“Mallory Myers!” the middle-aged woman behind the cash register exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Shopping.” Mallory smiled at Wanda Snow as she set her basket on the counter.
“I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I know. How are you doing?” Mallory asked as a woman with a toddler in a stroller got in line behind her.
“I’m just fine, honey. It’s good to see you. But I’m surprised you’re in town. I thought your mom told me they were going on vacation last week—”
“That’s right. I’m guessing they’re in Iowa by now.” Mallory unloaded the items from her basket, suppressing the urge to frown. “To my dad’s family reunion.” How she wished they hadn’t gone.
“Isn’t that nice.”
The woman behind Mallory kept leaning over her stroller, acting as though she was impatient to be checked out or trying to get something from the rack next to the register. Finally Mallory turned to face the woman. “Did you need something?” she asked with polite curiosity.
“You are Mallory Myers!” the woman blurted out.
“That’s right.”
The woman’s narrow brows arched and she stepped back ever so slightly—almost as if she was intimidated or afraid. “I—uh—I just read about you in the paper.”
“You’re in the newspaper?” Wanda set a bottle of hair conditioner in the bag.
“Well, I wouldn’t—”
“It’s right here!” The pushy woman reached past Mallory to get a newspaper from a stack next to the checkout stand. She triumphantly held it up for Mrs. Snow to see. “Today’s Mid-State News—front page, too!”
Wanda adjusted her reading glasses and peered at the paper. “Oh, my!” She looked at Mallory with an alarmed expression.
“That headline is a big fat lie.” Mallory zipped her debit card through the reader. “Just someone’s idea of a sensational story. A good way to sell newspapers.” She snatched up a paper and slapped it on the counter. “See it works, too, I’ll buy this. But trust me, it’s not true.”
“Well, of course, it’s not true.” Wanda dropped moisturizer in the bag. “It couldn’t possibly be true. Anyone who knows you would know it’s not true.” She smiled uneasily as she handed Mallory her receipt.
“Thank you,” Mallory said. “Have a good day.” As she hurried outside, she wondered if this was such a good idea...hanging around in town like this until Logan returned for her. Part of her felt safe here. Who would dare to hurt her with so many people around to witness it? The other part of her felt conspicuous...and embarrassed. There was more than one way to be hurt.
She found an empty bench next to the drugstore and, sitting down on the shady end, she removed the newspaper. The Mid-State News was not known for its accuracy in reporting. But insinuating she was a murderer almost seemed grounds for libel. Opening it up, she attempted to conceal herself behind the paper screen as she skimmed the sensational front-page story. Just as she expected, the editors had been somewhat careful. Rather than outright accusations within the article, they used words like “alleged” and “possible suspect.” They obviously wanted to avoid a defamation-of-character suit. Even so, the headline was nasty and the article made her look bad. Very bad.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice said.
She peeked over the top of the paper to see a muscular pale-haired man standing in front of her. She knew by his tan-and-brown uniform he was with the sheriff’s department, just like her dad. “Yes?” She attempted a weak smile. She’d always felt comfortable around law enforcement before, but so many things had changed since Wednesday. And for some reason—maybe it was his wide-legged stance or that superior expression—but this guy made her uneasy.
“Miss Myers?”
“Yes.” She lowered the paper, returning what felt like an intense look, although she couldn’t be certain since his eyes were concealed behind his dark aviator glasses.
“Mind if I join you?”
She shrugged uneasily. “No, of course, not.” She bit her tongue to keep from saying “It’s a free country.” This didn’t seem the sort of man to get sassy with. Not to mention, she should’ve learned a few lessons from the Portland police.
He eased himself down on the bench then turned to her with what seemed a disingenuous smile. “I know all about you, Miss Myers.”
She just nodded, realizing what this was about. “I’m sure you think you do.”
His faux smile vanished. “What do you mean by that?”
She held up the paper. “I guess it all depends on where you get your information.”
“I’m with the sheriff’s department,” he said with what sounded like plain old arrogance. “For your information, we’re not limited to news media sources. Everyone knows that the media is unreliable.”
She pursed her lips. Was he aware that she was a news writer?
“Trust me, Miss Myers. I do my research. And I do know all about you.”
“Just because you’ve researched doesn’t mean you got the full story. And your claim that you know all about me convinces me that you know diddly-squat.”
When he didn’t respond, Mallory began to feel nervous. What had she been thinking? Sparring with a lawman? She knew better! “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot here. The truth is, I was just feeling seriously aggravated by this newspaper article.” She narrowed her eyes at him as she tossed the paper to the bench.
He nodded to the rumpled paper. “It’s quite a story.”
Now she pointed to his name tag. “Okay, you seem to know who I am, Deputy Fallows, but I don’t believe we’ve officially met.” She stuck out her hand. “I suspect you know my dad, Deputy Myers. Doesn’t that make us sort of like family?” She attempted an authentic smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.
He gave her a limp handshake that didn’t match his macho-man physique and sent a creepy feeling down her spine.
“So, what can I do for you, Deputy Fallows?” she asked nervously. Hopefully he didn’t have a warrant for her arrest. She knew that could happen. The detectives had warned her it could.
“I just figured I should make my presence known to you. I’ve already been in contact with Portland, and I know that they’re trying to keep you on a short leash. Frankly I’m surprised they allowed you to leave town at all. But I assured Detective Snyder I’d be keeping a close eye on you.”
“Oh, good.” The sarcasm leaped back into her voice. “I’m such a flight risk.”
His brow creased as if he was taking her seriously. “I do have a question for you, Miss Myers. It’s regarding the arson incident near your parents’ home last night.”
“What do you want to know?” she asked.
“It seems a strange coincidence that you show up at your parents’ home late in the night. And then a fire erupts shortly after you get there. And I can’t help but wonder why you’re coming here when you know your parents are away on a road trip.”
“I forgot about that.”
“Yeah, maybe so. Especially considering how busy you’ve been lately. Seems like everywhere you go, excitement follows. Murder, arson... What’s next, Miss Myers?”
“For your information, that fire that was probably started by the same person who committed the murder.” She glared at him.
He rubbed a line of sweat from his upper lip and shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that I’ll be keeping my eye on you, Miss Myers.” He slowly stood. “Now if you’ll excuse—”
“Wait a minute.” Mallory jumped to her feet, standing in front of this impudent deputy. “Are you seriously suggesting that I set that fire last night?”
“No offense, little lady, but it seems like a pretty good smoke scre
en to me.”
“A smoke screen?”
He chuckled. “Sure. Even now, you’re suggesting it’s the work of that diabolical murderer, claiming that he chased you all the way to Clover. A clever means to convince the Portland detectives that you’re the one in danger, that you didn’t really murder your friend.”
“That is absurd.”
“Not really.” He seemed to smirk. “I’ve been going over all the details of your case. It actually makes a lot of sense.”
“Except that you’re dead wrong.” She knew it was probably foolish get on this guy’s bad side, but she felt like she was already sliding down the slippery slope. Even so, she attempted to soften her expression and tone down her voice. “I’m telling you the truth, Deputy Fallows, I had nothing to do with my friend’s death or last night’s fire. I’m innocent.”
“Just because your daddy is a deputy doesn’t mean you’ll find sanctuary or extra sympathy here in Clover. If you were smart you’d go back to Portland.”
Mallory wanted to throw something at this surly creep. He reminded her of Brock. As if these two were cut from the same cloth. Was it possible they knew each other? Had Brock been in touch with Deputy Fallows? “Before you leave,” she said quickly, “I have a question for you.”
“What’s that?” he asked impatiently.
“Do you happen to be on friendly terms with Brock Dennison?”
One side of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, but he didn’t answer. “Speaking of friends, I hear you’re getting pretty cozy with our fire chief.”
“Are you going to tell me who I can or cannot be friends with now?”
He pointed to where a bright red Jeep Wrangler was pulling up right in front of the drugstore. “Hail, hail the chief.” He laughed, waving as Logan climbed out of the Jeep. He’d changed from his uniform into a casual pair of faded jeans and a gray T-shirt, and he was smiling as he casually strolled toward them.
“What’s up?” Logan looked from Mallory to the deputy with curious interest.
“I was just about to call you, Logan. But while I’ve got you both here, I might as well inform you of the news.”
“What news?” Logan asked in a firm tone.
“That due to your friendly relationship with the little lady here, I will be taking over the arson investigation as of now.”
“What are you talking—”
“Look, Logan, you’ve been spotted all over town with this girl. And due to her involvement in the Portland murder case combined with suspicions that she might be involved in last night’s arson, it would be inappropriate for you to continue the investigation. Don’tcha think? Besides that, according to Winnie, you’re not even on duty this weekend, anyway. So what’s the big deal?”
“That’s who you’ve been talking to.” Logan’s response was surprisingly calm. “Winnie Halston has shared her CSI theories with you. Now it all makes sense.”
“What makes sense is for you to step away from last night’s arson investigation. I’ll be handling it from here on out. And I’ll expect you to turn your findings over to me ASAP. Understand?”
“No problem.” Logan’s tone sounded agreeable, but Mallory thought she could see sparks burning in the backs of his deep green eyes. “One less investigation for me to bother with. You’re welcome to it. Copies of my reports are on file in the computer at the station. Have at it.” He reached for Mallory’s elbow. “Ready to go?”
“Uh, yeah.” She grabbed up her shopping bags and, grateful for Logan’s calm presence, allowed him to guide her away from Deputy Fallows. Her head was still spinning from that crazy conversation. Had she really understood him correctly? It was bad enough when that ditzy firefighter woman made that embarrassing scene in the diner. But knowing Mallory now had the sheriff’s department treating her like a suspect was truly alarming. It was bad enough in Portland, but here in her hometown? She wondered what her dad would think.
“Did you connect with my dad yet?” she asked as Logan slid into the driver’s seat.
“No, but I left another message. I didn’t go into all the details, but I told him it was urgent and that it involved you and your safety. And I asked him to call back as soon as possible. I figured that would get his attention.”
“I hope so.” Mallory sighed. “I think it’s time to give Al Brandt a call.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you. Even people who are innocent sometimes need a good attorney.” Logan made a quick turn down Spruce Street. “Let’s stop by and see if he’s around.”
To Mallory’s great disappointment, Al was not there. According to the sign on the front door of the small law office, he’d be gone for several days on a fly-fishing trip and wouldn’t be back until Tuesday. They were just leaving when Mallory’s phone chimed. Wishing it was her dad, she pulled it out, only to discover it was a new text message. Another threat. “Oh, no,” she said quietly.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked as he came to a stop sign.
Mallory looked all around, trying to see if anyone suspicious was lurking nearby. “This text, Logan. Listen to this—‘Think you’re safe in that little red Jeep? Think again. I’ve got my eye on you. And it’s open season.’”
Like her, Logan looked all around. “Have you seen anyone in the past couple of hours? Anyone that made you suspicious?”
“You mean besides Deputy Fallows?” She felt a creepy chill running through her again. “The truth is, I don’t feel like I can really trust anyone anymore.”
“What about those text messages?” he asked. “Should you be sending them to the police?”
“I’ve been sending them to Portland,” she explained as she stared at her phone. “Not that they take me seriously. Do you know what one of the detectives had the nerve to tell me?”
“No, what?”
“Apparently there’s a new app or a device or something that you can use to send yourself texts and it makes it appear as if it’s from someone else.”
“Great,” he said with sarcasm.
“I used to trust people,” she said sadly. “I used to think that most cops were good people. That most journalists were honest. Now I don’t know what to think—or who to trust. ”
“You can trust me.” Logan’s brow creased as he peered into his rearview mirror. He was obviously worried about something. Perhaps the killer was stalking them right now. And why not? Out here in the open like this—they made easy targets. Suddenly Mallory got it—her friendship with Logan was putting him at serious risk. She wasn’t the only one in danger now. Somehow, as badly as she needed him and wanted him around, she needed to tell him to stay away from her. For his own sake.
EIGHT
As Logan drove cautiously through town, Mallory felt her heart racing. Imagining a sniper rifle pointed directly at the little red Jeep, she knew she had no right to endanger Logan like this. “I think you should take me home,” she said suddenly. “And then stay away from me.”
“I’m not comfortable with that.” He looked around as he came to an intersection. “I’ve been giving this some serious consideration, trying to figure out where the safest place for you might be. I’d take you to my place, Mallory, but it’s right in the center of town—not to mention my house isn’t much of a fortress with an open floor plan and a ton of windows. TJ calls it the fishbowl. Besides that, everyone knows where I live and judging by that last text, it’s no secret that you’re with me. Do you have any ideas? I know you don’t want to go back to Portland yet, but do you know anyone with a secure house around here? A place you can spend the night?”
“I’ve got some friends—rather, parents of friends—who live around here. But after that last text, I doubt that I’m safe anywhere. And if I’m not safe, it makes me seriously concerned for anyone I might be with.” She glanced nervously at him. “Including you.”
“I think it’s best if I stay at my parents’.”
“Really?”
She nodded firmly. “Yeah, I do. Especially if I can get hold of Dad and get the combination to his gun safe.”
“Guns?” Logan sounded surprised.
“You know my dad’s a lawman. He’s also a hunter. Of course he’s got guns.” She checked her phone again, to see if her dad had called back yet. All she could think was that they were out of cell phone range because no way would they ignore her like this. Especially after the message Logan had left.
“Yes, I figured your dad has guns. But do you know how to handle a firearm?”
“Sure. My dad taught Austin and me to shoot when we were kids. We’ve been through all kinds of gun safety training, and I even have a concealed weapons permit, not that I use it. But I do happen to be a pretty good shot.”
“Really...?” Logan sounded impressed. “As a matter of fact, so am I.”
“Maybe we should go have ourselves a little shoot-out.” She tried to insert some lightness into her voice by attempting a Western drawl. “My pa used to call me Annie Oakley. Think you can outshoot me, pardner?”
“Well, I reckon I’d like to give it a try.” He imitated her accent as he turned into a parking lot, but she could tell he was looking all around as he slowly drove toward the town’s only grocery store. He was obviously feeling just as cautious as she was.
“What are we doing here?” She used the side mirror to see if any vehicles had followed them in, but she only saw a blue minivan and a white convertible.
“For starters, it feels like a safe place to stop.” He glanced around. “Easy to see people coming and going—and the sheriff’s department is right across the street.”
Mallory nodded. “Good point.”
“I figure if someone’s following us, they won’t feel that comfortable around here.”
“Makes sense.” She looked over to the sheriff’s department, remembering how she used to enjoy visiting there as a girl. But with deputies like Trent on the force, she wasn’t so sure.
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