9

WITH MARK GONE, Miranda couldn’t stop shaking. She’d worked so hard to be mayor. She’d transformed the town from a speck on the map off I-10 to a destination. How could all of her efforts be blown away? Mark’s words hit her like a category five hurricane. “Why is this happening?”

“People do a lot of sick things for money.”

“How can I fight this?” Fearing her knees would buckle, she sank onto the sofa. “I could take my case to local and even state-wide media, but will our bustling tourism industry be killed by the undeniable fact that the town’s most popular bar—along with four employees—was blown to smithereens by a madman?” She laughed sharply. “A madman who just happens to lead an even crazier bunch of elected officials who comprise our city council.”

“If it makes you feel better, my boss and my buddies roll in next week.”

“Please, tell them, thank you, but no. If something happened to them, I couldn’t live with myself.”

“Being one hundred-percent honest, I could use the help. Your good buddy Mark has done a bang-up job of incriminating himself, but my gut tells me he’s not behind the small stuff. Or hell, maybe he is? Anyone ever tell you this is a crazy town?”

“No.” She sniffed back tears. “In fact, before all of this, we were voted #17 on Southern Living’s top Romantic Weekend Destinations list. Up until now, we’ve never made it at all. It might not seem like a big deal, but to me, it is. I want this to be a nice place.”

“It is.” He sat beside her, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “And tell you what, as soon as we catch whoever’s behind all of this mess, I bet Brutal Bayou not only climbs higher on that list, but makes many more.”

“You think?” She rested her head on his strong shoulder, wanting more than anything to clasp his hand.

“I know.” Flashing a slow and sexy grin that despite her messed-up life made butterflies dance in her tummy, Jackson held up his phone.

“What’s that mean?” she asked.

“It means I recorded Mark’s rant, and that to secure your mayoral seat, we might want to take this evidence to your sheriff, then sit back to watch Mark’s impeachment plan be the last thing in this town to explode.”

“Really? You got it all?”

He nodded.

“I’m so happy I could kiss you.”

“Be my guest…” He leaned in, meeting her more than halfway.

Miranda’s pulse raced fast enough that she struggled to find her next breath. Kissing him wasn’t exactly professional. On the flipside, with it looking as if Mark may have been behind all of the fires, this case could be declared closed. Meaning she and Jackson were no longer co-workers, but merely a man and woman. A woman who wanted nothing more than to ease forward, relishing the moment her lips finally learned the pleasure of touching his.

When she landed against him, her body felt supercharged—electrified as if together they could conquer the world. He swept his fingers under her still-wet braid, pressing her closer, urging her mouth open for a thrilling sweep of their tongues.

He drew her onto his lap where she felt his attraction and need. She felt the same—hungry for him. The past couple of days had been filled with darkness, but now he’d taken her hand and guided her into the light.

Groaning, she sadly pulled away.

“Come back,” he said.

“Oh—I will.” She smiled. “But first, let’s get your recording to the sheriff. It feels good to finally be in an offensive position.”

“Understood.”

After a few more quick kisses that promised more, they left her father’s study to find her parents in the casual living area located off the kitchen. They nursed martinis and while her mother skimmed Pinterest on her iPad, her father watched Naked and Afraid, letting the contestants know what he could have done better.

“Mom? Dad?”

“Oh, hey.” Her father paused the TV. “Where’s Mark? I wanted him to try one of my new cigars.”

“Mark had to go. He’s got a full plate.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Guess we’ll try them another time.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “I need to get Miranda to her office. The police and fire chiefs are meeting us there to follow up on the fire and arson investigation.”

“Good,” her father said with an aggressive nod.

“Before we go,” Jackson said, “I have a couple of things to go over with you.”

“Shoot.” After setting down his martini and the remote, her father straightened in his chair.

“Coming directly to the point, I found a tracking device on Miranda’s car. By any chance did you or anyone at your dealership install it as a theft prevention measure?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Miranda felt part relieved, part terrified to find her father’s expression one of genuine shock. Because if he hadn’t installed the spyware, that meant that Mark was most likely behind that, too. Disgusting.

“Thank you for your candor. One more thing—while Miranda was in the shower, someone entered her bathroom window and left a message on the mirror.”

Miranda’s mother gasped. “What did it say?”

“It’s not important, Mom. The only reason Jackson brought it up is to have you and Dad be extra cautious. Lock all your windows and doors.”

“Are you okay?” her father asked.

“Fine.” With Jackson’s support, she surprisingly was. “I’m a little shaken, but optimistic. I’m expecting a good meeting followed by a full night’s sleep.”

“Good luck, honey. Be careful.” Her mother rose to give her, and then Jackson, hugs. “Thank you, Jackson, for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

Her father shook Jackson’s hand. “Harding assured me you’d get results. I never expected them to be this fast.”

Jackson winced. “Let’s not declare this investigation officially over just yet, but it’s looking good. Just in case, please don’t forget to lock up.”

“We won’t,” her dad said with a wave.

“Wait!” her mom called just before Jackson opened the front door. “You two never ate.”

Miranda asked, “Think Chef Morgan would mind packing something to go?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t. Wait here. I’ll ask.”

On the ride to her office, Miranda and Jackson ate thick turkey and swiss sandwiches, homemade potato chips and dill pickles. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been truly hungry, but the relief of knowing this whole mess would soon be behind her combined with the pleasant surprise of their first kiss made her a little punch-drunk. Yes, she was still devastated by the loss of her friends, but she was also looking forward to a fear-free future.

“At the next stop sign, we should put the top down,” she said. “It’s a gorgeous night.”

“That would be a no. Not that a rag top offers that much protection, but it’s something.”

“Wait—” Her happy bubble burst. “You don’t think Mark’s behind everything?”

He winced. “It’s possible, but all those messages felt more personal. Too discreet for Mark’s look-at-me agenda. If he did torch your bar, all those outbuildings, and the WWI statue, his motive was to make you look ineffective at your job.” After a few minutes’ silence, he asked, “The night I first got here, you mentioned that an old shrimp trawler had also been destroyed. Who owned that?”

“One of the guys at dad’s car lot here in town. He has dealerships all over the state, but this one is most like a family. I think Frankie used the boat on weekends. He and David—you met him this afternoon—run the detailing department.”

“Tell me more about him.” He turned right onto Magnolia Avenue.

“David? Or Frankie?”

“David.”

“He’s a sweetheart. He’s a few years older than me. I’m pretty sure he’s worked for my dad since graduating high school. He started out doing odd jobs, but worked his way up to his current position.”

“Could he have a thing for you?”

“David?” She laughed. “No way. He’s like a big brother. Besides, at this very moment, he’s probably asking Betsy to marry him.”

“Right. Anything about Betsy that seems off?”

“She’s a doll. Seems like David met her in New Orleans. He’d been on a guys’ trip. She moved here not long after and when he asked my dad for help finding her a job, since she had hotel maid experience, she was a perfect fit for the inn. Trouble was, she did such a great job that Mom poached her from me. She did get a sweet raise to make the move. Plus, she gets to live rent-free in their garage apartment.”

“Hmm…” Waiting at a red light, he drummed his fingers against the wheel.

“Jackson, stop. I can practically see the gears moving in your head. Mark is behind all of this. I feel it. He ran for mayor ages ago—back when I was still in high school—but lost to the incumbent. I’m guessing he’s been harboring a grudge ever since. It makes sense.”

His grunt didn’t sound so sure.

City Hall was creepy in the dark. Surrounded by century-old live oaks draped in Spanish moss, with brick sidewalks lined by flickering gas lamps, they could have been stepping back in time.

After Jackson parked in her assigned spot, Miranda led him to the side door used for after-hours.

The sheriff, Reginald Sharp, an African American who towered over her, waved when he left his marked SUV. Lenny emerged from the passenger side. “I picked up a friend along the way.”

“Good.” She held open the door for them both. “Lenny, you and Jackson met earlier, but Reginald, this is the man I told you about who’s here looking into the fires.”

They shook hands.

“Nice meeting you,” Reginald said. He was still in uniform. “Some kind of mess we’ve got going, huh?”

“I’ll say…” Jackson shook his head. “Beats anything I’ve ever seen.”

They all entered the building.

Miranda locked the door behind them.

The trek to her office seemed unusually long—maybe by the eerie lack of overhead lights? Maybe the adrenaline of Jackson having caught Mark in his own game had worn off and exhaustion took its place? Regardless, she couldn’t get this meeting over with fast enough.

By the time they sat at the small conference table overlooking the WWI statue’s shadowy rubble, the weight of her mayoral responsibilities felt like a couple of those broken chunks of marble riding on her shoulders.

“I don’t mean to rush you, ma’am,” the sheriff braced his forearms on the table, leaning forward, “but my daughter is expecting our first grandson any moment. My wife already has the car packed for Shreveport. The only thing missing is me.”

“Reginald, I’m sorry.” Miranda pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes. “This mess made me totally space out on your happy news. Of course, let’s keep this brief. After the explosion, Lenny, Jackson and I all felt we were looking at a blatant arson.”

The fire chief said, “I’m going to take that a step further. Of course, I won’t have definitive answers until lab results are in, but my guess is that we’re looking at a homemade bomb much like the one that took out the City Hall statue.”

“Okay.” Reginald seemed confused. “Hand me a suspect and I’ll lock them up for probable cause.”

“That’s just it,” Miranda said. “Until less than an hour ago, we didn’t have one. But then Mark Wells tipped his hand. I could tell you about his outrageous threats, but thankfully, Jackson had the foresight to tape him.” She turned to her hero. “Could you please start the recording?”

“Already pulled it up.” Jackson pressed play.

Mark’s booming voice filled the otherwise quiet room… “Lenny wants to call the incident at your bar arson, but to do so would—”

“Of course, it was arson. Jackson and I heard four distinct explosions.”

“The point I’m trying to make is that it doesn’t have to be. If we make this a criminal matter as opposed to say… a simple grease fire, all of our lives will get a whole lot more complicated.”

“Son of a bitch…” While the recording played on, Reginald whistled.

“The rest of the council and I met an hour ago, and in light of this deadly fire we’re prepared to impeach. I will become the acting mayor until a special election can be held.”

“Just wait,” Jackson mumbled. “It gets better…”

“Even if I did arrange for your dive bar to be blown to kingdom come, it would have been for a noble cause. You think you know how to run this town, but you don’t have a clue. Time to step aside and let a grown-up tackle the job.”

Once the recording finished, Reginald slammed the heel of his hand against the table. “I never did like that pompous ass. Okay, so I’ll head over to his place to make an arrest myself on suspected arson charges as well as improper influence of a public official. I’ll also call Judge Blaylock to get an expedited search warrant for his home and office. Considering we have four deaths, I’ll have the DA petition for no bond. Sadly, looks like my wife will have to make the Shreveport trip on her own. This needs to be handled strictly by the book.”