by Kait Nolan
“Children,” Ivy warned.
“Awww, look at you, practicing your mom voice,” Paisley teased
“These three clowns give me plenty of opportunity.” She spread a look between the three men. “Anyway, Ty’s right. There’s enough here to help us build a timeline. Once we have that, we’ll look at what else was going on in your life at the time to see if we can map what might have sparked the changes.”
Wielding a dry erase marker on the massive white board Paisley knew she used for book plotting, Ivy made notes. Together, they slowly, painstakingly reconstructed the entire thing, with notes about each contact. By the time they’d finished, it was easy to see the progression delineated.
Ty added the last one to a digital map on his computer. “There were different postmarks on all of them. Each one is within about an hour’s drive of Nashville proper, so it seems likely that whoever’s doing the sending lives or works within or close to that radius.”
Ivy studied the whiteboard. “Everything kept a degree of separation until a little over two weeks ago. That’s when things got more direct. What was going on two-and-half weeks ago?”
Paisley considered. “Nothing unusual, other than your wedding. But I don’t see what that would have to do with anything.”
“Not just the wedding,” Ty said. “Me. You left the reception with me.”
And she’d taken him home with her.
“The first direct-to-your-house package showed up the following Monday,” Ivy continued. “The first one with no note, like maybe it wasn’t thought out but reactionary.”
“Like maybe someone was jealous?” Harrison put in.
“It seems like a reasonable argument that the person behind this is, if not definitely male, probably interested,” Laurel added. “Ty would represent a threat in that case.”
Paisley frowned. “I have a hard time imagining a guy doing the rest of this.”
“The other day, when you saw the collar, you said ‘he’. ‘He followed me.’ Why?”
“It wasn’t a conscious choice of pronoun. I guess I don’t tend to see women as a threat. And we thought, before that, that it was likely a fan. Or…I did. Detective Fisher ran with that theory.”
“You have male fans,” Ty pointed out.
She thought of those well-worn copies of her books back at his place. “Yeah, I suppose I do. Though it’s definitely not the majority.”
“You should check out our guest list and the registry book from the wedding,” Harrison suggested. “Not everybody signed it, and we can’t account for all of the plus ones, but maybe you’ll recognize somebody’s name.”
“We should also cross reference those names with the people on her mailing list and those who follow her on social media,” Ivy said.
They collectively split up the task and began combing through. Paisley started with the guest book Harrison brought. After all her years in Nashville, she recognized a lot of names, but no one she had a particular connection to. Laurel picked out four women who definitely subscribed to Paisley’s newsletter, and Ivy found a couple more who might follow her on social media. None seemed like viable candidates for her stalker.
“What about pictures?” Sebastian asked. “That photographer was all over the place, snapping pictures of everybody. Maybe Paisley will see someone she recognizes.”
“We just got the gallery of proofs back.” Harrison retrieved a sleek little MacBook and logged into the photographer’s website.
Paisley scrolled through the online gallery, feeling a bittersweet mix of joy and yearning as she checked out the play-by-play of Ivy and Harrison’s big day. They’d looked so blissfully happy and perfect together. They were blissfully happy and perfect together, building the life and the future they wanted.
She was still too scared to let herself dream of that. It had been so many years since she’d allowed herself to want that kind of a future. After all the disappointments and failures, it had seemed safer to tuck those desires away and enjoy what was right in front of her. And she did enjoy the heady bliss of a new relationship. But it had been a long time since she could fully throw herself headlong into the pursuit of romance. Maybe because she was more battered and bruised than she wanted to admit from all the deliberate attempts to fall in love. Love wasn’t a thing to be forced, like a flower bulb in winter.
As she saw her own face on the screen, turned up to Ty’s while they danced, she couldn’t help thinking that love bloomed where it was planted…and hers had been planted for this man when they were only sixteen.
“What about that guy?” Ty asked.
Pulled out of her thoughts, Paisley looked to where he pointed. In the periphery of the shot, the man who’d hit on her at the reception glared in their direction. “He looks mad enough to spit nails. But I’d never met him before that night. I never even got his name. He was too busy offering up bad pickup lines, and then you gallantly rode to my rescue.”
“He was hitting on virtually anything with a skirt and getting shot down at every turn. I watched him working the room before he got to you.”
“Why did you intervene? You didn’t know it was me.”
“He had you cornered, and I know a predator when I see one.”
Ivy leaned over the back of the couch to look at the screen. “Oh, that’s Glen Bartlett. He’s a distant cousin who is a pox on womankind. We didn’t actually invite him, but my great aunt brought him anyway as her plus one and chauffer. I think she was under the delusion that he might meet a nice girl. She keeps thinking it will settle him down, but he’s not the type to be capable of love, let alone change for it.”
“We’ll add him to the list of people to follow up on.”
Paisley scrolled through the rest of the pictures. As before, she knew quite a few people, but none who seemed a decent candidate for a stalker.
Ty set the laptop on the coffeetable. “So, for this theory to hold, either someone at the wedding we aren’t aware of saw us together or someone saw us together at some point after.”
“You’re suggesting I was being followed even then?” The idea had gooseflesh rising on Paisley’s arms.
“Maybe. Or there might be some other trigger for the shift that we haven’t thought of yet.”
“Thinking back over the past few months, have there been points where you were uneasy? Where you felt like there were eyes on you or that something wasn’t right?” Ivy asked.
“Plenty. But I just thought I was being paranoid after being mugged.”
“It could be that. Or it could be that you’re picking up on more than you’re aware of. The fact is, whoever is behind this is watching you in some form or fashion. On social media. Through your books. They’ve done enough digging to uncover your home address. That might have been by looking through records, or it might have been by tailing you. You’ve had public appearances, book signings. It wouldn’t be that hard to stick around and follow you home.”
“If you’re trying to scare me further, you’re doing a damned good job of it.”
Ty squeezed her shoulders. “Nobody’s getting to you here. And I’m not so sure it’s someone random. Did Fisher ever look at your exes?”
Paisley wasn’t keen on talking about her past dating history with Ty. “No reason to, we thought. I parted on good terms with most of them.”
He grunted a noncommittal noise. “I think it’s worth looking at. These are guys who do know you on a certain level. Or thought they did. That’s something of a gift of yours.”
“What is?”
“Making people think they’re closer to you than they are. You’re so warm and friendly, and you really listen to people. That kind of attention is…intoxicating. You remember what it was like in high school, how many people thought you were their bestie.”
“So now it’s a problem that I’m nice to people?”
“No. Not at all. I’m just saying that someone could have misinterpreted that behavior, maybe thought your relationship was more serious than it wa
s. Can you make a list tracing back your relationship history?”
“Why?”
“These gifts show an inherent base-level knowledge of you. Stands to reason somebody who’s jealous of you being involved with someone might have enjoyed the privilege himself and want that back.”
“Then why not just ask me?”
“Maybe you said no. Or maybe it was a long game that I screwed up. Either way, I think the list could be useful.”
Paisley could see his point, but she didn’t like it. “How far back am I supposed to go?”
“Is it that long a list in total?”
Stiffening, she pulled away, hating the flush she felt in her cheeks. She’d been a serial monogamist for years. She wasn’t ashamed of that, damn it. “I like dating, and I’ve done a lot of it.”
“I think we could all do with some snacks,” Laurel announced. “Boys, why don’t you come help in the kitchen?”
It was a thin excuse to give them some privacy, but as everyone else filed out, Paisley blessed Laurel for the gesture. She rose herself and paced over to stare sightlessly at the white board. She could feel Ty’s gaze on her.
“I wasn’t a monk the last eighteen years. I don’t expect you were either.”
“I didn’t sleep with all of them.”
“Okay. Even if you had, it would’ve been your right. It’s your life, your body. We weren’t together then. I’m not judging you here. I’m just trying to work one angle. If it helps, for now, limit it to the ones you broke up with.”
That list was shorter and easier to produce. She wrote it out, making notations where she could about how long she’d spent in each relationship, and handed it over. “It’s probably not all of them. I don’t remember every guy I ever went on a date with and didn’t go for a second. If we need more, I can call Emerson and brainstorm with her.”
“Emerson?”
“We’ve been best friends since college. She’s been around for most of my dating career.”
“I can probably help fill in some gaps too,” Ivy added, coming back in carrying drinks. “At least for the last couple of years, which would probably be the most relevant.”
The others filed behind her with bowls and platters of food. There was a veggie tray, chips and dip, popcorn, and someone had put together a charcuterie board.
“This is fine.” Ty sat again, studying the list.
Paisley began loading a plate. Maybe if she stuffed her face, she wouldn’t be so prone to letting her mouth run away with her. Objectively, she understood why he was pursuing this line of investigation. But she didn’t have to like it.
“You were the one who called it quits on both your marriages?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened there? Infidelity? Money problems?”
“No, Nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t see why it matters.”
“Because I’m trying to find a motive.”
“Neither of my ex-husbands is behind this.”
“You don’t know that. We’ll need to look at them, and in doing so I need to know why you broke things off.”
Paisley set her plate down and crossed the room to the picture window, staring out at the mountain. She hated having her relationships put under a microscope.
“Were they abusive?” Ty’s voice was quiet and right behind her.
“No, they’re both good guys.”
“Then what?”
“They weren’t you,” she whispered.
“What?”
Exasperated, embarrassed, and knowing he’d find out eventually, she whirled on him. “They weren’t you, okay? Every single relationship I’ve had for the last eighteen years has all ended for the same damned reason. Because I kept trying to find another you and failing. You ruined me for all men when we were eighteen. Congratulations.”
Ty blinked at her for a moment before his lips began to twitch.
“Tyson Gregory Brooks, don’t you dare smile. This is not meant as a stroke for your ego.”
“She middle-named him,” Sebastian whispered.
“Shh!” Laurel hissed.
The twitch turned into a full-on grin.
“If you say it’s not your ego that wants stroking right now, I swear to God, I’m going to hit you.”
They both ignored the chorus of choked laughter.
“Hey, you’re the one whose brain went there.”
“I write romance for a living. Of course, my brain went there. But this is not a joke.”
He sobered, but there was a softness in his eyes in place of the humor as he reeled her in. “Does it help to know I hate them all on principle for getting time with you that I didn’t?”
“Maybe. A little.”
“How about the fact that there’s never been anyone serious for me but you?”
It was Paisley’s turn to blink. “Never?”
“I was married to the job, and I didn’t have the strength of heart to put myself out there to even try. So, I’d say we mutually ruined each other.”
Someone behind them sniffed. “That is just the sweetest…”
“Are you crying?” Harrison asked his wife.
“Pregnancy hormones. I’m allowed. Shut up and pass the popcorn.”
They split the work. As the resident cop with any actual authority to request alibis, Ty hit up the phone for the guys they had contact information on, while everyone else worked on tracking down the others on Paisley’s list. For privacy’s sake, he holed up in Harrison’s office. Deciding to get the ex-husbands over with first, he reviewed the brief dossiers Paisley had written.
Wasband Number 1: Brian Chesney
Ty actually smiled at her alternative name for ex-husband.
Chesney was the college boyfriend she married right after graduation. According to Paisley’s notes, they lasted three years, divorcing at twenty-five. He now lived in Memphis with his second wife and their two kids. Given the postmarks of all the letters and packages, it was unlikely he was connected, but Ty wanted to do due diligence and call.
A woman answered the phone. “Hello?”
“I’m looking for Brian Chesney.” In the background, Ty could hear the sounds of kids laughing.
“Just a minute.”
A few moments later, a guy picked up. “Hello?”
“Brian Chesney?”
“Yeah.” The voice was friendly, open.
“This is Deputy Ty Brooks with the Stone County Sheriff’s Department. I have a few questions for you.”
Chesney’s tone hardened. “What’s this about?”
“Your ex-wife, Paisley Parish.”
“Hang on a second.” Brian excused himself from whatever was going on and went somewhere quieter. “What’s happened to Paisley? Is she all right?” Ty didn’t miss the edge of protectiveness in the demand.
“She’s okay. Having some trouble. Can you tell me your whereabouts on the weekend of January sixteenth?”
“Of course. My father-in-law just had a heart attack three weeks ago. Double bypass surgery. On that Saturday we were all in the waiting room at Baptist Memorial Hospital in Memphis. I’ve got half a dozen people who can verify. What is it you’re checking me out for?”
“She’s being stalked.”
“Shit. I knew this would happen someday.”
That piqued Ty’s curiosity. “What makes you say that?”
“She’s too nice. I don’t know if you’ve spent much time with her with the investigation, but under normal circumstances, she’s got this warm, magnetic personality. Spend five minutes with her on a good day and you feel like... I don’t know. Like that song ‘Walking on Sunshine’.”
Ty huffed a laugh. “Yeah, she’s always been like that.”
There was a pause. “What did you say your name was?”
“Ty Brooks.”
“That Ty Brooks?”
He went brows up. “I hesitate to say yes to that tone, but probably.”
“Hm.�
�� There was a wealth of judgement in that single syllable. Ty wondered what she’d said about him. “She brought this problem to you?”
“More like it came to us. I’m investigating.”
Chesney seemed to consider that. “Look, we’ve been divorced a long time. We’re still friends. She sends my kids birthday presents every year. I want nothing but the best for her. If that’s you, great. But for God’s sake, don’t fuck it up this time.”
A blessing and a warning in the same breath. Not entirely sure what to do with that, Ty lost a little of his professionalism. “I’m tryin’ not to. Thanks for your cooperation.”
“If there’s anything else I can do to help, please let me know.”
Ty hung up and stared at his phone for a long minute. He hadn’t anticipated the guy would recognize his name, know who he was. That was…weird. But maybe not. It was normal enough to talk about high school in college. She’d been a lot closer to the heartbreak when she’d met Brian. Still, it had Ty feeling a little bit paranoid as he checked the notes for Wasband Number 2.
Clint Mercer lived in Franklin, Tennessee. Unlike Number 1, he was close enough to have dropped the letters and packages around the city. They married when she was not quite thirty and lasted only a year. It seemed unlikely the guy would’ve popped back up after five years, but stranger things had happened.
No one answered Ty’s call, so he left a voicemail and continued working his way down the list. He’d cleared three more names by the time Mercer called him back.
“I think you’ve got the wrong number, man. I haven’t been anywhere near Stone County…actually I’m not sure I’ve ever been to Stone County.”
“Did you used to be married to Paisley Parish?”
The affable attitude disappeared. “Yeah. Is she all right?”
Interesting that the first question from both of them was whether she was okay. “She’s fine. I need to check your whereabouts in conjunction with an investigation.” He gave the dates.
“I wasn’t even in the country. I was on assignment in Belarus. My boss can confirm, and I’ve got flight records.”
“What is it you do?
