Chapter 9

Amara pushed through the door to the Strathford Police Station later that morning, carrying the roses and the note in one hand, and a large cup of coffee in the other. Both pieces of evidence were carefully sealed in plastic. It infuriated her beyond belief that she even had that kind of evidence to turn in—not to mention a case to report. No, infuriated was too mild a term. What she was, was pissed off.

This was her town, damn it. She had lived there her entire life. Her family had lived there for generations. It was where she wanted to raise her own family, to start a new life with the man that she loved. Strathford was her home. She had defended it against wolves from the Valley Clan and the Mountain Clan alike. She had fought for the life she deserved to live. She had fought to feel safe. And she wasn’t about to let anyone take that away from her.

Especially not some psycho leaving flowers and throwing rocks.

“Hey Amara,” the old receptionist, Madge, said, peering over her wire-rimmed glasses. “What have you got there?”

Amara frowned. “Evidence.”

Madge was a smart woman. She had been the receptionist and the dispatcher for the Strathford Police Department for the last thirty years, and she knew more secrets about that town than every other woman at the beauty parlor combined. In all the years that her father had been with the department, Amara had never known Madge to be involved in a single scandal, though she was more than happy to observe and comment on every single scandal that had passed across her desk. So she knew when something big was brewing. And she knew when to keep her mouth shut about it.

True to form, Madge pressed her lips together into a thin line. “Mmm hmm. Mac’s in his office.”

“Thanks.” Careful not to knock anything off the file cabinets lining the hall, Amara made her way through the small station to the back where the Sheriff was. His small corner office was bordered by two inside walls made completely of glass. Mac sat at his desk, pouring over papers and rubbing his fingers over his temples. He looked stressed. More so than usual.

Mac McDougal had been the Strathford Sheriff since Amara was twelve years old, after her own father had been hunted down and murdered by wolves. He was a good man that she had known since she was old enough to walk. He’d been her father’s best friend for as long as she could remember, and when he’d died, Mac had taken his place as the town’s sheriff and Chief of Police. Since then, he’d been like a father to her, or a favorite uncle. And still, she had no idea how she was going to tell him about all of this.

Mac looked up when Amara opened the glass door to his office. “Whatcha got there?” he inquired with a quizzical brow. He waited patiently, a stack of papers in his hand, while she decided how best to explain what had been happening.

Finally, she decided to just start from the beginning. Amara set the box on top of a pile of files on Mac’s desk. She took a deep breath. And then she told him everything. “It began a few weeks ago,” she said quietly. “Just flowers at first. Bouquets. Three of them in all. I thought it was weird, but still kind of sweet, I guess. I’ve never had a secret admirer before,” she admitted with a shrug. “But then, a few days ago, I started to receive phone calls.”

“Phone calls?” Mac repeated. “What kind of phone calls? Did he say anything? How many times did he call?”

Amara shook her head. “Just once, that I know of. And no, he didn’t say a thing. Not one word. Just a lot of heavy breathing before the line went dead. And still, I’ll admit, I didn’t think much of it. Phone calls are nothing, really, when you think about it. It could have been anybody. It could have been kids pulling a prank on the new cop in town for all I knew.

“Then this showed up this morning.” As carefully as she could, she pried the heavy, black plastic bag off the floral box. Then she made a face as she lifted the lid.

“Whoa,” Mac exclaimed, taking a step back and covering his nose. Amara nodded in agreement. Holding her breath, she stared down at the decaying blooms. They were all still crawling with bugs. The overwhelming stench of rot and stink filled the small office before Amara hastily replaced the lid.

Mac shook his head in disgust and disbelief. “He left this on your porch this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Did anything come with it?” Mac was in full-on cop mode now, an Amara found the interrogation tactics to be both comforting and disconcerting. This was not how she thought she would begin her career as a Strathford Police Officer.

“Not for me, no,” she replied. “But Nova got a rock through his driver’s side window of his truck and a threatening note left on the windshield.”

“I see.” Mac tapped his chin with his finger, thinking. “Did you see anything? Anybody peering in the window, maybe? Anybody running off or just casually walking down the street?”

“No,” she said, disheartened, “nothing. But we were in the kitchen eating breakfast when we heard the crash. He must have taken off before we had a chance to get outside.”

“Hmm.” Frowning, Mac pointed at the small zip lock bag Amara still held. “Is that it?” he asked. She nodded. “Can I see it?” Without a word, she handed it to him. Immediately, he went to the door and called out for Alec. Within seconds, the young deputy came running.

Alec Matthews was a sweet guy with bright brown eyes and a shy smile. His tall, lanky frame should have looked awkward in his brown police uniform, yet somehow, it was actually the opposite. It suited him, Amara decided. Like he was made to be part of the Strathford Police Force. Come to think of it, if she recalled correctly, Alec and Sadie graduated high school the same year. And he was cute. Maybe it was time for her to remind her little sister that Alec still existed. It would help keep her from thinking about Kal, at least. It was worth a try.

“Take this to processing,” Mac told the deputy. “See if you can get any prints off of it. You can exclude any prints matching either Amara Townsend or Nova Lowery. They are the victims in this case.”

Alec’s eyes widened in surprise. For a moment or two, he just stood there, dumbfounded.

“Today, Matthews,” Mac barked, to which the deputy responded by instantly straightening. He then muttered a hasty “Yes, Sir,” and fled.

Amara snickered under her breath. “Man, McDougal. Who knew you could be such a hardass? For Christ’s sake, Mac, he’s just a kid.”

Mac chuckled. His answering smile matched the grin splitting across her face. “Ah, he’ll be alright. A little fire under his ass won’t hurt him. It’ll make him tough. He needs that. Besides, I want answers on this as quickly as possible. You and your family…well, let’s just say that you’ve been through enough. I don’t want to be responsible for yet another tragedy befalling any one of you. So we do things my way. And hopefully, we’ll get things done.”

An awkward silence fell between them and Amara resisted the urge to hug him. It would only serve to embarrass him, she knew. The truth was, it might have embarrassed her, too. So, it was probably best to just leave well enough alone.

“So,” Mac said, clearing his throat and breaking the silence. “Let’s get this report filed, shall we?” Picking up yet another stack of papers, he handed them to her before he fished a pen from his pocket. He offered it to her as well. “Any ideas of who we might be looking for?”

“You mean, like a suspect? Do I have any ideas about who should be a suspect?” Suddenly, she felt ill. It was like it had finally hit her that this whole ideal was truly real. It was really happening. She was being stalked. And not just by somebody with a crush on her, who was maybe too shy to actually talk to her. No, she was being stalked and harassed by somebody who was dangerous. Somebody who was already escalating to violence. And that realization chilled her, racking her right down to her core. “No, I don’t have any suspects. I mean, really, if I did, I would have to include basically the whole town, wouldn’t I? I work nights at Murphy’s, Mac. I talk to the entire drinking population of Strathford on a regular basis. Flirting gets me more tips, sure, so I’m friendly, but I’m also the one who cuts off the angry drunks, separates the ‘couples’ that are too drunk to do anything legal, and has Sam kick out the ones who don’t listen. I make plenty of enemies every night, but once they sober up, we’re all fine again.”

Considering, she furrowed her brow. “But I guess it could be any one of them, couldn’t it?”

“Not necessarily,” Mac said, and Amara was overwhelmed by a wave of relief. Who knew two little words could calm her down so much? It was ridiculously comforting to hear that she didn’t have to suspect every single person she knew.

“The guy we’re looking for isn’t timid,” Mac continued. “He’s smart and he’s calculating, but he’s rash too. The flowers were intentional, direct. They were meant to say something to you, regardless of whether or not you understood their meaning. But the rock through Nova’s window? That, to me, screams impulsive. He wasn’t planning to break the window. Otherwise, he would have made sure he was far enough away that there wasn’t even a chance you would see him. He would have wanted to know where you were and to do it at a moment when the sound, the destruction, the interruption, would make the biggest impact. Instead, he wrote the note, planted it, and hurled a rock at the truck before running in the other direction.

“This guy is escalating. Something set him off. You said Nova was there with you. Were you two, um, doing anything?” Mac cleared his throat, probably in hopes of off-setting how uncomfortable this conversation was for both of them. It didn’t work.

Amara scratched at her temple. “Yeah, we were, uh, sort of starting to fool around a little. I mean, I was making breakfast and he was about to take off, but we were having fun.”

“Something that could have made our perp jealous had he been staring in the window?”

She gulped. Staring through the window. Of course. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Were your curtains open?”

She thought back to that morning. Had the curtains been open? They had. She’d wanted to let the sunlight in and enjoy the morning. “Yes.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“I see. So we’ll assume he saw you. Did Nova see anyone? Hear anything?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”

“And he had never sent you rotten flowers before?”

“No. Never.”

“Did you first receive a bouquet before or after you got engaged?”

Amara’s heart began to race faster. “Before.”

“And after the engagement was announced?”

“I still got the flowers, and then the phone call.”

Mac nodded. Picking up a small notepad, he began jotting down his thoughts. “So he was triggered by the engagement, by your relationship with Nova. Jealously. Impulsive actions. Violence.” He glanced up at her. “Anyone in your personal life acting strange? Distant? Clingy?”

“No, no one.”

“Anyone you can think of who might want to cause you harm?”

Amara’s first thoughts went to Kal. He had been causing her harm for the last ten years; stalking would be a minor thing to him. But it wasn’t his style. Kal Vann liked to boast about his evil deeds. He was smart and cunning, but leaving her anonymous presents like those stereotypically left by a secret admirer and not even taking credit for it seemed so out of character, even for him. Besides, he was currently locked up at the compound and watched like a hawk both night and day. There was no way he could have managed to do any of this. And sending one of his lackeys to do it in his stead was too cowardly, even for him. No, if he was going to slowly terrorize her, he would do it in a way that hit closer to home. Hadn’t he already proved that by dating Sadie?

“No one that I can think of,” she told Mac.

“What about that guy who was dating your little sister? Kan or Kas or something?” Mac asked, indicating his thoughts went to Kal as well. “What ever happened to him?”

As nonchalantly as she could pull off, Amara shrugged. “No idea. They split up because he was a real jerk, and he left town. We haven’t seen or heard from him sense.” It was almost true.

“Hmm. Well, okay, we’ll keep thinking on it. Let’s get this report done so we can train you on the protocols for while you’re on patrol.”

“Oh, joy.”