by Debby Giusti
“I have to tell you, Jamison, it has me worried. Anyone entering that property unbidden in the middle of the night spells trouble.”
“I agree. She’s all alone on the edge of town, which has me worried, too.”
“I’ll drive out there and ensure the guy she hired is doing a good job. Do you know if she has plans for dinner?”
Jamison chuckled. “Is this a working dinner?”
“You bet. What else would it be?”
“Well…” The CID agent hesitated. “Kelly’s a good-looking woman, and last I heard, you’re a single guy.”
“We’re in the middle of an investigation.”
“But that doesn’t change the facts.”
“I’m talking about a carry-out pizza, Jamison. Let’s not make more out of this dinner than it warrants.”
“I hear you. Enjoy yourself.”
Phil couldn’t help smiling. He liked Jamison, but the CID agent had put one and one together and gotten something very opposite of the real reason for Phil checking up on Kelly. Besides, they had more to discuss about the investigation, so, as Jamison had indicated, tonight would be a business meeting of sorts.
Which is what Phil kept telling himself as he picked up a large pizza, headed north along the Freemont Road and turned into Kelly’s drive.
She must have heard him, because the garage door opened when he braked to a stop. Kelly came out from around her parked car. When she saw Phil, her face dropped. Suddenly he wasn’t sure the pizza dinner was such a good idea.
“Hey.” He climbed from the truck, then reached back inside for the pizza. “I brought dinner.”
Her frown instantly turned upward. Evidently the saying about the best way to a guy’s heart was through his stomach applied to women, as well. Not that Phil was interested, but he liked her smile.
She glanced at her watch. “I thought you were the garage repairman. He said he’d be here at five o’clock. I called his shop about an hour ago, but the call went to voice mail.”
“Maybe he got tied up on another job.”
“You’re probably right.” Kelly led Phil through the garage and into the kitchen, where the smell of a scented candle and the sound of soft jazz eased the tension that had built up over the long day. If he ate slowly, maybe he could stay awhile and enjoy the ambiance of her home and her company.
She opened the pizza box on the counter and licked her lips. “How did you know I was starving? And pepperoni is my favorite.”
He shrugged, totally pleased with himself. At least he’d done something right today.
Kelly pulled two colas from the fridge, and they sat at her kitchen table and chatted about nothing that had any bearing on the case, as if both of them wanted to distance themselves from the investigation.
He could get used to being with Kelly. The conversation flowed and they laughed, deep belly laughs that were therapeutic and refreshing. The fatigue that had weighed him down earlier disappeared, and instead he felt energized.
Kelly pulled out the last of the pecan pie and cut Phil a large slice, which he ate with relish. After helping her clear the table, he stuck the plates and glasses in the dishwasher. While she wiped off the table, he leaned against the counter.
“If anything good is to come from this investigation, Kelly, it’s that I was able to finally meet you.”
She dried her hands on a dish towel before glancing up at him. “You could have introduced yourself earlier, although people magnets, like you seem to be, never lack for friends.”
Feeling put in his place, Phil raised his brow. “And now that you know me, what’s your opinion?”
She leaned closer and wiped a crumb from the pie off his upper lip. “Now I think you’re a guy with a big heart who tries to live life by the book, but…”
“But what?” He pulled away from the counter, which placed him mere inches from her sweet mouth that suddenly wasn’t smiling.
Instead, the expression on her face was full of anticipation, which probably matched the way his eyes were taking her in. The lift of her expressive brow, the glimmer of expectation that flickered in her eyes, the smoothness of her cheeks—now flushed and warm and almost iridescent—drew him closer.
Her hair, like strands of silk, cascaded over her shoulders. He ran his hand along a wayward strand before tucking it behind her ear. His fingers touched the flesh of her neck and sent pinpricks of electricity radiating up his arm.
Somewhere deep inside a voice warned of getting too close, but he wasn’t listening as he focused on her lips and lowered his own to meet hers.
Before they made contact, the garage door activated.
Kelly turned to listen, her eyes wide, her body on alert. “Did you hear a car?”
He shook his head, his focus on the back door that led from the kitchen. “We didn’t close the garage when we came inside. I’ll go out the front and circle around.”
She grabbed her weapon off the sideboard and headed for the kitchen door that led into the garage. Phil passed through the living area and inched the front door open. The porch light was off, and his eyes adjusted quickly to the surrounding darkness.
The yard was still, the road deserted.
He rounded the house to ensure no one was hovering in the rear. His eyes flicked over the wooded area. Floodlights were a priority. Kelly needed a lit backyard.
Expecting to see her at any moment, he circled the far side of the house and rounded the corner to the garage. A warning went off in his head. Where was she?
At that moment, the automatic opener clicked into operation, and the garage door slowly rolled open.
The light from the overhead fixture spilled onto the driveway. Kelly stood just inside the garage on the cement slab. Her face was pulled tight, and her eyes were raised as she aimed her gun at the rafters.
Phil followed her gaze. His gut clenched and his spine tingled a warning. A dead possum hung from a noose above her car.
Kelly had forgotten to close her garage door when she and Phil had gone inside. Her mistake, a mistake that had given the perpetrator an opportunity to strike again.
This time his warning was even more unsettling.
“Kelly?” She turned as Phil stepped closer.
“I checked the rear of the house but didn’t see anyone hanging around.”
“How does he get in and out without me hearing?”
“The garage was open, and we were talking inside. Once he tied the animal in place, he activated the door. As it closed, he ran into the woods where he probably parked his car.”
“But who’s doing it, Phil, and why?”
“Probably the kid from the post. You went after him in the woods. Maybe you were getting close to something he’s involved in, and he’s telling you to back off.”
She let out a deep breath. “I need to check out the area again tomorrow.”
Phil held up a hand. “But not on your own. I’m going with you.” He pulled out his cell. “And right now, we’re calling the local police.”
She started to object.
He shook his head. “They need to know what’s going on.”
“I can take care of myself, Phil.”
“Of course you can, but this guy is turning into more than a vandal. The attacks against you and your property are becoming more assertive. The local cops need to know.”
Of course Phil was right. Her own pride had kept her from calling before. She glanced once again at the dead animal. “Give me the phone. I’ll make the call.”
Officer Simpson was the same man she had spoken to yesterday. Once he arrived, Kelly explained everything that had happened, including the trap in the woods.
Mid-forties and competent, Simpson did a thorough search of the garage and surrounding area. Phil added an extra set of eyes, and Kelly remained vigilant for anything that might provide a clue as to why she was being harassed.
The officer took pictures of the possum before cutting down the animal. “Doubt we’ll find anything on the
carcass, but I’ll have our people check it out. Sometimes we get lucky.”
Kelly appreciated his thoroughness. While the death of a wild animal wasn’t something the police normally worried about, the fact that the perpetrator was escalating his attacks was significant.
Simpson concluded with a warning. “You’re going to have to be on your guard, ma’am. You’re pretty far from town out here. Whoever’s doing this has his sights on you. Keep that Sig Sauer of yours close at hand, and ensure your doors and windows remain locked. Might be good to have some floodlighting installed.”
Phil cleared his throat and raised his brow.
She glanced at him and nodded. “That’s what Captain Thibodeaux told me.”
Phil stepped closer. “Let’s deactivate this old automatic opener so it can’t be triggered by any remote device. It’ll mean you have to manually open and close the garage, Kelly, but that way you can keep the garage locked, which hopefully will deter anyone from entering again.”
The cop nodded. “Good idea.”
After disengaging the system, Phil manually lowered the door. “It’ll take a bit of effort, but you’ll be a lot safer. And when it’s locked you’ll know no one’s getting inside.”
“Thanks, Phil.”
Turning back to the police officer, Kelly once again mentioned seeing Kyle Foglio in the woods and asked about the land that butted up to the Taylor farm.
“Sorry, I didn’t get to it yet. I’ll check it out in the morning. Might be a good idea if I send a squad car to examine those traps you mentioned. I’ll call you first in case you want to meet me out there.”
“I do.” She pointed to Phil. “Would you have time to head back there tomorrow?”
Phil nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“I’ll also want to see that trap you got caught in,” the officer said to Kelly. He turned to Phil. “And those other ambushes you noticed.”
“The one that snagged me has been disassembled,” Kelly said. “As I mentioned, whoever is doing this left a portion of the rope in my car.”
“Can your men be on the lookout for Kyle Foglio?” Phil asked.
The cop ran his hand over his chin and thought for a moment. “If the kid went to the high school in town, there would be a picture of him in the old yearbook. I’ll copy the photo and circulate it through the department. We’ll keep our eyes open and let you know if we spot him.”
“As far as I know, he didn’t stay in the area long, so he may not have had his photo taken at school, but it’s worth a try,” said Kelly. “I called the stepmother, but she didn’t answer. Mrs. Foglio and Kyle didn’t seem particularly close, but she might know something. I also called his real mom in Chicago. She didn’t seem interested in her son or that he might have been injured.”
“And the dad?” the cop asked.
“He’s in jail.”
Officer Simpson scratched his head. “You know what they say. The apple never falls far from the tree.”
Phil was noticeably silent as the officer said good night and headed back to town.
“What’s wrong?” Kelly asked, once they were alone.
“Maybe Kyle Foglio feels responsible for his dad going to prison.”
“Why do you say that?”
He shrugged off the question and fumbled to offer an explanation about kids being easy to read. But as they walked back into her house, Kelly wondered if there wasn’t something deeper that Phil was focused on, instead of a dead possum and a troubled teen.
The apple never falls far from the tree.
The cop’s comment had hit Phil like a sucker punch to his gut. He’d heard that same comment whispered behind his back after his father had been arrested.
While helpful neighbors tried to contact his aunt, everyone wondered what would become of the little boy whose mother had abandoned him and whose father had been sent to jail.
Hard enough to be semi-orphaned. Even tougher to worry about growing up like the father he at one time had loved and admired.
In hindsight, the move to his aunt’s house in DeRidder, Louisiana, a family-centered town with churches on every block, had been a positive influence on his young life. Aunt Eleanor’s deep conviction that the Lord was in control was a 180-degree flip from the absence of faith his folks had espoused. Even more significant had been her big heart for the child she had not borne and her innate ability to make Phil feel loved and accepted.
He had also been accepted by her church community. Many in the congregation were military families who became positive role models. His Scout leaders were commissioned officers and NCOs who taught him more about life and values and high moral standards than his dad had ever done in New Orleans.
The memories flashed through his mind before he had a chance to realize that Kelly seemed as despondent as he felt. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her waist, and she seemed unsure of what to do, now that they were both back in the kitchen. Recalling the tension-filled moment before the garage door had closed, Phil knew there was no going back in time.
Fate had undoubtedly saved him from making a fool of himself. If he had kissed Kelly—and that’s exactly what he had wanted to do—the awkwardness of the current moment would be even more difficult.
“I should be leaving,” he said as an opening, although he didn’t want to leave her alone. “Sure you want to stay out here tonight? You could get a room at the Post Lodge. Might be a good option, at least for a few days.”
“That would only mean that Kyle Foglio, or whoever is trying to frighten me, won. I’m staying put.”
“You’ve got a stubborn streak, Kelly McQueen.”
“Which is something my mother often reminded me of.”
She stood looking at him expectantly, as if there was something else she was waiting for him to say. Finally she dropped her hands and sighed. “The cop’s comment about the apple and the tree…”
He waited, wondering if she had checked into his own past and was going to bring up the painful events he kept buried. He had moved on from that time as a child. His dad had died shortly after his parole two years ago, and as far as Phil was concerned, that part of his life—the New Orleans days, as he often thought of them—was closed. He’d never gone back to the city and doubted he ever would.
“Well, I mean…” Kelly seemed to be having a hard time finding the right words. “I don’t believe it, do you? It’s just an old wives’ tale, right?”
“It’s merely a cliché, Kelly, that wagging tongues like to use to cause pain to anyone who has disappointed a parent.”
“Sounds as if you speak from experience.” The tilt of her head and her expressive eyes revealed a sadness he hadn’t noticed earlier.
As openly expectant as she seemed, this wasn’t the time to reveal his past. That part of his life was a closed door he refused to open.
“You need to expose the pain to the light, Philippe, in order to heal.” Aunt Eleanor’s words circled through his mind.
“Some doors should remain closed,” he mumbled under his breath as he grabbed his hat.
Raising his voice, he added, “Keep your doors and windows locked as the cop instructed you, Kelly. Keep your cell phone turned on and at your bedside and make sure you’ve got the local police and my number programmed on speed dial.”
A small but refreshing smile cracked her lips and brought a bit of lightness to the weight she had carried on her shoulders just moments before.
“Call that garage repairman in the morning and find out why he stood you up. Also, get a good electrician out here to install floods in the rear of your property.” He glanced at her front door. “Dead bolts would be good, as well.”
“Phil, I’ve got to be on post bright and early. We’ve got an ongoing investigation.”
“Which I’m well aware of.”
She lowered her gaze. “Sorry. Of course you are. I’ll be fine tonight.”
She took a step toward the door and grimaced.
“That leg�
�s still bothering you?”
“Only occasionally.”
“Use an ice pack, keep it elevated and think about going on sick call in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.” She smiled and gave him a semi-salute.
He shook his head but couldn’t hide the smile on his lips. “You are one stubborn woman.”
“I believe you just said that.”
He opened the door and turned to look at her. She stepped closer, and for an instant, he wanted to kiss her as he had wanted to do earlier in the kitchen.
“Thanks for the pizza,” she said, dispelling the moment.
“Yeah.” He slapped his hat against his leg. “Lock the door and call me if you need me.”
Once he got to his truck, he turned to stare back at her house, doubtful Kelly McQueen would ever need him, and that realization made the night seem even colder.
TEN
Phil had a mountain of paperwork to review the next day as well as a company of men who needed to be assured that they hadn’t done anything wrong. At least that’s what Phil believed and would continue to believe until evidence—cold, hard evidence—came to light.
Even the first sergeant, a battle-worn veteran who usually rolled with the punches, was concerned about the company.
“Sir, this whole situation has my gut in turmoil. I talked to Staff Sergeant Gates after PT this morning. He was telling me about Taylor’s squad and how the death is affecting the men. Guess Stanley had another hard night. A number of the guys stayed up trying to reassure him.” The first sergeant rubbed his short hair. “Have to tell you, I can relate. Even my wife and daughter, Marie, say I’m not myself.”
“You’re not the only one.” Phil let out a deep breath in hopes of easing the tension that tightened his shoulders.
Riffling through the files on his desk, Phil asked, “Did the protocol office send over the list of people who were invited to attend the live-fire event?”
“Not yet, sir. I’ll see if I can get the list for you.” Meyers left Phil’s office in haste, no doubt happy to have a reason to head back to his desk.
Kelly continued to interview the men and had a thick notebook of statements she wanted to discuss with Phil. Not that he minded. Having someone outside the unit to discuss the incident with was helpful, especially when she brought in hoagie sandwiches for lunch and a bag of chocolate chip cookies she’d picked up at the commissary.
