Wild Blue Mysteries Boxed Set

by Diane Bator

  Her mouth went dry. “Roger said they were family heirlooms, but I’ve never seen any of them before. Whatever they are, he emptied all my dresser drawers to find them and was ready to hurt me. If Tanji hadn’t honked the horn and distracted him...” She took a bracing breath and leaned on the coffee table. “Do you think he could be a cat burglar or something?”

  Clancy leaned over to examine the pieces inside the bags without touching them. “You think he got these from somewhere other than family members?”

  “I’ve done some research. I’ve seen these pieces on a website.” When she paused, he glanced up. “A police website.”

  He blew out a long, slow breath. “Part of an ongoing case? How’d you manage that?”

  “They were in an alert. Stolen pieces for pawn brokers to watch for.” Lucy hoped she didn’t sound insane. “The case is one my husband has ties to.”

  “Which case is that?” He met her gaze.

  Lucy’s chin quivered. “The serial killer who murdered all those women.”

  Clancy closed his eyes for a heartbeat then pulled out his cell phone. “Do you mind if I take a few pictures?”

  “I already took some. I even printed some off so I could match them up to the websites and be sure.” She went to the kitchen and grabbed her phone then let him scroll through her pictures.

  “These are good.” He smiled. “Can I forward them to my phone? I’ll give you my cell number at the same time in case you need anything.”

  “Like some help with Roger when he comes back, which won’t be until the weekend.” She shrugged. “He took the kids to his parents’ cottage and will be too busy showing off for Tanji to bother with me.”

  He blew out a long breath. “I have a couple friends who can help with these. One is a cop in Newville. I’ll send him the photos to check out. He may want you to bring them in.”

  “I don’t have a car.” She fought the urge to hand over the shaving kit and all its contents just to get them out of her house. Out of her possession. As far away from her as possible.

  “If my friend’s interested, he may come pick them up in person. Hopefully before Roger returns.” He sat back. “If they are significant, I can’t see your husband leaving them with you for long. He may be afraid you’ll sell them or turn them over to police.”

  “Unless he’s using them to frame me.” Lucy slid her arms across her stomach. “Maybe he’s counting on me being too afraid to do anything until he brings the kids home. He could easily tell the police he found them in my sock drawer.”

  He bowed his head and typed a message into his phone. “Put these somewhere safe for now. I’ll check with my friends and get in touch with you as soon as I hear anything. In the meantime, we should change the locks on your doors and add a security chain.”

  Her heart raced. “Do you think Roger would come all the way back here to get them?”

  Clancy raised his eyebrows. “He has Tanji and the kids. Would he risk everything?”

  “He could. It would be possible for him to sneak out late at night, drive here, take the jewelry, and be back at the cottage before anyone misses him. I wouldn’t put it past him.” Lucy shivered. Her stomach churned with the sudden urge to vomit as she stared at the little bags on the table. “You don’t even know Roger, do you?”

  He stood and averted his gaze. “We can’t have that conversation just yet. I’ll get you a new door lock and have my friends get in touch with you. For now, hide those and don’t tell anyone you have them. Especially Roger.”

  When he left her house and exited the backyard, Clancy’s strange words unnerved her. Why would a private detective befriend her only to abandon her?

  That wasn’t totally true.

  She returned to her computer desk and pulled out a file folder she’d shoved pictures and articles into earlier. “We can’t have that conversation just yet” was what Clancy had said. Even his friends knew more about her life than she did. Of course, one of those friends was a cop. Was he one of the detectives looking for Cora Lee’s killer?

  Lucy’s hands shook. Clancy would look after the jewelry. She simply had to act as caretaker until his friends contacted her. Roger was so quick to brush off her concerns about Cora’s death, yet he knew all the murdered women and now Lucy had proof. The business cards and the jewelry in the shaving kit. He was well known in the community and always at various functions. Was that how he’d met them all?

  Lucy mistyped her husband’s name into Google four times. If Roger had killed those women, why hadn’t he killed her before he took the kids? Or was part of his plan to get the kids out of the way? Lucy paced the house and tried to force her mind in a whole new direction, but the walls seemed to close in. Overwhelmed, she sat cross-legged on the floor, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths until her heart stopped racing and her hands stopped shaking.

  When she opened her eyes, her gaze fell on the stack of resumes she still hadn’t dropped off. One glance at the calendar, reminded her she was due at her lawyer’s office at eleven-thirty, which gave her less than an hour to get ready and walk there.

  After a fast shower, she dressed in black slacks and a colorful blouse then returned to her desk to stick her resumes into a folder then grab the folder where she kept everything relating to her divorce. As she rifled through desk, she shoved some papers aside and found handful of change at the bottom of the drawer. This was a good day to hand out resumes after her appointment then sit in Java Jo’s and forced herself to write. She picked up a fresh notebook then ran out the door.

  Twenty minutes later, she sat in Ross J. Schultz’s office and listened as he droned on about her recourses against Roger. She had no money to sue for back child support. She could file for divorce citing his affair as the reason, but no money. Her shoulders slumped a little more with each word he uttered. The most coherent thought she had was she needed both a new lawyer and a lottery win.

  “I’m not sure what you want me to do, Lucy.” Ross shook his head and shuffled the papers on his desk. “He has every right to take the kids on vacation.”

  She dabbed tears from her eyes. “It’s not the vacation I’m worried about. What if he doesn’t bring them home? Should I call the police? Should I track him down on my own? Should I sue for sole custody?”

  Ross hesitated, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “How long have they been gone?”

  “Since Sunday evening.” She bowed her head.

  He let out a loud sigh and ran a hand through his graying hair. He’d probably put his ex-wife through the same kind of hell and had little sympathy. “From where I sit, you still have a few child-free days to enjoy. Wouldn’t you rather spend them not driving yourself crazy?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Ross looked down his nose toward her. “But you have a gut feeling something’s wrong since you haven’t heard from them and no one answers your calls.”

  The clock on his mahogany bookshelf chimed. Her time was up. She blinked back a fresh batch of tears. “Yeah.”

  “Honey, the man is divorcing you. Of course he won’t take your calls. If I had a quarter for every mother who freaked out when hubby took the kids out of town for a day or two, I’d be retired and living in Fiji.” Considering his fees, he probably already could. “Look, Lucy, get a bottle of wine and have a little fun. If you don’t hear from them by Sunday, come see me first thing Monday morning.”

  “That’s it?” Her mouth dropped open. “What if there’s been an accident? What if he’s taken them out of the country?”

  Ross raised his eyebrows and stood up. “Do they have passports? Because unless he has passports for them, I’d say you’re pretty safe. Good-bye, Lucy. Enjoy your vacation from the kids.” He dismissed her with a slight wave of his hand. “Now, if you don’t mind, I do have another client.”

  She left the law office, her head bowed like she was one of the dregs of society he occasionally defended. Defeated, she pushed through the front door into the hot summer day. Her lawyer
was right about one thing. If she continued to let negative thoughts take over, she’d be a basket case before the week ended. So much for Happily Ever After.

  Tears filled her eyes as she stood on the concrete stairs in front of the office and took a deep breath. Breathing hot, humid air was like trying to suck Jell-O up her nose, which she knew for a fact since she’d tried the stunt as a kid. Dumb as a rock, she’d taken her sister’s dare and choked.

  Now Roger issued the dares. He’d ordered her to sell the house and dared her to fight back. Even he was smart enough to realize she’d fight to protect her kids and keep a roof over their heads. So why was she rolling over and letting him win?

  Lucy scowled and lifted her chin. She needed to fight back. Roger Stephens might have her down, but no way he’d count her out. While her kids were away, she needed to revamp her attitude, scour the newspapers, and pound the pavement to find a job. She’d figure out how to juggle work and childcare and still write later.

  Her mind whirled with possibilities as she took a step down. An instant later, she lay on her back on the cement with a throbbing ankle. Apparently, her ankle was the one part of her body that missed the memo about toughening up and taking on the world.

  “Of course, I fell.” She gritted her teeth and hoped no one saw her on the ground. “Why would anything go right this week?”

  “Are you okay?” A man with incredible blue eyes and black hair hovered over her, his voice as smooth as fresh brewed coffee. He held out a strong, calloused hand to help her up.

  “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” Lucy’s face burned as she accepted his help. She looked down quickly, her eyes probably swollen and red.

  “You don’t sound fine. I think you twisted your ankle.” He reached out a hand to brush dirt off her arm. “Do you want me to call anyone for you? You seem a bit shaken.”

  She a lone tear strayed down her cheek as she dusted off her slacks. “No, I’m okay.”

  Despite the heat, she’d wanted to look semi-professional—or was that normal?—for the lawyer. Fat lot of good that did her. Now there was a rip in one pant leg which would have sent another wave of tears over her cheeks if not for the man in front of her.

  Lucy tried to walk away with her head held high, but her ankle had other ideas. As her ankle gave out, she stumbled and winced at the sharp pain, but kept walking. If she could make the six blocks without collapsing, she could fall apart in a blubbering heap in the privacy of her home without further embarrassment.

  “You’re hurt.” He walked behind her down the sidewalk. “I could give you a ride home.”

  “I’m fine.” The way he flinched, she’d probably sounded angrier than she intended. “It’s been a rough day and I’m going home. My mother warned me about accepting rides from strangers, especially good-looking ones.” She rolled her eyes. What a stupid thing to say. He chuckled in spite of the redness in his face. “You try to do something nice for someone and they slap you in the face. That’s why there are fewer chivalrous men than there used to be.”

  Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insulting. It’s just been a really long week and I’ve got a lot of things to worry about.”

  “Like the knight in shining armor who hurt you? That is why you’re at the lawyer’s office, isn’t it? You’re trying to figure out how to get even with someone.” He flashed a heart-stopping smile and seemed so familiar. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Yeah, I do.” She flared her nostrils and lied, senses on full alert. Heat crawled up from her chest into her cheeks until the heat of the day was nothing compared to the inferno raging beneath her skin. “Why are you following me? Don’t you have anyone else to harass?”

  “Lots of people. I just thought I could get you off your feet before you do more damage in case your ankle is actually sprained or worse.” He held out a hand. “I’m Danny.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need your help. I don’t need anybody’s help.”

  Danny tilted his head. “How about if I call you a cab instead then? I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll walk. It’s not far and the pain’s not so bad. I just twisted it a little. It doesn’t really even hurt.” Lucy hated it when she babbled. What was it she didn’t remember? Was he at the party? He flashed a smile that did nothing to cool her down. “Don’t say I didn’t offer.”

  Her legs wobbled. “I won’t.”

  “Could I at least follow you home to make sure you don’t collapse?” He smiled.

  Panic set in and her eyes widened. “No.”

  He held up both hands. “Okay, don’t freak out on me. I was just trying to help.”

  Lucy walked around him with her gaze on the sidewalk. “My husband’s waiting for me and he won’t be thrilled to see me with another man.”

  He nodded, probably wondering what her problem was. “Then I’ll be on my way. I hope your ankle’s okay.”

  She blew out a long breath. So much for strength and steel, she was about as strong as wilted lettuce. Tired of dealing with men for one day, she simply wanted to get home to immerse herself in the world of her novel where no one could hurt her.

  A half block from her house, a sudden thought occurred and her step faltered. Her stomach dropped like an elevator ride and she glanced around. The man who’d tried to help her in front of the lawyer’s office was the same man who’d walked her home from Clancy’s house in the semi-darkness and sat out in his car for days on end. The stalker, Lucy hobbled to the house, locked the door and returned to her post in front of her computer for the next two hours. For now, the Honda was gone and she was alone on the street. At least there she could keep watch out the front window in case the Honda and its driver returned while she pretended to get her work done.

  She drained the coffee pot and thought about making a fresh pot, but fresh ideas interrupted her good intentions. Her book grew by fifty pages from nervous energy alone. Rather than being a distraction, her night with Clancy altered the course of her book. There was no way she could kill him off the way she’d planned. She needed him, or rather his character.

  When the caffeine high ran out, so did the ideas. Lucy stared out the window and pondered ways to kill her husband, partly because she was writing a murder mystery, mostly because he’d taken the kids and hadn’t called since. Her gaze fell on the phone. Roger used to call her Mother Bear because she was so over-protective. Lately, he gave her good reason.

  She pushed away from the computer and blinked back tears. Her gaze fell to the phone. Still no messages on the answering machine. Still no calls from Roger or the kids. Her dramatic side emerged and she had to get away from her computer before she went crazy. She was grateful for the company when Clancy stopped by around seven to change her locks, but disappointed he left the instant he was done. After scrounging through the freezer for dinner, she took a long, hot bubble bath and collapsed into bed.

  Awakened by strange dreams, Lucy rolled out of bed with the first light of day and ambled into the bathroom. She doubted any sane rooster was even awake yet. After making a pot of coffee, she planned to tackle the chapter she’d avoided the previous night. The mere thought of writing a romantic tryst made her nauseous, but if she faced the story head on with her brain still half asleep the story might come more easily.

  The caffeine made her fidgety, but not inspired. She typed a flurry of meaningless words then stared out the window as the neighborhood awoke. Her victim died a hundred pages ago and the female police officer and her partner were supposed to hunt for the killer while sparks of raw energy surged between them, which wasn’t happening. The house was too still without the moans of awakening kids. Six o’clock was too early to call. They’d be worn out from playing in the lake yesterday. Of course, she might feel less rattled if they’d called when they first arrived at the cottage days ago.

  She shut her eyes and distracted herself with thoughts of her kid
s. The good memories, not the irrational fears she struggled with lately. Things like sitting on the back deck in the morning sunshine with her cup of coffee and muffins, the tiny chocolate chips melting on their fingers and how the kids smeared chocolate all over the table. Other days they’d ride their bikes to the bakery for donuts they’d take to the park for a picnic. Watching cartoons during rainstorms and laughing themselves silly was the highlight of her week.

  Maybe today she’d go for a walk around town to find more inspiration. The twenty copies of her resume sat in a folder still untouched. She’d chickened out of dropping them off after she’d limped away from the stalker. Danny. She gritted her teeth. Today was a whole new day. A good day to put on a brave face and escape the confines of her house. All she had to do was take a shower, put on her running shoes, and head out as soon as the shops opened and hand out every resume in her folder. While life had to change for the better, nothing would happen without her getting off her butt and moving.

  Dilemma solved, she eased her body away from the desk and stretched the kinks from her spine. A massage would feel divine, especially given by the practiced fingers of some handsome hunk. Any handsome hunk would do; she wasn’t picky. Clancy came to mind, more precisely the way he’d touched her in the hot tub. She swallowed hard and huffed not about to be taken in by drunken memories. Okay, yes she was picky. Her kids needed to approve of any hunk she let into her life.

  Outside her bedroom window, Bishop Street lay groggy and quiet in the early morning sun until a black motorcycle roared up to the curb. The rider pulled off his helmet and exposed a long, red ponytail. Clancy loped across his yard toward him as Ponytail Man dismounted his bike. He was taller and broader in the shoulders than Clancy and emitted a vibe he could crush anyone with a pinkie if need be. Ponytail Man seemed to have a lot to say before he handed Clancy a large envelope.

  Lucy shivered and glanced at the clock to make sure she had the time right. She narrowed her eyes, unable to make out his words through the closed window as a thousand questions fluttered through her head. Who was the red-haired man? What did he have to do with Clancy? What was in the envelope? Why wasn’t she taking copious notes?