Killer Exposure. Jessica R. Patch
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was too long. This was a small town. He’d no doubt bump into Greer at the store, a café, the park. And he’d see Lin.
And he’d know he had daughter. A daughter he’d never laid eyes on. Never met.
Because Greer had kept it a secret.
To spare their child from the future heartache of knowing she was never wanted by her father.
* * *
Locke ran with Greer across the field to the carnival employee campground. Rows upon rows of RVs and campers created a temporary home base for the traveling crew. Locke was no stranger to this kind of living. Especially during spring and summer storm seasons. Greer was supposed to be on the team, too. But she’d come home to help her mother and dropped him faster than a twister descending out of the sky, ignoring all his calls and texts. He’d taken the obvious hint that things were over, which shattered his heart in a million pieces. He’d been too cowardly to show up on her doorstep and face the rejection in person. It had been easier to lick his wounds alone and fake it until he made it.
He’d been debating giving her a courtesy voicemail, as she wouldn’t answer his calls, to let her know that he’d be in her hometown for a week or so with the group of scientists he worked with. Could he slip into town for the week and her not know it? He was leaning toward “yes,” when Greer had literally smacked into him in the woods. No hiding now.
Locke had been capturing this small storm on his own time. The earlier weather hadn’t been conducive to tornadoes so he’d been using it in his free time to collect photos for his online web gallery. He’d created a large platform and made a name for himself as a storm photographer. Even National Geographic had purchased a few images and done a piece on him and his role working with this team to discover more about why some storms produce tornadoes and others don’t. They were working to help stretch tornado warning times for people.
He hadn’t expected to find Greer. Certainly not battling a crazed dude in the woods. He thought he’d heard screams earlier and was making his way toward them when Greer had slammed into him. Then he’d seen the attacker and realized the woman was in serious danger. He hadn’t known it was Greer until she’d called him by his full first name. Locklin. He’d been so stunned and distracted that the man got away. How had she witnessed the crime? Why was she hanging out around employee living grounds and why was she calling in crimes like it was her...? “Do you work for the police now?”
They dashed through a row of campers, and Greer slowed down. “Sheriff’s department. Deputy and crime-scene photographer when they need one. Thus, me needing to get photos.”
Locke had met her in one of their criminal justice classes, but they’d gotten to know each other working for the college paper. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest since you’re a witness to this crime?”
“Are you serious right now? It’s about to storm. I’m the only one around. Who else is going to do it?”
She had a point. And it wasn’t like Locke was in law enforcement now. He’d dropped out. School wasn’t for him, and he never wanted to follow the Gallagher-Flynn lineage into the military and law enforcement. Locke just chased storms and had disappointed everyone, as usual, including Dad. God rest his soul.
Greer shined a light and entered the gloomy scene. Locke followed but stayed outside the door. He wasn’t dumb enough to contaminate a crime scene. The deceased was lying in a pool of blood. This right here—this was why Locke never wanted to go into the criminal justice field. His stomach wasn’t fragile, but he detested violence. The marring of humans. The evil. His heart couldn’t handle this day in and day out.
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