6

“WHY DID IT have to be snakes? Couldn’t he have stuck with fire?” Jackson flung the last of the writhing, hissing creatures into the tall grass beyond the small blacktop lot. Since the wedding venue was surrounded by marshes and swamp, he assumed they’d slither off from whence they’d been taken. His first instinct had been to shoot them, but he figured Miranda wouldn’t appreciate bullet holes in her car.

“Are you okay?” she shouted from the porch.

“Fine.”

“Were they poisonous?”

“Pretty sure, but I’m no expert.” He shuddered. “I’ve witnessed a lot of screwed-up things in my line of work, but this one ranks right up there.”

“I’m so sorry. I never should have involved you in this.”

“Hey…” He slowly approached her, cupping his hand to the side of her face. “I want to be here. I’m not going anywhere until this sicko is behind bars.” With his thumb, he brushed silent tears from her cheek. When she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, resolve to keep her safe shot through him. “Everything’s going to be okay. Promise.”

“How can you say that when ever since you got here, things keep going from bad to worse?”

“Ever thought of a career in private investigations? You’re a genius.” He kissed her forehead, then released her. “Mind showing me where you keep your glass cleaner?”

“Wait…” She shook her head. “How am I a genius?”

“Because you’re reinforcing my initial suspicion. I’ve read your file and activity has definitely ramped up—which can only mean one thing. Our firebug and now poet is in love with you. I’m cramping his style.”

“What?” Brows furrowed, she shook her head. “That makes no sense. I haven’t been in a committed relationship for years.”

“Does this seem like a healthy love to you? It’s sick and twisted, which makes it all the more dangerous. It also narrows our suspect list. Let me clean your windshield, then get you to your office. As soon as your meetings are done, I need you to compile a list of any guy who’s shown the slightest bit of interest in you since these fires first started.”

Miranda didn’t like it, but Jackson sat at a table in her mayoral office through every one of her meetings. While she tackled issues from negotiating a new contract for trash collectors and looking over proposals for a new statue to replace the jagged and charred rubble remaining from the previous WWI tribute, Jackson exchanged emails with Harding, catching him up to speed and arranging for a new car, laptop and other essentials to be delivered to Miranda’s bungalow later that night.

It was unprofessional as hell but seeing Miranda in this power role was a turn-on. She was not only beautiful, but smart and capable and in no way deserving of the crap this monster was putting her through.

At six, he followed her into a boardroom located down the hall from her top-floor office. The enormous wood-paneled room featured an at least a sixteen-foot oval conference table that if his woodshop class memory served him correctly was made of cypress. Tall paned windows allowed golden early evening sun to slant through. Burgundy leather chairs were occupied by a council of twelve men and women engaged in a contentious debate.

“I understand we’re under budget restraints, Mayor, but in light of six major fires in three weeks, don’t you think we should be calling in authorities? Not some friend of a friend of your father who’s only in town to do you a”—she checked her notes—“‘solid’, I believe was the word you used?” When councilwoman Banks finished her speech by pointing at him, Jackson squirmed in his seat at the table’s far end.

“Mrs. Banks,” Miranda said, “I assure you, Mr. Elliot and his team are uniquely qualified to handle matters of this sort in not only an efficient way, but discreetly. You of all people should recall just how much revenue this town stands to lose should our agreement with Universal Oil go sour.”

Jackson raised his hand. “Madam Mayor? I don’t mean to butt into your official city business, but for the record, Mrs. Banks should know that not only was my rental car torched last night, but you were indirectly attacked on two separate occasions.” He gave them the abridged version of the disgusting messages the arsonist had delivered. “I can see where you’d be concerned with my lack of formal arson investigation skills, but I promise to bring considerable other talents to the table—not the least of which is tenacity. I won’t quit till I’m nailing this guy to the wall.”

During his speech, Jackson leaned closer to the fifty-something woman who could pass in any bar for forty. He ended his call to battle with what he hoped came off as a confident smile as opposed to a dumbass leer.

“Well…” Mrs. Banks picked up the meeting minutes and fanned herself.

Mission accomplished.

The three other women on the council nodded in approval.

A dumpling of a rosy-cheeked man who’d earlier been introduced as the bank president, Mark Wells, cleared his throat. “I, for one, am glad the mayor saw fit to handle this situation with utmost discretion. That Universal contract stands to give every last citizen of this town—even surrounding areas—financial security. I can’t condone launching public panic when a fine young man like Mr. Elliott can get the job done with military pinpoint precision. Back in my day,” he leaned back in his swivel conference chair. “I was a Marine, but you Navy SEAL boys beat all. My hat’s off to you, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wells. I appreciate your service and vote of confidence.”

“Then we’re in agreement?” Miranda asked.

All present nodded.

“Then let’s adjourn until next week’s regularly scheduled meeting. Y’all have a nice night.” For the first time during the tense meeting, she smiled. It had been an endless day and her dirty blond hair had gotten a little disheveled. A little wild. The room’s heat had her complexion flushed. A peek of cleavage at the top of her white blouse had Jackson wondering—nope. He pulled himself from the gutter, reminding himself that he was here in a professional capacity.

He stood back, silently watching while each member either shook Miranda’s hand or hugged her. Were any of them capable of pulling off that snake stunt? Did any of the men’s gazes linger a little too long? Were their touches a little too personal? Unfortunately, no. His job would have been easier if they had.

By the time all council members left the room, and he was seated back behind the wheel of Miranda’s car, it was after seven. Aside from protein bars scavenged from her meager pantry, they hadn’t eaten a significant meal since breakfast.

“Should we break for dinner?” Jackson suggested.

“No time. I’m due at the bar.”

“What’s the point in owning a joint if you can’t set your own hours?”

“Lovely concept,” she said while digging through her enormous purse, “but in theory, it doesn’t work.”

“So what’s for dinner? In case you haven’t gotten my hints, I’m starving.”

“How can you even think of food? My mind keeps replaying that snake scene.”

“I’m over it. Besides, if you don’t have anything better, snake makes a tasty meal.” He winked.

She blanched before taking her phone from her purse. “Feel free to order something at the bar—on the house.”

“Who are you calling?”

“My mother. She needs my new number.”

“Don’t give it out to too many people. In fact, for the time being, let’s keep that list down to your parents and me.”

“But—”

“There’s some crazy spy gadgets out there. Bad guys can do a lot with just your number.”

“Paranoid much?”

“Considering what we’ve been through in the past twenty-four hours, you’re not paranoid enough.” He turned off the state highway onto the smaller road that ran along the widest part of the bayou which was where her bar had been built—or rather, rebuilt. “Tell me about when your place burned down.”

“Why? It’s not an especially fun time to relive.”

“Sorry, but I need to know who was around you and what was going on.”

She sighed. “I guess I had mostly the same staff. You already met my bartender, Lex. He’s been with me longest. Then there’s Victor and his twin sister Valerie—she waits tables. Her best friends Dixie and Fran usually work all their shifts together. The ladies are nursing students at the community college in Rubyvale. I guess now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve added a few new waitresses. Oh—there’s also the kitchen staff. Julio, but everyone calls him Cook. Uncle Ray and Tommy help him. Ray’s not really my uncle. I’m not sure how he came to be called by that name.” She scrunched her too-cute nose.

“Were you dating anyone?”

“Not on my staff. But I did date Moody.” Her pinched expression was nearly as pained as when she’d brought up the snakes. “Remember at the council meeting when Mark Wells brought up our contract with Universal Oil?”

“Yeah.” Jackson drove her car into the bar’s near-empty lot. They didn’t open till seven-thirty. Long shadows stretched from the cypress-lined swamp over the bayou’s glassy black water. “Moody is the owner’s son. You met him last night.”

“That kid putting moves on you?”

“At twenty-seven, he’s hardly a kid, but we used to be an item. My dad and his were frat brothers at Louisiana State. Growing up, we took family vacations together. My mom and Moody’s thought it would be cute if we ended up together. They were sorority sisters.”

“What happened to break it off?” He pulled alongside a mud-splattered red pickup, then killed the engine.

“Not sure. Nothing dramatic. More of a slow death—kind of like a plant you forget to water. He was always busy with Universal. I built this place and then the wedding venue. Now that he’s here in town while the offshore rigs are being built, I’ve seen a lot more of him, but I’m just not interested.”

“What’s your gut feeling? Do you think he could be behind all of this?”

“Not a chance.”

“Why not?”

“He lacks the passion. You said it yourself, whoever is behind last night’s flaming tray and the snakes and your car fire had a considerable amount of emotion fueling his actions. Moody and I fooled around, but nothing between us was ever serious—at least not for me.”

“Are you sure he felt the same?” Jackson fought to keep from clenching his fingers into fists. At the time, he’d assumed the pretty boy had been just another bar patron. Now that he knew Moody and Miranda shared significant history, the guy had just earned a one-way trip to the top of Jackson’s suspect list.

Christ… Even their names were cutesy. Had that been planned?

Jackson tamped down a rush of jealousy. He irrationally wanted Miranda for himself. What was that old saying? Admitting you had a problem put you that much closer to solving it? Back to the issue at hand, he asked, “Could Lex or Victor have a thing for you?”

Head bowed, she grinned. “I suppose? But last I heard they were mostly into each other.”

“Right. In a similar vein, could any of the ladies on your staff be into you?”

“Jackson…” she sighed. “Could I please go to work? It’s been a freakishly long day, and since this is karaoke and all-you-can eat wings night, I have a feeling it’s only going to feel longer.”

“Sorry. Let’s go.” They exited her car. “But I’m still going to need your list.”

While walking side-by-side, she saluted.

“Boss lady!” High above them, Lex braced his hands on the party deck’s rail. “We have an emergency!”

Miranda groaned.

“What now?” Jackson slashed his fingers through his close-cropped hair.

“You’re gonna need to drive over to Rubyvale! Cook says today’s supply shipment was short on wings.”

Laughing, clutching her chest, Miranda called back, “That’s the best news I’ve heard all—”

BOOM!

Boom, boom, boom!

A series of explosions, each more concussive than the last, rocked the ground.