"He was my first thought, too." Alarm fluttered through me. The fact the sheriff was coming to the same conclusion I did, that it wasn't a coincidence the girls were in the bottom of the well near John's house, scared me.
His words had a ring of truth to them I didn't want to hear. How was I supposed to know who the threat was or whether or not I was truly in danger?
The images in my mind of the phones and skeletons made me want to crawl under the bed and never leave. Who had done it, if not Philip or the sheriff?
Carter had given me one warning about a man who didn't want history changed. Was it possible he was resorting to killing to prevent it? If so, who was he? A townsperson who saw the much-celebrated daughter of John return four times?
"This just gets worse," I murmured.
The sheriff's suspicion hadn't softened with our talk. If anything, I guessed he was thinking even worse of me, considering I had all but admitted to not being John's real daughter.
"What happened to the real Josephine?" he asked quietly.
Holy shit. Does this guy have empathic memory? "I am the real Josephine."
The thick silence was tense. I didn't look at him, instead focused on the dancing flames of the fire in front of me.
"I don't want to see you hurt, Miss Josie," he added. "Despite your … peculiarities."
I smiled. "Thanks. I can handle it." Whatever it is.
"I don't think you can. I don't think you'll see the danger coming."
That terrifies me. I had come to the same conclusion, and I hated, hated thinking such dark thoughts.
"I can help you," he continued.
Studying him, I had the sense he didn't mean in the way a sheriff protected the people of his town, that he was talking around something again. I just didn't know what that entailed, why it was suddenly harder to breathe, why I suspected I was scratching the surface of something I didn't think I could handle. "I'm ready for bed," I said instead.
"You can sleep in my room."
"Thanks." I rose and went the long way around the seating area to the door of his bedroom. A part of me wanted to ask what he meant about helping me, but I stopped myself.
Carter told me not to reveal anything about who I was. Lying was hard, trusting him harder, but I had faith in both for now.
I went into the room, at once noticing the chill without the fire. The sound of rain was loud on the tin roof, the lightning gone. Wrapped in the blanket, I crawled into the covers of his narrow bed and breathed deeply. His scent was much stronger on the worn sheets and blanket of his bed.