5

“RITA, I KNOW. Please apologize to Claudette, Neil, and Jackie, but my absence can’t be helped. I’ll be in the office as soon as I finish eating.” Miranda ended the call with her secretary, then turned her phone on silent, flipping it upside down before setting it on the diner’s table alongside her plate. “Sorry. Mayoral duties apparently don’t end because of potentially life-threatening events.”

“No worries.” Her companion dug into his Belgian waffle, two sides of bacon and biscuits and gravy.

She started on her ham and cheese omelet, but nerves had her stomach churning. As did the all-too-fresh memory of waking to find herself using Jackson’s chest for a pillow. Her cheeks blazed just thinking about it.

They’d slept till eleven, meaning she’d already missed her morning meetings. She’d fought Jackson on taking the time for a sit-down meal when there was a perfectly good McDonald’s drive-thru across the street from their motel, but he’d insisted.

“Before you head back to your office,” he said between bites, “we need to get you a new cell.”

“Why? This one cost a small fortune.”

“It’s also probably bugged.”

“What? How?” She dropped her fork to her plate.

“I don’t want to freak you out,” he said in a low tone despite the crowded diner’s high noise level, “but the more I think about your flaming message, the more I think we’re dealing with a disgruntled ex. Maybe even some whack-job who wants to be with you, but isn’t even on your radar? An employee from your bar or the inn.”

She shook her head. “I can count on one hand the number of guys I’ve been with since college. None of them were serious enough to even warrant a dramatic breakup.”

“No one takes the time to put a tracker on your car or spell out whore in flames without having feeling behind it. As for your phone, there are a shocking amount of apps available to make your every move trackable without you knowing a thing. All this sicko would need is a few minutes alone with your cell.”

“But I always have it with me. The only times I wouldn’t might be if I leave my desk for a coffee break or am in the shower—oh.” Eyes wide, she covered her mouth with her hands, but then lowered them. “You think he was in my house at the same time as me?”

“It’s possible. As a precaution, we should assume so. You wanted me at your council meeting this afternoon, but before then, I think we should get your new phone, then go back to your place and get to work on making it safe. Also—until we have a better handle on what we’re dealing with, I’ll be staying with you.”

“But—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “Not up for debate. This creep has already shown what he’s capable of, and I have a bad feeling the worst is yet to come.”

They finished breakfast in silence. While he ate, she answered emails. The remains of her omelet went uneaten.

The ten-mile trek to Brutal Bayou was also completed in silence.

When Jackson pulled into open parking space in front of the hardware store, she asked, “What are we doing here?”

“Getting a temp fix for your crappy locks. I’ll have to order commercial grade, but in the meantime, they should have a step up from yours, plus a security bar.”

“What if the arsonist wanted to come through a window?”

“Honestly? Outside of installing bulletproof glass, there’s nothing you can do to stop him. But I can rig window security alarms that sound if the glass breaks or window opens. Come on…” He waved for her to join him.

“I’d rather stay in the car.”

“You’re not leaving my side. Period.”

“I’ll be sitting in a locked car on a busy street. What could go wrong?”

Lips pressed tight, he looked to the car’s ceiling as if hoping to find patience. “Did you miss the memo about my rental car being blown up with at least a couple hundred people present?”

“I look like hell. I’m the mayor. Next year, I’m up for reelection.”

“Assuming I’m able to keep you alive.”

“Now you’re being melodramatic. If the arsonist wanted me dead, wouldn’t he have already tried something more serious than burning down my bar or a few family outbuildings when he knew no one was in them?”

“Miranda…” He gripped the wheel extra tight. “We both have an awful lot to do today, and I could have already finished this particular task. Please, just—”

A bang against the rear passenger side window had Miranda clutching her chest and Jackson reaching for his gun.

“Hey, girl! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Shoulders sagging in relief, Miranda sighed before lowering her window. “David. How have you been?”

“Good, lil boss lady.” Miranda left the car to give her family friend a warm hug.

Without her even being aware of how he got there, Jackson was suddenly beside her, holding out his hand to David. After introducing himself, he brooded.

“We’re all real proud of you,” David said. He was a slight man, barely taller than Miranda and string bean skinny with a shock of red hair. “Who’d have thought you’d go from helping us wash cars to being mayor?”

“Never me,” she said with a laugh. It felt good to be normal—if only for a few minutes. “Has Dad been keeping you busy?”

He whistled. “You know he’s building that fancy new showroom. He’s got us hopping like crickets around that place. You heard Betsy and I have been dating, right?”

She nodded.

“Well, tonight’s our one-year anniversary and if I don’t get home in time to take her for a fancy dinner, she’ll tan my hide.”

“Aw…” She pulled him into a quick, but heartfelt hug. “Next time I see Daddy, I’ll tell him to take it easy on you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Which reminds me, if I don’t get back soon with that paint he ordered, I’ll be in a whole crab pot’s worth of hot water. Not sure who I’m more afraid of—him or my date.”

She laughed. “You’d better get going then.”

“Will do. Nice meeting you, Jackson. Take good care of my gal.”

Jackson nodded and waved. Once David entered the hardware store, he said, “Tell me everything. How long have you known him? And who’s Betsy?”

“You can’t think he’s a suspect? David’s practically family. Betsy, too. She’s my mother’s housemaid.”

“Until we catch the guy who torched your bar and my rental car and all those other buildings, pretty much every man and woman in sight is a suspect.”

Clamping her hand to her throbbing forehead, Miranda fought for the right words. As an elected official, she was accustomed to communicating with all sorts of constituents with opposing views, but this fundamental break with Jackson hurt more than any argument she’d yet faced. She barely knew him, yet his opinion deeply mattered. Why?

Her mind’s-eye conveniently produced a slideshow of him calmly taking the burning tray from her home. Of him finding that tracking device and taking her to a motel where he believed she’d be safe.

She saw herself waking with her cheek and hand pressed to his chest. His hand warm and secure on her back. The moment in a motel bed had been an accident neither could have predicted. She should have regretted it. Railed against his unprofessionalism in not having insisted on double beds. Instead? She found herself not only missing that chance intimacy but craving more.

“Miranda? You okay?” She glanced up to find Jackson eyeing her not in the romantic way of her fantasy, but with narrow-eyed suspicion. “Is there something about this David character you didn’t tell me?”

Mouth dry, pulse curiously racing, she shook her head. “He’s a great guy.”

Are you? After James, she never dared hope she’d meet another man who attracted her half as much. But now that she had under the most improbable circumstances, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was having the same confusing feelings for her? Probably not. She was the only person crazy enough to confuse an arson investigation with a blind date.

Jackson was true to his word and finished his shopping in under ten minutes. He’d loaded a basket with heavy duty deadbolts and security cameras and a much better flashlight than hers.

Finished, they stopped off at AT&T for her new phone, then returned to her place.

While she showered and dressed for a full afternoon at her City Hall office, Jackson changed her front and back door locks and installed security gadgets he’d grumbled about not being as hi-tech as he would have liked.

He’d wanted to stop by her father’s car lot to talk to him about the GPS, but considering how much work she’d already missed, she insisted on doing it another time.

“Ready?” she asked, finding him in her living room, tapping on the back wall.

“When was this place built?”

“I already told you—at least a hundred years ago. No telling how many times it’s been refurbished since. I had a central HVAC system installed when the rest of the inn was built.”

“This wall—” He tapped it again. “—it sounds hollow. Like there’s a void behind it.”

She shook her head. “Surely one of my crew would have noticed and said something? We could have opened it up to add square footage.” Checking her hair in the entry mirror, she asked, “Ready? If you don’t want me going alone, we need to leave. Plus, I want you at my council meeting.”

“Sure.” Hands on his hips, he surveyed the wall a few seconds longer, then turned to her. He fished something from his pocket. A key. “Take this. For now, I’ve got the spare that came with the lock. I’ve already ordered stronger replacement models, but this is a huge improvement over what you had.”

“Thank you. For everything.” She tried to smile, but remembering the sole reason for his being here sobered her mood.

“No problem. Do you need to work at the bar tonight?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I’d prefer you stay here. The more I poked around, the more I think you’re right. Someone’s watching you, but I’m not sure how. It’s a gut feeling that I’d like to get to the bottom of, but I can’t do that if I’m not here.”

“You could let me be a grown-up and work on my own.”

He opened the door for her, gesturing her to precede him outside. “Not a—you have got to be kidding me…” Jackson froze, staring past her.

Miranda followed his stare to her car. Despite the sunny day’s heat, a cold chill fisted in her gut, spreading like tentacles throughout her limbs.

“This guy’s going down.” He brushed past her, storming toward the horror when fear for him wanted her to urge him away. To call police and let them handle what was escalating into an increasingly frightening and bizarre situation. He called over his shoulder, “Stay here where I can see you.”

Dropping her purse to the porch floor, she abided by his wishes, hugging herself to ward of a fresh round of chills.

Tears stung her eyes, but not enough to prevent her from seeing Jackson break a branch from a redbud, then use it to fling the first of five writhing snakes from her adorable VW Bug’s hood. From here, she couldn’t tell if they were poisonous, but judging by the distance Jackson was keeping, they were.

Written across her windshield in the same sort of white window paint used at her dad’s car lot was: She who lays with serpents shall be bitten! Whore!