by Robin Caroll
“That’s it?” Clark bolted to his feet.
“What else would you like me to do, Mr. McKay? We’re dusting for prints. We’ve inspected the crime scene, we’re making a report. What more can we do?”
How about find out who’s behind it? Clark gritted his teeth. “When can I pick up a copy of the report?”
“Tomorrow after ten.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll see myself out.” The sheriff headed to the front door, paused, then turned back to Clark. “You know, if I were you, I’d be very careful. Seems to me there’s at least one person who isn’t exactly thrilled with you being in Mystique.”
Before the sheriff could leave, he was approached by a deputy with a piece of paper in his hands. “Sir, we found this upstairs.”
McGruder donned gloves, unfolded the paper and stared at it for a long moment, long past the point where Clark started to get impatient.
“What is it?”
“See for yourself.” The sheriff held up the page for Clark to see.
In bold, black letters it read LEAVE NOW OR YOU WON’T BE THE ONLY ONE TO GET HURT.
Clark’s heart jumped into his throat. This was hardly the first threat he’d ever gotten, but this one scared him like none other had, because now he wasn’t the only one at risk.
Gabby.
The sun crested over Mystique, pushing through the front blinds at KLUV. Gabby nodded as David pointed toward the break room and answered the phone. “KLUV, this is Gabby.”
“Gabby, this is Clark.”
“Hi.” Her voice sounded funny. “What’s up?”
“My house was broken into tonight.”
“What? When? How?”
“As far as we can tell, nothing was taken. They broke into the patio door, but they didn’t bother anything downstairs. Just trashed my bedroom.”
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry.” But now there had been two separate attacks on Mr. McKay. There had to be a connection between these events and the assault on Howard and Robert.
“I just wanted to let you know.” He paused, and she got the feeling he was trying to decide how much to tell her. “Um, has there been anything unusual happening at the station?”
“No, it’s been quiet all night.” She stifled a yawn. “And David just made it in.”
“Well, okay then. Just…keep an eye out when you leave the building. Rest well and I’ll talk to you this afternoon.”
“You take care, Clark.” She hung up the phone as David entered the studio with a steaming cup of coffee.
She smiled, gathered her things and exited the station. Gabby shoved her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. She made her way to her vehicle, glancing onto the street, and pressed the button on her remote. The doors unlocked with a click.
Gabby reached for the door handle and noticed a piece of paper lodged under the windshield wiper. She groaned as she opened the door and tossed her purse in the passenger’s seat. People knew better than to put sale ads or solicitations on vehicles. She stood on the running board and snatched the paper off. She’d call and complain to whomever the paper promoted. Her heart raced as she read.
BACK OFF.
Gabby swallowed hard. Back off of what? Was this some kind of joke? She eased to the pavement, gripping the paper tightly, shut the driver’s door and leaned against the Expedition. Was this meant for her personally? She took off her glasses and squinted in the harsh sunlight, looking around the parking lot. If it was a joke, someone would be around. Only David’s car sat in the lot, a row over.
What to make of it? Her sense of equilibrium wavered, and she leaned against the vehicle once again.
A car whipped into the back lot. Gabby spun around. Kevin parked and nodded at her. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic.” He ambled toward her. “Man, what happened to your tires?”
She swallowed back the lashing she had at the ready for him and glanced at her front tire. Flat as a board. She looked at the back tire—flat, as well. On shaky legs, she circled the vehicle. Her mouth went slack. All four tires were flat.
Kevin kneeled by the driver’s tire. “Looks like someone slit them.” He stood and peered at her. “Who’d you tick off?”
Kevin might find amusement in this vandalism, but Gabby sure didn’t. She glared at the news reporter. “I need to call the sheriff.”
“Yeah.” He trailed her to the front door of the station. “Wonder who would’ve cut your tires.”
Gabby ignored him and reached for her cell in her purse. She dialed the sheriff’s number.
“McGruder.”
“Sheriff, it’s Gabby. My tires have been slashed.”
“Where?”
“At the station.”
“I’m on my way. Don’t touch anything.” The sheriff disconnected the call with an echoing click.
Gabby shut her cell. The man needed to seriously work on his manners. She stared at the paper still wadded in her hand.
Right on the heels of the attack on Clark’s house. What did it all mean?
The police scanner crackled to life.
Clark jumped—he must’ve dozed off until the scanner woke him. He’d almost forgotten it was on, it’d been so quiet. He stood and moved to the scanner.
Just as his hand hovered over the on/off button, the report came through. Vandalism on a car at KLUV. He waited for additional information, holding his breath. Finally, the dispatcher told him what he wanted to know—Gabby Rogillio had reported the incident.
Without further thought, Clark grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He drove to the station, his mind racing. He had to make sure Gabby was okay.
He turned into the parking lot, relieved to see the sheriff had already arrived. He parked and headed toward Gabby’s SUV. Didn’t have to wonder about the act of vandalism—her tires were slashed.
“What are you doing here?” Gabby’s eyes were tired.
“Heard you might need a ride home.” He deliberately put a teasing tone in his voice. Despite her false bravado, he could see how upset she was.
“How’d you hear about this?” the sheriff asked.
“Police scanner.”
“You listen to a police scanner?” Suspicion edged into her voice.
“Old habit.”
She turned back to the sheriff. “I think the note shows someone doesn’t want anyone looking into Howard’s murder. Or are you going to claim Robert did this, while unconscious and under guard?”
What note?
Sheriff McGruder shook his head. “Doesn’t mean anything, Gabby. I doubt it has anything to do with Howard’s murder.”
“But it clearly reads Back Off.” She stabbed a finger at the piece of paper in the sheriff’s hand. “What else could it mean?”
Someone sent her a letter telling her to back off?
“I don’t know what it means, but I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with Howard or Robert.” The sheriff shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Heard there’s talk of your show being syndicated. Maybe that’s what the letter means.”
Clark took a deep breath. He had yet to discuss the possible syndication with Gabby. Of course she was well aware that her show was under consideration, but Clark hadn’t had a chance to speak with her over details. The interest of syndication had been one of Robert’s strong selling points.
Her face turned red. “I don’t think so. It has to do with me looking into Howard’s murder. Someone’s warning me to stop.”
The sheriff’s face twisted into a grimace. “I don’t believe that. Why don’t you just let us handle this, Ms. Rogillio? It’s safer all around if you don’t start sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Gabby went rigid. “I believe this threat on me has made it very much my business, Sheriff.”
The tension built. Clark moved beside Gabby. “But you’ll process the letter for any evidence, right, Sheriff?”
Gabby cut her eyes at him, relief glittering in the orbs.
The sheriff
glared at him. “Of course, I’ll process the letter. I know how to do my job, Mr. McKay.” He jotted something on a small piece of notebook paper and passed it to Gabby. “You can pick up a copy of my report tomorrow after one. You’ll need it to file a claim with your insurance company.”
Right before Clark’s eyes, Gabby wilted. He stuck a hand under her elbow. “I’ll give you a ride home. I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon and take you to the sheriff’s office to get the report. You’ll need to go ahead and call your insurance company to file the claim.”
She blinked several times, and Clark wondered if maybe she didn’t hear him.
“Oh, and you can’t move your truck yet.” The sheriff cast a scathing glance at Clark, but spoke to Gabby. “We need to process it for evidence.”
That snagged her attention. “What am I supposed to do for transportation?”
“Guess you’ll have to rent a car.” McGruder shrugged and ambled toward his cruiser.
No empathy at all in the man. Clark didn’t understand McGruder’s rudeness. “Your insurance might provide a rental for you.”
Gabby sighed. Her shoulders drooped as if she would swoon. But Gabby Rogillio wasn’t the swooning type of woman. She’d just been hit with a lot, all at once.
Clark eased his hand under her elbow. “Come on, I’ll take you home. You can call your insurance company.”
Without argument, Gabby let him lead her to his car. She slipped into the seat, her eyes wide and fixed. After he’d started the engine, he shifted to face her. “Um, where do you live?”
She rattled off the name of the apartments over on Sea Swept Lane. He put the car in gear, all the while kicking himself. With the murder and the tampering of his brakes, he should’ve upped security at the station. Now there was vandalism at his house and at the station. He made a mental note to call a security company today and procure some surveillance.
“I can’t believe McGruder doesn’t get the connection.” Her tone jerked Clark from his thoughts.
He cut his gaze over to her. “What connection?”
Coloring drifted back into her face. “That letter and Howard’s murder. Back Off is pretty clear to me that I’m on the right track in refusing to believe Robert murdered Howard.”
“The letter said Back Off?” He fought to concentrate on his driving.
“Yep. They left it under my wiper. And slashed all my tires. That’s a message I’m on the right track.” She gripped the strap of her purse. “And I intend to find out what someone’s trying to stop me from learning.”
She would put herself in danger. What had the sheriff been thinking, goading her like that? And had Clark contributed by going on air with her and pledging his support to Robert? Surely Gabby understood the difference between encouraging people to turn evidence over to the police and actively seeking out a killer. Clark cleared his throat as he turned onto Sea Swept. “Maybe you should let the police handle the investigation, Gabby.”
She jerked to face him. “Are you kidding me? Sheriff McGruder doesn’t even think this is connected. The jerk.”
“Well, he might have a point.” Clark wanted to swallow back his reply as soon as he saw her expression.
“What?” Gabby shook her head. “That’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard. What kind of man are you?”
Ice ran through Clark’s blood as he whipped into the apartment complex. “Which way?” He held the steering wheel in a death grip.
She nodded toward the back of the complex. “If you believe that note has nothing to do with Howard’s murder and my looking into it, then you really are a dumb Yankee.”
“Guess everyone’s entitled to their own opinion.” Clark brought the car to a halt and hit the button to unlock the doors.
She opened the door, her eyes narrowing. “I suppose so. Thanks for the ride home.”
“Would you like me to take you to the station tomorrow to pick up your report?”
“No.” She stood on the pavement of the parking lot. Her arms trembled as she got her footing. “I’ll find my own way, thank you very much.” She slammed the door before he could say anything more.
Although he could pinch her head off right now, he waited until she’d climbed the outer stairs to the second-story landing and moved from his line of sight before he spun out of the parking lot.
As soon as he got home, though, and saw his broken patio door, his mood changed. He was worried about Gabby’s safety, that’s why he’d wanted her to step back from investigating, but Gabby didn’t see it like that. She’d promised to help her friend and to her way of thinking, that meant doing everything in her power to clear Robert’s name. Normally, he’d admire such loyalty…if he wasn’t so worried about her putting herself in danger. And how had Gabby felt? He’d backed her before in her support of Robert. She must feel he’d abandoned her now. No wonder she’d lashed out.
He could feel guilt rising inside him. He shouldn’t have argued with her. Shouldn’t have let his own feelings lead his words. He’d have to figure out a way to apologize to her.
Properly.
TEN
Buzz!
Gabby rolled over and batted her hand around the nightstand. She made contact with the alarm clock, hit it again for good measure, then buried herself back under the covers.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
She bolted upright, knocking the pillow to the floor. Gabby teased her fingers through her hair, her mind staggering to shove aside the cobwebs of sleep, the dreams of intense hazel eyes with amazing gold flecks mingling with the memories of Blake’s deception. She shook her head. Hadn’t she just silenced the alarm? She cut her eyes to the clock—ten o’clock, and yep, it was most assuredly off.
Buzzzzzzzzzz!
Oh, good gravy, it was the doorbell. If it was the rental car representative again, she’d scream. It’d taken the better part of two hours to file her insurance claim and arrange to have a rental delivered this morning. But she’d stressed they were to drop off the car and leave the keys under the floor mat. If they were waking her up to give her the keys…
Gabby shoved off the bed, and immediately fell to her knees. The soft down comforter twisted around her legs. “Hang on, I’m coming.” After untangling herself, she tottered to the living room and peered through the peephole.
A huge bouquet of white roses filled her line of vision. Surprise squeezed her chest. Flowers? She’d been woken for someone who didn’t even have the right apartment? Nothing like starting her day with such luck.
She flipped the dead bolt and whipped open the door, just as the delivery man’s finger punched toward the buzzer again. Gabby stiffened. “Can I help you?”
“Uh, yeah. Delivery for…a…” He stared at the white envelope hanging from the vase. “A Ms. Gabby Rogillio.” His eyes darted back to hers. “That you?”
“Y-yes.” That squeeze tightened a notch as she held out her hands for the vase. She almost lost her grip as she took it, the weight unexpectedly heavy. “Thank you.”
Kicking the door closed behind her, Gabby carried the arrangement to the glass dinette table and set the vase in the middle. She leaned over and inhaled deeply, the back of the padded chair digging into her abdomen. Sweetness infiltrated her senses, and she smiled. Her fingers caressed a single silky petal as she mentally counted the buds. Twenty-three…twenty-four. Two dozen Confederate roses. Wow.
She carefully pried the card from the envelope, her heart colliding with her stomach.
A Southern rose for a Southern flower. Clark McKay
Her heart did a somersault while she pressed her lips together, her gaze drifting from the roses to the card. The man knew how to make a statement, she’d give him that much. She took another deep breath over the flowers. The subtle fragrance tickled her nose. Not too shabby for a Yankee.
With a trembling hand, she laid the card on the table and leaned her shoulder against the doorway, staring at the flowers. They were beautiful. Very beautiful. It was thoughtful of him to have se
nt them. When was the last time she’d gotten flowers, roses nonetheless, from a man? Her high school prom? Her sorority days? She couldn’t even remember. Certainly not ever from Blake.
She might just have gone off half-cocked on Clark this morning. When had her life gotten so complicated?
Brring!
Gabby jumped at the phone’s ring. She grabbed the cordless from the kitchen. “Hello.”
“I thought you might be awake.” Imogene’s smooth voice slid across the phone line and over Gabby’s tormented mind.
“Hey. How’d you know?”
“Something just told me to call you. So is everything okay?” Immy’s voice cracked with concern. “Did you sleep okay? I’d have had nightmares if I’d received such a threatening letter.”
“No, I slept just fine.”
“So, what’s not right?”
Gabby smiled. How like her friend to be so in sync with the hearts of others.
“Aww, Immy. I think I may have made a harsh judgment against someone.” The confession, once it passed her lips, eased Gabby’s conscience just a tad. She slipped into one of the cushy dinette chairs and stared at the flowers.
“What’d you do?” No condemnation, no discrimination, just love and sympathy in Immy’s sweet voice.
She recounted the horrible way she’d snapped at Clark this morning. After ending with the delivery of the flowers, Gabby held her breath.
A long silence loomed. Then finally, Immy’s full chuckle erupted. “Oh my stars, Gabby, that man’s sure got your feathers ruffled, doesn’t he?”
“This isn’t funny,” Gabby said, but the corners of her mouth tickled as she fought to keep the smile out of her voice.
Immy’s laughter screeched to a halt. “No, it’s not. You owe him an apology.”
“What?” Sure, she might have acted hastily in word and deed, but apologize? Gabby touched the edge of a rose petal. The smoothness caressed her back.
“You were rude to him, unfounded I might add, and he’s made this big gesture toward you. You owe him an apology.”
