LIVE Ammo (Sunshine State Mystery Series Book 2)

by Lynda Fitzgerald

Marc looked at her, his eyes icy. “Do you know that you’re starting to sound exactly like Sheryl? What’s next? Are you going to join the sheriff’s department?”

  Allie knew he was right about her sounding like Sheryl. Her words had surprised even her as they came out of her mouth. But as far as she was concerned, that was the only thing he was right about. “What if I do?” she demanded. “Whose business is it but mine?”

  Marc stood. He paced to the door, then back again, perching on the couch arm. “Maybe I was wrong, but I would have thought it was also the business of the guy who loves you and wants to marry you.”

  Allie sucked in a breath. He had her there. She closed her eyes and then slowly opened them. “You’re right, Marc. It is. The problem is that this is what I do. I don’t like people shooting at me, and I don’t like almost going through a guardrail. I’m a good swimmer, but maybe not that good.”

  His expression told her that her feeble attempt at humor had fallen flat. She stood, trying not to wince, and walked over to him, putting her arms around his rigid back. “I care about you, Marc. I might even love you, but I can’t live my life by your rules. I tried that with Garrison. You know how that turned out. I can’t go through that again. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

  Marc turned and looked down at her, not touching her, just examining every inch of her face, her hair, very much as if he were storing her image in his memory. “I think maybe we both need to do some thinking here,” he said finally. “I’m need to figure out what I can live with, and you have to decide what you can live without.”

  Allie closed her eyes. It sounded like goodbye to her. She opened them when she heard him rummaging in her purse. He pulled out her cell phone and scrolled down to Sheryl’s number. He punched a button and listened. Then, he said, “I’m leaving. You said to let you know.”

  He dropped her cell phone back in her purse and walked to the door. “Call me, and tell me what you decide,” he said without turning around. Then, he was gone.

  Chapter 21

  Spook had taken one look at Marc when they arrived home and headed for sanctuary. Allie didn’t expect to see him again anytime soon. Spook usually did that, hide when Marc was around. Dogs were supposed to be good judges of character. Maybe he was trying to tell Allie something.

  Allie figured Sheryl called in a favor. Within minutes, there was a sheriff’s cruiser sitting in front of her house. She walked into the kitchen and stood looking out the window at the strip of blue that was the watery horizon. Her aunt was right. It wasn’t enough.

  She unlocked the back door. Taking her cell phone with her, she climbed the wrought iron stairs to the rooftop deck. She walked to the front of the roof and waved at the cop to let him know where she was. He waved back, and Allie took that as permission.

  She dragged the lounge chair over to the rail so she could see the beach below. There were a few people. Not many, but her mind went back to Myrna’s calculations about the future. Nine hundred people and all their friends crammed on her tiny stretch of beach. It didn’t sound like a place she wanted to live. But this house—

  “Is just a house, Allie. We’ve had this conversation before. It was a good house for me back when I lived here, but I wouldn’t want to live here if what Myrna predicts is true.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Stop trying to use me as some kind of psychic on demand. It comes back to what you believe is true. It really comes back to how you want to live. Do you want to live in a secluded area? It’s the same thing as earlier. Do you want to live a life protected from all risk of danger?”

  “You heard that, huh?”

  Silence.

  “OK, so you did hear that. Am I wrong, Aunt Lou? Is it wrong to try to help my friends, even though it might put me in danger?”

  “You know the answer to that question, Allie, even though you might not like it.”

  Allie drew her gaze away from the beach and out toward the water. The sun reflected off its surface like light reflecting off the facets of a sapphire. She saw a pelican dive. A moment later, he took off again. Impossible to tell if he’d caught his fish. Probably because that’s what he was good at. Was Allie good at what she was trying to do? That was yet to be decided. She didn’t know if she was a good reporter, let alone a good investigative one, but she would try, goddamn it. Despite the potential danger and even the very real risk of injury to herself, she’d try. Her aunt was right. She knew the answer to that question and, no, she didn’t like it. But Marc would like it even less.

  She didn’t call him. Instead, she stayed up on the deck until the sun was setting. As the last of the lavender faded from the sky, she headed downstairs. She made a point of opening the front door and waving at the officer sitting in his car. He waved back. All was well.

  First, Allie ran a tub of hot water. She dumped in some of her aunt’s bath salts. As the fragrance swirled around her, that special mix of rosemary and lavender she always associated with Lou, she felt comforted.

  Her muscles eased a bit after she slipped into the hot water. She lay in the tub until the water grew cool. She would have stayed longer, but there was no more hot water. It took hours to reheat after she had a bath. As she dried off, she made a note to have a larger hot water heater installed. She stopped. If she stayed.

  She pushed that thought out of her mind and slipped on a clean nightshirt. Then, she crawled into bed. She turned the TV on to a decorating channel and sank into the pillows. She wasn’t at all afraid that Sidney would try to get in her house. He might think he was Superman when he was hiding behind his badge or when he had two tons of steel to use as a weapon, but he was a coward. Now that the entire sheriff’s department was searching for him, he wouldn’t dare show his face.

  At 2 a.m., when she heard scratching noises at her back door, she wasn’t so certain. She grabbed the butcher knife off her nightstand, the same knife Sheryl had used to show her the error of her ways, and crept to the back door. She peeked through a slit in the curtains. Then, she flung them open.

  Feelie, the neighborhood’s resident drunk, stared at her in shock. Allie raised her arm and pointed toward his house, mouthing the words, “Go home.” Feelie nodded and didn’t quit as he stumbled off her patio in the general direction of his house. Allie only hoped he didn’t tumble down the dunes into the water and drown. She waited until he was out of sight. Then, she closed the curtains.

  The first time Feelie had shown up at her house, his drunk and distorted face staring in her back door terrified her, but Joe had told her Feelie was a disabled Viet Nam vet with nothing left in his life but a wife who scared him and alcohol to make him forget it all. Now, he was more like the neighborhood puppy who occasionally got off his chain—a nuisance but essentially harmless.

  Allie crept painfully back to bed. Fat lot of good her police guard would have done if Sidney had decided to come in from the back. She started to put the knife in the kitchen but changed her mind and took it back to bed. Not that she believed it would do any good against a lunatic with a gun.

  “I wish you’d learn how to bark,” she told Spook when he crept back into the bedroom. He jumped up on the bed and lay beside her. He was trembling so violently that he moved the mattress. “That’s okay, little dog,” she said soothingly. “Never mind. I’ll guard you instead.” She reached over and stroked his fur until he calmed down. No, her dog wouldn’t be any help.

  For the first time in her life, she considered owning a gun. It would give her a certain measure of safety that the butcher knife didn’t offer, like effectiveness at a distance. Sheryl could teach her how to use it, and maybe she could take a few self-defense classes from Del. She might need those skills if she intended to continue in the professional direction she was going. She’d talk to both of them soon, she thought, plumping her pillows behind her head. She switched off the TV. First thing in the morning, she would talk to Rand. She didn’t know how she would get past her jailer out there, but she would. She had to. It was time that Ran
d Arbutten faced reality, and she had plenty of it to show him, all tied up neatly on tape.

  ***

  A quick peek out her front window the next morning showed her that her guardian was still in place—a new one. His eyes were focused downward. He appeared to be reading. Or maybe he was sleeping.

  She fed Spook and walked him quickly just off the patio. Then, she headed back inside to don her armor. She dressed to convince, opting for the sweet, demure look. Lots of pastel blue and white. Capris and a gauzy blouse tied up at the waist. She gingerly applied concealer to the black ring under her eye and a light foundation to the left side of her face. Then, she covered both with her usual, darker makeup. She thought the result was surprisingly good. You could still see the bruises if you looked closely, but she no longer looked like a bit-part actor in a horror movie.

  She piled her hair on top of her head, striving for Sheryl’s carefully casual look. After twenty minutes, she gave up and pulled it back in a scrunchy. Maybe Sheryl could teach her that too. She strapped white sandals on her feet. She was as ready as she would get.

  Checking to make certain the tape recorder was still in her purse, she grabbed the two travel mugs of coffee she’d prepared and let herself out the front door. It was a juggling match trying to get the door locked, but she managed. Before she even turned to start down the walkway, the officer was out of the car and headed toward her.

  Allie gave him her winning smile as he approached her. “Hi, there. It’s Barry, isn’t it?” she asked, remembering him as one of the cops who had taken her home from the emergency room the first time Joe had been shot.

  The officer looked pleased to have been remembered. “Yes ma’am.”

  Allie held out one travel mug, and he took it automatically. “It’s coffee. I guessed that you took it black. I hope that’s all right. I know I’d need some coffee if I were going to sit out here for hours. There can’t be anything more boring than watching a house where nothing happens.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Barry said, thawing a little.

  He was little more than a boy. Probably twenty-two or three and handsome in a fresh-scrubbed way. He reminded her a little of Joe. She pushed the thought away.

  Nodding at him as if dismissing him, she started down the walk. A second later, he was planted in front of her.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not supposed to let you leave the premises.” His eyes strayed in the direction of Sheryl’s house, and Allie had no doubt who had issued that order.

  There was no car in Sheryl’s driveway. That was a plus. She turned back to Barry. “I have to run a little errand for the newspaper. I’m sure you understand.” She looked up at him and smiled.

  She could see his Adam’s apple working overtime. She wasn’t sure if it was her charm or fear of Sheryl’s wrath that was responsible. “But Sheryl said—”

  “You can follow along if it makes you feel better.”

  “But I was supposed to watch the house—” he began, clearly afraid to make any decision on his own. Allie almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  “Well, that’s fine if that’s what you’re supposed to do,” she said, sidestepping him and continuing down the walk. “I won’t be very long.”

  For a minute, she was afraid that he would come after her and physically bar her from opening the car door. She wouldn’t have been able to do a thing about that. Instead, much to her relief, he turned and sprinted back toward his cruiser. He was on her tail from the time she pulled out of her driveway, talking on a handheld mike, it appeared. Allie couldn’t make out his expression, and she was secretly glad. If he called Sheryl, she really didn’t want to see his face.

  Rand’s car was in the driveway when she arrived. Thank God. This wasn’t a confrontation she wanted to have at the newspaper office.

  Barry was out of his vehicle before she opened the car door. “The sheriff’s house?” he asked. “But he’s—”

  “In Cocoa. I know,” Allie said. “His son is staying here.”

  Barry’s expression told her what he thought of the sheriff’s son. “I’ll have to go in with you, ma’am.”

  Allie stopped and turned toward him. “I’m sorry, Barry, but I can’t let you do that. This is official newspaper business, and I’m sure you can appreciate how confidential that could be.” When his fresh shaven jaw turned stubborn, she said, “Why don’t you call Sheryl and ask her? I’m sure she’ll say it’s all right.”

  As soon as his back was turned, she headed up to the porch and knocked loudly. She was about to knock again when the door swung open. Rand stood there in a pair of cutoffs. Nothing else, not even shoes. Allie almost swooned at the sight of all that naked hairy skin, but there was no time for that. She pushed past him, hissing, “Close the door. Quick.”

  Rand complied, and then stood there like a statue, his face a mask. “What’s going on?”

  Allie went into the kitchen and peeked out the window. She watched Barry put down his radio and settle back in his seat. She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned.

  Rand stood in exactly the same position. At least until he saw her face. Then, his jaw dropped. Maybe she hadn’t done quite as good a job with the makeup as she’d thought.

  “What in the hell happened to you?”

  She realized instantly that she could play this situation one of two ways. She could give him the stiff-upper-lip, aw-shucks-it-was-nothing spiel, or she could tell him the truth. It was no contest.

  With one more peek out the window to make certain that Barry was still in his cruiser—he was—she turned and led the way into the family room. “Come sit down, and I’ll tell you,” she said as she passed him.

  The sliding glass doors were open. A cup of coffee was on a table by the pool, with a newspaper beside it. That explained the shirtless look. She sat on the couch, leaving the decision of how close to her he wanted to sit.

  He grabbed a shirt off the recliner and pulled it over his head, much to Allie’s relief.

  “What happened?” Then, he sat down beside her. Gingerly, he reached up and turned her face from side to side. He looked into her eyes, she into his. Blue ice.

  Allie swallowed hard. He was too close. Her nerve endings were back at attention and had been since the instant his hand touched her face. She sat against the couch cushions, giving herself the illusion, if not the reality, of space between them. “Someone shot out my front tire as I was crossing the 520 bridge.”

  “What?” The shock on his face was unmistakable.

  She nodded. “The police know who did it, but they can’t find him. That’s why Barry is following me around.”

  His jaw worked. “What happened?”

  So, Allie told him. She told him about going back to talk to Janet, but not what his grandmother said. She would let the tape tell that tale. She told him about looking for him at the newspaper, about realizing when she left that someone was following her. She told him how the car had spun out of control, throwing her around like a rag doll. When she told him what her poor Jeep had looked like at the end, tears filled her eyes, and she quickly blinked them back. She didn’t dare let this man put his arms around her.

  He shook his head. “Unbelievable. I was at the office until about fifteen minutes before you showed up. I had to run over to Orlando to pick up some mail. If you’d have been fifteen minutes earlier…” His voice trailed off.

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Allie said. So, he was like his father in that way, too, that tendency to take responsibility for everything that happened. “Sidney would have picked up my car the minute I left there, anyway. He was waiting for me.”

  “Why does he hate you so much?”

  Again, Allie could answer him two ways. Again, she opted for the truth. “It’s because he thinks I’m trying to gather evidence that will harm Cord. I guess he thinks that’s what you and I are doing, because he really went off the deep end once he realized I was talking to you. I think he’s been following me for a while. I sus
pect,” she glanced at Rand, then away, “I suspect he thinks Cord killed your mother, and he’s trying to prevent me from proving it. Cord is his hero,” she added as an afterthought.

  Rand’s brows came together in the center of his forehead. “I’ve met Sidney,” he said bitterly. “At the viewing. He told me Cord is his biological father.”

  Now, it was Allie’s turn to gape. “That’s bullshit,” she exploded. “I’ve known that little worm since he was nine years old, and I know his parents. He’s the spitting image of his father, right down to the hairs growing out of his nose.”

  Allie saw a smile start in Rand’s eyes at her words, but it never quite made his mouth. “I figured that. I know he’s helped Sidney out a lot. I figured it was all a fiction in Sidney’s mind. He doesn’t strike me as the most stable guy in the department.”

  “He’s a homicidal maniac,” Allie said. “I’m terrified of what he’ll try to do next. Even though I can prove that Cord didn’t do anything, I don’t think it will make any difference to him. He’s too far gone.”

  “What did you say?” Rand’s voice was soft. Frighteningly soft.

  Allie suddenly remembered why she was there. She scooted a couple inches farther away from him. She knew how much pain she was about to cause, and she hated it; but she had come too far to back away from the truth now.

  She reached into her purse and pulled out the tape recorder. “All I ask is that you listen to it, Rand. It’s my conversation last night with your grandmother. She—”

  He jumped up from the couch and paced a few feet away. Then, he turned back to face her. “The woman’s a liar.”

  “According to your mother. No one else seems to think so.”

  “Who would know better than her own daughter?”

  “What if making her out to be a liar served your mother’s purpose?”

  “What about the divorce? Are you saying my mother was lying about that too?”

  “Rand, if you’ll just listen—”

  “Why the hell should I?”

  “Because you’re too much of a man to keep your head in the sand anymore,” Allie snapped. “You did it as a boy because you didn’t know any better. All kids believe what their parents tell them, and you had only one parent talking to you, telling you what she wanted you to believe. But you aren’t a child anymore. You’re a grown man, and you need to hear the truth. The whole truth. That’s the only way you’ll ever be able to move past this.”