CHAPTER FOUR
Would Chloe play it cool and continue to pretend she wasn’t worried someone was following her? Or would she do the smart thing and fill him in on her situation before someone—probably her—got hurt? While Wes waited for her to wrestle with her decision, he took a moment to study the long, lean beauty seated beside him.
So unlike her older sister, Bobby, Chloe sat as straight as a marble statue. Strong and delicate all at once. She seemed to close the world out, giving the image of an ice princess, but beneath that he sensed a vulnerability. When he’d laid his hand over hers on the steering wheel, he’d felt an odd connection. A moment later she slipped her hand from beneath his and he was acutely aware of the loss.
“It’s probably nothing but my imagination gone haywire,” she said with a half laugh meant to disarm him. If he’d been anyone else it might’ve worked. The slight tremor in her voice and the two quick breaths told him of her fear.
“Why don’t you tell me what has your radar on alert?”
Her mouth twisted into a sideways pucker and she stared out the windshield. Finally, she focused those big brown eyes at him.
“It started about a month ago, after we finished the Bolden case.”
Wes knew the case. It had been on every major news program, the front page of every newspaper, and all over the Internet. Bolden, owner of a construction company, was accused of using cheap materials in a building for the county. Two of his men were killed in a construction accident the state said was caused by Bolden’s actions. Chloe’s firm had been his defense team. Luckily for the public, Bolden lost and was now in jail.
“I worked late at the office doing pre-trial preparation. When I was ready to leave, only the security guards and cleaning crew were in the building.” She paused and stared at her fingers clenched in her lap as if collecting her thoughts to present to a jury. “The building has a parking garage beneath it and it was so late that my car was the only one on the executive officers’ level.”
“You didn’t have the security guard escort you down?”
She blinked at the force of his question. “I’ve worked there for nearly three years. I’ve never had an issue going to my car on my own. Besides, you need a security badge to access that particular level of the garage.”
He fought hard to control his sudden rage at the idea she would so blatantly put herself in such a dangerous position. “What happened?”
“I was halfway to my car and I swear I heard a click behind me.”
“A click? What kind of click?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. There weren’t any other vehicles, so I know it wasn’t someone getting in or out of a car. The exit door looked closed when I turned to see what might’ve made the noise.”
“A camera, perhaps?”
She twisted her mouth again, giving his suggestion a thought. “Not a cellphone one. It was definitely more mechanical than electronic.”
“So then what happened?”
“Nothing. I hurried to my car, locked the doors and headed home, feeling way less comfortable being alone in the garage.”
Good. “And no one followed you?”
“Not that I’m an expert, but I checked my rearview mirror frequently on my way home. Nothing looked suspicious that night.”
The way she hesitated set off his internal warning siren. “But other nights?”
Idly, she rubbed her hand up and down one arm. “Ever since, I’ve had this feeling that someone’s watching me. I’ve caught movement out of my peripheral vision in store windows downtown, or when I’m driving I think a dark sedan is there, but the next time I look, whatever or whoever it is,” she hesitated again, “well, is just gone.”
“Anything else? Anything missing from your home? Even something small or innocuous?”
“No. I set the security alarms as I leave and check them immediately when I get home. There’s never been a problem with them.”
“Phone calls or texts? Anything on social media.”
“Given who some of my firm’s clients are, I’ve never gotten into social media. No chats, no pages on any sites. The only presence I have is my bio on the firm’s website page.”
“Good. Too many people put their personal business out there for the whole world to get into.”
“Anyways, I’m sure it’s all my imagination. Just too many late nights and clients who aren’t always the nicest people.” She shivered again.
“Let’s get you inside where it’s warm,” he said, opening his door. Before she could complain, he reached in the backseat and grabbed the leather overnight bag and briefcase/laptop bag. He waited for her to get her things from the front seat floor and lock the door, scanning the road they’d traveled.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Just old Todd delivering the mail, probably Christmas cards from one neighbor to the next.
“Really, I can get it all from here,” she said, holding out her hand for her bags.
He fixed his not-happening-in-a-million-years stare at her. Finally she huffed, turned, and walked up to the inn’s front entrance. Following, he had to admit that he liked the way she huffed. And he really liked the way her hips moved when she walked. Not quite a strut, not quite a stalk. A woman with purpose.
At the desk, she smiled at Adele Carlisle, the inn’s proprietress. “I’m Chloe Roberts. I believe you have a reservation for me?”
“Oh, yes, Deputy Bobby’s sister,” the salt-and-pepper-haired widow said, opening her old-fashioned registration book and handing a pen to Chloe, who quickly signed her name. Adele took Chloe’s credit card and swiped it into the more modern computer. “I have a suite of rooms for you and your other sister, Dylan.” She looked up, apparently in search of the missing sister. “We’re all so happy for your sister and the sheriff,” Adele continued, handing Chloe the old-fashioned room key. “The whole town is just abuzz about it. So romantic, and at Christmas, too. You must be excited for her.”
“I’ve always wanted my sister to be happy. Will you be attending?”
“Oh, yes. I think the whole town is either attending or helping with the wedding.” Adele smiled at Wes. “Hello, Deputy Strong. Is there something you need?”
“No, ma’am. Just helping Bobby’s little sister get settled,” he said, just to watch Chloe’s spine get a little straighter.
Finished signing in, she turned, a toothpaste-ad smile on her face and anger in her eyes. She held out her hands for her bags. “I think I can get it from here.”
“We’re not quite done with our conversation,” he said, but relinquished her belongings rather than cause a scene for Adele to gossip with her friends about at the wedding tomorrow.
“Yes, we are, Deputy,” she said, as if dismissing one of her staff members and turned on her heel for the elevator.
The corner of Wes’ mouth twitched as he headed out the door toward Petal Pushers on the next block.
The lady was so wrong. They weren’t done. Not by a long shot.
* * * * *
“I thought you might’ve been Harriett, making her daily trip to force me to stay off my feet.” Margaret Dubois said as she let Gage and Bobby into the small Cape Cod-style home.
She motioned them to the couch as she hobbled from the front door to the large recliner in the corner of the living room, having the good sense to use an old cane. She eased into the chair, carefully lifting her left foot up onto the footrest. It was wrapped in cream-colored elastic bandages. The bruises on her jawline were a mixture of dark purple, green and yellow. The sleeves of her Christmas sweater were pushed up her arms and bandages peeked from beneath where they covered the abrasions she sustained as she fell.
Whoever the bastard was that nearly hit her, they did a good job of putting the elderly lady out of commission.
And that made Gage’s blood boil. It was his job to protect the citizens of Westen, especially the ones who couldn’t defend themselves.
“So what brings you two here the day before your wedding? I’d think you have better things to do than visit one clumsy old woman,” Mags said, once she was settled. “Or did Harriett enlist you in her plan to keep me off my feet? I love her dearly, but that’s one bossy woman.”
Hello pot, meet kettle.
Bobby coughed beside him and he knew she was thinking the same thing.
“We wanted to come by, see how you were doing and find out if you remember anything more about the car that caused your accident,” Gage said after he’d schooled his own features. He’d decided to ease into the topic of the flower mystery once he determined how alert and aware Mags was.
“Like I told Cleetus at the time, I was making my delivery rounds with wreaths for the third time that day. Making good time, too, since I wanted to get done before the snow really started falling. Hard to pedal on icy roads. Should’ve known better and taken the van.”
While Henry was the creative genius at Petal Pushers, Mags ran the business side of things, including deliveries. Often she would be seen pedaling her delivery bike around town. She’d had Joe over at the hardware store fix it up with three heavy duty baskets—one up front and a pair that hooked over the rear wheel. Usually, once inclement weather hit, she switched to the van, but apparently the day of her accident she’d wanted one more day of biking before giving in.
“Do you know what kind of car it was that ran you off the road?” Bobby asked, taking a pad of paper from her bag.
“It was getting on dusk and I lost my glasses when I hit the ground, so it was hard to really see much.” She stroked the loose skin below her chin. “It was definitely a car, not a truck. A dark color. Black or maybe dark blue. Had Ohio tags, that much I’m sure of. Wasn’t a sports car or one of them SUV things. Nope. More like some kind of family car. Not big like a Caddy or Buick. More like one of those popular foreign models.”
For someone who was up in her years, had been traumatized by the fall and lost her glasses, Mags had more details than he’d expected.
“Any chance you saw the driver?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I was on the right side of the road like I’m supposed to be. They zipped past me awful fast after they clipped my wheel.”
“They didn’t honk or try to swerve?” Bobby asked, concern and surprise in her voice.
The hairs on Gage’s neck started to itch. Not a good sign.
Mags shook her head. “My eyesight might need help, but doc says my hearing is like a teenager’s. Didn’t hear a horn or even a hey, get out of the way. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
“I think you did,” Bobby said, leaning forward. “I also wanted to ask you if you remember when we talked about the plans for the wedding flowers?”
“Course I do. Biggest even to hit Westen since the Methodist Church celebrated their fiftieth anniversary—flower-wise. Why?”
Bobby looked over her shoulder at Gage, concern in her dark eyes. He nodded for her to continue, curious to see Mags’ reaction to the incident.
“My sister and I stopped by the shop this morning and Henry showed me the arrangements.”
Mags face brightened. “He does such lovely work, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does, but there was a problem.”
Mags gave her a puzzled look. “What kind of problem?”
“All the arrangements had Stargazer lilies in them.”
“Poppycock,” Mags said, her lips pressed in an angry line. “You told me you were allergic to those. We wouldn’t put those in your flowers. I have a list.”
Bobby blinked. “I saw the big one for the wedding party’s table myself, Margaret. In fact, I had to leave the shop. My sister said all the arrangements had them.”
“Now, that’s ridiculous. Henry wouldn’t go against the order you and I made. He always consults the order book while he’s working. So much it nearly drives me to distraction.” The older woman tapped her gnarled fingers on the arm of her chair.
“Chloe, my sister, had him double-check. The order listed Stargazers on every arrangement. Henry even confirmed it was your handwriting.” Bobby hesitated a moment. “Could you have written things down wrong when we talked?”
Mags shook her head. “No. I wrote the order into the book just as you and I talked about them over lunch that afternoon last month. I even double-checked it. Like I said, your wedding is the biggest event and I wanted to get it right, especially since it comes in the middle of the holiday season like it does. Whatever will we do? I don’t think we can get more flowers here in time, especially with the snow.”
Bobby laid her hand over Mags’, stilling the agitated movements. “Please don’t worry. Chloe has a friend who’s a florist in Columbus. She’s bringing flowers tomorrow and will help Henry get the arrangements remade. Chloe is paying for the new flowers and Gage and I will still pay you as we’d agreed.”
“Wasn’t worried about the money, sweetie, just wanted your wedding to be perfect. I hate being here when Henry obviously needs me.” She stared off into space as if gathering her emotions, then turned to fix a narrow-eyed gaze at Gage. “Do you think this has anything to do with me getting run off the road?”
The clarity of that question, the laser-point precision of her eyes on him, told Gage that Mags Dubois hadn’t made any mistake over Bobby’s flower order.