Alibis & Angels

by Olivia Matthews

  Surprise swept across Diego’s features to be replaced by his customary amusement. “Am I a suspect?”

  “I’m just doing my due diligence.” Shari’s skin heated uncomfortably with embarrassment.

  Diego once again propped his shoulder against the entrance to her cubicle. “I agree that I’m a viable suspect. Heather and I do have a volatile past.”

  “But you’re not holding a grudge against her. She’s angry with you.”

  Diego shrugged his eyebrows. “I did ask you to spy on her.”

  “But if you had deplorable reasons for spying on her, you wouldn’t involve me in your plans.”

  “Probably not.” Diego cocked his head. “I knew about the finance meeting.”

  “So did everyone who reads the Telegraph.”

  “Then maybe I just want her to leave Briar Coast.”

  “But you don’t.” Shari was as certain of that as she was of her name.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  She held Diego’s curious gaze. “Because you’re still a little in love with her.”

  Surprise flared in his eyes before he masked their expression. “Direct as always.”

  Shari watched him walk away. That was one less suspect on their list.

  * * *

  “What are you doing here?” Heather watched Diego settle onto Sister Lou’s sofa Thursday evening. He was barely an arm’s length from her. Was he going to sit there for the whole meeting?

  She’d been surprised when the newsman had joined her, Sister Lou, Chris, Shari, and Sister Carmen for dinner, but she’d thought he’d come for the meal. She hadn’t considered that he’d follow them afterward to Sister Lou’s quarters on the third floor of the motherhouse.

  “I want to help.” Diego held her gaze as though daring her to turn him away.

  She wouldn’t dream of it. After mulling over Sister Lou’s observations today, Heather had come to the realization that she could use all the help she could get.

  “Thank you.” Heather smiled at Diego’s failed attempt to mask his surprise at her rapid acquiescence. The woman she’d been when they’d first known each other wouldn’t have accepted his help. Actually, the woman she’d been last week wouldn’t have accepted his help, either.

  “You’re welcome.” Diego frowned. “I’ll also take you to work in the morning, then bring you back here at the end of the day.”

  “Don’t push it, Diego. That won’t be necessary.” Heather started to turn away, but Diego’s warm hand on her shoulder stopped her.

  “You should have a protective detail. You’re a public figure who’s been threatened.”

  “I’ve already been chased out of my home.” Heather shifted to face him, a little disappointed when his touch fell away. “I’m not going to walk around with armed guards as though I can’t take care of myself.”

  “If you aren’t going to tell the deputies about this stalker, then I’ll—we’ll—have to protect you.”

  Heather noted the glint of determination in Diego’s eyes and the bullheaded angle of his squared jaw. What was the appeal he had for her? She could feel him trying to lure her in just as he’d done almost fifteen years before.

  “I don’t need babysitters.” Did her objection sound as weak to Diego as it sounded to her?

  “We don’t have time for false pride.” Diego’s expression became even more determined. “Someone’s trying to kill you.”

  “I don’t think so.” Sister Lou’s comment startled Heather from her disagreement with Diego. She’d forgotten that she and the newspaperman weren’t alone.

  She flinched, jerking her head to look behind her. Sister Lou looked comfortable on her overstuffed armchair. Her gaze dropped to the blue, gold, and white cross pinned to the older woman’s taupe knit sweater. She’d noticed that all of the sisters wore the same pin.

  “What do you mean? He’s already killed Opal.” Despite Diego’s measured question, the flush on his sharp cheekbones indicated he’d also forgotten that he and Heather weren’t alone.

  “That’s true and I’m very sorry about Opal’s death.” Sister Lou crossed her legs at her ankles and leaned them to the side. The hem of the powder pink skirt she’d worn to Heather’s office that morning fell over her knees. “But the stalker admitted that he hadn’t planned to kill her.”

  “He also said killing a second time would be easier for him.” Diego’s voice held a barely perceptible trace of... fear. “I’d rather not take that risk, Sister Lou.”

  “Of course not.” Sister Lou looked at him with empathy. “I don’t want to risk Heather’s safety, either. I’m only pointing out that, after Heather was attacked during her evening jog two days ago, I realized that these threats aren’t about killing her, despite what the stalker implies. If he’d wanted to kill her, he would have done so Tuesday night. He could have waited for her in her home and caught her by surprise.”

  “Aunt Lou’s right.” Chris joined the discussion in somber tones. He and Shari looked cozy together on the love seat across from Heather and Diego. “If this stalker wanted to harm the mayor, he wouldn’t send her a series of letters about it. He’d just do it.”

  Heather struggled to suppress a shiver. “You probably think you’re all being very reassuring and comforting, but you’re not. This is actually disconcerting and . . . creepy.”

  Shari regarded Heather as though puzzled. “Do you want to leave Briar Coast?”

  Heather scowled. “No, of course I don’t want that. This has become my home.”

  “Then buckle up, princess. This is going to get real.” Shari crossed her long, slender legs and folded her arms, which were covered by the long sleeves of her turquoise cotton sweater. “Your anonymous pen pal is obsessed with the mayoral race.”

  Heather had opened her mouth to protest the “princess,” label, but Sister Lou’s nephew spoke first.

  “The election is the key.” Chris nodded his agreement. “This stalker implies that he’ll do something drastic—unless you declare that you won’t run for reelection.”

  “The fact that he wants you out of the race makes me think he wants to run on your party’s platform.” Diego seemed deep in thought.

  How could she feel both frozen with fear and on fire with outrage at the same time? Heather wrapped her arms around her torso in an effort to pull herself together. She watched Sister Lou reach for a notepad on the small walnut table beside her chair.

  Shari’s voice stopped her. “I’ll take the notes, Sister Lou. I’ll need them when I eventually write this story.”

  Heather frowned at Shari’s pointed look. “You’re not going to write that story anytime soon, are you?”

  Shari’s gaze shifted to her editor. “Diego and I will let you know when we’re ready to publish it.”

  Heather’s scowl deepened. That wasn’t the response she’d wanted, but she’d let the matter drop. For now. She followed the investigative reporter’s movements as Shari dug into the large purple tote bag beside her feet and pull out a reporter’s notebook and a ballpoint pen. Heather took a moment to admire Shari’s navy stilettos, which exactly matched the other woman’s narrow-legged slacks.

  Sister Lou smiled at Shari. “Our suspect is someone who opposes Heather’s administration. He has access to her office and her schedule, and knew about her spare key.”

  Heather spoke to keep from gaping. “How can you sound so certain that those are the exact characteristics of the person we’re looking for?”

  Sister Lou shook her head. “These aren’t the aspects of your stalker. They’re just some of the puzzle pieces that fit the bigger picture.”

  “That’s right. This is a start.” Chris caught Heather’s attention. “This person is obviously someone who opposes your administration; otherwise he wouldn’t want you to leave. And he must have access to your office to deliver his messages.”

  Heather turned her attention back to Sister Lou. “You haven’t actually narrowed down the list of suspects. A lot of peop
le oppose my administration. My margin of victory over Owen Rodney was very small, not even twenty percent. Everyone has access to my office. My door’s always open when I’m in the building. Anyone can walk in.”

  “How many people knew about the spare key to your home?” Shari sounded defensive. It was as though she took Heather’s comments as criticism against Sister Lou and wasn’t happy about it.

  “Not many,” Heather conceded.

  “Sister Lou’s observations are important.” Diego added his support for Sister Lou’s preliminary assessment of their suspect. “Every detail that we can identify puts us a step closer to this guy.”

  “All right.” Heather squared her shoulders and faced Sister Lou. “What’s next?”

  “We’ll put together our initial list of suspects.” Sister Lou gestured toward the sofa on her left. “Then Chris, Shari, and I will meet with them.”

  “I’ll help with those interviews, too.” Diego sat forward.

  “What will I do?” Heather glanced at the others around the room.

  “Wait for us to contact you.” There was a look of satisfaction in Shari’s reckless cocoa eyes as she gave Heather that order. “If you don’t want to give your stalker the satisfaction of telling the deputies about his threats, you certainly don’t want him to know you’re chasing around Briar Coast looking for him.”

  “We’ll need your help to put together the suspect list.” Sister Lou’s tone was conciliatory. “We’ve already agreed to include your executive staff.”

  Heather sighed in frustration. “I know we discussed that, but I think the stalker is a man. He lifted me while I was jogging. The members of my executive team are all women, and I’m pretty sure none of them could do that.”

  Shari shrugged as though dismissing Heather’s concern. “They could be working with someone else.”

  Heather threw up her arms. “Fine, but I feel as though I’m betraying them.” Heather jumped a bit when Diego wrapped his long, warms fingers around her right forearm.

  Diego guided her arm back to the sofa cushion. “Wouldn’t it be worth your peace of mind to officially remove your team from the suspect list?”

  “Your staff will probably also be able to provide us with insight that could help us identify your stalker.” Chris shifted as though making himself more comfortable on the love seat. His movements brought him closer to Shari.

  Heather was marginally appeased by Chris’s statement. “That’s true. All right.”

  Shari’s hand rushed over the top page of her reporter’s notebook as she documented their list. “We should add Owen Rodney to the list since everyone knows he wants his office back and he hates you.”

  Heather arched an eyebrow at the reporter’s delighted observation about the former mayor’s feelings for her. “In that case, add Wesley Vyne. He hates me, too.”

  “Oh yeah.” Shari seemed almost gleeful as she added the campaign donor’s name to the list.

  Sister Lou leaned forward, returning her mug of chai tea to the serving tray. “Shari, could you also add Ian Greer’s name, please? Heather, you’d mentioned rumors that Town Council President Greer was considering running against you.”

  “I’ve heard those rumors, too.” Shari didn’t look up as she continued with the list.

  Heather frowned at the reporter’s notebook. “How many names do you have on the list?”

  “Eight,” Shari answered cheerfully. “Arneeka, your chief of staff; Kerry, your admin; Yolanda, your legal counsel; Tian, your communications director; Penelope, your acting finance director—”

  Heather interrupted. “We’ve just made Penelope permanent.”

  Shari nodded as though in approval before continuing the count. “Ian, Owen, and Wesley.”

  Heather’s eyes widened. “Wow, those are a lot of people.”

  Sister Lou nodded. “And we’re just getting started.”

  Chapter 17

  “This is stupid.” Heather glared at Diego from across the roof of his seven-year-old black Honda SUV early Friday morning.

  Diego found Heather’s irritation amusing. He circled his vehicle to open the passenger door for her. “It’s good to see you, too.” Diego’s grin broke free when Heather rolled her eyes.

  “You know what I mean.”

  They were standing in the motherhouse parking lot shortly before seven o’clock Friday morning. Heather had been waiting when he’d pulled up in front of the residence, but Diego wasn’t deluding himself that the mayor had given up her objections to being chauffeured around Briar Coast. His experiences with Heather during the past three years had shown him that she was just as stubborn today as she’d been fourteen years ago when they’d known each other in El Paso.

  As he circled his SUV, Diego noted the chill in the moist early morning breeze. The local meteorologist hadn’t predicted snow, but the gray sky, swollen with clouds, didn’t appear to be in agreement. Spring was less than two months away, but the scent and feel of winter was still heavy in air. Despite his three-year residency in Briar Coast, Diego’s El Paso, Texas, blood recognized the Mid-Atlantic weather as a danger to his system. Much to his relief, as soon as he opened his vehicle’s front passenger door, Heather slipped onto the seat without further complaint. Maybe she was cold, too. Diego got back behind his steering wheel and put the car in gear.

  Heather turned to him. “I could have opened my own door.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Diego gave her a brief glance as he turned his Honda toward the parking lot’s exit. Her deep blue winter coat made her violet eyes appear even more striking.

  “You caught me off guard. I was hoping you’d forgotten about your offer to drive me to work.”

  Diego heard the disappointment in her voice. It bothered him. “I wouldn’t forget. You should know me better than that.”

  “We haven’t known each other in almost fourteen years.”

  “More like eleven years. I moved to Briar Coast three years ago.”

  The swooshing sound from the passenger side of his car indicated that Heather had shifted on her seat to face him. “Are you going to cart me to work every morning until we catch this jerk?”

  “Yes, and I’m going to bring you back to the motherhouse every evening.” Diego activated the right turn signal. He kept his eyes on the traffic, waiting for an opportunity to merge onto the main road from the motherhouse’s long and winding driveway.

  “We don’t even know how long the investigation will take.”

  “What are friends for?” Diego shrugged, making an effort to appear confident and carefree as he rejoined the traffic. But he was growing impatient. Each year for the past three years, Heather seemed more determined to keep him at a distance.

  “We aren’t friends, Diego.”

  “We were once.” He at least wanted to return to that.

  More swooshing sounds. In his peripheral vision, Diego saw that Heather was once again staring out of the windshield. In the brittle silence that engulfed the car, her powdery perfume taunted him.

  Diego stopped at a red light. The businesses that populated Main Street’s sidewalks had packed away their Valentine’s Day decorations for next year. Although Easter was more than a month away, images of laughing bunnies, smiling chicks, and colored eggs covered the store windows. Even in this sleepy community, capitalism was king.

  He considered what passed for rush-hour traffic in a town of less than one thousand residents. The cars driving north with him were most likely going to work at places like the sheriff’s department, post office, fire department, Board of Education, or town hall. The largest employer for those in the southbound vehicles was the College of St. Hermione of Ephesus.

  Finally, Heather spoke. “Thank you for taking me to work—although I don’t understand why I can’t drive myself.” She was nothing if not predictable.

  “And I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this.” And about our friendship. “Someone killed Opal and physically assaulted you. You shou
ldn’t be left alone.”

  This time, the silence was even longer before Heather spoke again. “I don’t want people to see you taking me to work.” Her words were matter-of-fact.

  “You’ll have to get over that.” Diego checked his rear and side mirrors before easing into the left lane. “It’s a small town. Everyone sees everything.”

  Heather grunted. “Don’t I know it.”

  Diego passed a slower-moving vehicle on his right before returning to that lane. “If anyone asks—and they undoubtedly will—just tell them we’re dating.”

  Heather snorted. “As if.” She blew out a deep, heavy sigh. “I’d rather tell them to mind their own business.”

  “Suit yourself, but my response is a lot friendlier.” Diego turned right onto Town Street. “Frankly, your image can do with some warming up.” A lot of warming up.

  “Thanks for the tip.” Heather collected the black handbag she’d settled on her lap and reached for her black briefcase at her feet. “Oh, look. We’ve arrived at town hall. You can let me out here.”

  Diego glanced at the familiar federal colonial style building through the windshield. The redbrick, two-story structure presided over a concrete courtyard that offered weathered wooden benches, small evergreen bushes, and young maple trees.

  “I’m not going to put you out on the curb.” Diego turned into the visitor/staff parking lot behind the town hall. Heather was opening the door before he brought the vehicle to a stop near the rear entrance. He caught her left arm to detain her. “What I did in El Paso . . . I was trying to be a friend.”

  Heather didn’t close her door, but she relaxed onto the seat. “I know.”

  Diego released her. “Then why were you so angry with me? Why are you still angry?”

  Heather let the silence lengthen. “I don’t know.” She gathered her purse and briefcase, then stepped from the car.

  Diego watched her climb the steps to the town hall. He wasn’t satisfied with her answer, but he wouldn’t press her this morning. He’d have other opportunities while she was a captive audience during their carpool.

  * * *