Chapter Nine
The sound of ringing dragged me out of an intense, weird dream in which Joyce and Stan Boyer were chasing me around their dank, shadowy basement, waving my own pink wrench at me.
As I fumbled for the phone, I tried to adjust my vision to the total darkness of the living room. Where had the sun gone? “Hello?”
“Ms. Hammer, it’s Chief Jensen.”
Was this part of my weird dream? No, pretty sure I was awake. I shook my head back and forth to restart my brain. “Hello, Chief Jensen.”
“Sounds like I woke you up,” he said. Was it my imagination, or did he sound judgmental? “I’m sorry about that. I heard about your trouble yesterday.”
“You did?” So maybe it was my imagination, after all. “I guess I’m still a little sleepy. I took some aspirin a while ago and fell sound asleep.”
“That’s probably a good thing to do after what you’ve been through.”
I felt my way over to the end table and turned on the lamp. Was he being sympathetic? Should I be worried? “How can I help you, Chief Jensen?”
“I was speaking with Mac Sullivan a little while ago.”
“Yes?” Here it comes, I thought, sinking back onto the couch. I was going to get a lecture on wasting the police department’s time and energy. Robbie and Tiger must’ve sensed my unease, because they both jumped up and cuddled next to me.
“Yes. I’d like to come by your place with two of my officers and dust for fingerprints in your garage. I understand that’s where you keep your bicycle.”
“Oh.” I was shocked, although I probably shouldn’t have been. Mac was pretty darn persuasive, after all. Still, this was Police Chief Jensen, not exactly my number-one fan. “Right now?”
“If it’s convenient.”
I brushed my unruly hair back from my face and checked the clock on the mantel. It was only a few minutes past five. The days were getting shorter, the sun setting earlier. In a few weeks daylight saving time would end and it would be even darker by now. “Sure. That would be fine.”
“Good. We can be there in—”
“Oh, wait.” I pressed my hand to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I forgot I have to pick up my truck at the shop in a little while. Can we do it tomorrow?”
He paused for a moment, maybe to check his calendar. “Early morning okay for you?”
I tried to think fast, but it wasn’t easy. “Yes, early is better than late. I usually like to leave the house about eight-thirty, but I’ll be happy to stick around for as long as it takes.”
“We’ll be there at eight.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you need a ride to the auto shop, Ms. Hammer?”
“What?” Was he honestly willing to give me a ride? He was being so nice. Who was this guy? “Um, no. My friend Jane is taking me. But thank you for offering. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Ms. Hammer.”
I sighed. “You should call me Shannon, Chief.”
“I’ll do that,” he said cheerfully. “Take care, Shannon.”
“Thanks, Chief. You do the same.” When he hung up, I stared at my phone for a minute or two, trying to decide if I were still dreaming or not.
? ? ?
Miracle of miracles. When I got home from the auto shop, Wendell Jarvick’s car was gone. I gleefully pulled my truck into the driveway, being careful to leave absolutely no room behind me for another car to park. Wendell would just have to leave his hotshot luxury car out on the street. Bummer for him.
Jane had generously offered to cook dinner for me, but I begged off, knowing I wouldn’t be good company. I just wanted to order a pizza and watch TV in my pajamas.
Since I had to get up early the next morning, I had a few pieces of pizza, most of a small salad, and one measly glass of wine. Soon after that, I turned off the television and crawled upstairs to bed. I doubted the police would find anything incriminating in my garage tomorrow, but I was thrilled that they were at least willing to look. And maybe I was being overly optimistic to think it meant I was no longer a suspect, but I had to believe it was a step in the right direction. And I was pretty sure I had Mac Sullivan to thank for that.
? ? ?
The doorbell rang at eight o’clock sharp the next morning, just as I knew it would. I set down my coffee cup and moved as quickly as I could to open the door. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Chief Jensen said, glancing around. “This is quite a house.”
“Thank you.”
He was smiling, which did wonders for his looks. His blue eyes were streaked with shards of soft gray, and the rays of morning sun had turned the tips of his dark blond hair to gold. Tiny laugh lines gave him more allure than any man deserved and he carried an aura of power that his relaxed smile couldn’t disguise.
What had happened to the dour, suspicious police chief I’d just started getting used to? Never mind. I liked this one better. I just hoped he would stick around.
Robbie came scurrying down the hall to sniff around the newcomer.
“Who’s this?” Chief Jensen asked.
“That’s Rob Roy, but we call him Robbie. He’s very friendly.”
“And good-looking, too,” he said, squatting down to ruffle Robbie’s scruffy white coat and play for a minute. That, naturally, caused me to like him even more than I did a minute ago.
“Do you and your officers want some coffee?” I asked.
“That would be great. Thanks.” He stood and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “They’ve already started working on the surface areas around the garage door.”
I glanced past him, down the driveway. “I’d better unlock the door so they can get inside.”
“That would help. Thanks.”
I grabbed the key and my down vest and followed the porch around to the backyard. Here there were only three steps to descend as opposed to the ten steps out front. I took them carefully, still feeling tender from my short flight off the bike the other day.
“Maybe you can show us where you keep your bicycle.”
“Sure.”
He started to introduce me to the officers, but I stopped him. “That’s okay, Chief. I’ve known these two for years.”
“That’s right,” Mindy said, grinning as she snapped on a pair of thin rubber gloves. “Jeb went to high school with Shannon and I was two years behind them. And Jeb’s brother, Todd, works on Shannon’s crew.”
Jeb chuckled. “Gotta love a small town.”
“I do,” Chief Jensen said, surprising me again. Maybe there was hope for the chief yet.
“How are you, Shannon?” Mindy asked.
“Pretty good.” It wasn’t true, of course, but I wasn’t about to go down the list of my aches and pains and worries. “How have you been?”
“Can’t complain,” Mindy said.
Jeb snickered. “Right, ’cuz nobody listens.”
Mindy smiled. “Isn’t that the truth?” She flicked what looked like a very small duster over the surface of the windowsill next to the garage door. Black dust particles remained in her wake. She studied the surface, pulled out a clear piece of tape and applied it to a section of the sill. Then she pulled the tape up. “Got some clean prints here.”
“They’re probably mine,” I muttered.
Chief Jensen turned to me. “Are your fingerprints on file somewhere?”
“They should be. I’m bonded and licensed by the state.”
He nodded. “Good.”
They continued to work while I showed Chief Jensen where I always parked my bike. “I’m not sure if you’ll find anything, Chief, but I appreciate you taking the time to look.”
“Mac made a good case for looking,” he said. “And maybe you should call me Eric.”
That came out of left field and I was certain that my confusion showed. Suffice to say I was really getting to like this new improved police chief. “Really?”
He chuckled. “I’d say we started off on the wrong foot.”
“It probably didn’t help that my wrong foot tripped over a dead body.” Did I say that out loud?
“Yeah, there’s that.” His expression was serious, although there was a hint of humor in his eyes.
Flustered, I looked around and pointed to my favorite pink tool chest. “I’m just going to pack my tool chest in my truck, if you’ll excuse me.”
“I’ll help you.”
“That’s okay.”
“I can see you’re still in pain, Shannon,” he said softly. “Let me carry it for you.”
I didn’t mention that I usually carried it out there on a dolly, mainly because he lifted it up as though it barely weighed an ounce instead of sixty-plus pounds. But, then, he probably bench-pressed three times his weight on a regular basis. The man had muscles on his muscles.
As we approached my truck, I noticed for the first time that Wendell had parked his car directly behind my truck in the driveway. I stopped and glared at the hated car. I hadn’t seen it earlier because he’d parked at such an odd angle.
“Damn it,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “I’m going to kill that guy.”
Eric turned and looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
Oops. “I didn’t mean that,” I said in a rush. “But this car isn’t supposed to be parked here.”
“Do you want us to tow it?”
“I would love it.”
He started to move and I held up my hand reluctantly to stop him. “But you’d better not. It would cause more problems than it’s worth.”
But I could feel anger coursing through my system. My shoulders were tight and my jaw was clenched. I felt so powerless. How could something this petty fill me with such fury? Because it was Wendell Jarvick. He was a horrible man. If only I could have him banned from the town forever.
“I can’t wait till he’s gone,” I said.
“Is he the guy that caused the ruckus at the pub the other night?” Eric said.
“That’s him. A real piece of work.”
“He won’t be around much longer, hopefully.”
“That moment can’t come soon enough.”
We got to my truck and I pulled the tailgate down. As Eric loaded my tool chest into the truck bed, I wandered over to Wendell’s car. I was truly tempted to do some damage, so I kept my hands firmly inside my pockets.
Maybe I could dig up a bunch of worms in my garden and put them on the driver’s seat. Happy at the thought, I tried to glance inside the car, but along with having tinted windows, there was a layer of condensation on the glass, so it was hard to see. Without thinking, I tested the driver’s door and found it unlocked. I pulled it open and stared in shock at what I saw on the front seat.
I jumped back and screamed as loud as I’d ever screamed before. If they weren’t awake already, I probably woke up half the folks in town.
“What’s wrong?” Eric shouted. “What happened?”
Dizzy and sick, I slammed the door shut and shook uncontrollably. This couldn’t be happening. I took a couple of big gulps of air and waved at the car door. “In there.”
Eric came around and pulled open the door and took a step back. I summoned enough courage to venture another peek inside—and was sorry I did.
Wendell Jarvick lay sprawled on the seat, his eyes open as though he were staring right at me. Blood was smeared across the smooth taupe leather seats. Something was protruding from his neck and I could feel my heart sinking in my chest because I recognized the tool. It was my extralong pink Frearson screwdriver.
My contractor’s brain kicked in to remind me that the Frearson differed from a Phillips-head screwdriver because of its more pointed, V-shaped head. The better to stab someone in the neck, I thought.
I squeezed my eyes shut but the image wouldn’t go away.
“Shannon.” Eric’s tone was a warning and his arm blocked me from moving any closer, as if I wanted to. “Don’t touch anything. Step back now.”
“Is he . . . ?” It was a stupid question.
Eric leaned in and pressed his fingers against the pulse point on Wendell’s neck, a few inches away from where the screwdriver protruded. “Yeah.”
No doubt about it, Wendell Jarvick was dead.
Stumbling over to the garden wall at the side of the drive, I lost the cup of coffee I’d gleefully chugged a half hour ago.
? ? ?
An hour later, I was cooling my heels inside the house as my yard was turned into an official crime scene. The county coroner’s van was parked in front of my driveway and four police cars surrounded it, blocking off as much of the view from the curious public as possible. That didn’t stop any of my neighbors from lining up along the sidewalk on the other side of the street. I glanced out the window and saw a few folks still wearing their bathrobes at almost ten o’clock in the morning. Good grief. Some of my neighbors were real slackers.
Someone pounded on my front door and I checked to see who it was before opening the door. “Thank God it’s you guys. Come in.”
Jane and Lizzie scurried inside and I shut the door quickly because, despite what Mr. Bennet claimed in Pride and Prejudice, I did not live to make sport for my neighbors.
“We came as soon as we heard,” Jane said, tossing her purse on the chair.
Lizzie glanced out the bay window. “Shannon, what in the world happened?”
“You won’t even believe it,” I muttered.
“I just saw you twelve hours ago,” Jane said. “How could so much pandemonium occur between then and now?”
“Heck if I know,” I said, throwing both hands high. “Do you guys want some coffee?”
Lizzie shook her head. “No.”
“Talk,” Jane said, sitting down.
I told them everything that had happened from the time I parked my truck in the driveway last night until the moment this morning when I pulled open the car door and discovered Wendell.
“I know how much you hated Wendell,” Jane said. “Did you ever have his car towed?”
“No,” I said, staring at her in dismay. “And remind me not to use you as a character witness.”
“Jane,” Lizzie cried. “Shannon didn’t kill Wendell Jarvick.”
Jane waved her hands in front of her face as if to sweep her words away. “Of course not! I didn’t mean . . . Oh, never mind. You know I didn’t mean that. Everyone in town hated his guts, Shannon. Not just you. You know I’m totally on your side.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, patting her shoulder. “I’m just a little sensitive right now.”
“I guess I am, too,” she said, dazed. “Sorry.”
“Everybody hated him,” Lizzie repeated thoughtfully, talking while pacing the length of the coffee table and back. “It’ll take the police weeks to investigate everyone who had a grudge against him.”
Jane looked at me with concern. “I hope Chief Jensen doesn’t consider you a suspect.”
“You mean just because the guy was found in my driveway with my screwdriver sticking out of his neck?”
“Oh, gross,” Lizzie said. “Ugh.”
“Sorry,” I said, remembering my own reaction to Wendell’s grisly end. “You probably shouldn’t repeat that. But hell, yeah, he considers me a suspect. Wouldn’t you?”
“Absolutely not!” Lizzie cried. She sank down into the chair. “Was it really a screwdriver? In his neck? Ick.”
“Yeah.”
We each sat silently with our own thoughts for a moment.
Jane finally spoke. “Your screwdriver? Really?”
“Yes.” I caught the look of concern my friends exchanged.
The doorbell rang.
“Saved by the bell,” I muttered, and limped over to see who was outside. I swung the door open. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Mac walked in and headed straight for the living room. “Damn, Irish. I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?”
I couldn’t hide my smile as I shut the door and followed him in, just in time to see Lizzie’s mouth drop open. It was a rare sight and so worth waiting for.
“Lizzie and Jane,” I said politely, “this is Mac Sullivan. Mac, these are my two oldest friends. Lizzie owns Paper Moon, the book-and-paper shop on the town square, and Jane is about to open Hennessey House, a small hotel over on Apple Street.”
“How are you?” Mac said as he shook both of their hands. “Good to meet you.”
“How did you—” Jane asked.
“When did you—” Lizzie sputtered.
Mac grinned at me, and I had to admit, it felt good to have him there. He was just so . . . steady. Not to mention gorgeous in a rugged, outdoorsy kind of way. Knowing two of my closest friends were sitting there bug-eyed was pure gravy.
“Lizzie and her husband, Hal, are two of your biggest fans,” I explained. “She’s hoping you might consent to do a book signing at her store one of these days.”
“Shannon!” Lizzie hissed.
“Hey, that sounds great, Lizzie,” Mac said jovially. “I could sign some books and also get a chance to meet some of my new neighbors.”
“That would be wonderful,” Lizzie said, instantly perking up enough to dig one of her business cards out of her purse and hand it to him. “Thank you.”
I smiled at Mac. “Thank you.”
“For you, Irish, anything,” he said with a devilish grin.
Lizzie and Jane exchanged looks of stunned disbelief, which I blithely ignored. Hey, you have to take your fun where you find it.
The good times couldn’t last, though. A few minutes later, Chief Jensen knocked on the door to ask me a few questions. He said he wouldn’t mind interrogating me right here at the house, and since I considered it a small victory that he didn’t instantly drag me down to police headquarters, I agreed. Lizzie, Jane, and Mac took off after I promised to get in touch with them later that afternoon.
I poured the chief a cup of coffee and got myself a glass of water before sitting at the dining room table.
“I know it looks bad,” I said, trying to appeal to the new and improved, more agreeable Chief Jensen. “But I didn’t kill Wendell Jarvick.”
“I believe you.”
“I’m sorry?” I rubbed my ear, unsure if I’d heard him right. “What did you say?”
“I believe you,” he said again, then added, “I know you didn’t kill Jarvick and I know you didn’t kill Jerry Saxton, either.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Your alibi for the time of Saxton’s death is unshakable, according to the coroner’s final report.” He lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Alibi aside, my instinct tells me you’re trustworthy enough.”
I pressed my lips together, feeling immensely relieved. I hadn’t realized until then how worried I’d been that he would never really believe I was innocent. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said gruffly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do this by the book. I mean to question you about every single thing you said or did, every interaction that transpired between you and Jarvick.”
“Okay.”
He pulled out a small notepad and pen. “Right now it doesn’t look good and I’m sure you know why.”
“Yeah,” I said gloomily. “My house. My pink screwdriver. My threat to kill him.”
“You ought to stop making those threats,” he said dryly, “innocent or not. But let’s move forward. I want you to be completely honest with me. I can’t do anything to mitigate this situation if I don’t have your cooperation.”
“You’ve got it,” I said, understanding exactly what he wasn’t saying: that if I didn’t give him every last bit of information I had, I might be going to jail after all. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me where you were last night between the hours of eight o’clock and two this morning.”
“I got home from the mechanic’s shop around seven thirty last night. I was able to park the truck in the driveway for the first time in a week. Usually Wendell had his stupid car parked there and he refused to move it.”
He glanced up from his notes. “You sound angry about that.”
“It was driving me crazy.” I blew out a breath, took in another, and let it go slowly. It wouldn’t do to start ranting about the man whose dead body had just been found on my property. “Yes, I admit I was angry. Wendell was a horrible person, always pushing people’s buttons and leaving chaos in his wake. You saw what he did at the pub the other night, right? He pulled stuff like that all over town. For a little while yesterday, I even thought he might’ve been the one who cut the brake line on my bike. But then I figured he wouldn’t want to get his hands dirty.”
I took a drink of water before continuing. “I was literally counting off the days until he finally left town. Most of the people here feel the same way about him. We’ve put up with his abominable behavior every single year for the past twelve years. He’s always unpleasant. You can ask Cindy at the Cozy Cove Diner. He was so awful to her last Sunday, I thought Rocky was going to throw him through the plate-glass window.”
Eric stood and removed his brown leather bomber jacket and hooked it over the back of the chair before sitting again. “I’ll talk to Cindy, but why don’t you go ahead and tell me what happened in your own words?”
“All right.” I related the hot-coffee incident in detail. “The place was full so there were plenty of witnesses who saw the same thing I did. I heard that he pulled a number at Lindy’s on the Pier, too.”
Eric continued to jot down notes in his pad. After a minute, he looked up, frowning. “If you knew what he was like, why did you agree to let him stay here?”
“Good question.” I grimaced. “Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t imagine it would be that big of a deal. I mean, I knew he was unpleasant, but wow. The thing is, I joined our local innkeepers’ association last year and I wanted to be part of the team. Ordinarily, our policy is that we don’t turn away a paying guest, but the group has a whole different set of rules for Wendell. Each member is required to let him stay at their establishment once. After that, they can refuse him a room.”
As Eric wrote it down, he shook his head. “Sounds like he might’ve been more trouble than he was worth.”
I sighed. “I was so looking forward to refusing him a room next year.”
His lips twisted in a smile.
“But I didn’t kill him,” I said, repeating myself. Frustrated, I added, “I don’t know how I can prove it. He was parked in my driveway and killed by my screwdriver. But I didn’t do it. I mean, seriously, would I do something like that outside my own home? And use my own screwdriver? I’m not an idiot, Chief. Er, Eric. Really.”
He reached across the table and touched my hand lightly. Trying to calm me down, I figured. Strangely enough, it worked.
“Look,” he said, “I intend to follow up on every lead and track down even the smallest clue in order to close this investigation, but let me repeat what I told you before and maybe ease your mind a little. I really don’t think you killed Wendell Jarvick.”
I looked at him for a long second or two and read reassurance in his steady gaze. For the first time since finding Wendell dead in my driveway, I took an easy breath. “You really don’t.”
He shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re too smart to kill someone with your own screwdriver and then leave the body in a car parked in your own driveway.”
“Thank you.” But then something occurred to me. “You don’t worry that I might’ve used my own tools to fool you?”
His smile was placid. “‘I’m not a great fool.’”
“Of course not.” My eyes widened. “Wait. I know that line. Are you quoting The Princess Bride?”
He grinned and it warmed me down to my ribs. “Yeah. Your remark reminded me of that scene.”
“I love that movie.”
“Do you remember the next line?”
“I’m pretty sure I know every line.” I thought for a second. “‘I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you.’”
“Right. It was the battle-of-wits scene between the Dread Pirate Roberts and Vizzini. So, tell me, Shannon. Are you trying to outwit me?”
“No. God, no.” I rubbed my face, feeling nervous all over again, plus exhausted. “Please forget I even brought it up.”
“Why did you?”
Because I’m not thinking straight, I thought. But it was time to start. Sitting forward in my chair, I crossed my arms on the table surface. “Because when I look at all the evidence pointing directly at me, it scares me and I get a little loopy. I wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking I was guilty. But I’m not.”
“Here’s what I’m worried about,” he said, leaning forward and matching my posture. “With all this evidence pointing at you, I’m wondering who is trying to set you up to take the fall.”
“What do you mean?”
“Somebody is going to a lot of trouble to make you look guilty. Who do you know who would go to such lengths?”
“You mean, do I have any enemies?”
“That’s another way to put it.”
It was exactly what Mac had asked the other day after my bicycle accident. At the time, the only people who had come to mind were the snotty girls who’d ridiculed me in high school. They weren’t even worth mentioning. The only other person I could think of was Wendell, but he was no longer a viable suspect, obviously.
Did I dare mention Joyce Boyer? Wade seemed to think that Joyce might have it in for me, and while I was happy to point the finger at someone else besides me, it was sort of ridiculous to think that Joyce would kill Wendell. Jerry Saxton, yes. But Wendell? She and Stan had been sitting in the pub the night Wendell attacked Whitney, but did she know the man? I doubted it. Heck, she barely knew me, except through working together on her house rehab. Would she really go to all this trouble to hurt me?
“I have no idea,” I said finally.
“You had to think pretty hard to come up with that answer.”
“I’ve lived here all my life, so naturally I’ve had run-ins with people in the past. But nothing that screams Mortal Enemy. And nothing’s happened recently that would cause me to point to anyone in particular.” I thought about it and frowned. “Well, except for tangling with the two men who are now dead.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Except for them.”
Something in his tone made me sit up and take notice. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that instead of trying to set you up, someone might be trying to help you out by killing off the two men who’ve been giving you so much trouble lately.”
My mouth opened but no words came out. I shook my head in bewilderment.
He leaned forward. “Shannon, think. Is there someone who craves your attention? Someone who might be willing to earn your favor by getting rid of people who bother you?”
“Oh, my God,” I said, rubbing my hands together for warmth. “That’s so sick.”
“There’s no accounting for motivations.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know anyone who would do something like that.”
He studied me for a moment. “I hate to upset you, but clearly you do know someone who might do that.”
I scowled at him. “Why do you think I know this person?”
He tapped his pen against his notepad. “Because of the victims. Because of the use of your tools. Whoever the killer is, he or she came onto your property and killed Wendell Jarvick using your screwdriver as a weapon. Why? It can’t just be a coincidence. Something similar happened in the case of Jerry Saxton. I’m not saying that you were meant to find his body, but you were certainly meant to be blamed for his death. He was found in a house you were working on. You had keys to all the doors. And, again, they used one of your own tools to kill him.”
I sat and digested that for a moment. “And both of the dead men were bugging the hell out of me.”
“Yes.”
“So, you think someone is trying, in their own twisted way, to do me a favor.”
“It’s a possibility.”
“But, then, why would they frame me for the murders?”
“I said they were doing you a favor. I didn’t say they were brilliant.”
“It’s horrible! I don’t know what to do.” I shoved my chair back from the table and rested my elbows on my knees. I stared at the wood grain of the floor. Finally I looked up. “I’m a little freaked-out.”
“I don’t blame you,” he said with a sympathetic smile. “And it might be related to something altogether different.”
“But you don’t think so.” I thought about the implications of what he’d suggested. “I’d rather have someone trying to set me up to look guilty than to know someone was doing it to impress me. That’s just sick and creepy.”
“I agree,” he said. He closed his notebook.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “What about my bicycle? Where does that fit in?”
“We sent the brake wire to the sheriff’s office for further examination. It looks like it was deliberately cut, but we want to be sure. They’ve got a forensics lab that’ll be able to look at it microscopically. They’ll also be able to pick up any prints or fibers that don’t match yours.”
“And if it was deliberately cut?”
He rubbed his jaw as he considered. “Then I would say someone is out to hurt you. There’s a small chance it might not be the same person who killed those two men, but I’m betting it is. He also managed to get access to your garage, which I imagine you keep locked most of the time.”
“I do.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Why was this happening to me? “Okay, so you’re telling me that the same person is either setting me up to go to jail or doing me favors or trying to kill me. Or all of the above.”
“I’ve managed to frighten you and I’m sorry, Shannon.”
“Yeah, me, too. He sounds schizophrenic.”
“It’s definitely not a normal scenario.” He stood and slipped his jacket back on. “Look, I can’t promise you round-the-clock protection, but I can try to schedule a cruiser to drive by every hour or so. In the meantime, I would strongly suggest that you find someone to stay here with you or else pack a bag and go to a friend’s house for a few nights.”
“My dad lives in his RV and he usually parks it in my driveway, but he’s been away for the past few days, fishing.”
“Until he gets back, I’d like you to take those extra precautions.”
I shifted my gaze from his to the windows overlooking my familiar view of the safe, quiet street I’d grown up on. After a long moment, I looked back at Eric and nodded. “Believe me, I will.”