Hungry. Strong. Ready.
I am one man.
Knowing. Watching. Waiting.
I am your man.
Today. Tomorrow. Endlessly.
I will come for you.
CHAPTER 25
Jenna didn’t wait for clearance from the secretary, just barged into Sheriff Shane Carter’s office and plopped into his chair. “I need your help,” Jenna said, adrenaline pumping through her blood. She had to do something. Now. “And if you can’t help me,” she added, “then you need to tell me who can and point me in their direction. I received another note.”
“What?” he said, dead serious.
“That’s right. My personal Wordsworth has struck again.” She tried to keep her voice light, but she couldn’t hide the fear that had nearly congealed her blood. To think that he’d actually been in her house. Her bedroom. Her flesh crawled as she pulled a plastic bag holding the horrible poem from her purse. She dropped it without ceremony onto Carter’s desk. “And last night someone tried to run me off the road, and there are more things missing, movie paraphernalia, from my house. Things keep breaking down and I don’t know whether someone’s trying to totally freak me out or I’m paranoid or-or…” She stopped suddenly, realizing that she was notching herself up, that she was sounding as scared as she felt. “Oh, God.” She pushed her hair from her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath.
“You want to slow down and start over?” He was leaning back in his chair, staring at her over tented fingers. His expression was grim, his lips compressed, but for the first time since she’d been introduced to him, she thought she detected a bit of tenderness in his eyes. A tad of compassion. “Wait a sec.” Reaching toward the phone, he pressed an intercom button on the desk and said, “Jerri, if you don’t mind, would you bring Ms. Hughes a cup of coffee or a soda or…?” He lifted bushy eyebrows in her direction, hoping for her to choose, she supposed.
“I don’t care. Anything…”
Carter nodded as she wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to make sense of the note. Who would stalk her here—in lazy, little Falls Crossing, though it hadn’t been all that lazy in the past few weeks. Had someone followed her from L.A., or had she met her personal nutcase somewhere in this little town and hadn’t realized it?
“Decaf, Jerri,” Carter said and visibly winced at the reply. “I’ll remember it when you’re up for review. Oh—and hold all my calls…well, I know, but aren’t they all emergencies? Okay, fine, if they call, put through Sparks, Messenger, or anyone from the state crime lab—especially Merline Jacobosky. Anyone else I’ll call back…yeah, thanks.” Clicking off the intercom, he focused all of his attention on Jenna. Coffee-brown eyes scrutinized her. “Now, Ms. Hughes, let’s go through this again. Slowly.”
“Okay.” She did. Cognizant of the whirlwind of activity going on outside his office, knowing that he was responsible for a county that the governor was hoping the federal government would declare a disaster area, she told him everything she claimed she could remember. He read the note through the plastic and scowled, the lines near the corners of his eyes becoming deep creases.
“…I’d already decided to take your advice,” she said as her story wound down. “I’ve called several security companies, looking for a bodyguard and someone to replace my alarm system. Unfortunately, with the weather and red tape, it’ll take some time. But Wes Allen—you know him, I think—” Carter nodded, his jaw shifting to one side, his muscles bunching reflexively. “I work with Wes at the theater and he’s agreed to help with the existing system to try and make it functional until I can replace it.”
“Good idea.”
“You mentioned me getting a bodyguard earlier.”
He nodded.
“Do you have anyone who would be interested?” she asked. “You know a lot of people in the area. People who have been in law enforcement and might be looking for a job like this. Otherwise I’m stuck with the Yellow Pages and the Internet.” She managed a thin smile. “That’s a little like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.”
His eyebrows rose and he grinned. “Well, we don’t want that. You’ve got enough trouble with this.” He tapped the bag on his desk. “I’ll ask around. I’ve got some friends that might consider the job.”
“Good.” Though she wasn’t certain having a stranger on the premises “protecting” her would make her feel any better.
“There’s a studio apartment off the garage or an old bunkhouse that I use for storage right now.”
He made a note and said, “In the meantime, I’d like to check out your house and anyone who has access to it.” He thumbed through a stack of files on his desk, pulled out one with her name written on it, then flipped it open. Spying the page he was looking for, he twirled the file on his desk so she could read it. “This is a list of the people who have had access to your house in the last sixty days, or so you claimed the last time you were in. Any changes? Additions?”
She picked up the file and mentally ticked off each of the names. Friends, family, workmen, delivery people, even a couple who had come door-to-door, selling religion. “This looks pretty complete,” she said.
“When do you think this note was delivered?”
“I don’t know. I never look in that drawer. It could have been yesterday, or three months ago…maybe longer.”
“Your house cleaner, does she…look in the drawer?”
“I doubt it—just dusts on top.”
“What about the kids? Sometimes they nose around where they shouldn’t.”