Freezer Burn: A Maggie Mercer Mystery

by Jill Behe

  Besides that, what made him think I’d be safer in an empty house?

  “I’m the police chief, you work in my office; therefore, I get to tell you what to do.”

  “Um, no, you don’t.”

  “Oh yes, I do.”

  “And what will you do if I don’t comply with your male macho wishes?”

  “Uh, guys? Please don’t fight. We’re all tired and stressed, physically and mentally. And we’re in a room full of townsfolk. Please? Just give it a rest. Pick it up tomorrow, if you need to, but after a good night’s sleep.”

  “You’re right. This is definitely not the place for a discussion of this magnitude. Sorry, Rick. Maggie, I apologize for being … patronizing.”

  I took a breath. They were both right, I needed to chill out. “Me, too.”

  “Honey, you never tell ’em you’re sorry.”

  Crap. I hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Hey, Annetta.” She had no idea how much I hadn’t wanted to. “Yeah, you do. Sometimes.”

  She snapped her ever-present gum, leaned against the side of the booth near Ricky, and crossed her arms. Smirked. “How y’all doin?”

  Talk about melting butter.

  “Just fine. You?”

  “Couldn’t be better if you paid me, Chief. How’s that Chute comin’ along?”

  “Almost done. Couple more days, maybe, and it’ll be ready.”

  “Good thing. Don’t want to disappoint those opening day crowds on Saturday. So, I hear you’re getting some extra people. How’s that gonna work?”

  “How’d you hear about that so fast? We just found out from Maggie.”

  “Small town, Rick, my boy.” She patted his arm. “Small, small town.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, and Jonas has a big mouth.”

  She laughed. “There ya go.”

  “The town council and I will soon be discussing the issue. Any more info than that, you’ll have to wait.”

  “You’re a real diplomat, Chief. Listen, though, I gotta tell ya, there’s something brewing around here. Y’all need to stay on your toes.”

  “What have you heard, Annetta?”

  “This and that. No offense, but the timing’s not right yet. I have some things to figure out first. When I’m ready, I’ll hunt you down and we’ll hash it over.”

  “That’s the one part of a movie I always have a problem with.” Wyatt wasn’t happy with her answer. “But I’ll respect your wishes. Just don’t wait too long.”

  Annetta slapped the table top in confirmation, and sashayed down the aisle as Evey moved in with a loaded tray.

  Once the food was in front of us, conversation ceased, and soon bowls were empty, glasses drained, bread basket held only crumbs, and the honey jar would need refilling before getting offered to anyone else.

  “I’m so full I may have to crawl to my truck.”

  “I know what you mean, dude. Sure was worth it.”

  “Amen.”

  “Ditto.” I pulled out my wallet.

  Ricky reached across and snagged the bill. “I got this.”

  “Wait a minute. I invited you, both of you.”

  He gave me a wounded puppy look and laid a hand on his chest. “What would it say about my upbringing if I allowed a woman to pay for my supper? Especially one I consider a second mother.”

  I frowned at him while Wyatt guffawed, but couldn’t think of a reply.

  “Ya gotta learn to adjust. This doesn’t even come close to balancing things. You do more for me than you realize, lady. Your friendship? Unparalleled. And then there are the cookies, and the impromptu meals, et cetera, et cetera. Come on, Maggie. Let me do this.”

  “You sound like a Hallmark card.”

  Humbled, flattered, and flustered, I conceded. “Well, since you put it that way, thank you. But I don’t do those things for gratitude, or payback.”

  “I know, and that makes it all the more special.”

  Wyatt squeezed my hand. “Same goes for me.”

  Ricky cleared his throat and continued. “I feel like I’ve taken you for granted, and I’d like to rectify it when I can, like now. I appreciate you, Maggie Mercer-soon-to-be-Madison.”

  I smiled and leaned against Wyatt’s muscled arm, my irritation with him temporarily sidelined. “Thanks. I appreciate you, too, Ricky. If you weren’t around to be a proxy for my sons, I’d…. I don’t know what I’d do.”

  Wyatt bumped me. “Hey, what am I, chopped chicken gizzards?”

  I patted my man’s chest. Yeah, we were irritated with each other, but underneath everything, we had something special. “You’re better.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I’m serious. I can’t imagine how I managed without you.”

  He leaned closer. “I feel the same way.”

  “Okay. That’s much too much mushy for me when I don’t have my own girl here to get mushy with.”

  “You started it.”

  “Yeah, I did.” Ricky slid out. “But now I’m stopping it. I’m going home before I fall asleep in this booth.”

  “After you, my friend. Come on, Maggie mine.” Wyatt held out his hand and I scooted across the seat to take it, dragging my coat with me. He helped me into it and we followed our cohort to the front.

  Annetta was handing Ricky his change. “You kids be careful out there; supposed to snow a good foot tonight.”

  “Yeah, we heard. Thanks, Annetta. The stew was excellent.”

  She grinned. “I’ll tell Wally you liked it.”

  “Never had a meal here I didn’t.”

  A nod. “Thanks again.”

  “Good night, Annetta.”

  “Night, Chief. Maggie.”

  I waved on our way out the door.

  We hurried down the sidewalk, and still shivering—at least I was—pulled out of the parking lot, turning in opposite directions.

  “My place okay tonight?”

  CHAPTER 18

  BLESSED IS THE PEACEKEEPER

  “SURE.” I smiled. “Any place is okay, as long as you’re there.” Yes, we still have an issue to iron out, but I loved this man. Doesn’t mean I’m going to let it slide, or knuckle under.

  The man reached across for my hand. “Same here.”

  “You ever trade this thing in, make sure the next one doesn’t have bucket seats.”

  He laughed. “I’ll remember that. I thought you liked them.”

  “Oh, I like ’em, just can’t sit as close to you as I’d like.”

  “That’s nice. I like that you want to.”

  I smiled in the dark, a snarky thing. “Cuz, then, if I don’t sit next to you, you’ll know I’m ... pissed at you.”

  “Ah. I wondered if there was a reason.”

  “Silly man.”

  “Sexy woman.”

  “Mmmm.” He does have a sneaky way with words.

  “My woman.”

  “Mmhmm.” Very sneaky.

  Once in the house, Wyatt went to stoke the fire in his wood-burning stove. The thing throws out so much heat he never has to turn on the furnace. His gas bill has dropped by two-thirds since he had it installed.

  Of course, the house furnace. What did you think I meant?

  “You’re not seriously going to call Filbert and cancel, are you? That would be rude. He probably won’t have enough people if you and Ricky aren’t there tomorrow.”

  “Maggie, I’m not leaving you alone in that office with a killer honing in.”

  My heart lurched. Killer? “That’s ridiculous.”

  Whoa. Deep inhale—slow exhale.

  Whoa, Nelly.

  “What’s so ridiculous?”

  “No one said anything about … killing anyone. He never threatened to actually do anything.”

  “What does pay the consequences mean to you? It was a non-specific intent to do harm.”

  “Was not.” If I denied it enough times, maybe it wouldn’t be true. The voice had said to stop doing … whatever it was I was doing that ann
oyed him. The threat was, um, yeah, not specifically mentioned, but, boy, the imagination sure can conjure, can’t it?

  And I could only speculate about what my man’s visuals were. Obviously worse than what I was seeing.

  He wasn’t done.

  “Have you figured it out, yet? What would you call it? Sounded like stop-poking-around-or-else, to me. Usually, or else, implies something … not good.”

  “Okay, okay. Usually it does, you’re right. But making me dead wasn’t mentioned. No judge worth his salt would sign a warrant for you on that flimsy message, even if you knew who to swear it out against.

  “Besides, how do you know the guy’d go through with whatever he was allegedly threatening me with?” I knew if I reminded him that we’d decided it didn’t have anything to do with me poking into the disappearance, he’d be even more adamant. This was going to be a really bad night if we couldn’t get past his male posturing.

  There was also the not mentioning of the fact that I’d be just as un-safe at home as I was at the office—probably more so because I’d be here alone. Without a doubt, Wyatt’s normally-normal blood pressure would sky-rocket, and he’d most definitely lock me in a closet.

  So, I didn’t mention it. Didn’t mention anything.

  He shook his head and started for the bedroom. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  I shooed him out and stalked to the kitchen to make coffee.

  On second thought, caffeine wouldn’t be a good idea just now. Wine would be better—but not to excess, mind you. With my temper on an uphill path to steaming, the need to curb it before it got out of control—which happens very very rarely—was imperative. So, yeah, a nice big glass of white oughta be about right.

  Oh, for pity’s sake, I’m not an alcoholic. I don’t imbibe on a regular basis, but once in a while, a glass is enjoyed. Tonight was an exception.

  Not wanting to broach the subject again, I resigned myself to a semi-pacified state.

  It did not escape my notice that he only wanted to protect me, but seriously needed to figure out why it bothered me so much. Because this is the age of equality, for the most part, where females aren’t part of the furniture, or helpless in the face of … anything contrary. Wyatt made his statements like they were law, and woe to me if I defied him.

  Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but that’s the way it made me feel.

  Whatever the reason, I was seeing sparks. If he would just leave it alone until I could process what happened in the office, and figure out what it meant and how to handle it, maybe then I wouldn’t be so defensive about his efforts. Maybe then I’d feel like I had a part in keeping myself safe, knowing I had a solid backup system in place, i.e., Wyatt Madison.

  Relaxation was foremost on my mind, not another argument, or an extension of the one we’d been having.

  I hate to argue. Hate it hate it hate it. Totally. I do contortions to avoid arguing, but I don’t back down if one can-not be dodged.

  Almost always.

  As we snuggled up on the sofa, though, Wyatt smacked the bees nest, again.

  Argh.

  “Can’t you try to see it from my perspective?”

  “Can you see it from mine?”

  “You’re being unreasonable.”

  “How is it unreasonable? Just because I don’t agree with you? If we switched places, would you stay home?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why not?”

  “What?”

  “Why is it unreasonable for me, but okay for you?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I’m serious. You’d be in just as much danger as I would, but if our roles were reversed, you wouldn’t have to follow the rules?”

  “Absolutely. What rule?”

  I pushed away. “Yet you expect me to obey your command. And you don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’m an independent female, over 21. I’m even allowed to vote.”

  “You don’t have to get sarcastic.”

  “So you wouldn’t stay home.”

  “No. I’m the chief of police. How would it look to my … the folks, in this town if I hid in my house over a feeble threat like that? I’d be a laughingstock.”

  “Huh. And I wouldn’t?”

  “No. You’d be taking appropriate precautions.”

  “Appropriate? You just admitted it’s not that big a deal.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “You called it feeble.”

  “Maggie—”

  “As much fun as it would be to work from home, I can’t do my job from here. The police station would be closed because you and Ricky have obligations out at the lake. I’d get fired, and the town would go to hell at the speed of a light beam.”

  Was he fighting not to laugh?

  “First, that’s absurd. Second, you don’t give the citizens of our little borough very much credit.”

  “You’re changing the rules.”

  “They’re the same as they’ve always been.”

  He was not helping to keep my temper in check.

  “Oh, that’s right. Sorry, I forgot. Men make the rules; therefore, they make them to suit themselves. How is that being equal?”

  “Being equal is relative.”

  “Relative to whether or not it fits your man-rules.”

  “Maggie, you’re important to me. I want you out of harm’s way.”

  “Same goes. And now you’re changing the subject.”

  “You’re right, but….”

  It amazes me sometimes when I get that ESP kind of perception. I knew what was going to come out of his mouth before he said it. I crossed my fingers and closed my eyes, wishing, with all my heart, that he wouldn’t say it, because it was going to make me really mad, both times.

  He hesitated, and I opened my eyes.

  I almost did a happy dance that he’d changed his mind.

  Almost.

  But then…

  CHAPTER 19

  SLEEPING DOGS SHOULD BE LEFT THAT WAY

  “YOU’RE THE WEAKER SEX. Men are better prepared—”

  I punched his arm and stood. If I didn’t leave now, I was going to do or say something that couldn’t be taken back. Yeah, okay, it does seem petty. And maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but I need to be right now.

  “Hey! Ow.”

  I turned. “I can’t believe you actually said that.” Tears of hurt, anger, and temper threatened to spill. Crying when I’m mad makes me even madder, and I hate that, almost as much as I hate to argue. “Darn it all, anyway. That is so sexist and … and insensitive.”

  “Okay. I admit it was a cheap shot. I’m sorry.”

  “Honestly, Wyatt.” Snugging into my boots, I went for my coat, mumbling under my breath. “Weaker sex.” Yes, he had apologized, and I appreciated the effort, but I still felt like he was pressing his thumb in the middle of my metaphoric neck.

  Did men not realize how idiotic and worthless that statement makes us feel?

  I turned and yelled, “My right pinky toe I’m the weaker sex!”

  “Where are you going?”

  Crud.

  He’d followed me.

  “Home.”

  Now I was pouting, and that was even worse.

  “You don’t have a car.”

  Another bone of contention.

  I gritted my teeth.

  “No kidding.”

  “It’s snowing.”

  Duh. “So?”

  “How are you going to get home?”

  Duh. “Walk.”

  “It’s fifty below, sweetheart.”

  The buttons on my coat were not cooperating with my fingers, so I gave up. “I’m so mad right now, I’ll never feel it.”

  “Aw, come on, Maggie. Be reasonable.”

  “There’s that stupid word again. Reasonable. You want me to be reasonable.” In my anger, the scarf got yanked (Ack!) around my neck so tight it made me gag. I had to loosen it some to breathe.

&nbs
p; Was I fussing too much?

  Yeah. Probably.

  Was I making an ant hill into a mountain?

  I thought for a second.

  Again, good possibility.

  But there was this plea in my heart. If he would just acknowledge my ability to fend for myself. Yes, there was a part of me who thought it was very sexy that he cared so much about my safety. In point of fact, was deeply grateful about that.

  Don’t get me wrong, and I’m sure I mentioned it already, I was seriously weirded out about what had happened.

  Later there would, doubtless, be regrets attached to my actions. Maybe.

  I jerked when, from behind, his arms came around me and my bulky coat.

  “You know I love you,” he crooned in my ear. “I just want you to be safe. I need to know you’re safe.”

  I turned to face him without breaking the circle. “I know you love me. There’s no doubt in my mind about that, but you can’t use that to bully me into obeying a ridiculous caveman mindset. Trying to hide me isn’t going to fix anything, or make me any more safe. Actually, it’ll tell whoever is doing this that you—we—are afraid. I can’t—shouldn’t have to—give up the way I live because somebody thinks they can scare me, even if they do. That’s not who I am.”

  His hold tightened. “I know that, hon.”

  I cupped his jaw. “I want you just as safe as you want me, but you won’t ever hear me forbidding you to do something. Why would you do that to me? Have I ever given you a reason to think I can’t take care of myself?”

  He leaned his forehead against mine. “No, you haven’t. You’re one of the strongest women I know. And, yes, I understand what you’re saying. I really, really do. And I apologize, since it seems you’re offended.”

  “Seems?”

  “Okay, I have offended you, a lot.”

  There had to be more. “But?” There better be more.

  “I feel so helpless. It infuriates me that this guy can threaten you, and I can’t do anything about it. I need to be able to do something.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No.” He beat a fist against his chest. “It hurts, Maggie. I can’t breathe when I think about something happening to you. I can’t help it any more than you can. It’s the way I was raised. Men are supposed to take care of their … women.” He raised his hands. “Don’t hit me for that.”