Secret Stalker

by LENA DIAZ,

  “Yeah. I’m not holding my breath for a kumbaya moment with you, either.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me, either. Try going to church sometime. Learn a few hymns. Learn not to hang with gangbangers hell-bent on spending the rest of their lives in prison and dragging you with them.”

  She blinked, a shadow of fear flashing in her eyes before she looked away. Crossing her arms, she seemed to be trying for a jaded, world-weary look. If he hadn’t seen her eyes, he’d probably have bought her routine. He wasn’t kidding when he’d said she was a good actress. And he supposed there was a remote possibility that she really was telling the truth. But he wasn’t counting on it. Not since Bex had told him one of the gunmen had mentioned a Reggie. He figured he’d lead with that and see where the conversation went from there.

  “See, here’s the thing, Reggie. I don’t believe you. Wanna know why? Because one of the customers hiding in the store during the shooting overheard a couple of those gunmen talking about the whole thing. You know, the plan to go after Bex Kane? The plan where you called them when she came into the store. And later, you called them saying she was heading toward the front. I thought you looked familiar when I saw you at the register and now I know why. You walked past the deli when Bex was there. I’m guessing that was your reconnaissance so you could estimate how much longer it would be before Bex would check out. So your buddies could time it with their entrance. What did you do, fake a price check or tell the manager you needed a bathroom break when Bex walked into the store? So you could keep an eye on her and warn your buddies when it looked like she was about done shopping?”

  Her eyes were like saucers now and looked like they were about to bug out of her head. He hadn’t actually seen her near the deli. But based on what Bex had said, he figured she must have hidden close by, maybe one aisle over, peeking through the shelves to watch Bex. It only made sense. And from the borderline terrified expression on the girl’s face now, he knew he’d guessed right.

  He glanced at his watch. He didn’t have much time before Reggie’s father arrived. No question the man would put an end to the interview and insist on a lawyer if the cops wanted to talk to her again. Her dad was an ex-con and had no love for the police. He also knew the system, and his rights. And his daughter’s.

  He was lucky Reggie had even come back to the store with the other employees for an interview. The manager must have called her when her father wasn’t home, or he’d never have let her come in. Max decided it was time to play hardball, to turn the screws and try to get as much info as possible before he lost his chance.

  “The way I see it, Reggie, you have two options. One, I haul you off to jail and arrest you on attempted-murder charges.”

  “But I didn’t do anything. I was with you. And then the manager put me in the cooler with the others. I had no part in this.”

  “I already told you I have a witness, so you can drop the act. There’s no question that you knew about the assault ahead of time, helped plan it and now you’re trying to cover it up. That’s conspiracy to commit murder. Makes you just as guilty as if you’d worn one of those masks and pulled the trigger. You can forget college or whatever else you might have planned. You’re going to spend your twenties inside a maximum-security prison.”

  She swallowed, hard. “What’s the second option?”

  He had her. If he could just get her to give him the info before Daddy dearest showed up.

  “You give me their names, for starters. Oh, we know most of them. Some of them are turning deals in the hospital and lockup,” he lied. He wasn’t counting Lenny, since he didn’t know enough to help with the case. “Then you have to tell me exactly why they were trying to kill Bex Kane.”

  “If...if I do that, do I still go to jail?”

  “Prison, Reggie. Yeah, you’re doing time no matter what. But I could put a good word in with the judge and try to get you in a minimum-security facility for a reduced sentence.” He shrugged. “If you fully cooperate, who knows? Maybe you’ll even get off with only probation.”

  He was lying through his teeth. But she didn’t know that. A commotion sounded from out in the main part of the grocery store. It sounded like Colby arguing with someone—probably Reggie’s father. Max was almost out of time.

  “Tell me right now, Reggie. Names. Or I take you to jail.”

  She spewed the names out like a rapid spitting a kayak down a rain-swollen river.

  He scribbled them down as the sound of yelling and shoes pounding on the floor outside got louder and louder.

  “They weren’t trying to kill her, either,” she volunteered. “Did the ones turning deals tell you that already?”

  She was so ready to sing, worried someone else would get a better deal than her. If he only had more time.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Just hurry and tell me what you know before I decide not to talk to the judge on your behalf.”

  “They were supposed to scare her, for one thing. And then they were gonna take her—”

  More yelling sounded down the hallway, much closer now.

  Reggie’s eyes widened, and she looked toward the door.

  Max slammed his hands down on the table, making her jump.

  “Finish it, Reggie. They were going to kidnap Miss Kane? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes. For a little while, at least. They definitely weren’t wanting to kill anyone.”

  “You seriously expect me to believe that? They had assault rifles. They were searching for her. Of course they wanted to hurt her.”

  “They didn’t. I swear. They were supposed to—”

  “Reggie, shut your face!” A shout sounded from right outside the room. “Don’t tell them cops nothing.”

  Her eyes widened again, and she chewed her bottom lip in indecision.

  The sound of scuffles sounded from outside. Something heavy slammed against the wall. It sounded like half of the police force was trying to keep her father from coming into the room.

  She obviously wasn’t sure what to do. She kept glancing from the door to Max.

  “Reggie, ask for a lawyer, you idiot!” her father raged outside.

  She slid a look at Max, her earlier smug look returning.

  “Think very carefully before you say anything else,” Max warned her. “Remember, you need me to give a good word to the judge to help you get a reduced sentence. And I’ll only do that if you tell me what those boys wanted when they broke into the store. What were they going to do? Why were they looking for Bex? Who hired them? Give me something, Reggie.”

  She looked toward the door again, where they could both hear her father yelling.

  Max straightened. “Fine. You want to spend your twenties and thirties in prison, that’s your choice.” He turned around and strode toward the door.

  “Wait!”

  He turned around. “Yes?”

  “They were supposed to take her someplace else. I don’t know where, I swear. But they were supposed to make her talk, on camera.”

  “Talk about what?”

  “They wanted her to confess to murdering some guy named Bobby something or other.”

  He grew very still. “Caldwell? Bobby Caldwell?”

  “That’s it. Yes. They were supposed to film her making a confession. And then they were supposed to give the film to—”

  The door slammed open, the frame splintering in pieces where the locking mechanism used to be. Six-foot-six, three-hundred-pound Sam Oliver stood in the opening, looking like a bull ready to tear into a matador. He glared at Max then turned his glare on his daughter. He jabbed his finger in the air, pointing at her. “Don’t tell him another damn thing.”

  She nodded, looking more terrified of her father than of Max, which, of course, meant his intervie
w had just come to an end. If he’d had any doubts, they went away the second she finally found her voice again.

  “I want a lawyer.”

  Chapter Twelve

  She’d forgotten how bright and clear the night sky could be out in the country, the stars sparkling like little gems without the light pollution of a city to compete with them. Bex absently traced a finger on the arm of the white wicker couch in the little sunroom on the back of her mother’s house. Only, it could be more aptly called a moon room right now, since it was past ten at night. She’d always loved this room, which her daddy had converted from a screened-in porch when she was in elementary school. He was handy like that, always doing projects around the house to make her mama happy.

  “Are you okay, Bex?”

  She let out a squeal of surprise and jerked around to see Max standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the sunroom. She pressed her hand to her chest, surprised her heart hadn’t exploded from fright.

  “Max? What on earth are you doing here? How did you even get in?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. I drove by, saw your lights on and decided to stop. I knocked, loudly, several times. But you must not have heard me all the way back here. When you didn’t answer, I got worried so I used my key.”

  He held it up, then pitched it onto one of the little wicker tables scattered around the room.

  “Your mom gave me that key years ago. I used to keep an eye on the place whenever she went on a trip out of town. She liked me to come inside, water her plants. But mainly she wanted me to make sure the pipes hadn’t burst or anything else major happened.” He cocked his head, studying Bex. “She never told me outright that she was visiting you in Knoxville. But it wasn’t hard to figure out. Word gets around town when a limo shows up with out of town plates.”

  He stepped closer, rounding the couch. Then he stopped abruptly. Even with the room lit only by moonlight she could tell he was looking at her, his eyes glittering as they traveled down her barely clothed body.

  Her face flamed hot and she grabbed an afghan off the back of the couch to cover herself. She was only wearing a nightshirt and panties. True, Max had seen her in far less. But that was a lifetime ago.

  He sighed and pulled a folder out from under his arm and plopped it onto the narrow table in front of the couch. “We need to talk.”

  She waved toward the folder. “About whatever’s in there?”

  “That and more. I don’t suppose I can tempt you into a late-night trip to the police station for an on-camera interview.”

  “Are you ever going to stop asking me that?”

  “Not as long as my boss keeps bugging me to ask you.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “The only way I’ll go there is if rocky road ice cream is involved. With fresh strawberries on top.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “And chocolate syrup?”

  “You remember.”

  “I remember a lot of things.”

  She tightened her grip on the afghan.

  He gave her a sad smile this time. “This town still rolls up the streets at nine. The ice-cream parlor closed hours ago. Unless you want to grab something from Smiths? Not that a twenty-four-hour convenience store compares well to an ice-cream parlor.”

  If they kept skirting around memories of their shared past, she was doomed. She didn’t respond to his ice-cream comments and tried to bring the conversation back to something less dangerous.

  “You said you drove by and saw my lights on. I may not have been to your new house, but you said it’s on land that borders your dad’s property. My mom’s house isn’t anywhere near that.”

  “I didn’t say I happened to be in the neighborhood. I was hoping you’d be up. Like I said, we need to talk.”

  “Okay, well, I guess I’ll try to answer your questions. I just can’t go back to the police station, okay? I’m serious. You have no idea how awful it was. Your boss locked me up in one of those cells for two days. I was eighteen and terrified. The only reason he let me out was because he didn’t have enough evidence to charge me and the judge ordered me released.”

  “I know. I was there, remember?” His jaw worked. “Or I would have been, if you’d let me. I had to hear everything secondhand because you refused to let me visit you. The chief would have allowed that if you’d only told him to let me in.”

  “What did you expect me to do? You’d asked me to marry you and I turned you down. Then a few hours later I was in jail under suspicion of murder. I was confused, scared and angry. I couldn’t deal with your hurt feelings on top of everything else.”

  His eyes flashed with anger. “My hurt feelings? You make it sound so trite. It was a hell of a lot more than hurt feelings. Why did you shut me out? Why didn’t you...”

  He closed his eyes, shaking his head. When he looked at her again, the anger seemed to have drained out of him. “This is a conversation we should have had a decade ago. It’s too late to go over all that now.” He flipped the folder open. “This is the reason I’m here.” He spread out some pictures on the table, then frowned. “Mind if I turn on a light? The kitchen light isn’t doing a lot of good out here.”

  She adjusted the afghan and cleared her throat. “Go ahead.” She didn’t bother to tell him where the switch was. He knew this house just as well as she did.

  He crossed to the side wall, well away from any doorways, and leaned down by the baseboard to flip the switch. Light flooded the room from the ceiling fan overhead. He sat on the wicker chair across from her. “Your father had a thing for putting the switches in the craziest places, didn’t he?”

  “He called it his security system. Anyone breaking in wouldn’t know how to turn on any lights.”

  “That’s for sure. I bet it makes for some stubbed toes at night, though.”

  She shook her head. “I’m used to it. Except for all the boxes in the living room, of course. I’m still banging my shins against those, day or night.”

  His smile faded at the reminder that she was packing up the house to leave. He fanned the pictures out again.

  She scooted forward, careful to keep the afghan tucked around her. “Those look like hospital photos. Five guys. The gunmen again?”

  “Yeah. Better pics than the ones on my phone. Are you sure that you don’t recognize any of them?”

  “Do you know their names yet?” She picked up the first picture.

  “We do now, yes. From a witness at the grocery store. Plus, Blake, one of the new detectives, worked with some of his contacts at his old job to corroborate the information. We’d have figured out their names anyway from their prints since they’re all in the system. But that was taking a while. Regardless, I’m more interested right now in finding out whether you’ve seen them around, maybe watching you in the days leading up to the assault.”

  “Watching me? Like...stalking me?”

  He nodded.

  A shiver went down her spine and she set the first picture down, then carefully studied each of the remaining ones before shaking her head.

  “Sorry, Max. I don’t think I’ve seen any of these men before. Or, boys, really. How old are they?”

  “They range in age from nineteen to twenty-two. But don’t feel sorry for them. They’re old enough to make better decisions. And this isn’t their first brush with the law. They all belong to the same gang.”

  She gave him a sharp look. “We have gangs in Destiny now?”

  He laughed without humor. “Even a town this small has its own version of gangs. But, no, they’re not from here. That’s why I want to make absolutely sure that you look carefully at their faces. Think back over the last few weeks, even.”

  After looking over the pictures again, she pitched them onto the table. “I haven’t seen any of them before. They must b
e from Knoxville, since you’re making such a big deal over whether I’ve seen them before.”

  He shuffled the pictures into the folder and leaned back against the chair. “Can’t confirm or deny that.”

  “You don’t have to. I can still read you, just like I always could.” As soon as she said it, she wished she could take the words back. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to rehash the past. Really, I’m not. It just seems like every conversation we have takes us there, sooner or later.”

  “Don’t apologize. Sitting with you here is...weird, strange. Not what I expected I’d be doing this week, that’s for sure.”

  She smiled. “Me neither.”

  He checked his watch, then swore beneath his breath.

  “My mama would have washed your mouth out with soap for that back in the day.”

  He grinned. “You’re right. She would have. Guess I’ve picked up some bad habits I need to work on. I’ll get to the point, since it’s getting late. We’ve made a lot of progress on the investigation.”

  “Which one?”

  He stilled. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you about Marcia with everything else that’s been going on. She confessed to shooting the rifle but swears it was only to scare you. She said it wasn’t planned, that she had her gun in her car and after seeing you here with me she got to thinking about Bobby—whom she fancied her boyfriend, even though from what I remember he was always telling her to get lost—and as she was driving away she pulled over and decided to try to scare you just to make herself feel better, I guess. She thinks you killed him.”

  She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Her and about half the town.”

  He didn’t bother to deny the obvious. Half the town, or more, did think she’d killed Bobby Caldwell. She shivered again.

  “Are you cold?” He started to shrug out of his jacket.

  “No, no. I’m fine. Thanks. So you let Marcia go, right?”

  “Hell, no. I want you to press charges against her for attempted murder.”