Lethal Lawman

by Carla Cassidy

But it was a hole inside her that she knew nothing would fill, one that she deserved. “I think maybe it’s time we load that rocking chair so I can get home,” she replied. She began to pack up the last of the food and place it in the bag so he could take it with him.

  She had always thought of him as a distant, slightly stern man, but the person she’d just eaten with had a nice sense of humor and if she spent any more time with him she might decide a date with him wouldn’t be a terrible thing. Definitely time to send him packing.

  He tore off a piece of one of the empty container lids and scribbled something on it. “Here, it’s my phone number. Just in case you change your mind. I’m just looking for a little companionship, Marlene, nothing more.”

  He held out the piece of cardboard toward her and she hesitated, but then took it and tucked it into her pants pocket. She would toss it away when she got home. She had no intention of allowing Frank to get close to her on any personal level. She didn’t intend to allow anyone to make his way into a heart that no longer existed.

  As they returned to the front of the store, he stripped off his suit jacket to expose a short-sleeved white shirt and his holster and gun. When he lifted the chair to carry it to the front door, it wasn’t the gun in the holster that captured her attention, but rather the big guns his biceps sported.

  An unexpected warmth pooled in the pit of her stomach as she found herself wondering what those muscles would feel like wrapped around her. She mentally shook herself. That was the last thing she wanted, and even the fantasy of wanting to be held by Frank felt fraught with the aura of danger.

  Just like the night before, he insisted he see her to her car after she’d locked up the store. Driving home, she couldn’t get him or his final question out of her head.

  Was she lonely? Absolutely. But her isolation was her own doing. She’d come home from Pittsburgh with such a wealth of guilt, a Pandora’s box of secrets that forced her to keep people at bay.

  She wore a mask and feared that if anyone got a peek beneath it they’d see the monster she was, the sins she’d committed that had made her unfit for anyone.

  Frank was not just a hot, handsome man—he also seemed like a nice man, and if he was ready to begin life anew, he deserved somebody better than her. He deserved a whole woman, and she would never, ever be whole again.

  By the time she arrived home she was unusually exhausted, haunted by thoughts of her past and faintly depressed as she contemplated her future.

  Maybe in the morning she’d drive over to her aunt’s house and bake several things. There was both pain and pleasure at the thought—the pain of Aunt Liz’s absence and the pleasure of creating something delicious that she could take to the store for customers to enjoy.

  Although she often baked in her tiny apartment, if she wanted to do more than one goodie she usually headed to her aunt’s place, where Liz had the best equipment to create culinary magic. Surely working on some special cupcakes and maybe cinnamon rolls would take her mind off Frank Delaney. Just a little companionship—he’d said that was all he was looking for—but she knew companionship could quickly change to something deeper and she just wasn’t willing to open herself up ever again.

  The sight of the new solid door at the top of her stairs gave her a sense of welcome relief as she fit her key first into the doorknob lock, and then the dead bolt lock.

  She opened the door and walked inside, a white envelope sliding in beneath her feet. It must have been on her threshold and she’d kicked it in when she’d entered.

  She stared down at it. What now? Maybe it was a note from Minnie, she told herself as she leaned down to pick it up. There was no writing on the front, nothing to indicate where it had come from, although it was sealed tight.

  Her heart began to thud a rapid rhythm as she slid her thumbnail under the seal. She wasn’t sure why, but even before she got the envelope open she felt an overwhelming, inexplicable sense of dread.

  Inside the envelope was a single sheet of white paper, neatly folded. She pulled it out and opened it, then gasped and allowed it to drop from her fingers.

  Stumbling backward, she fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the small piece of cardboard Frank had given her. She fumbled her cell phone from her purse and punched in the number. “Frank, could you come over here? I think I have another problem,” she said when he answered.

  Before he could reply she hung up and stepped over the note to relock both locks on her door. She then stood in the center of the room, waiting for Frank to come and make sense of the note that sent chills racing up and down her spine.

  Chapter 5

  “VENGEANCE IS MINE.”

  Frank stared at the plain white paper that held the words written in bold red marker. The police station was coming alive all around him as the night shift drifted away and the day officers began to make appearances.

  Frank had come in early, unable to sleep and trying to decide if he should be concerned or not about the note in front of him.

  He looked up from the paper as Jimmy came through the door. There were times Frank thought he should take a page from the book of life that Jimmy read. The young man always came in with a smile. He appeared to carry no baggage from his past, although Frank wasn’t sure how that would be possible given what he knew about Jimmy’s history.

  “Hey, what have you got there?” Jimmy asked as he stood behind Frank’s desk and peered over his shoulder at the note encased in a plastic evidence bag.

  “A little present that was left on Marlene Marcoli’s doorstep last night.”

  “Michael venting a little bit of final anger toward Marlene?” Jimmy suggested as he pulled a chair up next to Frank’s.

  “Maybe, but I’d be surprised if he’d do something so stupid right after being busted for stealing from her and then breaking into her place. He already got a pass from her when she refused to press charges.”

  “I’d also be surprised that he knew how to spell vengeance right,” Jimmy said with a grin, but the grin quickly turned into a frown as he gazed at the note. “It looks like it was written in the middle of a rage. There was a lot of hand pressure used to write it.” He pointed at a couple of areas in the lettering. “See here...and here. The marker has nearly ripped through the paper.”

  Details. That was definitely Jimmy’s strength. “I dusted it for prints and only got a couple that I suspect are Marlene’s. She’s supposed to come in sometime this morning for printing so I can exclude her prints from the ones I pulled.”

  “Are you sending it to the lab in Hershey?” Jimmy asked.

  Frank nodded. “The note and the envelope it arrived in. Maybe the lab can get some information from them that we can’t get here with our limited capabilities.” The Hershey crime lab was often used by the much smaller Wolf Creek police force.

  “And I’m assuming a talk with Michael is in order.”

  “At least he’ll be easy to find today between the hours of ten and one. I’ve got him picking up trash along Main Street for the next couple of weeks during that time,” Frank replied.

  By then Steve had joined them, pulling up a third chair as Frank caught him up on the discussion. “How was Marlene when you left her place last night?”

  “A little bit afraid, not overly eager to answer any questions. She just wanted me to get the note out of there.” Frank frowned, thinking about his mad race from his house to her apartment the night before.

  She’d sounded frantic on the phone, but by the time he’d arrived she’d been cool and calm. She’d told him that the note must have been left just outside her door and she’d apparently kicked it in as she’d walked inside.

  She didn’t know what it meant, had no idea other than Michael who might have left it, and had just wanted Frank to take it and go.

  “Is she having any problems with anyone from the s
ettlement?” Steve asked.

  “Not that she mentioned. I know she and Sheri interact a lot with the Amish since they sell a lot of their wares in their store.”

  “It definitely has a religious-zealot kind of ring to it,” Jimmy added.

  “But the Amish aren’t really religious zealots,” Frank protested.

  “True, but we all know that there’s usually one bad apple in every group,” Jimmy said.

  Frank frowned once again and stared down at the note. “When she comes in this morning for the fingerprinting, I’ll ask her about the people she does business with at the store, if it’s possible she’s irritated somebody.”

  “Somebody could easily be offended by Marlene without her ever knowing it. She’s cool and distant and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to consider that somebody from the Amish might find her outward vanity sacrilegious,” Jimmy replied.

  “She’s not vain. She’s just well put together whenever she’s out in public,” Frank protested. “And she isn’t cold, either. She’s just rather reserved.”

  Steve and Jimmy exchanged glances and Frank sighed impatiently. “Don’t worry—there’s nothing going on between Marlene and me. I’ve just spent a bit of time with her because of the break-in and I’ve gotten to know a little bit about her.”

  Although not nearly enough, Frank thought. Even last night when he’d briefly questioned her about the note and if there was a possibility that somebody other than Michael had left it, he’d sensed her holding back, keeping secrets that might be vital to finding out the answers. Unfortunately, he couldn’t confront her on the issue with only a gut instinct to guide him.

  “So, do we consider it a threat?” he finally asked his partners.

  Jimmy frowned. “It’s hard to tell. It’s rather ambiguous.”

  “It would make our job easier if it said something like, ‘Vengeance is mine and I’m coming to get you,’” Steve replied.

  Frank grinned wryly. “When has our job ever been that easy?” he asked rhetorically.

  “On a positive note, as I came in I saw our search team heading out,” Steve said. “It would be nice if by the end of the day we had some sort of closure on Liz Marcoli’s disappearance. I’m hoping she’s been held all this time by some crazy mountain man who needs a woman to spruce up his cabin and cook for him.”

  “Marlene believes she’s dead.” Frank reached for the cup of tepid coffee at his elbow.

  “I hope she doesn’t say that out loud to Roxy or Sheri. They both believe she’ll be returned to them alive and well, and I don’t have the heart to tell them any different,” Steve said.

  “But we all know the odds of that aren’t in our favor,” Jimmy reminded them solemnly.

  Silence fell among the three, and then Steve and Jimmy got up to head to their own desks while Frank continued to stay seated with the note in front of him.

  Despite the fact that the envelope hadn’t been specifically addressed to Marlene, in spite of the fact that the words held no direct threat, Frank was going to treat it like a threat nevertheless, and that meant this was a new, active investigation.

  He didn’t stop to consider the possibility that he might be making a bigger deal of the note than he should simply because an active case would keep him in close contact with Marlene.

  If he spoke to Michael and the kid admitted to leaving the note for Marlene, then it would be case closed. While he hoped that was the end result, he didn’t want a case closed where Marlene was concerned.

  He saw something in her that apparently others didn’t see, a warmth beneath the ice, a vulnerability hiding behind a shield of steel and a sweet laughter just waiting to be unleashed.

  It was just after nine when the object of his thoughts walked into the squad room. Clad in a pair of black jeans and a hot-pink blouse, with black-and-pink earrings and black high heels, she looked more like a runway model than a woman here to get her fingers rolled in ink.

  As usual her hair was a spill of shiny silk to just below her shoulders and her makeup was impeccable, light enough not to draw attention but skilled enough to emphasize her natural beauty.

  He nearly overturned his chair in his eagerness to greet her. “Good morning,” he said. He approached where she stood just inside the door, a look of hesitance on her features.

  “Good morning to you,” she replied.

  “I’m sorry you had to come in here for this,” he said as he motioned her toward his desk. Normally he’d hand off anyone who needed printing to Chelsea Loren, who did most of the printing of victims and criminals, but he’d decided to do Marlene’s himself.

  He wanted to make this as painless as possible for her and he told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that in doing the fingerprinting he’d be able to touch her hands, feel the sensation of her skin.

  She sat in the chair facing his desk and he got out all the items he needed to get a good set of prints. Wolf Creek wasn’t exactly on the cutting edge of technology, so an ink pad, some wet wipes and a fingerprint card were prepared. Once the prints were rolled to the card, the card would be scanned into their computer system.

  “I’m glad you wore a short-sleeved blouse,” he said once he was ready to begin. “Unfortunately, sometimes this can be a little messy.”

  She sat ramrod straight in the chair and gave him a curt nod of her head. “Let’s just get this over with,” she said, obviously ill at ease.

  Frank stood over her and leaned down to take one of her hands in his. Cold. Icy cold. “Cold hands, warm heart?” he said in an effort to shatter some of the tension.

  “Cold hands, cold heart,” she replied.

  “I don’t believe that,” he said as he rolled her left thumb on the ink pad and then carefully rolled it again in the appropriate place on the card.

  She smelled of spring, of flowers blooming and fresh air. By the time he’d done three of her fingers, her hand had regained some warmth.

  When he was finished with the left hand, he gave her a couple of wipes to clean off the ink, and then took her right hand in his. Her fingers were slender, her nail polish a pearly-pink. She didn’t speak through the entire process.

  It wasn’t until she’d finished cleaning off the last of the ink from her fingers and he’d sat in the chair at his desk in front of her that she gave him a rueful smile. “Now I know what it feels like to be a criminal. I’m just grateful handcuffs aren’t the next step in this process.”

  There it was, that touch of humor she kept hidden most of the time. “The next step is that I’m going to hunt down Michael and find out if he’s the culprit, if maybe he just wanted to give you one last dig before calling it even.”

  She glanced at the note that still sat on Frank’s desk. “It doesn’t really feel like Michael’s style. The immature temper tantrum that occurred in my apartment―that felt like Michael’s style.”

  She looked up at him and he saw the flicker of fear deep in the depths of her eyes. “If it isn’t Michael, then who would have left the note? And what exactly does it mean?”

  “I hope by the end of the day to have those answers for you.” What he wanted to do was reach across the table and draw her hands into his. He knew they would be cold again and he wanted nothing more than to warm them, to warm her and assure her that everything was all right.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that now. He just didn’t have anything to give her to ease her mind. “Why don’t we plan for me to catch up with you later this evening, and in the meantime I’d like you to think about anyone you might have crossed words with, anyone who maybe comes into the store who makes you uncomfortable or who has been inappropriate. In fact, I’d like a list of everyone who you come into contact with on a regular basis, both personally and through the store.”

  “I’ll do that.” She stood, obviously more than ready to ge
t out of the station and back to whatever she intended to do for the remainder of the morning.

  Frank jumped to his feet to walk her to the outer door. “Are you doing all right?” he asked as they stepped out of the building. “You’ve had a rough couple of days.”

  She offered him a slightly distant smile. “I’ve had worse. Believe me, I’m far tougher than I look. It’s going to take a lot more than Michael Arello to shake me up. I’ll expect to hear from you sometime this evening.”

  He watched her walk away, the sunshine sparking off her pale hair and the memory of her scent lingering in his head. You’ve got it bad, man, and that ain’t good—a version of the old song lyrics played in his head as he turned and walked back into the station.

  Although Frank was no fingerprint expert, it was an easy task to use a magnifying glass to compare the prints he’d lifted from the envelope and note to Marlene’s. They appeared to match.

  Whoever had delivered the note had been smart enough to use gloves and hadn’t left a single print behind. Frank wasn’t surprised. Even a dumb nut like Michael would be smart enough not to leave behind fingerprints.

  As far as Frank was concerned, the advent of crime-investigation television had definitely made it more difficult for the good guys.

  Right now what he had to figure out was if the note left at Marlene’s apartment was the work of a misguided young man or something darker and more dangerous.

  * * *

  The sun had disappeared as Marlene left the police station. Dark clouds had moved in, along with a rain-scented breeze that might have chilled her if it hadn’t been for the remembered warmth of Frank’s hand holding hers.

  She’d always thought of him as the silent-and-stern type. Before the past couple of days she’d only seen him in relation to her aunt Liz’s disappearance, and then he’d always been with his partners.

  Steve and Jimmy were both talkers. Maybe Frank had seemed quiet to her because whenever his partners were around he couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

  It hadn’t been a stern, cold man who had brought her Chinese food or held her hand with such care a few minutes ago. Confused by the feelings he wrought in her, she hurried to her car and headed for her aunt’s house.