She Can Kill

by Melinda Leigh

  Sarah spied headlights just in time to scoop up Bandit and head off a barking frenzy. “Shh. It’s just Mike.”

  She let Mike in and handed him the dog. Bandit’s whole body wagged as Mike rubbed his head.

  “Uncle Mike.” Alex bolted from the doorway.

  Mike set the dog down and caught Alex. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

  She grinned. “Uh-huh. Can you read me a story, pwease?” Alex faked a lisp and batted her brown eyes at him.

  Laughing, he hugged her and set her down. “Maybe if you’re real quiet and stay in your room while I talk to your mommy.”

  “I will.” Alex nodded. “I’m not tired. I’ll be awake.” She ran back to her bedroom.

  Sarah led the way into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

  Mike shook his head. “No. Tell me what happened.”

  Sarah turned on the countertop TV and lowered her voice as she told him about the two encounters with Troy.

  “You need a restraining order.” Mike frowned. “You’ll have to come to the station tomorrow and sign a complaint. Then you’ll have to go before the judge on Monday.”

  “Who turned me down last time.”

  “Last time Troy hadn’t done anything like this, but now he’s stepped over the line. This is harassment,” Mike said. “Did you call your attorney?”

  “I called him on the way back to the inn this afternoon to tell him about the investigator.” Sarah rubbed her temple. “I guess I’ll be calling him again tomorrow morning. I’m supposed to work tomorrow.”

  “I thought you were off on Saturdays?”

  “Not this week.” Sarah had traded days with the weekend sous chef for a court appointment the previous Monday.

  “You can come to the station anytime, but I don’t have any control over the judge’s schedule.”

  So Monday would be a problem as well. Jacob would not be pleased. Any proceeding at the courthouse involved several hours of waiting. She had to keep her job to keep her kids. But she might lose her job protecting her kids.

  “Thanks, Mike. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Sarah said.

  “I wish I could do more.” Mike stood. “Keep the alarm on. Call me if anything spooks you.” His gaze went to the dog sitting on his foot. “Or him. Do the kids know?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I didn’t want to scare them. They have to go with Troy again on Tuesday.”

  Though the thought terrified her, legally, there was nothing she could do.

  “Who’s watching them tomorrow?”

  “Mrs. Holloway has someone coming to her house tomorrow, so the kids are going there, but it’ll be hard on Alex to be cooped up another day.” Em needed rest, but Alex had the energy of a squirrel on Red Bull.

  “Before Monday, you should let the daycare center know what’s going on. You’ll need to tell Mrs. Holloway too.”

  Everyone in town would soon know the dirty details of the Mitchell divorce.

  “You know you and the girls can always come and stay with us.”

  “I know. Thank you. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.” She’d struggled hard all winter to establish her independence, and she didn’t want to backtrack. But if she thought the girls were in danger, she could be packed in minutes.

  Mike headed for the hallway and whispered for Alex. The dull thud of bare feet on carpet confirmed Sarah’s prediction about her oldest’s ability to stay awake. She heard Mike’s deep voice in the living room reading to Alex. Her mind conjured an image of Cristan reading to Lucia as a baby. Men could be wonderful fathers. Sarah just hadn’t picked the right one.

  Ten minutes later, Mike sent Alex off to bed. He leaned down to kiss Sarah on the cheek. “Ethan’s on patrol tonight. I’ll have him drive by a few times just in case Troy decides to come back.”

  “Are you going to talk to Troy?”

  “Yes,” Mike said. “Stay safe.”

  “Wait.” Sarah pulled out her phone. “He sent me some texts. You should read them.”

  Mike took her phone and scrolled through the messages. “Don’t erase these. In fact, save them as screenshots and print them out. Make a copy for your attorney and one for me.”

  “OK.” She nodded, then locked up behind him. She scanned her house. It felt smaller with the blinds adjusted to block prying eyes. A sense of claustrophobia closed down on her. She might have left Troy, but he’d still managed to make her feel vulnerable.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Mike turned into a tidy suburban neighborhood. Minivans and SUVs lined the curving street. Snow coated the lawns. He cruised past Troy’s house. When Sarah lived there, the place always projected a cheery, homey image. But now that she’d moved out, the house looked abandoned.

  The porch fixture was dark. A light glowed in the living room window, but the drawn blinds blocked Mike’s view inside. Troy’s truck sat in the dark driveway. Even in the scant moonlight, Mike could see damage to the front end of the truck and corresponding dents in the garage door, as if the pickup had rammed into the house. Several times.

  So much for anger management classes.

  Mike had handled Troy’s temper in the past, but the smashed truck and garage door made the hair on his neck dance. Knocking on the door without backup wouldn’t be a smart move.

  He steered around a street hockey net and parked his vehicle at the curb a few house away. He picked up his cell phone and called dispatch. “Where’s Ethan?”

  There were only five officers on Mike’s tiny force. Ethan Hale was on night shift.

  “Out at the high school investigating a vandalism complaint. Do you need something?” the dispatcher asked.

  “No.” Mike didn’t want to wait for Ethan. Who knew what Troy was up to? The texts he’d sent Sarah disturbed Mike, and it sounded as if the phone calls had been worse.

  He ended the call and stared at the house for a few seconds. The thick scar on his thigh ached, and he massaged it through his jeans. He dialed Sean. “Busy?”

  “Just finished putting the girls to bed. What’s up?” Sean asked.

  “I’m at Troy Mitchell’s house. He’s been harassing Sarah. I have a weird feeling. Want to come sit at the curb in case Troy does something stupid?”

  “In case? This is Troy Mitchell we’re talking about.”

  Mike sighed. “Can you help me out or not?”

  “Leaving now. Be there in ten.” Fabric rustled over the line. Keys jingled. “Wait for me.”

  “I will.” Mike waited.

  Sean was a little protective since Mike had been stabbed and nearly died back in October. Ten minutes later, Sean parked his SUV behind Mike’s vehicle. They both stepped out and met in the street.

  “What’s the plan?” Sean asked.

  “I’m going up to the door. You stand here and look threatening.”

  Sean scowled. “We should have killed Troy ages ago.”

  “So you’ve said.” Mike was almost certain Sean was kidding. But just in case, he said, “You wait here.”

  Sean leaned against the truck, his arms crossed over his chest, his scowl directed at Troy’s front door.

  Mike stopped on the stoop and listened. He could hear the television through the front window. Angling his body to one side, he knocked on the door. No one answered. He knocked again. “Troy, I know you’re in there.”

  Footsteps approached, and the door opened. Troy stepped out onto the stoop, leaving the door open. Over his shoulder, Mike could see through the living room and beyond into the kitchen. Broken bits of dishes and glasses covered the floor. The curtain over the sink hung in sliced tatters, and it appeared Troy had taken a sledgehammer to the cabinets.

  “What do you want?” Troy folded his arms and glared. His eyes were clear and mean. Maybe sobriety wasn’t his best option.

  “I heard you visited Sarah tonigh
t.”

  Troy cocked his head. “Where did you hear that?”

  “From Sarah.”

  “Oh, from Sarah.” Troy’s tone turned condescending.

  “Troy, you can’t go there.”

  “I’ve been here all night.”

  “Sarah says differently.”

  Troy’s words were clipped and cool. “Then I guess it’s her word against mine. Frankly, I think the word of a cheating slut shouldn’t weigh much.”

  Anger simmered in Mike’s chest. “I’m not getting involved in your marital problems.”

  “Considering you’re marrying her sister, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.” Troy laughed without smiling. He leaned closer. His lip curled and fury narrowed his eyes. “Be careful, Chief. Those Parker women are lying little whores.”

  Mike clamped his molars together. Listening to Troy always sent his teeth into grinding overtime. “I’m just trying to prevent a problem.”

  “No problems here.”

  “Anyone see you here tonight?”

  Troy waved to the house behind him. “Do you see anyone else here?”

  Mike’s gaze strayed to the demolished kitchen. “Can I come in?”

  “Do you have a warrant?”

  “No.”

  “Then no.” Turning his head Troy followed Mike’s gaze to the demolished kitchen. “I’m doing some renovating.” His lips parted in a creepy smile that would make Jack Nicholson proud. Was Troy losing it?

  Mike got to the point. “You can’t go to Sarah’s house and frighten her. It’s harassment.”

  Troy’s eyes glittered. “She’s easy to scare.”

  “So you were there tonight?” Mike prompted.

  “I didn’t say that. But a man should be able to see his kids whenever he wants.”

  “That’s not how it works, Troy, and you know it,” Mike said. “You have court-ordered visitation. If you want to see your kids more, alterations to that schedule have to be mandated by the judge.”

  “I guess I’ll have to get my lawyer on that then.” Troy leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, his expression shuttered.

  “Where are your buddies tonight?”

  “I’ve given up my friends as part of my AA commitment. They jeopardized my recovery and enabled my addiction.” Troy sounded like he was reading from a script.

  Mike sized him up. He’d thought a drunken Troy was bad enough, violent and prone to impulsive outbursts of temper. But intoxicated, Troy was easy to predict. Sober, he seemed much more dangerous, capable of thinking, planning . . . “How was that anger management course?”

  “I’m practicing finding constructive outlets.”

  “Good, as long as one of those outlets isn’t Sarah.”

  “You own the house Sarah is living in, right, Chief?” Troy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And after you get married, Sarah will be your sister-in-law.” Troy’s brows knitted. “Sure seems like your role is a conflict of interest.”

  “That’s no excuse to break the law.” Mike tamped down his frustration. “Stay away from Sarah, Troy. I know you were there tonight.”

  “It’s a shame you can’t prove it.”

  “I saw the texts you sent to her.”

  The cords at the base of Troy’s neck tightened. He knew he’d made a mistake. “Private communication between a man and his wife should be kept private.”

  “Unless one of them is breaking the law,” Mike pointed out. “She’s no longer your wife, and that house is private property. My private property. Setting one foot on the lawn is trespassing. Don’t do it again.”

  Troy backed into the house and shut the door. The deadbolt slid home with a deliberate click. Rubbing his thigh, Mike went back to his official SUV.

  “You all right?” Sean asked, his eyes tracking Mike’s hand.

  “Fine.” But every time he faced a threat, his thigh ached.

  “How did that asshole ever talk Sarah into marrying him?”

  “Sarah needed somewhere to go.” Unfortunately, she’d traded a drunken, abusive father for a drunken, abusive husband. Mike told him about the trashed house.

  Sean frowned. “Sounds like Troy is on a downward spiral. His wife left him. His father went to prison. His business is struggling.”

  “He can’t drink or hang with his friends,” Mike added. “He has no outlet for his frustration.”

  “And he can’t handle it,” Sean finished. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Mike opened his vehicle door. “The only thing I can prove is that he sent her a couple of nasty texts. Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do until I can catch him in the act.”

  “Cameras,” Sean suggested.

  “You read my mind.”

  “I’ll pick up some cameras tomorrow. I can put them in at the end of the day.” Sean got into his truck. “We’ll catch that little bastard.”

  “I hope so, Sean. I have a bad feeling. Troy is unraveling.”

  At the top of an aluminum ladder on his front porch, Cristan tightened the final screw in the mounting bracket. He eyed the angle of the new surveillance camera and made an adjustment. The camera had a wide-angle lens with a seventy-five degree viewing arc and could capture images at night up to a hundred feet away. No more surprise visitors to his mailbox or driveway. He’d be able to see every car that drove past his house. He climbed down and carried the ladder back to the garage. Inside, he set the alarm before settling in his office.

  He added the new camera feed to his existing software. The wide-angle was perfect, giving him a clear view of the entire front yard.

  He should go to bed. Lucia had retired hours ago, but he knew attempting to sleep was pointless. With the massacre anniversary approaching, events that would normally be considered flukes, had put him on edge. Lucia was keeping secrets. He’d walked into a convenience store robbery. A private investigator had followed him. He’d been dragged into a domestic dispute. And someone had given Lucia a gift that looked remarkably like the one she’d cherished and lost as a baby.

  Too many coincidences.

  He’d start with the easiest of the incidents to cross off his list. The PI firm was supposedly hired by Sarah’s ex. Cristan’s virtual private network provided him online anonymity by hiding the IP address of his computer. Even if his inquiries were detected, no one would be able to locate him. Basic research on A-Plus Private Investigations yielded interesting results. The firm specialized in cheating and infidelity cases and appeared to be legitimate, although their reputation seemed somewhat sleazy. An investigator for A-Plus had recently been charged with impersonating a police officer. The firm had faced previous charges of trespassing and harassment. Most private investigators did not continue to follow their subjects once their presence was discovered. In all likelihood, the firm would cease surveillance. If not, then Cristan would deal with them. For now, it was enough to know that he hadn’t been followed by one of Aline’s men.

  He moved on to the robbery. There wasn’t much he could do without forensic evidence or access to law enforcement databases. As hard as it was, he was going to have to trust Mike to do his job.

  He had only one avenue left to investigate. His past.

  His inquiries yielded few results. He knew from previous reports that Maria didn’t often leave her Mendoza vineyard. Her location would have to be verified by a local. Aline, though, was elusive. Tonight was no different. Relocating to the US had distanced Cristan from Aline’s threat, but the move also put him at a disadvantage in obtaining information. But money helped to close that gap.

  With an anonymous and untraceable e-mail account, he sent a message to the individual he paid to conduct quarterly investigations on Aline Barba and Maria Vargas. Payment for services rendered would be conducted through one of Rojas Corporation’s o
ffshore accounts. Cristan knew his contact broke laws getting information and thought it ironic that the person who provided the data that made him feel safe couldn’t be trusted.

  Unsatisfied, he logged off his computer.

  He had no concrete reason to think his location had been compromised. But instinct didn’t listen to reason, and every cell in Cristan’s body was telling him to pack up his daughter and flee.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sarah stared down at the flat tire on the minivan. Troy or accident? She didn’t have time for this. She set Em down on the cold ground. At the end of his leash, Bandit sniffed his way to a bush and lifted his leg.

  “I’m sorry, kids. Mommy has to change the tire.”

  Alex dropped her backpack. “Can I help?”

  “The best way for you to help is to keep Bandit away from the car so he doesn’t get hurt.”

  Alex choked up on his leash. “I’ve got him.”

  Sarah knew how to change a tire, but she’d never changed one on this vehicle. The spare wasn’t under the cargo mat, and she spent ten minutes reading the manual to figure out how to lower the tire from the car’s undercarriage.

  Could they make this any more complicated?

  When the spare was on the ground, she followed the instructions to use the retrieval tool and pulled the tire out from under the van. Once she had the actual spare in hand, changing the tire was simple, though not easy. She stifled a curse as she leaned on the tire iron with all her weight to loosen the lug nuts. She really needed to work an occasional push-up into her calendar.

  With effort, she hefted the flattened wheel into the cargo area, and added drop tire at auto service center to her to-do list.

  “We’re all ready.” She used baby wipes to clean her hands and then strapped the kids into their child seats. Using the hands-free setting on her phone, she called her boss and explained that she’d be late.

  “I’ll get things started,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Sarah ended the call.

  The flat tire was the last thing she’d needed this morning. Herb was kind and patient, but the restaurant needed to function. How long could he afford to employ her?