“The decoys aren’t what they seem.”

When a gunshot victim dies in front of Betsy Michaels, his last words make her a killer’s next target. The undercover agent investigating the murder is none other than Mark Webber, the man who’d broken her heart. Now she has to trust him with her life.

Mark feels duty bound to protect Betsy from the drug smugglers responsible for his partner’s death. Yet every time he looks at her, he’s reminded of the choices he made that hurt Betsy to the core. And despite their rekindled attraction, this time the danger isn’t just to their hearts.

The near accident with the car had left Betsy with more than a few scrapes and scratches. Her skin prickled in fear at the thought that she’d almost been run over.

She’d never felt that scared before, and she hoped she never would again. Her inability to respond to the immediate danger baffled her. Why hadn’t she jumped out of the way instead of standing in the street like a frightened animal, not knowing which way to turn? If it hadn’t been for Mark, she might be dead now.

She stopped at the door of Mark’s car and stared back at him. No matter what she thought about Mark on a personal level, she had to admit his law enforcement training had served him well. He had reacted like a trained professional, and she owed him a debt of gratitude. Maybe her gratitude would help her overcome the hurt he’d inflicted on her in the past. Then again, maybe nothing could change how she felt. Only time would tell.

SANDRA ROBBINS

a former teacher and principal in the Tennessee public schools, is a full-time writer for the Christian market. She is married to her college sweetheart, and they have four children and five grandchildren. As a child, Sandra accepted Jesus as her Savior and has depended on Him to guide her throughout her life.

While working as a principal, Sandra came in contact with many individuals who were so burdened with problems that they found it difficult to function in their everyday lives. Her writing ministry grew out of the need for hope that she saw in the lives of those around her.

It is her prayer that God will use her words to plant seeds of hope in the lives of her readers. Her greatest desire is that many will come to know the peace she draws from her life verse, Isaiah 40:31. “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.”

Fatal Disclosure

Sandra Robbins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace,

whose mind is stayed on thee: because he

trusteth in thee. Trust ye in the Lord forever:

for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength.

—Isaiah 26:3–4

To my family,

whose encouragement keeps me writing

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

ONE

A shriek much like the distress cry of a black-crowned night heron pierced the morning quiet.

Atop one of the tall sand dunes at Springer’s Point, Betsy Michaels turned from studying the ocean below and peered behind her at the gnarled oaks of the maritime forest, the last one on Ocracoke Island. A shout from somewhere beyond the forest’s edge echoed on the cold wind, and she squinted at the sandy trail leading back through the trees.

She listened for a few seconds and then relaxed. It was only the wind blowing through the trees. She turned back toward the ocean but whirled around again when the crack of two rapid gunshots split the early morning air.

Anger replaced the fear she’d felt moments ago. Guns weren’t allowed in the 120-acre protected sanctuary of the North Carolina Coastal Land Trust. She unzipped her fanny pack and pulled out her cell phone. Before she could punch in the number of the Ocracoke sheriff’s office, a man stumbled from the thick growth of the forest and reeled toward her.

Blood covered the front of his shirt. He held out a hand toward her. Terrified, Betsy took a step backward. The man hobbled another step before he sank to his knees. “P-please…” he mumbled “…h-help me.”

Betsy hesitated a moment, then rushed forward. Horrified, she grabbed his arms and eased him to the ground.

“I’ll call the sheriff’s office for help.” She punched in the first number of the island headquarters where her brother and brother-in-law worked as deputies.

He grimaced with pain and tried to raise his head. “Caught me…”

Betsy’s heart pounded at the thought of impending danger. “Is someone following you?”

His hand clutched at her unzipped fanny pack. “Tell him…”

Betsy glanced over her shoulder and scanned the thick trees before she turned back to the man. His hand drifted from her fanny pack to the ground. “Don’t talk,” she said. “I’ll get help for you.”

Her sister-in-law, Lisa Michaels, answered on the first ring. “Sheriff’s office.”

“Lisa, it’s Betsy. I’m at Springer’s Point with a man who’s been shot. He needs help right away.”

“I’m notifying EMTs and deputies right now. Stay on the phone with me until they get there. Is it a bad wound?”

“I think so, but…”

The man tugged at her arm. “Decoys,” he whispered.

Betsy frowned and glanced across the inlet. Duck hunting season was months away. There were no decoys in sight today. She shook her head. “Hush. Save your strength.”

He gritted his teeth and grasped her arm. “Tell him…decoys…not what they seem.”

“Tell who?” Her heart lurched at the life fading from his eyes. She bent closer. “Can you hear me?” His chest heaved one last breath, and his body stilled. She nudged his shoulder. “Don’t give up. Help will be here soon.” When he didn’t answer, she pressed her fingers to his wrist but felt no pulse. She clasped his hand in hers and closed her eyes. “Oh, God, please don’t let this man die. Give him the strength to hold on until help arrives.”

“Betsy? What’s going on?” Lisa’s voice startled her and her eyes flew open.

Her hand shook as she raised the phone to her ear. “I think he’s dead.” The thought sent a wave of panic flooding through her. Whoever shot him could be watching her this very moment. She cast a frightened look over her shoulder. “Where are those EMTs?”

“They’re in the parking area. They’re heading down the trail now, but it’s quite a hike to the Point. Are you doing okay?”

Another cold wind blew in from the ocean and Betsy shivered. “I am, but I wish they’d hurry.”

“Hey!” a voice yelled. “What are you doing?”

Betsy jumped to her feet and spun to see who had called out. A man stood at the edge of the forest. She gripped her cell phone tighter. “Lisa, a man just came out of the forest.”

“Who is he?”

Betsy squinted in an effort to make out his features. At this distance, she could only determine he was tall. “I don’t know, but he looks threatening. Are Brock and Scott behind the EMTs?”

“They’re both on duty today and are on their way. What’s the man doing now?”

Before Betsy could speak, the man charged in her direction. “He’s coming toward me.”

“Get out of there, Betsy. Now!”

Two options flashed into Betsy’s head. Make a run on the trail through the forest or slide down the steep dunes to the small inlet beach below. But she’d never make it through the tangle of flowering yucca and sea oxeye that covered the dunes.

“There’s nowhere to go!”

“Does he have a gun?”

“I don’t see one.” The tactics she’d learned in her self-defense class rushed through her head. Taking a deep breath, Betsy planted her feet in a wide stance and held up her hand. “Stop where you are,” she yelled. “I’m on the phone with the police. They’ll be here any minute.”

The man stopped, then inched forward. He shook his head in disbelief. “Betsy?”

Shivers ran up her spine at the sound of the voice from the past. “Mark?” she gasped. “Mark Webber? Is it really you?”

Moments ago, Betsy had thought her heart would burst with fear, but it was nothing compared to the way it raced at the sight of the man she’d tried to erase from her memory. Her first thought was of how glad she was to see him, but that changed in an instant to suspicion. She glanced behind her in hopes the EMTs were close.

“W-what are you doing on Ocracoke?”

He frowned. “I’ll tell you later. You said you called the police.” He glanced at the man at her feet. “How is he?”

“I think he’s dead.”

He rubbed his hand across his head as she remembered seeing him do in the past. Then his dark hair had been thick, but now it was close-cropped and spiked. His former clean-shaven look was gone, and in its place he sported a beard consisting of a thin line of hair extended from his sideburns and along his jawline into a pencil mustache. But the biggest surprise was the spiked leather cuff bracelet he wore and the silver stud in one ear.

He knelt beside the man and checked his pulse before he pushed to his feet. “You’re right. He’s dead. We’d better wait for the police and let them sort this whole thing out.”

Betsy’s eyes grew wide at the lack of emotion in Mark’s words. What was the matter with him? A man lay dead at their feet, and he acted like it was just a normal day. She glanced down at the dead man again and clenched her fists at her side. Her heart constricted at the thought that somewhere this man had family who had no idea what had happened. Maybe Mark didn’t care that a man had lost his life, but she did. But then she’d learned long ago that Mark didn’t care for anyone but himself.

Betsy wanted to scream at him, to demand he tell her what had brought him to Springer’s Point this morning and why he looked like a rap star who had just stepped offstage. Before she could confront him, he turned his back, walked to the edge of dunes, and stared at the water below. She glanced down at the cell phone in her hand and brought it back to her ear.

“Lisa, are you still there?”

“Betsy, I’ve been going out of my mind. What’s happening there?”

She wished she could answer that question, but at the moment she had no idea. “All I know is there is a dead man on the dunes and a man I used to know came out of the woods. Where are Brock and Scott now?”

“They’re right behind the EMTs. They should arrive any minute.”

“Thanks, Lisa. I’ll talk to you later.” She disconnected the call, slipped the cell phone in her fanny pack, and zipped it closed. She felt better knowing Brock, her sister’s husband, and her brother were the deputies on duty this morning. Maybe they could get to the bottom of who was responsible for the man’s death. Betsy stared at Mark’s back, and the need for answers welled up in her. She clenched her fists. “Mark, answer my question. What are you doing on Ocracoke?”

He turned slowly and faced her. “I’m on vacation.”

“Vacation? You’ve never come here before.” She let her gaze drift over him, and the truth hit her. A bitter taste poured into her mouth and her lip curled into a sneer. “You’re undercover again, aren’t you?”

His shoulders drooped, and he took a step toward her. “Betsy, I…”

Before he could finish, the EMTs burst from the forest and onto the dunes. She and Mark backed away as they began to work on the man at their feet. Within minutes, Brock and Scott emerged from the trail and rushed toward her.

Scott grabbed her by the arms. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I am. Just still a little shaken, though.” She glanced at Mark over her shoulder and made the proper introductions.

Scott released her and cleared his throat. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Webber. What were you doing at Springer’s Point this morning?”

“Out sightseeing.” Surprise flickered in Mark’s eyes, and he glanced at Betsy. “I didn’t know you had a brother. I thought you just had two sisters.”

Brock turned a puzzled look toward her. “Betsy, do you know this man?” Brock asked.

“Yes, but I haven’t seen him in years.” She glanced at Mark. “As for my brother, his mother was our father’s first wife. We were reunited a few years ago.”

His eyes darted from Scott to Brock. “I see.”

The muscle in Scott’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t speak. After a few seconds he pulled a notepad from his pocket. “Betsy, can you tell us what happened?”

He wrote as she related the events of the morning. When she’d finished, he flipped the notepad closed. “Brock, do you have any questions for Betsy?”

Brock, who’d been unusually quiet since he appeared on the scene, shook his head. “I think we need to find out where the shooting occurred. Since Betsy told us where he emerged from the forest, we need to get busy.” He turned to Mark. “Maybe you heard something while you were sightseeing, like what direction the shots came from.”

Mark nodded. “I don’t know much, but I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”

Brock gritted his teeth and took a step closer to the body. He bent forward and stared down at the still figure. Arnold Culver, one of the EMTs, rose to his feet. “There’s nothing we can do for this guy, Brock. There’s no identification on the body. In fact there’s nothing in his pockets at all. Even the label has been cut out of his shirt. That seems strange.”

Brock and Scott exchanged quick glances. “We’ll start checking around the island. Maybe somebody knows him,” Brock said.

Arnold nodded. “It would be a shame if he has family waiting in some motel.” The EMT rubbed his chin and cocked an eyebrow. “But if he does, it looks like he’d have some kind of identification. At least a driver’s license.”

“Yeah, it sure does.”

Arnold shrugged. “Is it okay if we transport him to the health center?”

Brock stared at the body a moment before he exhaled. “Yeah, go ahead. We’ll stay and look for the murder scene. I’ll stop by the health center when we get back to the village.” He glanced over his shoulder at Betsy. “I saw your bicycle in the parking lot. I’d rather you didn’t ride it back to the village. After all, there’s a murderer somewhere out here. Go back with Arnold and I’ll bring your bike to the station. Okay?”

She was tempted to ask Mark if he would be going to the station, too. When she glanced at him, a veil descended over his eyes, and she knew she’d been right when she asked if he was undercover again. She had seen that look before. Betsy pulled her attention away from Mark and waited until Arnold and his assistant had finished bagging the body.

Arnold smiled at her. “Ready to go, Betsy?”

“Yes.” She glanced one more time at Mark, but he still hadn’t looked at her.

Brock hooked his thumbs in his service belt and inclined his head toward the forest. “Okay, Mr. Webber, suppose you show us where you were when you heard the shots.”

Without speaking, Mark headed toward the spot where he’d exited the forest. Brock and Scott followed behind. She stared at Mark’s back a moment, and the memory of his walking away from her once before washed over her. With one last glance in his direction, she jogged after Arnold and his assistant, who had already disappeared down the trail.

As she hurried to catch up with the EMTs, she thought about the look in Mark’s eyes when he’d first seen her. Was it surprise, or was it something else? Could he possibly have been happy to see her? She frowned and shook her head. Thinking like that could get her in trouble. It had once before.

Whatever he felt when he first saw her, it had changed in an instant. The old Mark had emerged and brought back all the memories she’d tried to push from her mind. The veiled look had alerted her to what she wished she’d seen when she first met him.

How she wished she could forget what had happened, but she couldn’t. Even after all these years she still remembered the terror she felt the night two officers escorted her into a police department interrogation room. That fear had turned to anger when Mark walked into the room and advised her it would go easier on her if she told the police everything she knew. Then he walked out the door and left her to face the worst nightmare of her life.

She’d called out for him to come back that night, but he walked away without a backward glance. Just like he did moments ago when he went with Brock and Scott. Now she only wanted to get away from him as fast as she could.

Mark was on the hunt, just like before, and he’d once again gone into shutdown mode. She had no idea who he was after, but she knew one thing. He didn’t care who he had to walk all over in the pursuit of justice.

This time, she was determined it wouldn’t be her.

* * *

Mark braced himself for the outburst he knew was coming. They had barely entered the forest before it happened.

“That’s far enough, Webber.” Brock’s voice brought him to a halt. “What in the world were you thinking?”

He took a deep breath and stared at the deputies. The branches of a huge tree shaded the three of them, but it didn’t hide the anger on their faces. Both of them glared at him with looks that told him they’d like to punch him in the jaw.

“I had no idea you were related to Betsy.”

“Are you serious?” Scott hissed. “The Drug Enforcement Administration gives you an undercover assignment on the island where Betsy grew up, and you don’t think it’s important they know about your connection?”

He shook his head. “I knew she was from Ocracoke, but I didn’t know for sure she came back here after she graduated from art school. She told me she wanted to live in New York.” He glanced at Brock. “When I met with you at Sheriff Baxter’s office on the mainland, I had no clue you were related to Betsy. And you, Scott, weren’t even there. If you had been, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection. I didn’t even know Betsy had a brother.”

Scott took a step closer to Mark. “I know all about Betsy’s experience with an undercover police officer in Memphis. If we had known it was you, we would have told Sheriff Baxter to send you back to Raleigh.”

“Well, I’m here now, and you’ll have to make the best of it,” Mark countered.

Scott clenched his fists. “I’m warning you, Webber. Watch your step around my sister. Understand?”

Brock laid a restraining hand on Scott’s arm. “I suppose there’s no use arguing about it now. We’ve got bigger problems. The murdered guy back there is John Draper. He’s been working undercover for several months here. He must have found out something that got him killed. Do you have any idea what it could be?”

Mark shook his head. “All I know is I was assigned to take over the investigation here. Draper was supposed to leave on the noon ferry today. I received instructions to rendezvous with him at Springer’s Point this morning. He had something to give me. When I arrived, he was dead.”

Brock pulled off his sunglasses and stuck them in his shirt pocket. “Do you have any idea what he had for you?”

“No. My message just said he’d made a big discovery that could blow the case open, and I was to meet him here. But according to the EMTs he didn’t have anything in his pockets.”

Brock’s forehead wrinkled. “Do you think he could have hidden it somewhere?”

Mark shrugged. “I don’t know.” His heart pounded at a sudden thought. “I wonder if he could have said anything to Betsy. Maybe something that didn’t seem important at the time.”

“That’s a possibility. We’ll see if she remembers anything.” Brock sighed and stared into the forest. “Before we do, let’s see if we can find the spot where he was shot. Could you tell where the sound came from?”

Mark pointed deeper into the forest. “This way. I was on the trail when I heard the gunfire and ran into the trees. I didn’t see anyone until I found Betsy bending over him.”

“Then let’s try straight ahead,” Brock said.

A sudden thought popped into Mark’s head, and his eyes grew wide. “Wait a minute. Whoever shot John must have followed him when he stumbled out of the forest. What if they saw Betsy? She could be in danger. We need to question her to see if there’s something she saw that may be related to John’s death.”

Scott’s mouth tightened. “I don’t want my sister to be dragged into the middle of an undercover drug sting.”

“And neither do I,” Brock added.

“I understand.” It was evident the two deputies were very protective of her, and Mark didn’t blame them.

His friendship with Betsy had died years ago, and there was no point in thinking it could be recovered. He’d tried over and over to explain what had happened, but she wouldn’t answer his phone calls or emails. Then when he’d worked up his courage, he’d finally gone to her apartment to beg her forgiveness. That gesture had earned him a door slammed in his face.

Only then did he give up. Betsy hated him and would never forgive him. He’d accepted what he couldn’t change. Or had he? Maybe when he’d received this assignment, he’d secretly hoped she might be on Ocracoke.

He gritted his teeth and shook his head. Forget that idea and concentrate on the job. A DEA agent had been murdered, and Betsy had been the last person to see him alive. She might have information that would be helpful in catching a killer. That’s all he wanted from her. Nothing more.

He had two goals—catch John’s killer and bring down a drug-smuggling ring. When that was accomplished, he’d be off this island and out of Betsy Michaels’s life for good.

TWO

Betsy stopped pacing the floor of the small office in the Ocracoke Sheriff’s Department and glanced at her watch. “What’s keeping them? They should have been here an hour ago.”

Lisa, the department dispatcher and Scott’s recent bride, looked up from her computer screen and smiled. “They’ll be here as soon as they’re finished at Springer’s Point. When Scott called in, he said they thought they’d found the spot where the man was shot. They’re looking for any evidence left at the scene.”

Betsy sank down in a chair by her sister-in-law’s desk and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Lisa, it was awful. That poor man. He died right beside me and I don’t know who he is or where he’s from.”

“I’m sure Brock and Scott will be able to tell us more when they get here.” Lisa reached out and patted Betsy’s shoulder before she directed her gaze back to the computer.

Betsy twisted in her chair and propped her elbows on Lisa’s desk. “Did Scott say anything about Mark Webber when he called in?”

A frown creased Lisa’s forehead, but she didn’t pull her attention from her computer. “Like what?”

“Like whether or not he’s coming back to the station with them?”

“No, but with him being a witness, too, they’ll probably bring him back.”

Betsy slumped in her chair and crossed her arms. “That’s what I thought.”

Lisa stopped typing, her fingers hovering over the computer keyboard, and stared at Betsy. “You sound like you don’t want to see him.”

Betsy’s face grew warm, and she blew at a stray lock of hair that dangled on her forehead. “I thought I’d seen him for the last time, and then he shows up again.”

Lisa tilted her head to the side and frowned. “I don’t understand. Had you met him before today?”

Betsy grunted and scooted down farther in her chair. “Oh, yeah.”

“But when? I’ve never heard you talk about anyone named Mark Webber.”

Betsy sighed and straightened. “I met Mark when I was in art school in Memphis. I worked part-time as a hostess at a restaurant, and Mark was a waiter there.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember Kate talking about your job. She showed me some pictures she took of the restaurant when she visited you once.”

“It was a great place to work, and the job was just what I needed, especially after I got that letter from Kevin saying he’d changed his mind about marrying me. He’d fallen in love with Sherry Kincaid, the girl who hated me all through school.”

Lisa pushed her computer keyboard out of the way and crossed her arms on top of the desk. “Yeah, he was a jerk. But I always thought he wasn’t good enough for you. He might have been the star athlete when we were in school, but look at him now. He can’t keep a steady job, and he and Sherry have three kids to feed. I’ll bet she’d change places with you in a heartbeat.”

Betsy reached over and squeezed her sister-in-law’s hand. “I doubt it, but you’re sweet to say that. Anyway, it’s all in the past. Back then, I was hurt and felt betrayed. Mark Webber was handsome and always seemed to have a lot of money to spend. But I couldn’t understand why he asked me questions all the time about our boss. Mr. Rousseau, the owner, had been good to me and helped me through the rough spot with Kevin. I decided Mark must think we were involved. I liked Mr. Rousseau a lot, but that’s as far as the relationship went.”

“So what happened next?”

“Mark really seemed to want a friendship with me, and soon I began to think he liked me. You know, in a more personal way. He kept asking me out, and when I finally gave in, I found I really liked him. In fact, I thought we might be headed for something serious. That is, until I learned the truth.”

Lisa’s eyes grew wide. “What truth?”

“Mr. Rousseau was the head of a drug ring, and the restaurant was a front for the organization. The police raided the place one night, and I discovered Mark was an undercover police officer who thought I was involved in the drug ring.” She swallowed hard. “So all the time he pretended to be interested in me, he really wanted to get some evidence against my boss and arrest me as an accomplice.”

“Oh, Betsy,” Lisa whispered, “how awful.”

“Yeah, it was. The officers took me downtown to police headquarters to question me. I was so relieved when Mark walked into the interrogation room, until I realized he thought I was guilty.”

Betsy wiped at the tears forming in her eyes. Even now it hurt to talk about that night.

Lisa wrapped her fingers around Betsy’s hand. “I can’t believe anyone who knows you could suspect you’d be involved in something like that.”

“I begged Mark to believe me, but he walked out and left me there. Later, I think he was really disappointed when he found out I had nothing to do with the drugs.”

Lisa’s fingers tightened. “What a jerk. I hope he does come in here. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”

Betsy took a deep breath and shook her head. “It wouldn’t do any good. I’m sure he thought he was doing his job and didn’t care who got hurt in the process. I’ll have to give him credit for trying to apologize later, but it came too late. He lied to me—just like Kevin did when he said he’d be here waiting until I finished school. Bottom line…I knew I could never trust him.”

“And now he shows up here. I wonder why.”

Betsy snickered. “I don’t have to guess. I know from the way he looked, he’s undercover again. The problem is, I don’t know who he’s after. But whoever it is, Mark had better stay away from me.”

Before Lisa could respond, the front door opened, and Scott and Brock walked in with Mark right behind. Lisa shot a glaring look at Mark as Scott walked over and put his arm around Betsy’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

She pushed her hair behind her ear and straightened her shoulders. “I’m fine. Lisa’s been keeping me company. I thought you’d never get here…”

“It took us longer out at Springer’s Point than we’d thought,” Brock said. He pointed to the back of the room. “Let’s go in my office and talk about what happened this morning.”

Without glancing in Mark’s direction, Betsy followed Brock and Scott into the office. Mark’s footsteps behind sent a warning signal flaring through her. When they entered Brock’s office and the door closed, she could sense Mark’s presence. She jerked her head in his direction. “What’s he doing here?”

Brock and Scott looked straight at her. “We thought we’d talk to the two witnesses together,” Brock said.

Betsy crossed her arms and sighed. “Don’t try to be evasive with me, Brock. I suspect Mark is an undercover officer.” She turned to face Mark. “I also know the Memphis Police Department has no jurisdiction on Ocracoke. So who do you work for now?”

“Betsy, please don’t…” Brock began.

She held out her hand with her palm facing Brock and shook her head. “No. I will not be tricked again by this man.” She turned to Mark. “Are you here to investigate me? Do you still think I must be involved in something illegal?”

Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Betsy, I never expected to see you when I came here. It was as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”

She took a step toward him. “Then be honest with me for a change. Why are you here?”

Neither of them blinked as they stared into each other’s eyes. Brock was the one to finally break the silence. “Mark, Betsy’s whole family has been involved in law enforcement as long as she can remember. She knows how important it is to keep matters confidential. You’re going to have to trust her.”

Mark’s forehead crinkled. “I do trust her, even if she doesn’t believe me.” He took a deep breath. “Betsy, I’m with the Drug Enforcement Administration stationed in Raleigh now. I’m undercover on Ocracoke to bring down a drug ring that’s smuggling illegal drugs into the country. The man murdered today was John Draper. He’s been undercover here for the past few months. I came to the island to replace him. Now it looks like I’ll be helping find his killer, and I think you can help.”

Betsy blinked in surprise. “How?”

“I received a message from him that he had some information for me and wanted to show me some evidence he’d discovered. But there was nothing on his body. Did he give you anything?”

“Like what?”

Mark shrugged. “I have no idea. All I know is he had something he said would blow our case wide open. I thought maybe he gave it to you.”

She shook her head. “No. He didn’t have time to give me anything. He died right away.”

Mark inched closer. “He must have done something with whatever it was. Think, Betsy. What happened after he came out of the forest?”

The events of the morning replayed in her mind, and she frowned in thought. “When I got to him, he said something about being caught. I thought he meant in the forest, but I didn’t see anybody else. Then I told him I was calling the sheriff’s office, and he mumbled something that sounded like ‘tell him.’”

“Tell him what?” Brock asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I told him to be still, and he said something about decoys. I thought he was delirious and maybe was thinking about duck season.”

Mark rubbed his hand over his head. “Did he just say the word decoy?”

“No. He said the decoys weren’t what they seemed. Then he gasped for breath, and I thought he had died. I closed my eyes and prayed for him, but it was no use. He was dead.”

Scott touched her arm, and she turned to him. “Are you sure he didn’t do or say anything else?”

She shook her head again. “No, that’s all he said.” She glanced from Scott to Brock. “If there was anything else, I would tell you. But that’s all he said.”

Brock let out a long breath. “We just want to make sure. If you think of anything else, let us know right away.”

“I will. Now is it okay if I go? I’m supposed to do some volunteer work at the British Cemetery today. I need to run by Treasury’s bed-and-breakfast and check on Emma before I go over there.”

“Who’s Emma?” Mark asked.

“My little sister,” Betsy said. “She lives with me in our family home out close to the beach. Scott lived with us until he and Lisa married recently.”

Mark nodded. “I do remember you telling me about her. How old is she now?”

“Eleven.”

Scott smiled. “Tell my little sister I’ll see her later.”

“I will.” She turned to leave, but Mark stepped in front of her and blocked her way.

His dark eyes stared at her. “Be careful. There’s still a killer out there somewhere.”

She lifted her chin and returned the intense gaze. “There may be a murderer on the island, but it has nothing to do with me. I’m not involved, just like I wasn’t the last time.”

He clenched his jaw and stepped out of her way. Betsy nodded to Scott and Brock and strode from the office. Lisa was on the phone and didn’t look up as Betsy rushed by. It was just as well, Betsy thought. She needed to get out of the office. Being around Mark brought up too many memories, and she didn’t need to dwell on things that happened years ago.

When she stepped onto the sidewalk, she saw her bicycle leaning against the side of the building. She jumped on and pedaled down the street toward Treasury Wilkes’s bed-and-breakfast. Whenever she needed someone to talk to, she ran to Treasury, who had been like a second mother ever since her own mother had died when Betsy was sixteen.

When she reached the two-story Victorian, she rushed inside, but Treasury and Emma were nowhere to be seen. They were probably off on one of their morning walks on the beach and wouldn’t be back until the middle of the afternoon.

Betsy glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that it was only ten o’clock. She had time to do her work at the cemetery before lunch. She hurried out the back door of the house to her truck, which she’d parked here this morning before her trip to Springer’s Point. Her gardening tools lay in the truck bed.

She grabbed the keys from under the driver’s seat and within minutes was on her way to the small cemetery where she spent time each week. The only way she knew to rid her mind of the events of the morning was to work off her pent-up energy on one of her projects. The British Cemetery topped the list of her favorite island spots.

She wanted to forget everything about the morning at Springer’s Point, especially the part about seeing Mark again. When she left Memphis, she thought Mark Webber was out of her life for good. Now he’d shown up undercover on her island. She couldn’t afford to let him into her life again, especially since she’d once thought they could have something special together.

Maybe a few hours of hard work and perspiration would erase that silly notion from her head.

* * *

Mark found it difficult to keep his mind on what Brock and Scott were saying. His mind kept wandering to the events earlier today. His gaze flitted across Brock’s office and came to a stop on a photograph sitting on a bookshelf behind Brock’s desk. Two women and a young girl smiled at him from the frame. One of them was Betsy.

Brock glanced at him and noticed him staring at the picture. “That’s my wife, Kate, and her two sisters. Emma is the youngest one’s name, and of course you know Betsy.”

He nodded. “Yeah. You can tell they’re sisters. They look alike.”

Brock picked up a paper off his desk and continued his discussion on leads John Draper had passed on to their office since his arrival on the island, but Mark tuned him out as he stared at Betsy’s picture. All he’d thought about all morning was how beautiful she looked at Springer’s Point.

She’d almost looked happy to see him in that first moment, but it passed quickly. A scowl replaced the smile, and he realized he was dreaming if he thought she’d ever welcome the sight of him again. Still, he couldn’t erase the picture of her standing at the top of the dunes—her feet planted apart, her dark eyes flashing, and her chestnut colored hair blowing in the breeze.

It reminded him of the night he began working in the Memphis restaurant and how he thought he’d never seen a more beautiful girl than Betsy, who was working as hostess. Although he kept telling himself to be careful about becoming too friendly with her, he couldn’t help liking her. In the end, though, he’d made a mess of that friendship like he had every other one he’d ever tried to have.

He sighed and directed his attention back to Brock Gentry. “What did you say?”

Brock chuckled. “What are you thinking about? You seem distracted.”

Mark pushed to his feet and shook his head. “I can’t get Draper out of my mind, and I’m tired. I didn’t sleep much last night. I think I need a cup of coffee.”

Scott jumped to his feet. “We can take care of that. Lisa keeps the coffee pot ready. Come on to the break room with me. You want some, Brock?”

Brock shook his head. “No, you two go on. I need to work on this report about Draper’s death.”

Mark followed Scott into the outer office. The woman who’d been at the dispatcher’s desk entered from a back room with a cup of coffee in her hand. She stopped as Scott approached her, and her eyes sparkled with a message meant for him alone. Scott smiled and leaned toward her.

“Me, too,” he whispered. Then he cleared his throat and straightened. “Uh, Mark, this is my wife, Lisa. We’re still newlyweds. I can’t believe this gorgeous woman would marry a guy like me.”

Mark smiled. “Congratulations. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Michaels. I’m Mark Webber.”

The smile on her face disappeared, and her eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Webber. From Betsy. She’s not only my sister-in-law, she’s a good friend. And I might add, she’s a wonderful woman.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

Scott raised his hand to his mouth to cover a slight cough. “I told Mark I’d get him a cup of coffee. Is there any left?”

Lisa Michaels pursed her lips, nodded, and walked back to her desk. Mark took a step to follow Scott into the break room but stopped when the front door opened. A man in cutoff jeans, a T-shirt and a floppy straw hat strolled into the room and sauntered over to where Mark and Scott stood.

The man pushed his long gray hair behind his ear and grinned at Scott. “I heard there was some trouble out to the Point this morning. You got any idea who shot that feller?”

Scott sighed. “Mark, meet Grady Teach. He’s always the first to know whatever happens on the island, and he likes to spread the word. Grady, this is Mark Webber. He’s vacationing on the island.”

“Glad to meet you.” Grady grinned, and his tongue poked through a gap in the bottom row of his teeth. “Now about that feller that got shot. I happened to be at the health center when Arnold brought the body in, and I heard Doc talking ’bout how they didn’t know who he was. So I offered to look and see if I knew him.”

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Now, Grady. Don’t tell me Doc let you look at the body?”

Grady waved a hand in dismissal. “Well, he may not have known I looked, but I told him afterward I’d seen that feller over at the Blue Pelican a few nights ago. He was a-sittin’ at the bar like he was waitin’ for somebody.”

“Had you ever seen him there before?” Scott asked.

“No, but it seems like I saw him somewhere else. If I think of it, I’ll let you know. You got any idea who he is?”

Scott shook his head, put his hand on Grady’s shoulder and ushered him to the door. “I’ve got nothing to tell you, Grady, but thanks for stopping by and let me know if you think of anything else.”

When the door closed behind Grady, Scott turned around. “I’ll tell Brock we need to check out the Blue Pelican and see if anybody knows who Draper met there. Grady always knows just enough to try and find out more. He’s faster than a text message when it comes to spreading gossip. Now how about that coffee?”

Mark shook his head. “I think I’ll pass. Maybe I’ll get some later. I need to talk to my superiors and see where we go from here.”

Scott nodded. “See you later.”

Mark nodded to Lisa, who glanced up as he strode toward the door, exited the police station and hurried to his car. Once inside he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the DEA office in Raleigh. Moments later he was connected with his superior and related the account of John Draper’s death.

“What about this girl who was with him?” the special agent in charge asked.

Mark hesitated before he answered. “She’s a local artist. She says he didn’t give her anything, and I’ve told you what she said were his last words.”

“I don’t know, Mark. There may be something she’s forgotten. I think you need to question her again.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I believed her.”

“Nevertheless, I’m telling you to talk to her. Don’t give up until you know for sure. Understand?” The voice vibrated with authority, and Mark knew it would no good to argue.

He sighed. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ll keep you posted.”

Mark ended the call and started the engine. Where was it Betsy said she was going? Some cemetery, but where?

He pulled into the street and spotted Grady Teach standing on the sidewalk outside the Coffee Cup. Mark pulled to the curb and rolled down his window. “Hey, Grady. I met you over at the sheriff’s office a few minutes ago, and I wondered if you can help me.”

Grady sauntered over to the car and leaned against the door. “What with?”

“A friend of mine was going to some special cemetery this morning, but I’ve forgotten the name.”

“Oh, that’s easy. All the tourists want to see the British Cemetery. Take Highway 12 until you come to British Cemetery Road and turn left. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks, Grady.” Mark waved and rolled the window up.

Taking a deep breath, Mark eased down on the accelerator. His boss was right. He needed to question Betsy more and see if there was something she’d forgotten. He didn’t want to intrude into her life, but a DEA agent had been killed. She might know something that would help them find the killer. Another thought struck him. She also might know something that would put her in danger. If so, he needed to find the killer as quickly as possible.

* * *

His fingers tightened on the cell phone when the name flashed on the caller ID. He pressed the phone to his ear. “Do you have it?”

“No. There was a problem.”

He sank down in his desk chair and wiped at the perspiration that popped out on his forehead. “What do you mean there was a problem?”

“Draper is dead, but he got out of the forest before we could reach him. We followed his trail out to the Point, but there was a woman with him. I had her in my sights and was about to shoot when this guy ran out of the forest. We heard her say the police were on their way. We couldn’t risk sticking around.”

He jumped to his feet, and the chair tipped backward and landed on the floor. “But you could risk the police finding what Draper had?”

The sigh that answered his question chilled his blood. “What Draper had is your problem. We were only trying to help you out. Our friends sent us here to make sure this next shipment gets to the mainland. After that, you’re the one who’s going to have to answer to why you couldn’t stop a DEA agent when you found him rifling through your office files.”

His heart slammed against his chest. “You don’t have to remind me. I need to recover whatever Draper found out. I’ll make it well worth your while if you can get it for me.”

Silence greeted his offer. He waited and finally his caller spoke. “We’ll see what we can do. We have information that there was nothing on his body when he was brought in. We also know the woman at the Point is an artist named Betsy Michaels. We think Draper probably gave the item to her, and the police may already have it. Want us to put some pressure on her to tell us where it is?”

A smile pulled at his lips, and he reached down and set the chair upright. “Yes, but be careful. Everybody in her family works for the sheriff’s department.”

“In that case, this could be trickier. It’s going to cost you twice what we usually get paid.”

“No problem. Just get it back for me before that shipment leaves.”

“We’ll see what we can do.”

He disconnected the call and tossed the cell phone on his desk. “Betsy,” he muttered, “why did you have to get mixed up in this? It would have been better if you had stayed home this morning.”

He sat at his desk for a few moments thinking about John Draper and wishing he had killed him when he’d caught him snooping. Instead the man’s escape had put the entire drug cartel in jeopardy. When the bosses on the mainland looked for the weak link in their organization, he knew they would look to him for answers. He had to do whatever was necessary to protect himself, even sending those hired assassins after Betsy Michaels.

That decision should bother him, but it didn’t. He had too much riding on this last shipment to worry about Betsy. The Michaels family had a reputation as protectors of the island and its residents. Too bad they wouldn’t be able to do anything to help their sister. She had just come on the radar of the wrong people, and they never stopped until they got what they wanted.

THREE

After an hour of weeding the British Cemetery, Betsy began to feel more relaxed. Her time spent in the small plot the island residents held in high esteem always made her misty-eyed and thankful for patriotic men like those buried here. They’d given the ultimate sacrifice in the pursuit of freedom. Her brother, Scott, had almost met the same fate, and she thanked God every day for his life.

Kneeling beside the sign that identified the small cemetery as a piece of English soil, she patted the last pansy into the flower bed and sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork. She glanced over her shoulder at the four graves and scanned them in search of an elusive weed she had missed.

“That’s a beautiful flower bed.” The lilting drawl drifted from the edge of the street.

Betsy glanced up and into the face of two smiling women. The brims of straw hats shaded their faces, but wisps of gray hair stuck out over their ears. Sunglasses perched on their noses, and they each held one of the information pamphlets from the Island Visitors Center.

Betsy pushed to her feet and brushed the dirt from the gardening gloves she wore. “Thank you. May I help you?”

One of them pointed to the pamphlet she held. “We’re vacationing on the island and wanted to get a look at the British Cemetery. We didn’t expect to find someone working here.”

Betsy walked to where they stood and smiled. “The Coast Guard is in charge of keeping the grounds in order. I know the guys stationed on the island, so I volunteer to help them out every once in a while. My name is Betsy Michaels.”

The woman who had spoken pointed to the woman beside her. “This is my friend Miranda Walton, and I’m Lizzy Nichols. We’re retired teachers from Florida, and we’re vacationing on your beautiful island.”

“I hope you’re enjoying your visit.”

Miranda nodded. “It’s been wonderful, but this is the first time we’ve gotten over here to see the cemetery. We understand there’s quite a story behind it.”

“There is.” Betsy pointed to the pamphlets they held. “Does it tell about it there?”

Lizzy held hers up and scanned it. “A little, but there must be more.”

Miranda inched closer. “Do you know what happened to the men buried here? If you do, I’d love to hear the story.”

“I’d like to hear it, too.” The familiar voice sent shock waves rippling through Betsy’s body, and she looked past Miranda and Lizzy to Mark who stood in the street behind the women.

The visitors glanced at him and turned back to her with big smiles on their faces. “It sounds like you’ve been chosen to serve as a tour guide for us. Please tell us what happened.”

Betsy licked her lips and watched Mark stroll up to stand behind Lizzy. Her heart pounded so she didn’t know if she could speak. She took a deep breath and tried to smile. “All right.”

Miranda motioned to Mark. “Young man, step up here beside us so you can hear.”

He moved closer, and Betsy cleared her throat. “During the early days of World War II, German U-boats attacked merchant ships off the eastern coast of the United States. From January to June of 1942, almost four hundred ships were sunk off our coast. That’s when the area first became known as the Graveyard of the Atlantic.”

Lizzy nodded. “My class studied about that when we covered World War II.”

“England sent a fleet of ships to patrol the shipping lanes, and the HMS Bedfordshire, was one of them. On the morning of May 14, 1942, two bodies washed up on Ocracoke, and their papers identified them as crewman on the Bedfordshire. Several more bodies as well as wreckage from the torpedoed ship followed. The island residents buried them in a spot they designated as the British Cemetery. They later ceded the land to England for all time.”

Miranda stared at the graves. “I was just a baby when my father died in the war. My mother never recovered. It’s sad to think of the families whose loved ones didn’t come home.”

“It is. But each year,” Betsy said, “representatives from England and members of our military come together for a ceremony to honor the men who gave their lives in the pursuit of freedom.”

Lizzy wiped at a tear in the corner of her eye. “What a touching story, and you tell it so well.”

Betsy darted a glance at Mark, and her heart thudded at the intense stare he directed at her.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes, you do.”

Lizzy and Miranda stared at him, then looked at each other and smiled. Lizzy patted Miranda’s arm. “I think we need to be on our way. Maybe we’ll see you again.”

Betsy smiled. “I hope so, too. Enjoy your vacation.”

Neither she nor Mark spoke until the two women had walked some distance down the street. Then he sighed. “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

The tightness in her chest kept her from speaking at first, but she took a deep breath and tried again. “How did you find me?”

He ran his hand through his hair and grinned. “I couldn’t remember where you told your brother you’d be, but I knew it was a cemetery. So I asked the one person on the island who seems to know everything, and he told me.”

She smiled. “Grady Teach?”

Mark laughed, and she remembered how that sound used to thrill her.

“That’s the guy,” he said. “It seems this is one of the most visited tourist spots on the island, and now I understand why.” He stared at the graves a moment. “Listening to you tell the story of how these men died made me think of my parents.”

His words surprised Betsy. “I don’t remember you ever talking about your parents.”

“I don’t talk about them much. They died when I was twelve years old.” He took a deep breath. “But I didn’t come here to talk about that. I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Of course I’m all right. Why would you think I wasn’t?”

He glanced around as if he wanted to make sure no one was near enough to hear and then took a step closer. “A man who’d been shot collapsed and died at your feet this morning. Whoever killed him could have seen you. I think you need to be careful.” He raised his hand and swept it in a wide arc. “You’re out in the open at a tourist attraction in the middle of the day. It could be dangerous.”

She pulled the gardening gloves from her hand and tossed them in the basket that held her trowel and pruning shears. “You’re being ridiculous.”

He glanced up and down the street that ran in front of the cemetery. “This is off the beaten path from the main street of the village. I’m only concerned about your safety.”

Betsy propped her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. It seems like that was what you said after Mr. Rousseau’s arrest. Your friendship with me was an attempt to keep me safe. Well, I didn’t buy it then—and I don’t now.”

“Betsy, please. What happened this morning has nothing to do with Memphis.”

“Maybe not to you, but I can’t help remembering how I felt when you thought I was a criminal.”

“Betsy…”

Before he could continue, her cell phone chimed. Betsy held up her hand to stop him. She unzipped her fanny pack and pulled it out. Mark’s lips twitched when he spotted the phone’s hard cover with its painted swirl of butterflies and flowers. “What’s wrong?” she said.

He arched an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen a cover like that.”

“I’m an artist. I like bright colors.” She dropped her gaze to the phone’s screen. The number on the caller ID wasn’t familiar. “Hello.”

“Where is it?” the raspy voice rattled in her ear.

She pulled the phone away and stared at it for a moment before she raised it back to her ear. “Excuse me. Who is this?”

“A friend.”

Betsy frowned and cast a quick glance at Mark.

He stepped closer. “Who is it?” he whispered.

She shrugged and spoke again. “You have the wrong number.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t like prank calls, mister,” Betsy snarled. “Don’t call this number again.” She punched the end button and slipped her phone back in her fanny pack.

“Who was that?” A worried frown creased Mark’s forehead.

“Wrong number.” She gave the fanny pack’s zipper a quick tug and reached for the basket at her feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going. Good luck catching whoever you’re after this time.”

She brushed past him and headed toward her truck that was parked on the opposite side of the street. Her fingers gripped the basket’s handle tighter as she stepped onto the roadway. Her mind whirled with questions. Why had Mark gone out of his way to find her? She doubted if he really had concerns about her safety. He had allowed her to continue working in the dangerous environment of the Memphis restaurant without ever warning her. Of course at the time, he had thought she was involved in the operation.

Ever since she’d first seen him this morning, her head had been spinning with all kinds of thoughts she didn’t want to remember. All she wanted was to get away from him as quickly as possible. Working on her latest painting would help her push these troubling thoughts from her head.

A car engine’s roar shattered the quiet, and Betsy stared down the street to her left. Her chest constricted at the sight of a black car speeding toward her. Her mind screamed for her to get out of its path, but her feet wouldn’t move.

Her body seemed to have switched off its power, and she had the feeling she’d stepped into a movie’s slow-motion scene. She willed her legs to move, but they didn’t respond.

“Betsy, look out!” Mark’s cry came from behind her.

The car roared closer, only a few feet from her at the edge of the cemetery. She closed her eyes just as a heavy weight slammed into her from behind and pushed her forward. The basket flew out of her hand and bounced off the hood of the car as Mark’s arms encircled her and propelled her forward. They both skidded to a stop facedown on the pavement beside her truck.

In an instant, Mark was on his feet and staring at the car that disappeared in the distance. Then he dropped back to the ground beside her and helped her sit up. “Are you all right? The car was too far away to get a license plate number.”

Betsy winced at the pain in her knees. Her eyes grew wide at the blood trailing down her legs where the skin had been scraped away. She wanted to clamp her hands over the wounds, but her palms burned as if they were on fire. She flexed her fingers. “Next time, I’ll wear jeans instead of shorts.”

Mark bent over her and examined the cuts. “This doesn’t look as bad as it could have been. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, just a little banged up.”

As she started to get up, he grasped her arm and helped her to her feet. “I think we need to go to the health center and get you checked out.”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

He pulled out his cell phone. “We can do this one of two ways. I’ll take you to the health center, or I’ll call your brother and tell him you were almost hit by a car. Which will it be?”

She sighed and nodded. “Okay. Do you want to follow me in your car?”

“You don’t think I’m going to let you drive after what just happened, do you? You’re riding with me. We can get your truck later.”

Betsy opened her mouth to argue, but she could tell by the look on his face that it would do no good. “Okay, have it your way. But would you mind getting my gardening tools out of the street before we leave?”

“Sure. Go on and get in my car. It’s parked at the edge of the cemetery.”

Betsy watched Mark begin to pick up the scattered tools from the street before she turned and hobbled toward his vehicle. The near-miss with the car had left her with more than a few scrapes and scratches. Her skin prickled in fear at the thought that she’d almost been run over.

She’d never felt that scared before, and she hoped she never would again. Her inability to respond to the immediate danger baffled her. Why hadn’t she jumped out of the way instead of standing in the street like a frightened animal, not knowing which way to turn? If it hadn’t been for Mark, she might be dead now.

She stopped at the door of his car and stared back at him. No matter what she thought about Mark on a personal level, she had to admit his law enforcement training had served him well. He had reacted like a trained professional, and she owed him a debt of gratitude. Maybe her gratitude would help her overcome the hurt he’d inflicted on her in the past. Then again, maybe nothing could change how she felt. Only time would tell.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Mark flipped a magazine closed and tossed it onto the table at the end of the couch in the health center waiting room. He glanced at his watch and yawned before he pushed to his feet. What could be taking the doctor so long with Betsy?

The front door burst open, and Scott Michaels and Brock Gentry rushed in. They hurried over to him. “Where is she?” Scott demanded.

“Dr. Hunter has her in the examining room. He told me to wait out here until he gets her checked out.”

Brock glanced at the closed door leading to the hallway that housed the exam rooms. “What happened?”

Before Mark could answer, the front door burst open again, and a woman Mark had never seen ran into the room. A mesh baby carrier strapped to her body held a baby whose head rested against her chest. She hurried toward Brock, and he put his arm around her.

“How is she?”

“Doc Hunter’s with her now.” He turned to Mark. “Mark, this is my wife, Kate. She’s Betsy’s sister. Kate, this is Mark Webber.”

A frown flitted across her face. “Mark Webber from Memphis?”

The icy tone of her voice made his skin tingle. Was he going to get the cold shoulder every time he met a member of Betsy’s family? But he supposed he deserved whatever they thought of him. “I used to live in Memphis. I don’t anymore.” He glanced at the sleeping baby. “That’s a cute baby you’ve got there, Brock.”

Brock’s eyes softened as he gazed down at his sleeping son, and he brushed a hand across the baby’s head. “Yeah, we’re proud of him.”

Kate turned a pleading look to her husband. “I want to know what happened to Betsy.”

“Mark was just about to tell us.”

Mark cleared his throat and related how a car had almost hit Betsy at the cemetery. He left out his mounting suspicions about the incident because he wanted to question Betsy about it first.

He had just finished telling them about the near miss when the hallway door opened, and the doctor stepped out. Betsy’s family surrounded him before he could move farther into the room. Mark stepped up behind to hear what the doctor had to say.

“How is she?” Scott asked.

The doctor smiled at the baby before he glanced up at Kate. “She’s fine. Just a few scrapes and bruises. She’ll be sore for a few days. It could have been a lot worse if it hadn’t been for Mr. Webber here. He saved Betsy’s life.”

The three turned and stared at Mark. “You didn’t tell us you were the hero,” Brock said.

Mark shrugged. “I wasn’t. Just lucky I was close enough I could get to her.”

“That’s not the way Betsy told it.” Doc Hunter’s eyes twinkled, and he motioned for them to follow him. “She’ll want to see all of you. So come on back.”

When they stepped into the treatment room, Betsy sat on the edge of an exam table. Her legs dangled over the side, and big bandages covered both knees. Her mouth curled down in a frown when she saw them, and she wagged a finger at Mark. “I thought you gave me a choice of bringing me here or calling my family.”

Mark grinned. “I did. But I had a choice, too. I knew Scott and Brock would want to break my neck if I didn’t tell them what happened. And now that I’ve met Kate, I think she could be worse than either of them.”

Kate wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulder and smiled at him. “You’ve got that right. My sister is very special to me.”

Scott lifted Betsy’s hands to look at the medicine covering the scrapes. “You had a close call. You need to be careful when you walk out into the street from now on.”

Mark gave a discreet cough, and they all turned to stare at him. “I’ve been thinking about this while I’ve been waiting, and I have some questions about what happened. I don’t think this was a random incident. I think somebody deliberately tried to run Betsy down.”

“What?” Kate’s voice almost shrieked.

“That car came out of nowhere and headed right toward her. I didn’t think I could get to her in time, but I did.”

Kate leaned against the exam table, and tears flooded her eyes. “Then thank you, Mr. Webber, for saving my sister’s life.”

“It wasn’t as bad as that,” Betsy insisted. “It probably was some teenagers speeding. You know how crazy they drive on the island sometimes.”

Mark took a deep breath. “There’s something else I didn’t tell you because I wanted Betsy to tell all of you at the same time.”

“What is it?” Kate asked.

Betsy frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The phone call. Tell them about the phone call.”

Betsy looked away. “I told you it was a wrong number.”

Mark shook his head. “It’s too much of a coincidence, Betsy. You receive a strange phone call and minutes later you’re almost run down in the street. It may be connected.”

Kate’s eyes grew wide, and she tightened her arm around Betsy. “What about a phone call?”

For the next few minutes, Betsy told them everything she remembered about the raspy voice on her cell phone. “I really did think it was a wrong number,” she insisted.

“And you’re sure he said ‘where is it?’”

“That’s what he said. I have no idea what he was talking about.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment as they digested this new information. After a moment, Kate spoke. “You shouldn’t stay alone, Betsy. I’ll take Emma to our house, and I want you to move into Treasury’s bed-and-breakfast for a few days.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ll be fine at home.”

Scott shook his head. “No, that house is too isolated, and you’re not staying out there alone with Emma. If you won’t consider your safety, at least think of our little sister. You already have your studio at Treasury’s. That would be the perfect place for you.”

“Scott and Kate are right. You need to go to Treasury’s and stay there until we can determine if the two incidents are related,” Brock added.

“But, Scott, you’re off tomorrow, and you promised to take me out on Pamlico Sound in the morning during low tide,” Betsy protested. “I need to get some pictures of the waterfowl in the marshes along the coast. Can we still do that?”

Scott and Kate looked at each other, and she gave a small nod. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll pick you up in the morning about five-thirty.”

“Good. I’ll be expecting you.”

Mark’s stomach knotted with dread. He jammed his fists in the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “There’s something I should tell you before you decide about staying at the bed-and-breakfast.”

Her eyes grew large. “What is it?”

He exhaled sharply. “I’m already staying there. You may not feel comfortable having me close by, but with me at the same place I can keep an eye on you. Then we can determine if there’s a danger to you or not.”

Her expression grew dark, and he wondered how deep her hatred for him went. Had her experience in Memphis made her so angry she would refuse the protection of a federal DEA agent? He hoped not.

Kate touched Betsy’s arm, and she turned to stare at her sister. “Betsy, we couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. No matter what happened between you and Mark in the past, I’ll feel better knowing there’s someone watching out for you.”

Betsy’s eyes softened, and she squeezed her sister’s hand. “All right. I’ll go to Treasury’s if it will make all of you feel better.” She took a deep breath and hopped to the floor. “Doc Hunter told me I was free to leave. So if someone will drive me back to my truck, I’ll go home and pack some clothes.”

Scott laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Oh, no you won’t. Brock and I will take care of the truck.” He turned to Mark. “Do you mind taking Betsy home to get her clothes then driving her to Treasury’s?”

Mark nodded. “I’ll be glad to do that.”

Brock and Scott followed Betsy out the door of the exam room, but Kate turned to block Mark from exiting. “Mr. Webber, I’ve been a police officer ever since I graduated from college. Even though I’m on leave now with my baby, I’m still involved in ongoing investigations on the island. I also understand how people who’ve been hurt by investigations don’t always understand an officer’s reasons for what they did.” She wrapped her arms around her baby and stared intently at him. “I’ve never judged you as an officer, only as a man who professed to be a friend to my sister. I hope you won’t do anything else while you’re here to add to her hurt.”

Mark’s face burned from the scrutiny of Kate’s eyes. “We’re dealing with some desperate criminals, Mrs. Gentry, and I’m afraid Betsy has attracted their attention. I only want to make sure she remains safe.”

“I’m glad you’re concerned for her safety. I’ll feel better knowing an officer is at Treasury’s.”

“I’ll watch out for her,” he promised.

Kate nodded, bit down on her lip, and led Mark down the hallway of the health center to the parking lot where the others waited. He could see the flicker of concern in all their faces, and none of them spoke as he climbed into the car and cranked the engine.

During the last few minutes, his assignment had become more complicated. Brock and Scott were right when they said he should have passed up an assignment on the island where Betsy grew up. He’d never expected to be involved with her whole family, but now he was.

After getting directions from Betsy, he pulled into the street on his way to her house. She sat in the passenger seat and didn’t speak but gazed out the window as they passed through the village streets jammed with tourists. He darted a glance at her every so often, but she didn’t look at him.

He wondered what she was thinking. Did she regret agreeing to stay in the same bed-and-breakfast where he was a guest? If she did, he’d have to prove to her he didn’t mean to cause her any problems. After all, he was on Ocracoke to do a job, and he intended to close this assignment like he had so many others in the past.

Before that happened, though, he had to make sure the men he was after hadn’t decided Betsy had something they wanted. He’d dealt with their kind before. Human life held little meaning for them, and their enemies often found themselves facing quick retribution.

He was determined that wouldn’t happen to Betsy.