As Chloe unfolded the bulky paper, her eyes grew wide. The plastic eyes that had been removed from the jack-in-the-box were glued to the white page, with only three words written below in the same scrawl as the package.
“I’m watching you,” Chloe read, holding the paper out to Savannah. “Well, this just took a creepy turn.”
Savannah scoffed. “I know there are plenty of people who don’t like me. I’m sure someone is having a laugh at my expense. It’s nothing,” she said, though she knew her voice lacked conviction, and she hated the feeling of being out of control.
“I don’t think you should ignore this, Savannah. We should do something.”
“And what do you suggest we do? Plan a stakeout? Rig a booby trap?”
Chloe ignored her sarcasm. “I think we should call the chief.”
Savannah would rather eat pasta with a thumbtack. “We will do no such thing. That woman is an imbecile. I’d have better luck with a stakeout.”
“Certainly no disrespect, but Micki’s actually quite good at her job. I know you two have had your differences, but—”
Savannah interrupted with a well-placed “Ha!” a tad louder than she had meant to.
Again, Chloe ignored her. “But she has experience with this kind of thing. I mean, she was basically a private eye before coming to Winter Valley. And what does a private eye do for a living? They stalk people professionally. So, I’m sure she knows what to look for in a stalking case.”
“Chloe.” Savannah wasn’t about to let this become something more than a stupid prank. She refused to give a foolish jokester that type of credence. “Please do not refer to this as stalking. Someone is trying to scare me. That’s all. And it won’t work, I assure you.” She flipped her hair and straightened her back, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.
“Can we just run it by her? Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’ll think it’s nothing.” Chloe stared at the creepy toy with distaste. “I just think we’re better safe than sorry on this one.”
“While I appreciate your concern, Chloe, there is no ‘we’ in this situation. I’m a grown woman, and I can handle this on my own. Please dispose of this,” Savannah said in disgust, motioning toward the jack-in-the-box.
At Savannah’s nod, Chloe took the offending items in her arms and closed Savannah’s door behind her.
Savannah let out a deep sigh once Chloe had finally left the office. She rationalized that what she had said was true—she did have a fair number of people who disliked her, even if it was on a surface level. Mostly disgruntled politicians, scorned employees, and others who just didn’t care for her. Savannah didn’t care about that; she never had. Winter Valley was where she had finally hung her hat, but before she had settled in the small town to raise her daughter, she’d worked in political positions throughout New England, and she’d been damn good at it. She’d worked hard to get to where she was. And she didn’t do it by being soft. Her obligations in this world didn’t include coddling others. She was blunt; she was direct; she was straightforward. She was fair. Most of the time.
As much as it pained her to admit it, this latest gift was more than a little unsettling. The flowers and candy and other assorted gifts were just silliness. She paid no attention to those things. But this one…this one had a message. And Savannah didn’t appreciate it.
* * *
Oblivious to the world around her, Micki weeded through the folder of parking tickets, one of the most lucrative violations in the town. Somehow, it seemed fitting that the majority of the tickets came from restricted spaces in front of Town Hall. She startled when a box was unceremoniously dumped onto her yellowed blotter.
“Chloe! What the hell? What is all this?” Micki asked, moving her cup of coffee to the other side of the mess.
“I’m here on the down-low, Mick. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Anyone meaning a certain brunette? About yea tall? Generally unpleasant?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
Micki sighed. “So, what is all this?” She poked at the jack-in-the-box with a pencil, grimacing.
“First of all, I know Savannah acts like she has control over everything and everyone, but this is not one of those things. I can’t ignore the pit in my stomach. I mean, I thought it was a little odd for someone to send the town manager this stuff, but this is like something out of a horror movie.” Chloe pursed her lips.
“Whoa, slow down. What’s been happening?”
“Savannah’s been getting…gifts, I guess, over the last few weeks. They weren’t obvious at first. Someone left a peach on her desk with a smiley face sticker on it. Of course, she immediately threw it in the trash. There was a basket of cookies with a ribbon tied around it. Again, right in the trash, but that could have been anyone. One of the new planning board members she hired, trying to suck up. We don’t have the office locked up all the time, and I’m not always at my desk, so really, anyone. Then there was this pen and pencil set. This week, she received the flowers and a box of candy. Then today, this.” Chloe curled her lip as she pointed to the damaged toy.
Micki frowned. “Yeah, this is weird. This isn’t normal secret admirer behavior, if there even is such a thing. In this day and age, that sort of attention isn’t usually welcome. But this…thing…has threat written all over it.”
“There was a note, too.” Chloe handed it to her.
Micki’s eyes widened. “Oh, okay, yeah. She’s being stalked.”
“She doesn’t like that word.”
Micki looked up. “What? What do you mean?”
“She thinks it’s someone just trying to have some fun at her expense. She doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and when I suggested calling the police, she was adamant that she didn’t want to.”
“Of course she was.” Micki bit her lip distractedly. “This only happens at her office?”
“As far as I know, yes. She hasn’t mentioned anything about packages being left at her house, thankfully. Especially with Eliana there.”
“Eliana. Yeah, she needs to take this seriously. I’ll talk to her,” Micki said, lifting a wilted rose with an ancient letter opener. Eliana, Savannah’s seven-year-old daughter, was one of the coolest kids Micki had ever met. She loved to talk about comic books and video games and 80s movies. Strange that a child so easygoing could have been raised by a woman with the warmth of an iceberg in January.
“So, did you miss the part where I said you couldn’t tell anyone?”
“How I am I supposed to investigate this if the subject doesn’t know that I’m investigating? I have questions!”
“She’ll kill me! Maybe not kill me but definitely fire me! I love this job,” Chloe pleaded, clasping her hands together. “I’m on thin ice half the time anyway, but it’s so much better than driving an hour each way into the city. Can’t you just, you know, watch the building but not say anything?”
“So, basically stalk her to see who is stalking her, is what you’re saying.”
Chloe raised her hands. “Come on, Micki. What if it really is nothing? She’ll be so pissed at me.”
“It’s not nothing. Even if it is someone who doesn’t mean her physical harm, this still falls squarely into suspiciously threatening territory.” At Chloe’s crestfallen expression, Micki conceded. “I’ll keep an eye on the office tonight, okay? I won’t say anything. Yet.”
“Thank you!” Chloe leaned in and hugged her. “I don’t want her hurt, obviously, but I also don’t want to get canned.”
“I get it. Do the two of you get along now? I thought she was bitchy to you, too.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever be best buddies or anything, but I’ve seen flashes of humanity in there, I promise. She even has a sense of humor, if you can believe it. Dry and biting, but it exists. She’s snide and derisive and crusty, but yeah, I guess I sort of like her now. When we’re talking about her daughter or about the town, she comes off like a real person. Borderline caring and understanding. For real,
” Chloe said.
Micki realized she must have looked like a caricature of disbelief. “That’s certainly news to me. But okay, go back to work. I’ll deal with this,” Micki said, motioning to her door. She snapped on a rubber glove and began to inspect the jack-in-the-box.
She frowned, looking at the evidence as a whole. It had started out innocently enough, with small tokens of affection. But then this. Was it because they hadn’t gotten a response with the other items? Micki didn’t necessarily like Savannah, but she didn’t wish her ill either. She’d worked a few stalking cases as a PI in Providence, and in her experience, it was never simply misguided emotions. There was always more to it than that. And it was never good.
Working on something a little meatier than an illicit Rollerblader in Dr. Marvin’s parking lot was exhilarating, but Micki almost felt as if she was out of practice. She quickly scanned her mind for the very few citizens of Winter Valley who frequented the lone jail cell, but none of them seemed likely. This was too personal.
Micki thought back to her last case in Providence, where she’d exposed a woman blackmailing her ex-husband for thousands of dollars a week. He’d been involved in an elaborate money laundering operation, and both of them were looking at serious jail time. Micki remembered the adrenaline, the fast pace of her legwork, the information forming a perfect puzzle. Did she miss it? Maybe a little. Would she go back? Not a chance.
The head of the toy creaked back and forth on its hinges while Micki examined the bottom for any identifying marks.
* * *
Savannah stood at her full-length window, her dark-rimmed glasses dangling from her index finger. She was still bothered by the “present” she had made light of in front of Chloe earlier. If she hadn’t fostered such an adversarial relationship with Deputy Chief Mackenzie Blake, she would have brought the box straight down to the station. But she didn’t feel as if she could. Maybe there were times when she could have eased up on Chief Blake, but she had waltzed into town with her sweet nature and easygoing attitude, and it set Savannah on edge from the moment they met. She just didn’t trust that anyone could be that genuine. Those people didn’t exist. Everyone had an agenda, and although Micki hadn’t shown hers yet, she’d turn out to be like everyone else. Even so, Savannah knew that Mackenzie would take the situation seriously if she brought it to her and look into it, but then Savannah would be at her mercy. She would appear weak. And that was something Savannah simply refused to do.
Savannah rejected any notion that her demand for order and control stemmed from anything other than her own self-confidence. And it had paid off. Her career was on track, the town was at ease, and her daughter was everything she could have hoped for. Savannah cast a glance at the framed photo of her daughter on her desk, Eliana about three years old and drinking from a garden hose. She smiled softly at the memory. Savannah vowed to make sure Eliana never questioned her own self-worth. She was enough. She would always be enough.
People walked back and forth beneath her window. The tiny town of 1,433 people at last count felt even more claustrophobic than usual. Savannah didn’t see anything out of the ordinary or anyone who looked suspicious. She liked to think she’d honed her skills for spotting those who were sly or devious. She’d started wide-eyed and filled with excitement when she began her congressional internship after college, but the game had left her jaded and cynical over the years. Her first run for city council, in a midsize city in central Massachusetts, had given her a taste of the cutthroat nature of people. Savannah had been painted as a naïve little rich girl who would only work for the upper-class neighborhoods, who was only interested in helping the elite. She’d been shocked and angry, but she didn’t know how to combat the lies. She’d lost that election by a wide margin. That night, surrounded by a cockeyed banner that read “Savannah for Southbridge” and what supporters she had left, Savannah decided the only way to win was to strike first. Always strike first. She sighed and sat back down at her desk, determined not to let a game of cat and mouse rattle her. Since the phantom toying with her didn’t have a physical form yet, she had no one she could strike first. She’d just have to ignore them and hope they’d go away.
Chapter Four
The windowsill hadn’t been cleaned in…maybe never. Micki grabbed a wad of toilet paper and grimaced at the smear of dirt and dead bugs as she dropped it into the wastebasket. She looked across the alleyway that separated the town hall from the police station and raised her binoculars. It was a limited vantage point, but she had a decent view of the front and side of the building. Savannah’s Infiniti was parked in its usual reserved spot, a tiny orange cone placed on either side of the painted lines. Micki rolled her eyes.
The first time Micki saw Savannah Castillo, after dropping off some paperwork for the town council soon after she got to Winter Valley, she was exiting the elevator in the freshly painted town hall building. Micki’s breath had caught in her throat.
Savannah had sauntered past her, owning the air around her. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair flipped up slightly at the ends, her expensive, form-fitting black dress screamed class, and her shiny pumps accentuated perfect calves of rich bronze. Micki was fairly certain she had given Savannah a cartoony, wide-eyed once-over, which resulted in an immediate blush. She had tried to look away but found she couldn’t.
Things only continued to escalate from there.
“Can I help you?” Savannah had asked, sounding amused.
“No!” Micki had answered, much too quickly. “Definitely not. All set here.”
“Mmm.” Savannah had adjusted her sunglasses before heading toward the front door. “It’s a Valentino.”
“What?”
“My dress. You seemed to be staring, so I assumed you were interested in the designer?”
Micki nodded furiously, her face flushing hot. “Yes, thank you. I’ll write that down. Do you happen to have, um, a piece of paper? Or maybe a pen?” She’d looked toward the reception desk. When she turned back toward Savannah, she saw only the back of her through the glass of the revolving door. Micki looked down at her own outfit, a faded Red Sox T-shirt, ripped jeans, and her comfy Crocs sandals. She closed her eyes in embarrassment. There was no way that woman thought Micki was interested in the designer of her dress.
Nope.
That was probably the height of their relationship and one of the only encounters that hadn’t ended in ugliness. Micki wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew why Savannah didn’t like her or at least what had set her off in that direction. Micki hadn’t realized that voicing her opinion at a town meeting would turn into a grudge-laden feud with one of the most powerful women in the town. Otherwise, she might have just kept her opinion to herself.
When Savannah had purchased a landmark building right after Micki joined the police force, one member of the board had wanted to launch an investigation into the legality of Savannah’s real estate acquisition. Micki had supported the opposition to Savannah’s team tearing down the Winter Valley Quilt Museum to make way for a car dealership. She felt it would detract from the small-town feel that most people seemed to love so much.
Savannah’s lawyers were able to make the whole thing go away before an investigation could even get off the ground. There was no evidence of any wrongdoing, and she was able to move forward with the purchase. Savannah and her team had decided to leave the museum intact.
So, what was the problem? Micki’s assumption was that that would be the end of it. She didn’t see any particular reason that they couldn’t just let bygones be bygones and move forward professionally.
Savannah provided her with reasons. Many, many reasons. Jack had warned Micki about voicing opposition to the TM, as embarrassing her in a public forum was a surefire way to make a lifelong enemy out of her. He’d suggested that she speak with the mayor privately, but Micki had brushed him off. Savannah was a big girl, and she could surely understand that people had differing opinions. Apparently, Jack had been right. It was all in the deli
very.
Savannah’s wrath persisted when the former police chief retired and the town council appointed Micki to the position. Savannah had backed the résumé she’d received from a candidate from Manchester for the position. He was a decorated police officer with years of service behind him. Micki could understand why Savannah had been apprehensive about Micki taking the position, but she didn’t know why Savannah seemed to have taken it so personally. Sure, she’d only been a police officer in town for a short time, but it wasn’t her first foray into law enforcement. And in a town the size of Winter Valley, there wasn’t a whole lot of crime to deal with. Besides, she was good at her job. Everyone knew it. Except Savannah Castillo.
Micki didn’t understand all the politics that went on behind the scenes, and she sincerely didn’t want to. She’d been sure that Savannah would somehow veto her appointment, but for whatever reason, that hadn’t happened. Maybe she didn’t have the authority. But she sure liked to make it seem as if Micki owed her a debt of gratitude every time she sat down at her desk.
Savannah had made it a point to attend all town council meetings regardless of the minutia of the agenda or the necessity of her presence. She continually made counterpoints to everything Micki suggested and corrected her at the slightest misstep. Attendance skyrocketed when word got out that Savannah routinely tried to embarrass the new police chief. It became something of an event. Word on the street was that she viewed it as payback for the failed real estate venture and being overridden in the chief appointment. Things had always seemed to go Savannah’s way before Micki had come to town.
Earlier that fall, Micki had suggested a carnival in town to raise money for flood victims after a terrible storm in the south.
Secrets in a Small Town Page 2