by Kait Nolan
“Me?” Her voice shot up another half an octave in outrage.
“Yes. I’ll be questioning all staff about anyone they’ve had trouble with lately.”
Mitzi’s shoulders dropped and Autumn could practically see her feathers smoothing out. “Fine. I’ll be in my office.”
As she walked on into the library proper, Autumn mouthed, Thank you.
Judd just double tapped his chest in their signal for Got your back. “Go get some work done, if you can.”
There was work. There was always work. Books to reshelve, requests to process. She fumbled her way through it, distracted, as Judd went upstairs to Mitzi’s office and Brody began to bring stuff in from his truck.
He worked fast. He’d already put down a drop cloth and managed to get the obscenities covered with primer before the library officially opened for the day at nine-thirty. It didn’t stop the talking among the early birds. This kind of vandalism just didn’t happen in Wishful, and that meant it was big news. But at least nobody would have the chance to post pictures on the town social media pages.
After questioning Mitzi, Judd stopped by the circulation desk. “I’m heading over to the station for that interview. I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything out.”
Autumn blew out a breath. “I’ll be here.” Assuming Mitzi didn’t get a wild hair to fire her.
“Oh, one last question before I go. I was gonna ask earlier, but we got derailed by all of this. You didn’t happen to have any bottles of Evan Williams bourbon in your apartment, did you?”
“What? No. You know I can’t stand the smell of it. It’s what my father always…” She trailed off as she realized what he was saying. “You found some in the rubble?”
“Yeah. Charlie’s gotta run some more tests, but he reckons that was the accelerant used. It’s not enough on its own to pin your father, but it’s another piece.”
And Judd would, she knew, keep searching them out, stacking them up, until he had enough for a conviction. So she’d trust him to do the job he’d prepared for his entire life.
Eyes wide, Livia came around the desk, dumping her purse in a drawer. “Girl…what happened?”
Judd straightened. “I’m gonna let y’all get to it.”
Reaching out, Autumn caught his hand and squeezed. “Don’t let him get to you.” As much as Jebediah knew how to manipulate her, he was also perfectly aware that she was Judd’s soft spot. If he saw a way to use that, he probably would.
Judd squeezed back. “I’ve got this.”
A constant stream of patrons meant Autumn didn’t get a chance to tell Livia more than that they’d been vandalized before she got caught up in morning story time. People had heard she was back at work and the gossip hungry wanted to come by and get the scoop on what was going on. Many expressed their sincere condolences about the fire, which she appreciated, but more than a few just wanted an in on news of the investigation. That there was still evidence of library vandalism just added fuel to the gossip fires. Every new face wound her up tighter. She kept waiting for someone to ask about her father. So far, his release had been kept out of the media, but it was only a matter of time before someone saw him and word got out.
The reporters would come. How could they not? The original story had been so juicy, so sensational, and the day he was released, her house was burned to the ground? They’d spin the whole thing as a revenge plot—which wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. And if her alter ego came out, the press would have a field day Romeo and Julieting Judd and her as they had fourteen years before. If they hadn’t so heavily played that angle, would he have reconsidered wanting to be with her before now?
A familiar, lanky form stepped in from the lobby and Autumn tensed. She’d never again be able to see Mark Caulfield without thinking about the moment of confession he’d ruined. Over in the children’s section, Livia was wrapping up story time, but it would take a bit for her to shake loose. There’d be no backup. But maybe he wouldn’t linger. By the time he made his way around the stacks and over to the desk, she’d found a politely neutral expression.
“You forgot your inter-library loan books the other day.”
“Yeah. I came back to pick them up.” His gaze bounced around, not quite able to settle on her face. “I…um…read about the fire in the paper. I…it seems stupid to ask if you’re okay, but I just…I wanted to check on you.”
She softened a little. He meant well, in his weird, awkward way. “Thanks. That’s really sweet of you. I wasn’t at home when it happened, so I was lucky there. Everything else is just stuff, right?”
It wasn’t just stuff. There’d been so many irreplaceable memories lost. But it seemed ungrateful to focus on that in the moment, and she didn’t want to be an object of pity.
Mark shoved his glasses up his nose and seemed to finally get up the guts to look her in the eye. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just name it.”
Autumn grabbed his stack of books. “I appreciate it, Mark. If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.” She shoved the books across the counter.
He ran his fingers around the edges, straightening the stack. A slip of paper stuck out of one of the volumes. Mark tugged it out, opening it to skim the text written there. His face went scarlet, all the way up to the tips of his ears.
“Uh…is this some kind of a message?”
Frowning, Autumn held out her hand for the paper and read it herself.
Cooper’s voice was low and rough. “What do you want, Lilah?”
“What I’ve always wanted.” She took his cock in her hand, stroking a thumb over the silky steel of him until he groaned. “You. I want you.”
Her head swam as the blood drained out and came flooding back into her cheeks. This was part a love scene from Forged In Blood. And God, it had been spelled out. Both her names and the title, right there for anyone to see.
“I…this is…I didn’t do this,” she stammered.
Panicked, she looked toward the children’s section. Story time was finished. Livia caught sight of her face and immediately began heading for the desk amid the stream of parents and kids with their stacks of checkouts.
“What’s wrong?”
Wordlessly, Autumn just handed over the paper.
Livia’s eyes widened, and somewhere on the other side of the desk, a child’s voice asked, “Mommy, what’s a cock?”
Chapter 10
Judd took his time getting back to the station, making a detour to talk with Tyler. The red paint hadn’t come from Edison Hardware, which meant it had been purchased out of town or by someone else well prior to Jebediah’s release from prison.
How much planning had gone into this? Her father would have needed to find out where she worked—not that difficult to guess when the library had been one of her safe spaces growing up. Books had always been her escape, so that in and of itself wasn’t a stretch to imagine. But knowing her pen name? That was the part that made no sense. How would Jebediah have found that out in prison when Judd himself hadn’t known as part of her everyday life?
In the back of his mind, he could admit to a little hurt over that. Why hadn’t Autumn trusted him? How could she possibly believe he wouldn’t support her in this? He’d been her biggest cheerleader all their lives. And, hell, it was a relief to know she had something else to fall back on if things as the library continued to worsen. But his hurt could take a backseat to the rest.
The fact was, outing her like this was exactly the kind of psychological warfare Jebediah had specialized in. It made him seem all knowing, all seeing, as if she had no escape. As if he knew all about her perceived “sins.” So much of her childhood had been spent in anticipation of what innocuous thing he’d punish her for next in the name of his twisted religion. She’d come so far since then, but Judd had seen her face at the sight of those words scrawled on the wall. Neither of them had forgotten the hatred he’d spewed as he’d been hauled out of the courtroom after his conviction. This would set her back. And the bastard do
ing it at the library had violated yet another safe space for her. She wouldn’t be able to walk in there again without being aware that her father knew exactly where she was. She’d wonder, all day, every day, whether he’d show up and what he’d do when he did.
Judd’s blood was at a steady boil by the time he shoved through the doors of Wishful PD. “Report.”
Darius fell into step beside him. “Buchanan is in interrogation.”
“What’s his attitude?”
“Annoyed but cooperative.”
“Let him stew a while longer.” It was an unabashed power play, but it also gave Judd a chance to gather more information. “Is the rookie back?”
While Darius had hauled Jebediah in for questioning, Corbett Raines had been tasked with reviewing security footage for the motel.
The kid emerged from the back. “Here, Chief.”
The title still gave Judd a little hitch but he’d take the clout that went with it. “What did you find?”
“The suspect’s car didn’t move all night, and he didn’t leave his room, except once to get ice.”
“Was he in frame the whole time?”
“No. There was a four-minute window where he was off screen.”
“Not long enough to get to the library and back, but maybe long enough to meet with somebody,” Judd mused.
“Who?” Corbett asked.
“Maybe nobody. Maybe the same somebody who did the actual legwork to torch Autumn’s apartment. The fact is, he didn’t do this himself. Even if he didn’t have physical limitations because of his illness, he’s too smart to be this direct. He knows I’ve got my eye on him, just waiting for him to fuck up in any possible way that violates his parole. So he has to have help. The question is who?”
“Somebody he did time with?” Darius suggested.
“Maybe. Maybe somebody he knew from before. Corbett, dig back in our records and see what you can find about his former associates. Maybe he’s looking to reconnect with some people. Darius, contact Parchman and get records of all visitors, phone calls, emails, and mail he had for his entire incarceration.”
One dark brow winged up. “That’s potentially a lot of records. I don’t reckon they’re gonna get back to us with that information fast.”
“Probably not, but it’s an angle. Do what you can. Also, compile a list of any former inmates in town who served time at Parchman while Buchanan was there.”
“You got it.”
The door opened again and Tyrell Weller strode in. “We already doing this again?”
“Looks like,” Judd said equably.
“What is it this time?”
“Vandalism at the library. More harassment of his daughter.”
“Surely, he wouldn’t be that dumb.”
“Oh, he’s not. Not directly. I know he wasn’t the one who physically did the deed, same as the fire. But somebody’s had eyes on Autumn for him, reporting back. I don’t for a minute believe he isn’t behind all of it.”
Tyrell looked skeptical. “You sure about that?”
“Tell me something. Why is he here? Why, when he got out of prison, didn’t he go to Lawley or Jackson or the coast or anywhere in the state where people didn’t know his name, didn’t know what he did? He’s gonna have a helluva time finding anybody willing to hire him here to do anything.”
“He insisted he needed to come back to Wishful.”
“Exactly. Because here he gets a front row seat to the destruction of his daughter’s sense of safety. I think it’s mighty damned coincidental that the day he gets out of prison, her house burns down. And the day after that, her place of work is vandalized in a way that directly points to the threat he made when he was hauled off to prison. He always used to get a power trip out of controlling and manipulating her. That hasn’t changed. He’s just having to go about it less directly. Give me enough time, and I’ll find the evidence to back up my gut.”
Tyrell lifted a hand in acquiescence. “All right.”
“You want to sit in on the interrogation?”
“Sure.”
Jebediah looked up from where he sat in one of the folding chairs, arms crossed, a scowl firmly in place. “Is this really how we’re going to do this? You’re going to keep coming up with excuses to bring me in and harass me?”
“Well now, that’s gonna be up to you. If you stop finding ways to harass your daughter, we can work our way toward live and let live.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe this will refresh your memory.” Judd pulled the evidence bag with Autumn’s picture in it out of a folder and put it on the table between them. “Oh but you wouldn’t have seen the full effect.” He added a picture of the entire graffitied wall and watched Jebediah’s face.
The older man’s eyes narrowed, but there was no flicker of approval, no hint of a smile or recognition. “I didn’t do this.”
“Oh, I know. But see, all that shit painted on the wall sounds a helluva lot like you, don’t you think? It was one of your favorite things to call her when we were growing up.”
“Doesn’t mean anything.”
“See, I disagree. I think it means you’ve found somebody to do your dirty work for you. Just so you can remind Autumn you’re out and could show up at any time.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you want control over her. You always did. That got taken away from you fourteen years ago and you want it back.”
“I was a sick man.”
“Oh? Is that what you’re telling yourself? It was sickness that made you beat your wife and daughter? Sickness that had you going after her with a gun to keep her from leaving you, too?” Judd had meant to keep his tone bland and uninterested, but by the end he was growling.
Jebediah’s eyes flared with something. Temper? Triumph? It was gone before Judd could read him.
“I’ve been rehabilitated. The state says so.”
“No. The state says you’re old and sick and less likely to cause problems than a lot of other offenders that need to be locked up more than you. But I know better, and I won’t underestimate you.”
“You’re starting to sound like a broken record, Chief. Maybe if you made a recording of all your threats, I could listen to it on a daily basis and save us both some time.”
“Oh, but why wouldn’t I want to make sure you run out of yours?”
Jebediah looked to Tyrell. “Are you hearing this? For all we know, he’s doing this stuff himself in the name of framing me.”
Even as the insult whipped through him, Judd snorted. “Oh, you can be sure that if I were unethical enough to try to frame you for something, it wouldn’t be with all this circumstantial bullshit. You’d be caught, ironclad, and we wouldn’t be having these conversations.”
The phone in Judd’s pocket vibrated. He pulled it out to find a text from Autumn.
We were wrong. There’s more. I need you. She followed it up with a GIF of a dumpster fire.
That sure as hell wasn’t good. What had he missed on his search through the library this morning?
Shoving the phone back into his pocket, Judd rose, gathering the evidence. “You’re free to go, for now. Be looking out for one of my officers to serve a restraining order in the next couple of days.” It would take time to get the permanent one in place, but he’d get it done, if he had to corner Judge Carpenter himself.
Without a backward glance, he strode out of the room and went to see what shape the next phase of this shit show of a day would take.
“We’re going to have to go through every book,” Autumn hissed, frantically pulling children’s books off the shelf in front of her and shaking each one to check for loose paper. They’d found half a dozen already.
“It’ll be okay. We’ll get it done. Riley will come help after work. As long as nobody tells—”
“Autumn!” Mitzi’s shriek cut through the hushed atmosphere like a serrated blade.
Autumn squeezed her eyes shut
. “Too late.” Praying for some fortitude and a miracle, she replaced the book in her hand and pivoted to face the library director. “Yes, ma’am?”
Mitzi held a sheet of paper in her hand. The pinched expression and vaguely puce shade of her face was confirmation enough of what it was. “What is the meaning of this?”
What the hell could Autumn even say? I can explain. She couldn’t. Not really. The idea of spilling out her personal business, trying to tell her boss how her father was determined to ruin her life, made her vaguely ill.
“I don’t know. Someone is playing a very not funny prank.”
“Someone? It’s your name on these.”
“I—”
“Excuse me.” Liza Keeney smiled, a sheet of paper in her own hand. “I just wondered if y’all had this book available for checkout?”
Under other circumstances, Autumn might have laughed at the choked noise coming from her boss. But there was nothing at all funny about the current situation. “No. I’m afraid not.”
“Where can I find it?”
Did people not understand how to privately google titles or search on Amazon? Autumn swallowed. “Any online ebook retailer.”
Liza grinned. “Can’t wait. I can’t believe I know an author.” She gave a happy bounce as she strode away.
Mitzi waved the paper. “These don’t just have your name on them. You wrote them.” She said it as if writing romance was akin to sowing seeds of the worst kind of sedition. To someone like Mitzi, it probably was.
Sick of the moralistic judgment, Autumn squared her shoulders. “They are excerpts from books I wrote, yes. But I did not do this.”
Mitzi’s gaze fell to the small stack at Autumn’s feet and went back to the books. Her voice dropped dangerously low. “These are in the children’s section?”
“Apparently. Livia and I are taking care of it.”
Her nostrils flared. “In my office. Now!”
“With all due respect, we need to finish going through—”
“Now!”
Wonderful. I’ve lost my home, and now I’m probably going to lose my job.