Cold Hearts

Someone was in trouble.

He started to accelerate through the intersection when another police car appeared at the far end of the street and took a sharp left, obviously heading to the same location. He frowned. It wasn’t his practice to be a siren chaser, but since this was where he’d grown up and he knew almost everyone in town, he turned and followed the disappearing lights.

Five

Lissa was standing in her living room in the dark with her arms wrapped around her waist, still struggling with the urge to scream. Her bare feet were cold on the hardwood floors, her eyes wide and fixed on the front door. She had locked onto the faint sound of approaching sirens as if they were her lifeline, and when the lights from the first cop car appeared in the driveway and swept across the wall behind her, her knees buckled.

They were here. Thank God, thank God. She was no longer alone. Without hesitation, she stumbled to the front door and then opened it wide.

* * *

The two police cruisers arrived at the house within seconds of each other just as Mack turned the corner at the far end of the block. He watched the officers emerge from the patrol cars and immediately recognized the Doyle brothers. Now he was even more curious as to what was going on.

When it dawned on him that they were at the old Sherman house and he remembered Melissa was living there again, he tapped the brakes, slowing even more. Then he saw the front door open, and when he saw the blonde with a familiar tangle of curls appear in the doorway, he felt like he’d been sucker punched. He thought about driving away—letting her business be hers—but something held him here, so he stopped in the middle of the street to watch.

The officers were all the way up on the porch by the time Mack noticed the porch light highlighting the terror on her face. He would never be able to drive away without finding out what was wrong, so he shifted the car into Park and headed for her house.

* * *

Lonnie Doyle arrived in his patrol car only seconds ahead of his brother Carl and was all the way up on the porch before he saw what was on her doorstep. He stopped, startled by the sight.

“What the hell?”

“What’s wrong?” Carl asked, as he came up the steps behind his brother. When he saw the rat beneath that overturned trap, the first thing he thought of was Paul Jackson beneath that lift. Some sick son of a bitch was messing with her big-time.

“Someone was just here,” Lissa sobbed. “I didn’t see who it was, but he’s been harassing me for weeks, and tonight he left this.”

Mack was walking toward the house, pulled toward her presence like a moth to the flame, when he heard the words and the fear in her voice. He was shocked that a stalker was at work in Mystic. And then he reminded himself there was already an open murder investigation and the possibility that his father’s death might somehow be connected. A stalker only added to his disillusionment. He didn’t know how to feel about seeing her again, but the look of pure terror on her face wasn’t okay. He didn’t see the rat until he was on the steps, and then he almost stumbled. The reference was impossible to miss. Who the hell would do something this cold?

Both officers heard the footsteps behind them, and their hands were on their weapons as they turned, but when they recognized who it was, they relaxed.

Before they could ask what he was doing there, Mack walked between them and stopped just shy of the rat, his gaze fixed on Lissa’s face.

“Melissa.”

She stared, too stunned to answer.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She was already in shock from what had just happened, but after his father’s death, she had known this moment was coming and dreaded it. She swayed on her feet as the world began to spin.

Mack leaped over the bloody trap and caught her before she fell.

Lissa grabbed hold of his forearms to steady herself, then hid her face against his chest, too rattled by his appearance to think.

Lonnie glanced at his brother. “Carl, get a couple of pictures.”

Carl arched an eyebrow. “You talkin’ about the rat or the lovebirds?”

Lonnie glared.

Carl grinned as he pulled out his cell phone and went to work.

Mack looked down at the little pink pigs on her white flannel pajamas and sighed. Who knew that it would be an old girlfriend in pink-pig pajamas who would settle a tiny part of the ache in his heart?

“Are you hurt? Did he harm you in any way?” he asked.

She came to her senses just as his hand cupped the side of her face, and she stepped back and away from him so fast she stumbled.

“I’m not hurt,” she said, scrubbing the palm of her hand against the side of her face, trying to remove the sensation of him from her skin.

Lonnie interrupted, anxious to get this dealt with. “Miss Sherman, I need to take your statement, but it’s a little chilly and your feet are bare. How about we go inside?”

Lissa turned on the living room light and then led the way back into the house. Mack followed the sway of her hips all the way to the sofa, with Lonnie behind him, leaving Carl to bag the evidence and search the area for the perpetrator or any clues to his identity.

Lissa sat down with her chin up and her eyes brimming with unshed tears, then pulled an afghan over her legs and absently tucked it beneath her feet.

Mack sat down in a chair with a clear view of her face without being invited to stay. He’d already inserted himself into the ongoing drama without asking, and he wasn’t about to follow protocol now.

Lonnie pulled out his phone, laying it on the coffee table near her as he settled at the other end of the sofa.

“I’ll record and transcribe your statement, and you can sign it later,” he said.

Lissa sighed. Hyperconscious of Mack’s presence and the lingering fear of the stalker in her life, all she could think was I can’t believe this is happening.

Lonnie hit Record and then asked the first question.

“I gather from what you said earlier that this isn’t the first time you’ve been harassed. Am I right?”

She nodded, and then realized that wouldn’t translate to a recorder and answered, “Yes, that’s right.”

“Do you know who’s doing it?”

She clutched the afghan as if it was body armor, unaware she was crying.

“No. I have no idea.”

Lonnie kept firing questions. “How long has this been going on?”

She shivered. “Almost a month.”

“Can you elaborate on what’s happened?”

She did, telling him about the progression of phone calls, the frightening innuendos that had turned into stalking, ending with what happened tonight.

“I wasn’t asleep,” she added. “Today has been a nightmare, and I couldn’t close my eyes without—”

She stopped in midsentence, remembering who else was in the room. She might resent him for the way they had parted company years ago, but she knew he was hurting for what he’d lost, and it was all her fault. She couldn’t face him and see the accusation in his eyes.

Lonnie inserted a quick question to shift the focus.

“Have you been having problems with any of your students?” he asked.

Lissa was startled by the question, and for the first time reacted without thinking.

“No, of course not! My students are six-year-old children. Whoever’s been calling me is a grown man.”

Lonnie tried another angle. “What about parents? Have you had any run-ins with them?”

Lissa shook her head. “No. My life was fine, unexciting, but fine until the phone calls began. And now this.” She pointed toward the porch. “How do I take that? Is this a direct threat aimed at me, or just an ugly reminder that I caused a man’s death?”

At that point, Mack could remain silent no longer.

“That’s bullshit, Lissa. You didn’t cause anything. That could have been anyone’s car. It happened. You didn’t have a damn thing to do with it.”

“But it wasn’t anyone’s car. It was mine,” she said, and then began to sob.

Mack had never been able to hear her cry, and now he got up and walked toward the kitchen to keep from taking her in his arms. He hurt for what she was going through, and for himself. And he knew something she didn’t. His dad’s death might turn out to have been a murder, which should free her conscience of any culpability.

Lonnie could see she was too upset to continue and stopped the recording before slipping the phone back in his pocket.

“I’m sorry this is happening, and while we don’t have much to go on, maybe we’ll get lucky and pull a print from the...evidence,” he said. “In the meantime, I would suggest you put up some security cameras. That might be the fastest way to identify your stalker. And remember, we’re only a phone call away. In the meantime, I’ll let myself out.”

And then they were alone.

Lissa began wiping at her tear-streaked face as Mack walked back into the room. She didn’t want him to see her tears, so she looked at the floor between his feet.

The past ten years looked damn good on her, Mack thought. She wasn’t any taller, but the wide-eyed innocence of childhood was gone from her face, leaving her with a sultry pout to her lips and those sleepy green bedroom eyes. The flannel pig pajamas were more tease than cover, her bare feet a reminder of the bare body he’d once known as well as his own.

“How does this work?” he asked.

The question surprised her. The last time she’d seen him, nearly ten years ago, he’d been so enraged she didn’t think he would even want to be in the same room with her, let alone act as if nothing was wrong.

“It doesn’t,” she said.

“Will you let me help with the security system?”

She shrugged. “If you mean you know someone who can install it, I would appreciate a name.”

She’d shut down, and he felt it. Even more, he got it and knew it had nothing to do with his father’s death.

“Then, I’ll be in touch. I am sorry about what’s happening to you.”

Lissa strode to the front door with as much confidence as she could muster, then opened the door and stepped aside.

“And I am so very sorry for your loss,” she said softly.

Mack sighed. She was staring at the floor, refusing to meet his gaze. He got the message. He walked outside and was off the porch before he heard the lock turn. He didn’t belong here any more than that dead rat.

* * *

Reece Parsons was dancing with excitement, waiting for the reaction to his latest little love note. He hadn’t been certain of his next move tonight until he’d found out about Paul Jackson’s death, and then he’d known immediately what came next.

It had taken a good five hours to find and catch a live rat before he could even go to her place, and then it was a matter of getting everything on her porch and waiting for the sound of her footsteps before he dropped the trigger on the rat and left it in its death throes on her doorstep.

The moment he dropped the trap, he bolted into the shadows between her neighbors’ house and hers, then slipped down the first alley he came to and kept running. He was breathing hard when he finally reached the truck and unlocked the door. Everything was fine, just as he’d left it. His little dog was asleep in the seat, but he wasn’t through with Melissa Sherman. He clipped the leash on to the dog’s collar and dragged him out.

“Come on, Bobo, let’s take a walk.”

Bobo’s legs were short but his attitude was big, and the word walk was always welcome.

Even though the night was chilly, sweat was drying on Reece’s forehead as he walked Bobo through the park, purposefully taking a shortcut that would take him within two blocks of Melissa Sherman’s house. He’d heard the sirens and guessed she’d finally called the cops. He wanted to see what was happening. It was a different kind of high to know she was that kind of scared.

The wire-haired terrier was nosing beneath every bush and sniffing trails left by nocturnal creatures but Reece had other business and all but dragged Bobo back toward her house. They exited the park at a side street and immediately headed for the sidewalk. The moment he saw two cop cars at her place, he grinned. There was another vehicle at the curb and he wondered who it belonged to, but this was no time to get too curious. He decided he would just walk Bobo by the house and maybe get a peek at what was going on as they passed.

Then, as if on cue, a stray cat slunk out from beneath the SUV parked at the curb and took off across the street. Bobo leaped forward so fast the leash slipped from Reece’s hands and he took off running after it. All of a sudden Melissa Sherman’s welfare was playing second fiddle to recovering his dog.

* * *

Carl took the pictures, then bagged up the dead rat and trap, securing everything inside his vehicle before he began to check out the neighborhood.

The lights had been off in every house when they’d arrived, so he doubted there would be any witnesses, but it was his job to ask.

He began with the house north of where Melissa lived and asked them if they’d seen anyone running away from her place earlier. He got a play-by-play of where the residents had been sleeping and what they’d had for supper before going to bed, but no one had seen anything.

He went down the block, knocking on doors and asking the same question without getting a useful answer. He had just started back up the block on the other side of the street when he heard a small dog begin to bark. He turned around to look just as a man came running out of the shadows.

* * *

Reece was a little panicked. He loved Bobo and didn’t want to lose him, but this was not how he’d intended to revisit the scene of the crime. Not only was the dog outrunning him, but Reece was running out of energy.

“Bobo! Bobo! Come back here! Heel, Bobo, heel!” he yelled, and then groaned when he saw an officer come off the porch of the house across the street.

When the cop began running toward him, his heart skipped a beat. But when the officer made a little side step and grabbed the trailing leash and caught Bobo, he relaxed.

Bobo’s escape ended with a yelp as the leash tightened and pulled him up short.

The grateful cat disappeared into the shadows.

Reece approached the cop, winded and gasping with every step, and smiled as the officer handed over the leash.

“This is pretty late at night to be walking a dog,” Carl said.

Reece pretended disgust as he picked Bobo up in his arms. “Tell that to Bobo. He’s the one with the nervous bladder.”

Carl chuckled as he reached over and patted the terrier’s head.

“You’re the man, Bobo,” he said, and then he glanced up. “By any chance, have you seen anyone else on foot in this area in the past thirty minutes or so?”

Reece’s heart skipped a beat. He was actually being questioned as a witness to his own crime. This couldn’t get much better.

“Why? I see patrol cars at Miss Sherman’s house. Did something happen to her?”

“No, she’s fine. Just a prank gone wrong,” Carl said. “So did you see anything or anyone suspicious?”

Reece thought about pointing the finger at someone else and then at the last minute didn’t.

“No, sir, I did not. Bobo and I were originally in the park. I just wound up here trying to catch him.”

Carl nodded. “Okay. Just be on the lookout as you go back.”

“Are we in any danger?” Reece asked, holding Bobo a little tighter.

“I don’t think so, but just be aware.”

“Yes, yes, we will,” Reece said, and hurried away.

It wasn’t until he was back in the park that he began to grin. This had turned into a most interesting night. He gave the little dog a quick hug and kiss.

“Good boy, Bobo, good boy.”

Bobo yipped once.

Reece was still smiling as he reached his vehicle. He put Bobo safely inside, then scooted in beside him and started the engine. It was time to get home and do a little work. Sunrise would be here before he knew it.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.