Page 15 of Sunset Cove
Chapter Eight
Thank goodness for Margie. Claire felt ten times better. In the moments before Margie reeled her in, Claire felt like she was going to lose her mind.
Margie was right, as morbid as it was. If Becca’s son wanted to harm her, he could’ve done it already. He knew where she lived, but instead of harming her, he tried to set up a meeting. Inpublic. He just wanted to talk.
Probably.
Perhaps tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, she could give the FBI agents a call and clear things up. She’d show them the letter, and the picture, and then they’d all have a laugh about the misunderstanding.
She opened the door to her cabin and flopped onto the couch. Enough worrying for the day; what she really needed to do was focus on the papers that Chip had given her. He’d put a lot of time into organizing those numbers for her, and she desperately wanted to understand them.
There was a chance she’d run into him that evening at the hotel, so she’d look over the figures before she left for the night.
Claire picked up the pile of papers and focused her eyes on the first page. She was lost in thought when she heard a noise.
That was odd. It sounded like it was nearby. Claire paused, lowering the papers slowly.
She sat still, listening. It sounded like it was coming from the bathroom.
Claire let out a sigh. There was a small hole near the bathroom window. She’d been warned about it before she moved in, but she didn’t think much of. It seemed too small for anything bigger than a bee to get through, yet somehow a chipmunk had gotten in last week.
It had been quite a scene. The poor little creature had run around, squeaking in terror, and Claire ran after it, in a similar panic. She’d had to open the door and chase it with a broom until it found its way out.
Why hadn’t she plugged that hole when she had the chance? She was going to be smarter this time – she was going to give the chipmunk a clear exit. She quietly got up and crept over to the corner where she kept the broom. Then she tiptoed to the front door and opened it.
Bracing herself, she popped the bathroom door open.
And screamed.
The man in the bathroom screamed back.
“Please! It’s okay,” he said, hands up.
Claire backed up, clutching the broom in front of her like a baseball bat. She could hardly see his face. He was dressed in dark clothes and had a hood pulled over his head. “Stay there!”
He nodded, hands still up in the air.
She paused. “I’m going to call the police!”
“Please don’t call the police,” he said, taking a step forward.
Claire couldn’t help it; she shrieked again. She had the urge to run away, but when he stepped into the light, she froze.
There was something familiar about him and she stared at him, trying to place it. Claire was transfixed by the man’s eyes. They lookedexactlylike Rebecca’s.
“I’ve been camping for a while, and I just wanted to shower. I was about to crawl back out of the window when you came back. I didn’t think you were home…”
She lowered the broom a few inches. “Are you…the one who sent me that letter?”
“You got it?” A smile spread across his face. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to meet you. I’m Marty.”
Claire felt like she was going to lose her balance. Rebecca had always said that she wanted to have a son named Marty, after Marty McFly inBack to the Future.
She’d loved those movies, raving about how she wanted to live in the Wild West with Doc Brown and never have to worry about rules again.
“Marty,” she whispered.
He nodded, putting his hands down and lowering his hood.
