Supervisor Pitt got a sour look on his face. “Young man, do you know who I am?”
“Yes, sir.” Matt stood his ground. “Joseph Pitt, County Board of Supervisors, an elected official.” The emphasis he put on “elected” was subtle, but it was enough to raise the man’s blood pressure, if the rising color in his complexion were any gauge.
“Miss Narramore was simply handing me the book I want.” He raised one impeccably groomed gray eyebrow. “If I am forced to stand around all day, I can’t get back to my meetings and reports that allow me to allocate funds for this library and your salary.”
“The library and I are both grateful for your support. We’ll be even more grateful if you’ll let us do our jobs. This is a crime scene.”
“A crime scene? Here?” Pitt managed to infuse the maximum amount of incredulity and disdain into his tone. “Where’s the body?”
In California. Lorie squeezed her eyes shut against the memory, but it didn’t help. She could still see the man lying there, bleeding out, hear his last words, cursing her, cursing—
“Just because there’s no body doesn’t mean there hasn’t been a crime.”
Jolted back to the present, Lorie watched as Supervisor Pitt forked over the book, still looking as though his face could curdle milk. Strange. He’d always been so polite when speaking to her. After one last cold glare at Matt, he left. They could hear his complaint to Jen as he stalked out of the library without checking out any books. Lorie ran both hands through her hair but stopped short of pulling it out.
“Of all the times for him to want to check out a book—”
“He’s a blot on this county, even if he does own the best auto-body shop in the area.”
Lorie blinked at Matt. He sounded so…angry. She knew he didn’t like Supervisor Pitt, but his reaction seemed way out of line.
“A few more disgruntled patrons like the supervisor, and I won’t even need my poison-pen pal.”
“Let’s deal with one thing at a time.” Matt applied fingerprint dust to the area surrounding the book’s place on the shelf.
Lorie covered her mouth and nose to avoid breathing the few particles that became airborne. It was like watching a crime show on television. She’d never liked them. Not after the arrest and— Don’t go there.
Her thoughts turned back to the note, and its contents. Who here could know about California? Aside from Supervisor Pitt and the rest of the library board, her fellow librarians, her immediate family and closest friends…unless they’d told their friends…
Who could hate her so much? More importantly, how far were they willing to go?
*
Matt had an idea for the next step he should take—but he decided he’d better consult Frank first.
Frank answered the tap on his open door with a beckoning nod.
“What’s the follow-up on the meth lab?”
Matt shook his head, frowning in frustration at the thought of the other case on his desk—the one that was going absolutely nowhere. “Gone. Nothing left but the smell in the air, a couple of empty propane bottles and a bunch of trash in the abandoned house. We did manage to lift some prints, but so far the computer hasn’t been able to find a match. Probably amateurs.”
“That’s the problem with meth. It’s too easy to cook.” Frank closed a file on his desk. “And nothing to connect it to our old friend Leonard Adderson?”
“Nope.” Frank and Matt agreed that the real-estate mogul was probably behind the meth labs popping up all through the county, but they hadn’t been able to prove it. “Once again, it was on one of his rental properties, but we can’t find evidence linking him to the actual operation. I keep hoping he’ll slip up and be on-site when a call comes through.” It was unlikely to happen. Adderson was as elusive as the snake his name resembled, and just as poisonous.
“So what do you need?”
“I want to ask Supervisor Pitt a few questions about the threats to Lorie Narramore.”
Frank’s fuzzy eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. “Your life insurance paid up?”
“I need to do this, Frank. There was another threatening note today—the kind of thing where you’d expect the perp to hang around and enjoy seeing the victim’s reaction. Pitt was the only one around. What if he’s the one behind the notes at the library?”
“And you’re basing this suspicion on…?”
“Proximity. And he’s run into some conflict with the librarians lately when he insisted that they order pro-Nazi literature. Maybe he doesn’t like that they challenged his authority. Something to scare Lorie—Miss Narramore—might be his way of getting her back under his thumb.”
“If he is responsible, we’ll get him. In the meantime, you do your investigating quietly, from a distance. All right?”
“Yes, sir. And, sir…do you know Lorie Narramore’s family?”
“I surely do. Her dad, Ben, and I play golf together and share a men’s Bible study class at church. I don’t really know Lorie, but I heard about the trouble she had out in California.”
“She admitted to me she shot Carl.”
Frank nodded. “When you read the file, you’ll find all the extenuating circumstances that brought back the justifiable homicide ruling. I’m glad you’re being thorough.” After a moment’s hesitation, Frank motioned for Matt to take a seat.
“You’ve already printed the note.”
Matt nodded.
“Let’s see it.”
It was in the file he was carrying, so Matt passed the note, securely sealed in an evidence bag, to his boss.
“Plain and to the point. This is bound to be driving her nuts.” Frank’s expression was grave.
“She did seem frightened. I thought when I first showed it to her that she might faint, but she held up.”
“If she’s anything like her dad, she’ll be made of strong stuff. Looks as if that’s going to be needed.” Frank stood. “Keep an eye on her, Matt. I have an uncomfortable feeling this may be just the beginning.”
*
All Lorie wanted to do was forget the hateful note, but thoughts of it plagued her on the drive home from Daingerville. Before she hit the curves on Highway 21, she switched on the radio. Dainger County’s own KDNJ sent a bouncy bluegrass tune into the updated classic Mustang. Lorie would have preferred silence, but her brain was too active for comfort.
After-work traffic made the drive home a challenge. The narrow two-lane highway was long overdue for major work, but Dainger County was low on the Arkansas Highway Department’s upkeep list.
Thanks to all the traffic crowding her, Lorie was nearly to Buffalo Crossing before she noticed the car sticking close to her bumper. The heavily tinted windows of the Chevy Camaro looked out of place. She’d seen them often in San Diego, but seldom since returning to Arkansas. She tried to see if the black car had a front plate that might indicate if it were from out of state, but the driver stuck too close for that.
Tailgaters. It’d serve him right if I jammed on my brakes.
She’d never do that on purpose. She loved her car too much.
Maybe the driver just liked muscle cars, or was crowding in on her because he resented the traffic and poor road conditions slowing him down. Maybe. Or maybe not.
Lord, please, if he means any harm, stop him.
Heart racing, Lorie jabbed at the radio and shut it off. Light and shadow filtering through the branches made the road flicker like an old movie. Ordinarily, the wavering light didn’t bother her, but her tailgater was making the drive extra nerve-wracking.
The Camaro edged closer as some of the traffic turned onto Highway 48 to Steeleytown. Lorie glanced in the rearview mirrors again. The car looked mean.
Don’t let me panic. Lorie swallowed hard, fighting the rapid breathing that came with the adrenaline rush.
She couldn’t let this clown follow her home. Not after the second note. Senses on high alert, billions of nerve-endings prickled her skin as the black car stuck to her bumper.
No, he can’t pass me. Not here!
A booming blast from an approaching semi’s air horn forced the car behind her again. Lorie’s heart raced. One more trick like that and he’d shove her off the hill.
Not taking any chances, hands clutching the wheel, Lorie concentrated on getting back onto mostly flat ground. If she could just make it to Cartwright, she could pull into the bank’s parking lot and let this road hog have the whole highway. Unless he wasn’t just a road hog…
Show me what to do, Lord.
Slowing as she wound around the hill bordering the eastern end of Cartwright Valley, Lorie drove into the small village, pleased to note that the car behind her eased off the gas, falling back.
Lorie turned into the bank’s parking lot. As the car started to follow her, the town’s lone black-and-white pulled to a stop at First Street. Lorie’s heart pounded as the Camaro’s driver headed on down the highway. She checked the license plate, but it was covered in an uncharacteristic amount of mud. No way to tell whether it was an Arkansas plate or not.
As the black-and-white settled in to watch for speeders, Lorie waited to let all the after-work traffic pass. After twenty cars and trucks had come down the hill, slowing noticeably as they spotted the police car, Lorie turned back into traffic.
Exhaustion tugged at her. She wasn’t far from the turnoff to Wolf Hollow. Only a few more miles, and she’d be home.
For the rest of the drive, she scrutinized the traffic ahead of her, fearful of spotting her tailgater. When she reached AR Highway 14, she turned onto it without signaling. The small highway was practically empty.
She’d escaped.
Lorie slowly let out her breath. Most likely the driver had just been impatient, and glad to get out from behind her. That must be it. No connection between the tailgater and the missing library note.
If she could manage to convince herself of that, she’d sleep a lot better tonight.
After feeding her menagerie, Lorie debated whether or not she was too shaken to attend prayer meeting at Wolf Hollow Community Church. Everyone would understand if she didn’t show up, knowing how exhausting her job could be. Still, she hated to miss it. Physically, she was well enough to attend, and spiritually, she needed all the help she could get.
Deciding she needed the fellowship more than rest, if she even could relax after being nearly run off the road, Lorie locked the dog and cats securely in the house and headed for the small town she called home.
Few people attended prayer meeting these days, but the ones who did were solid. Of the half dozen couples in attendance, one was her cousins the Tubbys, Tammy and her locksmith husband, Ike, whom Lorie hadn’t been able to reach on the phone the previous day. Tammy pulled out a chair at the table in the fellowship hall. Lorie headed toward them, a human homing pigeon.
Tammy reached over and gave her a hug. “You look like you’ve been through the mill. Rough day at work?”
“Doesn’t even begin to describe it.” Lorie laid her worn Bible on the table and slung her purse onto the back of the chair. She launched into a brief description of the notes, the phone call, the broken window and the unlocked office door that they had firmly locked.
Ike frowned. “That doesn’t sound good, but I can’t say I’m surprised the locks didn’t hold up. Those old locks should have been changed decades ago. Windows, too. A kid with a bobby pin could unlock them. You want me to come by tomorrow and have a look?”
“I was hoping you’d offer.” Lorie leaned back in the uncomfortable blue plastic chair as Pastor Enoch headed for the wireless microphone. Maybe she could relax, after all.
*
The next morning, Lorie arrived at work earlier than usual to meet her cousin-by-marriage. She showed him the damage outside then took him inside to the office.
Ike scrutinized the door handle. “It doesn’t look like it was tampered with. Unlike the window, which I got to replace.” His slow drawl sounded like home. The home where she’d forgotten she belonged.
“So how many keys are you gonna want for the office?”
“One.”
“You should at least have two, so you’ll have a spare. What if you lost it?”
“I’d call you.”
Ike grinned. “The lock comes with two keys, anyway.”
“Okay. I guess I can live with that.”
“You know, if you really want security, you should get a different type of door. One without a window in it.” Ike tapped the gold-painted OFFICE with a tan index finger. “Good blow with a hammer on this plain glass and they’d be right in there.”
Lorie shrugged. “Technically it isn’t my door. I’ll have enough explaining to do to the county library board when they find out I authorized the changes.”
Ike set his toolbox down onto the pinewood floor with a resounding clang. “You need somebody to back you up, just give us a call. Tammy and I’ll speak up for you. Now, I’ll get the measurements on the window after I fix the door. Should have it in for you by the end of the day.”
“Thanks, Ike.”
She left him to the work, the whir of his battery-powered drill driver reminding her of the leaf blower that used to stalk her neighborhood in San Diego. That noisy monstrosity was one thing she hadn’t heard a lot of in Dainger County. She hoped that would never change.
The reminder of the place she used to call home turned her stomach to acid. Would she ever again be able to think of her dear city without raw memories of death’s aftermath?
Only God knew.
FIVE
Jen arrived a few minutes later. Lorie met her at the door with the rolling book cart.
Tilting her head to one side, Jen scrutinized Lorie. “Something else happen?”
Lorie chuckled. “You should be a detective, not a librarian.”
“Comes with the mom job description.” She headed toward the office, but Lorie put out a hand and stopped her.
“Okay. Tell me.”
“Somebody tried to run me off the road yesterday. I think.”
“What!”
“I’m okay, car’s okay, everything’s okay. Not a scratch on either of us.”
“But what happened?”
“It could’ve been just a tailgater with a death wish. He was way too close for miles, and then he tried to pass me on Rattlesnake Hill. A semi scared him back into his lane. I pulled off near a cop car and waited for him to go. End of story.”
Jen let out a sigh. “I’m glad.”
“Me, too.” Lorie handed off the book cart to Jen.
“Okay, I’m on my way to the hardware store for that window. As for the door, you’re all set.” Ike moseyed back to the circulation desk, rusty red toolbox in one work-hardened hand, a set of keys in the other. He dropped them into Lorie’s outstretched palm.
“Thanks, Ike.”
“Tammy told me to tell you to come for supper Sunday night after church.”
“Tell her thanks. I’ll see y’all then.” Lord willing. Odd how she’d gotten out of the habit of adding on the scriptural phrase while she was living in San Diego. “Lord willing.”
Ike nodded, then headed out the door.
Moving the squeaky book cart toward the stacks, Jen stopped and looked back at Lorie. “What was that all about?”
“Ike just changed the lock on the office door. He’ll be taking care of the window once he gets everything he needs.”
Jen’s jaw dropped. “When did you have time to get approval from the library board?”
“I didn’t.”
Her eyes widened further. “You did this on your own?”
“I won’t charge them for it.” Lorie fought the defensiveness rising inside her. Surely as head librarian, she was entitled to a few judgment calls.
“Those locks haven’t been changed since 1958.”
Lorie straightened her spine and placed both fists on her hips. “All the m
ore reason. I had Ike put in a dead bolt.”
“How’m I supposed to get in there?”
Lorie pulled one key off the tiny twist of wire and handed it to her. “Guard it with your life.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Seriously, just put it on your key ring and don’t lose it. We only have the two. I guess we’ll have to have another made for Mitzi’s weekend shifts. Come on, let’s check out the dead bolt and make certain both these keys work.”
Lorie locked and unlocked the shiny brass lock with her key, and had Jen do the same.
The sight of the lock gave Lorie’s spirit such a lift, she broke into a grin. “That looks like it should keep out all but the most determined burglar.”
Her good mood lasted only until closing. Lorie’s heart began to race the moment she locked the door behind the last patron of the day. Soon she’d have to go home. Would the car that had almost driven her off the road be waiting for her again?
God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Yep. That was true. But He also expected us to use the good sense He gave us.
Magnolia blossoms scented the summer air as Lorie and Jen reached the parking lot.
“See you tomorrow.”
Lorie waved at Jen as she keyed the lock on her Mustang. It opened with a friendly chirp. Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Lorie climbed into the car.
Lord, I can’t keep reacting this way. Please help me.
Driving home, Lorie kept glancing in her rearview mirrors. She’d know that mean-looking car anywhere. If it followed her again—
It didn’t. Her afternoon commute was completely uneventful.
Her dreams were another story.
*
Friday morning dawned with streaks of pink and purple daubing the horizon. Cardinals, white-throated sparrows and a persistent mourning dove greeted Lorie right after the three cats jumped on her bed and reminded her it was time for breakfast.
She blinked at them blearily. “All right. I’m up.” Lorie shoved off her mamaw’s multicolored story quilt and swung out of bed.
Colleen, the sable-and-white rough collie, wagged a bushy tail.
Mornings in Wolf Hollow were an entirely different species from mornings in suburban San Diego. Here, no motorcycles vied to see which could be the loudest. That contest was reserved for the birds, whose chirping and calls made her glad she was here. Mostly.
Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced AllianceOut for JusticeNo Place to Run Page 47
