Alibis & Angels

by Olivia Matthews

  “Driving you to work in the mornings and bringing you home in the evenings.” Diego made the admission without fuss or fanfare. “Once we find this stalker, we won’t need to do this anymore.”

  “I’ll miss it, too.” Heather’s gaze touched on the thick dark slashes of his eyebrows, then dropped to his coffee brown eyes when he glanced at her.

  “If we both enjoy the carpooling, I wouldn’t mind continuing it.”

  “All right.” Heather’s mood brightened. “But your driving me around doesn’t mean I’ll stop busting your chops over articles in your paper if I disagree with them.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.” Diego’s quick grin bought a flash of his perfect white teeth. “In exchange, I’ll keep reminding you that my newspaper isn’t the town’s promotional brochure.”

  “Deal.” Heather turned back to the view outside of the windshield. “You know my political opponents will use our relationship to trash your paper.”

  “Does that bother you?” Diego pulled into the town hall parking lot, stopping in front of the building’s entrance. Door-to-door service; Heather definitely would have missed this.

  She looked over at Diego. “It’s not my job to defend your newspaper.”

  “And it’s not my newspaper’s job to defend your administration.”

  Their banter was new and yet familiar. It transported Heather back fourteen years into the past. She’d looked forward to matching wits with the newspaperman. His mind had challenged her. His humor had entertained her. His looks had turned her on. She had the same reactions to him now that she’d had all those years ago. Apparently, he felt the same.

  The car’s interior was suddenly warmer. And smaller. The scent of soap and sandalwood surrounded her. The look in Diego’s hot brown eyes sharpened. Heather caught her breath. Her smile faded. Her heart beat slow and steady.

  Diego leaned forward just a little bit, asking his question. Heather leaned forward a little bit more, giving her answer.

  The metal-on-metal snick let Heather know that Diego had unfastened his seat belt. His beautiful eyes traced her features as he shifted closer. Then he covered her lips with his own. With a sigh, Heather melted against him. His lips were firm, his body warm, his taste intoxicating. This was the kiss that they’d waited fourteen years for. It was well worth it.

  Slowly, Heather drew away. A pulse fluttered in her throat. Her mind was mush. Diego’s breathing was shallow and fast. He dragged his gaze from her lips to meet her eyes.

  “I’m going to be watching the clock all day until I can see you again.” Diego’s husky tone made her want to forget her obligations.

  Instead, Heather traced his lips with a trembling index finger and imagined what five o’clock would bring. “If anyone asks about our relationship, tell them that we’re definitely dating.”

  Heather tossed him a smile as she hopped out of his car. She welcomed the crisp cold air that followed her up the town hall steps.

  After more than a decade—and three states—she was finally embracing her long-denied feelings for Diego. Heather’s sense of well-being at her decision surprised her. She pushed through the town hall entrance and turned toward the staircase.

  How would her public relationship with the editor of the town’s local newspaper affect her reelection campaign?

  I don’t care.

  She no longer felt cold or empty. At the end of the day, that’s all that really mattered.

  * * *

  Sister Lou froze, shocked at the sight of the college’s director of food services walking the campus oval with Unnamed Calico Monday morning. “Corny, is that your cat?”

  The cat was docile, even friendly, as she wound between the feet of her tall, slender companion.

  Cornelius Ferguson paused to look down at his four-legged companion. He bared bright white teeth in a brilliant grin. His long dreadlocks were banded together behind his shoulders. “Sister Lou, this cat doesn’t belong to anybody.” His slow Southern drawl bounced with good humor.

  “She’s made that clear to me as well.” Sister Lou leaned down to offer the calico her hand. “But she must have a home. Look at how healthy she is.”

  The cat stepped forward. Her green eyes were cool, almost condescending. She sniffed Sister Lou’s fingers before giving her approval to be petted. The calico withstood a few strokes along her warm, snow white fur with its gold and brown markings, then resumed her serpentine movements between Cornelius’s feet. The food service director didn’t seem concerned that the calico was leaving a trail of hairs on the hem of his black pants.

  “This cat doesn’t need a home.” Cornelius shoved his hands inside the pockets of his black winter coat. “She’s a survivor. She showed up outside of the dining hall in December, and used her feline wiles to get food and shelter for the winter. Now that the weather’s warmer, she stops by for a meal but spurns any other hospitality.”

  That solved the mystery of where the calico had spent the cold. “It was kind of you to take her in for the winter, and that you continue to feed her.”

  Cornelius chuckled. “She reminds me of my older cousin, Isiah.”

  Sister Lou blinked. “In what way?”

  Cornelius returned his gaze to the calico. “He was always nice when he wanted something. The minute he didn’t need you anymore, he’d disappear. Once we realized that was the way he was going to be, we started ignoring him.” Cornelius looked up at Sister Lou. “The past always comes back to get you, Sister Lou. The past always comes back.”

  Sister Lou frowned, thinking about Heather. “You’re right. You can’t always escape your past or the people in it.”

  * * *

  “You were right, Sister Lou.” Shari placed her hand over the manila folder she’d prepared for her Monday lunch meeting with Sister Lou and Chris at the Briar Coast Café.

  “What did you find out?” When Sister Lou had agreed to meet Shari and Chris, she thought Shari had seemed a little paranoid. The reporter had insisted that they take a table away from the front and rear café entrances. To humor her young friend, Sister Lou had chosen a table for four away from the windows.

  Shari tapped her manila folder. “As you know, my research didn’t find any connections between Hal and Heather besides their both being from Texas. As you requested, I did a search on Jefferson Manning.” She pulled a sheet of paper from her folder and slid it across the table to Sister Lou. She handed a copy of the same printout to Chris, who was seated beside her.

  As Sister Lou studied the color copy of Jefferson Manning’s biography complete with a photo of a stranger, she had a better understanding of the reason behind Shari’s caution.

  Chris looked up from the paper to frown at Shari. “This isn’t the Jefferson Manning you introduced me to during the mayor’s fund-raiser.”

  “No, it’s not.” Shari tapped his copy of the printout as it lay in front of him on the café table. “But it is the Jefferson Manning who is the aide to Buffalo Councilman Brice Founder. I triple checked.”

  Sister Lou was stunned. “How did you come by this information? Is your source reliable?”

  Shari spread her arms. “My source is the Buffalo City Council’s website. I didn’t have any reason to check it before you suggested we look at Jeff.”

  Sister Lou studied the photo again. This Jefferson Manning was at least ten years older than the one they knew. His dark brown hair was bone straight and cut military short. His gray eyes were set deep into a broad, angular face. He had a prominent nose, high cheekbones, and a square, cleft chin.

  Chris frowned at Sister Lou. “What made you ask Shari to check into Manning and Beckett?”

  Sister Lou sighed. “Someone is framing Kerry, and neither Jefferson nor Harold are on our list.”

  Shari turned to Chris. “I thought it was odd that Jefferson worked for a councilman in Buffalo, but his schedule still allowed him to take Kerry to work in the mornings, surprise her for lunch in the afternoons, then pick her up after work at t
he stroke of five o’clock. What political aide do you know who has such a flexible schedule?”

  “None,” Chris admitted.

  Sister Lou caught Shari’s gaze. “Then who has Kerry been dating?”

  Shari shook her head. “I don’t know, but maybe Fran and Ted can help us figure this out.”

  “No.” Sister Lou’s interjection cut off Shari’s suggestion. She sent a cautious look around the café, then lowered her voice. “I have a feeling you’ve found Heather’s stalker.”

  Shari corrected Sister Lou. “We found him. I wouldn’t have done this research if you hadn’t suggested it.”

  Sister Lou waved a dismissive hand. The fact was this was the best lead they had for their investigation. “Kerry as the stalker didn’t seem logical until I realized someone must be using her to take the blame if investigators got too close to the real culprit. The question I couldn’t answer was who.”

  All of the pieces were starting to fit. After feeling as though she’d been running in circles, Sister Lou had an enormous sense of relief.

  Chris sipped his iced tea. “Jefferson—or the person we know as Jefferson—must have found a way to add his threatening letters to Heather’s mail when he drove Kerry into work. He used her as his cover.”

  “The poor thing.” Shari sighed. “You must be right, but I feel so sorry for her, being used that way.”

  “So do I, but we’re obviously dealing with a sociopath.” Sister Lou felt grim. “Jefferson must also be behind Opal’s accident. He didn’t know Heather wasn’t going to attend that Board of Education meeting.”

  Shari drummed her fingertips on the table. Her soup and salad remained untouched on the tray in front of her. “Kerry must have mentioned where Heather hid her spare key. It was probably just an innocent remark that she didn’t realize her fake boyfriend would use to terrorize her boss.”

  Chris looked from Shari to Sister Lou. “The fake Jefferson probably also attacked Heather. He looks strong enough.”

  “I agree.” Sister Lou stared blindly at her black bean soup and green salad. “But who is he and why is he threatening Heather?”

  Shari dragged her spoon through her cooling chicken noodle soup. “Can’t the deputies bring him in on identity theft or something? If we find out why he’s using someone else’s identity, that could help us figure out his motive for threatening the mayor.”

  Chris shook his head. “If the deputies bring him in for questioning, he’ll realize that we’re getting close to him. He’s gone to a lot of trouble devising this detailed plan, targeting Heather. We can’t risk his having a backup plan in case he gets caught. We could be endangering Heather and possibly Kerry.”

  “Then what do we do?” Shari asked.

  “I can only see one solution.” Sister Lou folded her hands on her tray. “We have to make the fake Jefferson think we’re falling for his plan. We have to arrest Kerry.”

  Chapter 32

  “You came!” Kerry leaped from her gray hard plastic chair in the sheriff’s office’s interview room late Monday afternoon and threw herself into Jefferson’s embrace.

  She wasn’t acting. Kerry was enormously relieved to see him. During her meeting earlier with Sister Lou, Heather, Shari, Chris, Diego, and the deputies—so many people—they’d made it sound as though Jefferson was the villain behind the threats to Heather. They claimed that, if he thought his nefarious plan was discovered, Jefferson would let her rot in jail while he skipped the country or something.

  But his being here proved that he cared about her. That he loved her. The deputies and all of those other people were wrong. Jefferson wasn’t some crazy psycho stalker killer. So his name wasn’t Jefferson Manning. And he didn’t work for a councilman in Buffalo. Big deal. Kerry was certain he could explain those things if they’d just ask him.

  Jefferson stepped back to look at her. “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Kerry kept her hands on his shoulders. They were so broad and warm beneath the jacket of his dark brown suit. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get away from work this early. It’s not even four o’clock yet.”

  Jefferson pulled her hands from his shoulders. “I came as soon as I got your call. What’s going on? I thought the mayor had posted your bail.”

  “She did.” Kerry drank in his handsome features. His wavy golden hair gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights. She was sure she saw concern in his beautiful brown eyes. For her. “The deputies had more questions for me.”

  “What did they ask you?” Jefferson led her back to the interview table. He sat on the chair beside hers and kept her trembling hands in his.

  “They wanted to know if I’d hired someone to attack Heather that night while she was jogging.” Kerry was shaking so badly. Jefferson would think she was nervous about her future. In fact, she was nervous because she was lying to him. She hoped he would forgive her once he realized that she was trying to prove his innocence.

  “What did you tell them?” Jefferson’s grip tightened on her hands.

  Kerry stilled. She’d been ad-libbing this exchange based on Sister Lou’s suggestions, but she thought she knew how Jefferson would react. That wasn’t the reply Kerry had been expecting. Where was his disbelief? Where was his outrage on her behalf? Instead of either of those responses, he asked how she’d answered the deputies’ imaginary question. What did he think she’d say?

  Kerry shot a quick look toward the two-way mirror across the room. The deputies—if not the entire Briar Coast Magnificent Seven: Heather, Sister Lou, Shari, Chris, Diego, and the two deputies—were watching from the other side.

  “I told them that I hadn’t hired anyone to hurt Heather and that I never would.” Kerry was starting to feel uneasy. “Heather’s not only my boss, Jeff, she’s my friend. You know that, don’t you?”

  “What else did they ask you?” Jefferson ignored her question. His eager request for information seemed like morbid fascination and smelled like desperation.

  Kerry’s stomach muscles knotted. Was Jefferson trying to figure out her defense strategy? She’d rather he offered to hire a real lawyer for her.

  “You’re crushing my hands.” Kerry tugged free of his grasp.

  “Sorry.” Jefferson fisted his hands on his lap. “Tell me what else they wanted to know.”

  Kerry heard his urgency. She saw his tension. “Why are you asking these questions? I wanted you to be here to reassure me. Instead you’re making me feel like I’m being interrogated by one of those villains in a James Bond film.”

  Jefferson’s laughter didn’t sound real. “I’m asking because I care, dear. I want to help you, you know?”

  “Well, you’re starting to freak me out.”

  “Come on, honey, let me help you. Tell me what they asked.”

  Kerry still hesitated. How could she prove that Jefferson wasn’t involved in these threats or in Opal’s death? “They asked me about Opal’s accident.” Tell me that you’re not responsible for that, Jeff. Please tell me and stop these doubts.

  Jefferson’s body jerked as though he was surprised. He stood to pace, turning his back to her. “What did you say?”

  Oh, no. No. “What do you mean?”

  Jefferson spun toward her. His expression was mean and ugly. His tone was gruff and angry. “Come on, Kerry. I shouldn’t have to drag every word out of your mouth. What did you tell the deputies?”

  For the first time, Kerry felt alarm. She snuck another quick look toward the two-way mirror to reassure herself that she wasn’t alone.

  Jefferson caught the direction of Kerry’s gaze. He froze. Kerry held her breath. She watched as Jefferson pulled himself together. His demeanor changed, morphing back into the caring companion with whom she’d spent the past several weeks. Kerry shivered—with cold? With fear? With revulsion? All of the above? Who is this man?

  Jefferson returned to the table and took her hands again. “Come on, baby. I’m only trying to help you. You know that, don’t you? Just tell me w
hat you told the deputies.”

  Kerry freed her hands. Her skin crawled at the possibility that she’d helped a sociopath who’d already killed one of her friends and was trying to harm another. “It doesn’t matter what the deputies asked me or what I told them. I’m innocent, Jeff, and I can prove it.”

  “Well, that’s great, sweetheart.” Jefferson’s smile didn’t erase the worry from his eyes. “How?”

  How did he get me to fall in love with him? “I have the last copy of the old key to Heather’s house. The psycho who broke into Heather’s home and left behind that lame threat that didn’t even work, by the way, used the spare key that Heather kept under a fake flowerpot.”

  “Won’t the deputies believe that you’re, you know, trying to pass the spare key off as your key to Heather’s house?”

  “Heather can confirm that my key looks different. The flowerpot key is green to match the pot. My key looks like a regular key.”

  Jefferson looked distracted. “I see.”

  So do I. I see everything, including how stupid I’ve been. “I mentioned that flowerpot key to you, didn’t I, Jeff?”

  Jefferson stood to pace again. “No, I don’t believe you did.”

  “I’m pretty sure that I mentioned it, but maybe you forgot.” Kerry’s temper stirred. She wasn’t certain she could control it. “Anyway, the fact that I still have my key while the spare key is missing should help prove my innocence.”

  Jefferson stood to pace. He shot a quick look toward the two-way mirror. “Where is your key?”

  Really? Can you be any more obvious? “You don’t have to worry about my key. It’s somewhere safe just waiting for the right time for me and my lawyer to give it to the deputies to prove my innocence. Because I am innocent, and soon everyone will know that.”

  Jefferson faced her with his arms outstretched. “I know that you are, darling. I just want to check on your key, you know, to make sure that it’s okay. I can bring it to you so that you can keep it safe with you.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”