by Maggie Wells
“Do you mind if I write these numbers down?” The sheriff pulled a small notepad and a pen from his shirt pocket.
“Knock yourself out,” she said.
“We’ll check them out,” Lori promised.
Marlee refocused her attention on the younger woman. She hadn’t known Lori growing up. They had years and multiple layers of social strata between them, but her brother had dated her. Maybe even spent his last months falling in love with her. From what she’d seen in the days surrounding Jeff’s funeral, Lori had loved him too.
“How are you doing?” Marlee kept her voice quiet and gentle.
The other woman raised a shoulder and let it fall. “I’m okay.” She glanced beyond Marlee’s shoulder, her gaze straying to her family. “Most days.”
“But not today,” Marlee answered with gentle understanding.
“Exactly.”
Marlee watched as Ben Kinsella noted every phone number, as well as the date and time received, in his notebook. There likely wasn’t much he could do with the information in terms of tracing the messages, but having someone else see them, having the information listed somewhere other than in her phone, made her feel more secure.
He finished, closing the notebook and giving the cover a little tap. Despite her father’s bluster the other day, she trusted this man. Whether she approved of Ben Kinsella’s method or management, Henry obviously did.
“Thank you,” she said. “I...” She blew out a breath, and her shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. “I needed to show someone.” She gave a self-deprecating wince. “See if someone else thought it was creepy or if I’m crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” Lori said to her without a beat of hesitation. She gestured to the phone Marlee clutched in her hand. “Super creepy.”
The succinct assessment startled a laugh from her. “Thank you.”
“If you get any other messages, would you contact me?” Sheriff Kinsella pulled a business card from the same breast pocket where he’d kept the notebook.
She took it, noting the heavy card stock retained the warmth of his body. “Yes. Thank you.”
Marlee turned to leave them, but his deep voice stopped her in her tracks. “Ms. Masters?”
“Yes?”
“How long do you plan to stay in Pine Bluff?”
The question cut to the quick, but she couldn’t let it show. She wouldn’t let any of them see how desperate she was to leave. Her father had her trapped here for the moment, but she’d find a way out. She had to if she wanted any kind of life of her own. But for now, she needed to keep a cool head and not fight the ties that bound her there. Because everyone knew the harder you fought to free yourself, the tighter a snare became.
“Indefinitely,” she said, lifting her arms out, presenting herself to them. “I’m home. Take care, Lori.” She backed off a step and raised a hand in farewell. She was done with this conversation. “Thanks, Sheriff. I appreciate y’all.”
Chapter Four
Home from the visitation, Marlee avoided the cross fire of her parents’ lame attempts at conversation by escaping to her room. The door closed tightly behind her, she planted both hands flat on the tall four-poster bed for balance as she stepped out of the torturous high heels. Moaning her relief, she curled her toes into the plush pile of the rug beside the bed and reached for the zip on her dress.
Black fabric pooled on the floor, and she sighed as the cool air flowing from the vents breezed over her heated skin. She unhooked her bra as she moved to the cherrywood bureau. In one practiced motion, she let it fall into the open drawer, then she pulled on the first T-shirt she found.
It was one of Jeff’s. She’d rescued a bunch from his room when her mother was in the midst of a grief-fueled purge. The hem fell halfway down her thighs, even though her brother had been only an inch taller. The Greek letters screen-printed onto the fabric were still stiff and uncracked from washing. A reminder of how young Jeff had been when he died.
She ran her fingers along the collar of the shirt, stretching the fabric away from her throat. She shook her arms out and gave her shoulders a couple rolls to loosen her tense muscles as she approached the bed. The leather clutch she’d carried to the visitation lay atop the rumpled coverlet. She opened it and removed the lipstick, card case and her phone. She tossed the lipstick into the depths of the larger handbag parked beside the bed, removed her identification and debit cards from the small leather case and placed them on the nightstand before connecting her phone to its charger.
The screen woke but showed no new notifications. She dropped down onto the bed, drawing one leg up under her as she settled in to relisten to the voice mail she’d received a mere hour after her father called to summon her home. Pressing the play button was the technological equivalent to testing a bruise, but she couldn’t help herself. She tapped the screen, and the speaker hummed to life.
“Marlee, hello. I’m sorry we keep missing each other.” Jared Baker, senior partner at one of Atlanta’s hottest firms, had the kind of mellow baritone voice both women and juries loved. But she’d been impervious to him. All she’d wanted was a job in Atlanta. “I received your message about a family emergency, and I understand completely. I was going to have to cancel our appointment anyway. I, uh, I’m sorry to tell you my partner and I have decided not to take a new associate at this time. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I wish you the best in your future endeavors. Please give my best to your family.”
Her family.
The Masters name strikes another blow against freedom, Marlee thought, her stomach souring.
She blew out a breath that ruffled her hair, then let her head fall back. Staring up at the ceiling, she drew a couple deep breaths to center herself. Here she was, back in her childhood bedroom, doing her father’s bidding. Squinting at what appeared to be a small brown water mark on the ceiling above her bed, she concentrated on resuming the natural flow of her breathing as she forced her racing mind to slow.
She straightened her neck and raised her hands over her head with her fingers laced together, stretching every muscle as long as she could make them. When she let go, she fell back across the bed, snatching her phone up as she flopped.
A trickle of trepidation rippled through her as she saw she had an unread text message awaiting her. More than the unsolicited commentary on her daily activities, she truly resented the creep for making her not want to look at her phone. Setting her jaw, she jabbed at the icon to open her message queue. The breath she’d been holding rushed from her lungs when she saw the text was a terse reminder from her father to be at Timber Masters offices no later than eight the next morning.
She wasn’t likely to forget.
Marlee resented being called home from Atlanta. Sure, he’d only agreed to pay her rent until she’d sat for the bar exam, but she had hoped she could stretch things out long enough for her to land a job and get a paycheck or two into her account. She promised herself this layover in Pine Bluff would be nothing but a speed bump. As soon as she could, she was getting out of town.
Her phone buzzed and she automatically lifted her hand to see the screen. Another unknown ten-digit number. Feeling more confident having shared them with the sheriff and Lori, she tapped to open the message.
Nobody likes a tattletail
A chill ran down her spine as she sat up straight once more. This time, she couldn’t find even a modicum of comfort in the sender’s grammatical errors or misspellings. A second later, a different phone number appeared.
I like this outfit even better then the dress you wore earlier
The message came across loud and clear. Whoever it was, they were watching her. All the time. She growled her annoyance at both the arrogance and the grammatical offenses, but the sound tangled in her throat and morphed into a groan when her phone buzzed again.
You should show more skin marlee you have
nice legs
Whipping her head around, she checked the window. The blinds were open. Cursing under her breath, she slid off the corner of the bed, scurried to the wall and slid over to the window. Her heart hammered as she twisted the rod to close the slats.
Once she felt certain she couldn’t be seen, she yanked the sheer curtains from their decorative holders and closed them over the entire window. Feeling more secure with a few extra millimeters of nylon between her and her peeper, she gripped her phone tightly, willing her hand to stop shaking.
Her gaze caught on the clutch she’d abandoned on the bed. Forcing herself not to lunge for it, she walked over to the bag and extracted the business card Ben Kinsella had given her. A mobile number was listed beneath the office phone and fax.
She dialed, allowing her mind to ruminate on the necessity of a fax number these days as she poked at the screen. Closing her eyes, she pressed the phone to her ear and concentrated on faking a normal breathing pattern until her brain got the message all was well. And all was well. Her parents’ house had a state-of-the-art security system. She was safe. Whoever was doing this was nothing more than a creep—
“Kinsella.”
The deep, masculine bark startled her out of the circular pattern of her thoughts. She blurted the first thing that sprang to mind. “He’s watching me.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. She cringed, squeezing her eyes shut tight in mortification as a rush of blood set her cheeks and ears afire. “I mean, I was changing clothes—”
“Are you home alone?” he broke in, brusquely efficient.
“What? No. My parents are here,” she stammered. “I’m safe. A bit...freaked. He texted me.”
“He?”
“I assume it’s a he,” she said haltingly. “I guess, maybe... I’m not sure. Maybe I shouldn’t assume, but the things he says are things a perverted guy would say.”
“What did he say?”
“He called me a tattletale, said that he preferred what I’m wearing now to the dress I wore to the visitation. He also remarked about my nice legs.”
There was a pause, then a small cough as the sheriff cleared his throat. “This is probably going to sound out of line, but I don’t have the first idea how else to ask... What are you wearing?”
“A T-shirt,” she admitted. “One of my brother’s old shirts.”
“A men’s T-shirt,” he repeated, and Marlee got the vague impression he was making another note in his notebook. “And...?” Another awkward moment hung between them, then he exhaled a soft, “Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, uh...” His words stumbled to a halt.
“My blinds were open,” she confessed in a rush. “I didn’t think to close them. I came in and wanted to get out of my dress and shoes.”
“And then you received the text,” he said, a husky edge in his voice.
“Three texts, actually,” she clarified. “First, he called me a tattletale. Then the one about the dress and the other about my legs.” She sat down on the edge of the bed with a huff, then dropped her head into her hand. “Different phone numbers.”
“Answers my next question.”
“I figured.”
“Do you feel safe? Do you want me to call your father and let him in on what’s happening?”
Her head jerked up. “No. No. Do not tell my father,” she ordered.
“But, Marlee—”
“I’m serious. I only wanted to tell you what was happening in case I ever felt...not safe. Come to think of it, I never meant to tell you. I was telling Lori. If I wanted to tell my father, I would have gone to him. Don’t call my father.”
“I won’t.”
She snorted softly. “Sure you won’t.”
“I said I wouldn’t and I won’t.” His annoyance sliced off all the softer notes of his earlier agreement.
“Please.” She scoffed. “No one keeps anything from Henry Masters. Not in this town.”
“You told us in confidence. We will keep your confidence.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “I’m going to assume you’re so new here you haven’t even unpacked, but fine. I guess I have no choice but to believe you.”
“If you didn’t want to take the chance of your father finding out, why did you tell Lori?”
Pressing her hand to her throat, she let her head fall back. “I,” she started, stopped, then figured she had nothing to lose at this point. “I wanted to go on record, I guess. In case—” Clamping her mouth shut, she gave a frustrated squeak of irritation. “Good night, Sheriff.”
She ended the call.
Staring at the wallpaper she’d added to the phone’s home screen, she swallowed hard. Her brother’s smiling face shone up at her, the blue eyes they’d both inherited from their father glowing with amusement. She’d snapped the photo the last time she’d seen him. It had been one of her rare weekends home in Pine Bluff. They’d ditched the house after an excruciating Sunday supper. He’d begged her to hang out with him for a while and she gave in, but only grudgingly.
Regret twisted in her gut, radiating pangs of remorse. Her heart squeezed. She’d resented a couple hours spent with her brother, and weeks later he was dead. Thank God she’d given in. Thank Heaven above she’d climbed into his truck and let him drive her out to their place on Sawtooth Lake.
There, they’d sat on the dock while they daydreamed of a life out from under their father’s thumb.
Less than three months later, her brother had been found in the lake house with a bullet in his brain and a gun in his hand.
Ever since the day she’d received that awful phone call, Marlee was aware her time would come. But she’d find a way to face the forces her brother couldn’t handle. She didn’t have time to be intimidated by some coward who got his jollies sending anonymous messages. And someday, she was going to face her father and tell him she had no intention of staying to help run the family business.
She was going rogue—as she and Jeff had dreamed.
Chapter Five
Ben gripped his phone long after Marlee Masters ended the call. He told himself to stop thinking about how she’d look wearing only a men’s T-shirt. Told himself over and over again. But he failed miserably. The image was in his mind now, and there was no shaking it.
He glanced at the plain white undershirt he’d stripped down to upon arriving back at the house he was renting. The place was on the small side but tidy. And furnished. Only two blocks from the town hall and his office. There were days when he felt utterly ridiculous making the one-minute drive to park in the space designated for the sheriff’s vehicle, but he couldn’t waste time jogging home to get his car in the event of an actual emergency.
He imagined Marlee Masters jogging down his street wearing only a T-shirt similar to the one he wore and her underwear. Blue underwear. Light blue. Bikini cut? Yeah, bikini. Cut to cling to the curve of her hip and colored to match her piercing eyes.
His phone rang again, and he jumped. Heat prickling his neck and cheeks, he checked the display, half-afraid the lovely Ms. Masters might have sensed he was thinking about her in a salacious manner. Thankfully, it was his deputy calling.
“Hey, Lori. You going on shift early?”
“Yeah, I sent Mike on home. He’s still pretty shaky,” she reported.
“No problem.” He cleared his throat, hesitant to bring up the personal stuff she’d been wrestling with at the funeral home but figuring it was better to climb on the elephant in the room and try to ride it out. Emotions were running high all over town. This was another reminder that he wasn’t in Atlanta anymore. “And, uh, how are you holding up?”
To his relief, she laughed. “Boy, you suck at this,” she teased.
“I do not,” he replied, offended. “I’m not used to, uh...” He shrugged, then remembered she couldn’t
see him. “You know.”
She gave another chuckle. “People having feelings? Or, rather, seeing other people’s feelings out there on display for the whole town to see?”
He ducked his head. She was dead-on. She also didn’t realize how lucky she was to grow up in a place where people actually placed value on feelings, no matter how inconvenient they were.
“Sorry, boss. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he snapped, too on edge to get a good read on his own emotional barometer to control his tone. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It was pretty unprofessional of me to spill all over you,” she began.
He cut off any additional apologies. “It was pretty human of you. And it’s not like you were on duty.”
She snorted. “I’m sure every time one of your busts went south, you and your old DEA buddies huddled up and had a sharing circle.”
“No,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But that might also give you some decent insight into how a former agent ends up the sheriff in a rural county.” He hesitated for only a moment, then swiped one of the agency shrink’s favorite lines. “It’s no crime to want some peace in your life.”
“I know,” she answered softly. “I guess we’re all shook up.”
“Totally understandable,” he said gruffly. “It’s natural to think about it, Lori, but make sure you don’t dwell. Get me?”
“Yeah. My abuela used to tell me not to borrow trouble from tomorrow. There will be plenty to go around when it gets here.”
“Your abuela was right.”
Lori cleared her throat, then slipped back into the brisk, no-nonsense manner he’d grown accustomed to since coming to Pine Bluff. “All is well here, Sheriff. Get some rest. We’ll see you in the morning.”
