don’t.” She grinned. Genuine again. Sincere.

No one wanted tornadoes ravaging their towns, and about twelve years ago, three had come through this county, tearing them to pieces. A state of emergency had been declared. But over time, the community had rebuilt, with some outside help. That’s why this research was so important.

“And thank you. For...being in the woods and coming to my aid. All that martial arts training paid off.”

Finally, a real thank-you. The soft side of Greer. The side he’d always admired. One of the many facets he fell in love with. “Well, when you have uncontainable, boundless energy and your dad’s military, and a cop, he finds a way to burn it off and prepare you for your calling.” One he never felt called to. He ran his hand through his wet hair and shivered. “But you’re welcome.”

“I really gotta go now.”

With that, she spun and disappeared into the rain-soaked night.

* * *

Sitting in her car, soggy, freezing, exhausted and sore, Greer laid her head on the driver’s seat and closed her eyes. After stomping away from Locke, she’d worked with the sketch artist and hung around a little longer at the scene until Sheriff Wright basically tossed her in the car and sent her home. Too much had happened tonight. Death. Her near-death and then Locke showing up. She was grateful that he’d been there. His usual self. Brave. Kind. A little snarky and humorous and attentive. For being a man she was sure had ADHD, he never seemed to have an issue giving her his undivided attention, and it hurt beyond belief, so she’d avoided him. Old feelings. Fear. Guilt. Locke had a daughter, and he didn’t even know. He’d never wanted children. He’d been adamant about that up front. They got in the way and wouldn’t fit into his lifestyle—his words. They would cramp everything. So Greer had taken the chicken’s way out and not told him.

But tonight proved in a small way that she had made the right decision to protect her daughter by not telling him the truth. He’d said it himself, years ago—he would not be boxed in. Locke had always rebelled against social norms and family expectations. He wanted to live the way he chose. No chains. No being tied to what the world said being an adult ought to look like. And no children.

They’d been dating a year when the conversation came up again about having a family, and it had turned into an argument. Locke hadn’t changed his mind and never would. Greer had been so head over heels in love with him that she’d agreed and wouldn’t bring it up again. But Greer had always wanted a family. A husband who wouldn’t leave. Who wanted his child always and forever. Clearly, that man wasn’t Locke. She’d considered breaking it off after that last heated discussion, but she’d loved him too much and couldn’t make the tough choice.

Then Mama got sick. And she found out she was pregnant. That made the decision for her.

Besides, Locke was finally getting his dream, making a mark on the storm-photography world. Greer didn’t want to rob him of that. But mostly, she was terrified he would give it all up for them and one day he’d do exactly what her father had done—abandon them. Locke would feel imprisoned by his own daughter. Greer’s pregnancy would be nothing but a trap, a means to get her way of having a family—at least that’s how he’d eventually see it. He’d blame his child and Greer for all the years he lost. Just like Dad. Then he would walk out and Lin would have to live with the same fear, the same guilt, the same heartache as Greer. Dad’s words to Mama echoed in Greer’s ears every day.

“You got pregnant and trapped me! I never wanted this life. I want to do what I want. I want my life back.” And Dad had left Mama.

And Greer and her older brother, Hollister.

The pain had been overwhelming. Greer would never let Lin experience that kind of heartache. She was no one’s prison. She would never have to grow up feeling unwanted or unloved. Greer would never reject and abandon her.

But now, as she sat in her driveway, she wondered how in the world she was going to keep Locke from finding out. Deep in the marrow of her bones, a whisper formed that he had every right to know and always had.

Fear held her hostage from listening to it.

She climbed from her vehicle, exhausted. Her best friend, Tori, had already offered to keep Lin for the night since it was so late, and she was available to watch her tomorrow. Tori’s job as a nurse at the hospital allowed her to keep Lin a couple of days and nights a week, depending on what shift she was working. Greer didn’t have a lot of money for day care, so she appreciated having friends who could help. She still had medical bills for Mama. A house payment. Insurance. Ugh. The thought of bills only further soured her mood.

Trudging up the walkway to the small home Mama had lived in, Greer held back tears. Being a single mama was no joke. No one to help her. No one to help carry the pressures of daily life, finances or parenting. Fear and dread of how she was going to manage each day, how she was going to provide for Lin. But she wouldn’t change it. And she’d move heaven and earth to make sure Lin was happy and had everything she needed to feel loved and successful. Like her own mama had, working extra shifts and jobs at Christmas to provide for Greer and Hollister. As children they’d never appreciated or understood the sacrifices Mama had made.

Greer knew now.

She unlocked the front door and entered. Still smelled like Mama’s White Diamonds perfume. The ache swept through her empty stomach and clutched her ribs.

As she switched on the lamp in the cozy living room, Greer’s hairs on her arms rose. She froze and scanned the area. Nothing looked out of place. Her adrenaline raced again. Too much commotion and devastation tonight. She was paranoid.

Creeping down the small hallway, she entered the only bathroom in the two-bedroom home and switched on the shower to scalding hot, then closed the door to let the steam rise. Greer popped into the nursery, turned on the light and inhaled Lin’s scent. She missed her baby girl. She entered her bedroom, which the bathroom separated from Lin’s, and stripped off her outer hoodie, tossing it into the hall to wash. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. She had dozens of carnies to question. Hopefully they’d find this guy tonight. Maybe she should have stuck around regardless. But she was no good to anyone or to the investigation right now with so little sleep.

Hairs on her neck spiked.

She whirled toward the closet, reaching for her gun as the killer from the woods lunged and knocked her to the bedroom floor before she could grab it.

TWO

Locke haphazardly punched his steering wheel, sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He needed a haircut, but during storm-chasing season he didn’t pay attention to haircuts or daily shaving. He was parked down the street from Greer’s. It wasn’t hard to find. Not when he’d been here before.

It was after midnight, and the last thing Locke wanted to do was wake up Greer’s mom, especially since she was in bad health. But after going back to the camper park, showering and getting dry clothes on, he couldn’t concentrate on a single thing. He had this ball in his gut that kept signaling red flags.

Locke groaned and went with his gut. He turned his lights off as he pulled behind Greer’s silver CR-V. If she still had the same bedroom, he could tap on her window. Probably terrify her after what happened earlier tonight, but he didn’t want to wake the entire house. He slipped around back and tiptoed to the room Greer had slept in when he visited.

Greer screamed.

Locke’s heart leaped into his throat.

Another shrill scream, but it came from outside. Hurrying, he rushed around the side of the house as Greer bolted through the patio doors.

The killer burst through after her, clobbering her to the ground.

Blood turning hot and adrenaline spiking, Locke flew to the attacker and grabbed him by the collar, then hurled him into the air and two feet from Greer. He landed with a thud and a curse. Stalking toward him, Locke had no intentions of letting this creep get away again.

The guy hopped to his feet and raced behind the house toward the neighbor’s. Locke gave chase. With every stride, he grew angrier. How dare this guy try to come back? No one was going to hurt Greer. No one.

Locke gained on him as he hurdled a chain link fence into a backyard. Locke scaled the fence and turned the corner. Something smacked him upside the head, knocking him to the ground in a daze. He glanced down. The aluminum lid to a trash can was lying beside him. A flash of the attacker sprang over another fence.

Giving his head a good shake, Locke stood and rubbed his cheek. That was going to bring a nice, fat headache in a few hours. Greer might be hurt, and the attacker was now too far away to chase. Locke ran back to her house. This time, he knocked on the side patio door that she’d run through.

Greer opened it, looking worse for wear, hair hanging in knotted clumps. Same wet clothing she’d had on earlier. Dirt, grime and tears streaked her face. Her hands shook uncontrollably. Without thinking, he yanked her to him and crushed her in an embrace. She winced, and he eased up. “Greer,” he whispered. “Are you hurt? Did he... Did he hurt you?”

She sniffed against his chest. She’d always fit perfectly, her head coming right under his chin. “No. I haven’t been home long enough to go through this again.”

“How did he get in?” Locke asked.

“Everything looked fine when I got home, but the window to the laundry room was broken. He got in through there.”

How would the attacker know where she lived if he was a maintenance worker at the carnival?

“I don’t suppose it would be too difficult to find out where I live. It’s a small town. He couldn’t have followed me. He was here when I got home.”

Guess she’d been thinking the same thing. The sound of the shower running caught his attention. “Did you call it in?”

“Yes. Deputy Crisp is out searching for him. I’m assuming he got away.” She didn’t pull away from him, and the familiarity pooled like warm goodness in his stomach.

“He did. Which reminds me. Can I have a couple pain relievers?”

Greer broke the hug and peered up at him. Lightly, she touched his cheek with her quaking fingers. She caught his eye, and their gazes held. Suddenly, she wrenched her hand away and strode to the cabinet by the fridge. “What did he get you with?” She fetched him two ibuprofens and a bottle of water.

“Metal trash lid.”

“Ouch.” She grabbed a pack of frozen peas from the freezer and handed them to him. “You’ll want this.”

Locke scanned the kitchen. The house was quiet. Too quiet. “Where’s your mama? Is she okay?”

Greer looked away. “She—she passed three months ago. Another heart attack.”

His stomach bottomed out. “Greer. I’m...I’m so sorry.” She hadn’t called him, which smarted, but not as much as it hurt to see her breaking. Greer and her mama had been close. The whole family had been after their dad left. He didn’t know the entire story. Greer never spoke of him, but it had been a devastating blow to them all. “I know what you’re going through.” His dad had been gone much longer, but the emptiness was always there. He wished Greer would have called. Leaned on him. He could have helped her.

She wiped her eyes.

He placed his bottle of water on the sink. A wall of awkwardness built between them. “Why don’t you go get dry and warm, and I’ll make us some coffee or something. Then I’ll fix that window.”

Greer glanced behind her and a new wave of fear covered her face.

“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you, and I doubt he’ll be back.” Tonight. But he had a sneaky feeling this wasn’t over. This guy was set on taking out the one witness to a murder, and he didn’t seem to care that Greer worked for the sheriff’s department. That made him brazen. Bold. Locke wasn’t going anywhere.

“It’s not that,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back and—and we should talk, Locklin. A major conversation.”

Locke swallowed down a mountain of nerves. Well, he’d wanted answers. Guess he was about to get them. “I’ll make it strong then.”

“You definitely should.” Worry etched her brow. “And you don’t have to stay. You...won’t want to.” She muttered the last part and he wasn’t sure he heard right. Nothing could make him leave.

“Greer, a man tried to kill you multiple times tonight. Let’s just say what we both know. He has no intention of letting you walk away after having seen him.” He wasn’t trying to scare her, but she was acting delusional. “Your colleagues obviously didn’t solve the case after you left. I’m not leaving you alone. I want to stay.”

“I’m trained.”

“I don’t care.” He wasn’t budging.

“The department is going to do drive-bys every thirty minutes. Fingerprint the window. I’m not scared.”

Liar. She was terrified. He just wasn’t sure why some of that fear seemed to be directed toward him. “Go take care of yourself. The only way you’re getting rid of me is to call the police and say I’m trespassing, and after I saved you twice tonight, that feels like a crummy and ungrateful thing to do,” he jested, trying to lighten her up, to relieve some fear and tension. He would keep her safe. “I may not be a gun-toting cop or Navy SEAL, but I’m more than capable of holding my own and watching out for you.”

Greer inhaled deeply. “I know. Now, you make coffee and I’ll only be a second.”

“Okay,” he offered and slowly moved to the fridge, taking out a carton of eggs. “I’ll be right here making eggs and coffee.” And trying to figure out what on earth was going on.

She rushed from the kitchen.

Locke laid the carton of eggs on the counter, then peeped into the living room and down the hall. The door to a bedroom closed. Back in the living room, a baby swing and toys littered the floor. She’d said she had side jobs. Was she babysitting or running a day care? The wall above the couch caught his eye.

A collage of photos. Those weren’t there the last time he visited. There had been a huge painting of a meadow. He remembered because he’d loved it. It was only missing a tornado right down the middle.

He switched on the lamp by the couch and gaped.

Blood whooshed in his ears, leaving him dizzy. Photo after photo of a baby girl. Newborn pictures. One in a little tin washtub chewing on a rubber duck. But it wasn’t the clever poses that nearly brought him to his knees. It was the black-as-night hair. The blue eyes that stared back at him. The dimple in her right cheek. Locke touched his right cheek, felt the dimple there.

His sight landed on a newborn picture with footprints and handprints beside it and a birthdate.