Page 9 of One Night Years Ago

Natalie Bowmann, the sheriff’s daughter, had walked by with some friends, heading for one of the outdoor tables. She’d been wearing a bright yellow sundress. Hunter had watched her for a moment, amazed at how pretty she was, then quickly looked away, not wanting her to think he was a perv.

Hunter suddenly felt sick.

“Where’s Natalie?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“You don’t ever say her name, you piece of shit!” Sheriff Fowler said, rushing him. The man tackled Hunter. Hunter found himself on his ass, scuttling away like a crab in the face of the man’s fathomless rage. The sheriff reached him and put his boot on his chest.

Hunter shook like a leaf.

For a moment, he thought the sheriff was going to shoot him. Then the older man groaned and shoved Hunter onto his front, pressing his face into the mud while wrenching his hands behind him. Hunter choked on the mud. He wondered vaguely if this would be a more or less painful death than being shot. But only one thought really bothered him.

Where’s Natalie?

Chapter 5

Natalie

After a couple of weeks, people seemed to realize there wasn’t going to be a further standoff between her and Hunter Fowler, and life in Sharp’s Cove settled back into something of a routine.

Natalie didn’t know what to think. She was usually a good judge of character, but her hatred of Fowler had her doubting herself. She remembered what he’d looked like as he stepped off the bus. Tall and rugged and dangerous. He projected an air of indifference, but she knew prison hadn’t been easy for him. When she’d joined the sheriff’s office, she’d dug a bit into Fowler’s prison record. She knew he’d been attacked several times, had been stabbed and beaten. Probably raped, although the records didn’t detail that bit. Rapists didn’t have it easy in prison, she knew.

She’d often thought of going to see him in prison, but she never had. She didn’t think he would give her the only thing she wanted from him. An answer to the question why.

Why did you hurt me? What did I ever do to you?

Hunter Fowler had been a couple years ahead of her in school. They’d never been part of the same group, but they’d seen each other around often enough. Sharp’s Cove was a small town, and he was one of the best-looking boys in town. He’d had a reputation for being a bit of a bad boy, but he’d never struck her as cruel. And yet what he’d done to her—

She wished the attack was clearer in her mind. She wished she could remember how it started, how he convinced her to leave the club with him, walking out the back door.

“Hey, Nat, are you listening to me at all?” Emma complained.

“I’m sorry, Em, I just got lost for a second. Remind me again why we’re meeting up at the grocery store?”

“I’m having dinner at yours tonight, remember? This is the only way to ensure we don’t end up eating the science experiments currently growing in your fridge.

Natalie thought hard for a moment. She couldn’t actually remember the last time she put something in her fridge. Last week’s takeout, perhaps? It probably was quite moldy by now.

My mom would be embarrassed. We used to cook together all the time.

She shook the thought away.

“Fair enough. What would you like for dinner, Em?”

“I just told you,” Em said in an exaggeratedly patient voice, “We’re making linguini pesto!”

“Are you still interested in Giovanni?” Giovanni was an instructor at the only gym in town. Though born and bred in the US, Giovanni was half Italian and spoke with a strong Italian accent that Natalie was quite sure he faked. His body was impressive to look at, however.

Emma shook her head, her hazel eyes twinkling. “Don’t be silly. Giovanni and I were over weeks ago, Nat. But you know me, I’m not one to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Giovanni and I may be history, but I love Italian food.”

Natalie laughed out loud. “Okay, then, signorina, what do we need to make this famous pesto sauce?”

“Basil, lots of basil,” Emma said, picking up a whole plant from the produce section. Suddenly, the smile froze on Emma’s face. She placed the basil plant in her basket and grabbed Natalie by the elbow, steering her towards another aisle.

“We also need pine nuts. Lots of—”

“What’s going on, Em?” Natalie dragged her heels and turned, bumping right into Hunter Fowler’s mother.

The older woman jumped a mile back. “Natalie … I mean, Sheriff Bowmann.”