Chapter 1
At police headquarters, Mac was ushered into a room with two chairs and a small table. In a strategic move, Mac casually sat in the first chair, placing his back to the door. It showed he didn’t care who came and went, and forced others to walk around him. He didn’t have a clue what his involvement in this murder case was supposed to be but knew he’d be questioned based on Marsha’s death alone.
The tall woman sat across from him. She dropped her folder on the table and looked at him for a long moment.
He stared back. It was the oddest time to recognize a woman’s attributes, but he was male and had been celibate for long enough, and her mesmerizing gaze was the deepest, darkest midnight blue he’d ever seen. He opened his mouth to mention it to her, then snapped his lips closed. That comment would be foolhardy at best.
She raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you want to say?” she asked quietly.
He quirked a grin at her. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”
“Try me.”
He chuckled, settled back, crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “I was just thinking how you have the softest midnight-blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”
He knew he’d surprised her, but she was quick to mask it. The woman was all about control.
She shook her head, opened the folder in front of her, and said, “Before we begin, please state your name.”
He leaned forward. “It’s hardly fair for you to know my name and to not share yours.”
She flushed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Detective Alex Carson.”
He reached out a hand to shake hers. “Nice to meet you. I’m Macklin.” Despite herself he could see her fighting a smile. “I’m harmless,” he said gently. “I would never kill Marsha. I haven’t seen her in at least six months—and it was just a glimpse of her—and all our meetings before that were unpleasant for several years. Not from me hitting on her but from her hitting on me.”
Alex settled back. “Can you explain?”
He launched into as honest an accounting of the strange relationship he had had with Marsha as he could. “Originally I invited her out on a date. We ended up in bed, an incredibly hot, wild weekend, but it only took until Monday for me to realize she was a crazy woman. As in, something was not quite right.”
Alex frowned. “Meaning?”
“I had to go to work that Monday. I needed her to leave so I could lock up.” He shook his head with the memories. “But she had no intention of leaving. Although she made it look like she did. We left together. I went to work. When I came home, I found her moving in.”
Surprise lit Alex’s face. “After one weekend?”
Macklin nodded. “Right? It made no sense. I was quite pissed off. I like my space.”
She nodded. “Most of us do, particularly if it’s a new relationship.”
He nodded. “She had her vehicle packed full and was unloading. Instead of going to work that day, she had gone home and packed up everything.”
“What did you do?”
“I told her that, as much as I had enjoyed the weekend, I wasn’t ready for a commitment.” He winced. “If I had been smart, I would’ve just ushered her out the door and left her like that. But it wasn’t to be quite so neat and clean. She broke into tears, said she’d made me a special dinner, and the least I could do was be nice about it. I felt like a heel. I kept going over our weekend, wondering where she would have gotten the idea we were moving in together, but I don’t think she needed any encouragement. The fact that we went to bed together was enough for her.”
“Did you talk about commitment in any way?”
“Hell no. That’s not really on my agenda, at least not for a while.” He stared around the small room, hating all the memories filling his head. “We had her special dinner. I managed to get her packed back up and out of the apartment. And then I had to go to a meeting. I had sent a text to one of the guys in my unit. Between us, we found somebody who could come that night and change the locks.”
She frowned. “You mean she got into your locked apartment?”
He nodded. “And, no, I don’t have a clue how she got back in. I didn’t want to take the chance she’d picked the lock, so I added a bolt on top. I know it sounds stupid, but I was paranoid.”
Alex nodded. “Carry on.”
“After that she seemed to back off a little, acting more normal. I was still wary, but I really wondered if I had made a mistake. Maybe I’d been the one at fault. … I didn’t really know or understand what I might’ve done, but she didn’t pressure me or try to move in again. All my friends told me to get the hell away and just forget about it. But I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to hurt her. I was also just beginning to realize what a drama queen she was. Anyway, we saw each other off and on for a couple weeks, and finally I broke it off. We were out one night, and I told her that I was heading overseas. I was letting go of my apartment, and I was starting a whole new phase of my life, and that was the end of us.”
He winced. “But of course it wasn’t the end. I went back home that night. It was true I had let my apartment go, but I still wasn’t due to fly out for a couple days. I woke up in the middle of the night to somebody trying to get in my door.”
Alex leaned forward and grabbed a pen and jotted down notes. “Was it her?”
He nodded. “It was. And I didn’t open the door. I could see her through the peephole. But she seemed to sense I was there and pounded on the door, screaming, kicking, and waking up the neighbors. The cops were called—I didn’t call them though. She was given a warning, but I would still be there for another two days. I woke up the next morning, and she was trying to get in through the living room window.”
He shook his head. “I told her through the window it was over, and I was leaving. The apartment would belong to somebody else. She started crying. I tried to calm her down and went to have coffee with her. I thought maybe it would make things a little better.” He shrugged. “But it was extremely uncomfortable as she made a big scene. I got up, walked out in the middle of it, and went back to my apartment. I finished my packing and cleaning. All I had to do was move my stuff outside to the truck coming to take it to storage. That’s when she arrived again.” Just thinking about what he’d gone through made his stomach boil all over again. He shook his head. “This time I had several buddies helping me. They knew about her. But she acted crazy. She said it was our stuff going into storage. That we were looking for a place together. By the time we were done, several of my friends took me aside and said, ‘Buddy, you need to get the hell out. Something is clearly wrong with her.’ I was just grateful I was leaving.”
“Where did you go?”
“Germany for eight weeks of training. And then another program I had deliberately requested in Iraq, so I would be gone for over three months. You can check my file. It’s all there. And my stay was extended several times. By the time I returned, about eight months had gone by, and, no, I can’t tell you exactly how many months it was. This was four, five years ago, remember? But, when I came back, she was not on my radar. I’d had a good time while I was away. It had been a nice break for me. New scenery, people, and activities. I ended up getting another apartment on my own off base and was going on missions steadily. I was in Iraq and then Afghanistan doing some training. I was up in Alaska for a while.” He frowned. “Then I came home from a long trip. I was tired and cranky. I went to my apartment, parked my vehicle in front, got inside, threw down my bag, stripped, and headed for the shower. When I walked into the bedroom, she was there in my bed.”
Alex’s face hardened. “Can any of your friends verify this?”
“All of them can,” he said in an equally hard voice. “Do you know how many times every one of them has told me to watch my back and to get the hell out?”
“What did you end up doing?”
“I picked her up, grabbed her bag sitting off to the side, put her out into the hall. I shut and locked the doors. I took a kitchen chair and jammed it up against the door so she couldn’t open it. I hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. I was beyond exhausted. But I sent a text to several of my crew and my unit leader to let them know what was going on. And that, as soon as I caught six hours, I’d get back in touch.”
“What happened when you woke up?”
“She was gone, and I thought I was in the clear.” He shook his head. “But you know stalkers never leave that easily. She started emailing me. I changed my email account. Then I got letters in the mailbox. I was getting phone calls and little presents left on the front door. I did at one point entertain the fact that maybe it was somebody else, but I couldn’t think of anyone else who might’ve done something like that. It made no sense why anybody would. I did not have another lady friend at the time. I was not busy partying and having sex with nameless partners either. Since Marsha, I’ve been extremely circumspect and have not had a relationship.”
Alex’s hand flew across her notebook as she took notes. He appreciated her efficiency. “When did you see her again?”
“When she followed me.”
At that Alex looked up.
He nodded. “Yes, you can talk with my team members. They all saw her. She followed me to the gym, followed me through the coffee shops, followed me to the grocery store when I went shopping. She even followed me to a party. Several friends told her that she needed to back off. She came with the same sad story, that we’d had a fight and she was just making sure I wasn’t mad at her.”
“That’s hardly a tiny fight.”
“And I was mad at her. But I also didn’t know what to do. Over the course of my career I’ve bumped up against a lot of law enforcement, and some of them gave me insights and some tips as to how to avoid her. But she was determined. Anyway, it all came to a head when she followed me to a second party. I was sitting with a woman on each side. They happened to be partners of two of my friends, and we were celebrating engagements among the group, and Marsha lost it. She threw alcohol in my face and broke glasses. She threw furniture and bottles. Anything she could. It was just bad news.
“She ended up getting arrested, and we filed a restraining order against her. She broke it on the very first day. She was tossed in jail overnight. Somebody bailed her out. I don’t know who. Maybe she bailed herself out. I didn’t want to get involved. And it seemed like maybe she understood she had crossed the line, and this wasn’t getting her anything. So she backed off.”
“Totally?”
He shot her a look. “Hell no. After that, she got ugly.”
The detective settled back and said, “Ugly in what way?”
“Instead of love letters, she sent hate letters. Then copies of hate letters cut into tiny pieces were stuffed into an envelope. Then she progressed to broken glass parcels. A wineglass was in the first one—not exactly sure what was in the second one because it was just shattered. A number of packages were delivered to my apartment, each containing something shattered.”
“Did you call the cops to let them know? Did they take any fingerprints?”
He shook his head. “I just wanted it to be over with. But then she went after my Jeep.”
“What did she do?”
“She keyed it,” he said, his voice hard, angry. “And then she put sand in my gas tank. I went out another morning, and all four of my tires were flat.”
“At that point did you contact the cops?”
“Yes, again she was charged, but somehow she ended up with a misdemeanor—apparently by pleading she was bipolar or something, and had forgotten to take her meds. She claimed she was back on her meds, and she was fine again.”
He shook his head. “When I saw her, I didn’t have much to say to her. The bottom line is, at the end of the day, she finally disappeared from my life. And I have been very low profile because of her. I have not seen her since. And, until you came to the restaurant this morning and said she was dead, I hadn’t seen her in six months.”
“When exactly was the last time you saw her?”
“I caught sight of her in a coffee shop six months ago. I turned around and walked out.”
She nodded. “Do you know anybody who would have a reason to kill her?”
He snorted. “Except for me, any other lover she’s done this to. She was dangerous as hell. I don’t know how she was killed, but there is a good chance the other person killed her in self-defense. Believe me when I tell you—she was nuts.”
*
Alex focused on the man across the table from her. She was sure his name gave him nothing but hell as he grew up. Similarly his size, compared to that of the Mack trucks, would not have gone unnoticed by kids intent on sending jabs to the most painful emotional spots. She’d asked Caitlyn about him only days ago. Caitlyn had gushed with joy as she expounded on the man Mac was. When Alex had asked Caitlyn about Mac’s girlfriend, all humor and joy had left her face, and she had explained just how psychotic Marsha had been in her treatment of Mac. Caitlyn had ended it with “We were really worried about him. Mac seems to be unconcerned, but she kept coming around. She’d go under for a couple weeks and pop right back up, like a bad penny.” Alex remembered Caitlyn’s last words because she had stared off in the distance and told Alex, “This can’t have a good end.”
She dropped her gaze to the folder on the table in front of her, realizing how prophetic Caitlyn’s words were. “What about your relationship with Caitlyn?”
She watched as his body language settled and opened. The grin that came across his face was incredibly endearing. “Caitlyn is a sweetheart. She got a little bit lost, but now she’s back where she belongs. She’s with Ryder, and, as far as I know, her world is completely rosy.”
Alex had heard the same from Caitlyn herself. Alex nodded and said, “What other girlfriends have you been involved with since Marsha walked into your life.”
Macklin snorted. “I now live by a couple rules. One of those is, don’t if you think they’re crazy. Because obviously I’ve lived that.”
She barely held back a smirk at his first comment.
“The second is, I don’t go out with girls unless I know them really, really well.”
The second surprised her. She studied the man carefully. “No one-night stands? No short-term weekends? No girls overseas?”
At each question Macklin shook his head. “No,” he said flatly. “When you’re up against somebody with a serious problem like Marsha’s, it makes you very hesitant to move forward.”
She nodded. “Do you know any of her friends? Relatives? Enemies? Who might’ve hated her?”
Mac’s response was instant. He shook his head. “I’ve never met anybody else in her circle. I never met any family or other friends. The fact that she’s done this to me means she very likely did it to somebody else, which would make that other person a likely suspect.”
“Which also puts you exactly in the suspect seat as well.”
He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Which is why I’m here. But I did not kill her.”
“Something else makes you a whole lot guiltier than you may like.”
He leaned across the table, his sheer size intimidating. But it was the cold clarity in his gaze that made her swallow hard. “Explain,” he said in a very soft voice.
Rather than explain, she pulled one of the crime scene photographs from the file and placed it in front of him. Written in blood at the site of Marsha’s murder was his name. He leaned back, swore, and said, “Wouldn’t it be just like that bitch. The last thing she does is incriminate me. As if she couldn’t make my life bad enough while she was alive, so she has to make sure she keeps the torture on after she’s dead.”
He turned his gaze to the far corner of the room, his mind occupied with what he’d seen. His shoulders sagged, and he turned to look at Alex and said, “I shouldn’t have said that. I think she was probably mentally unstable, but maybe that wasn’t her fault. I’m sorry she’s dead. I’m sorry that, in her lifetime, she couldn’t get the help she needed. But I still didn’t kill her. And whoever wrote my name could’ve been her killer.”
“Which is why I’m asking the next question.”
He waited, his gaze unwavering.
“Who hates you enough to see you get charged with murder?”
He pinched his lips and stared for a long moment, but she didn’t drop her gaze. She searched his eyes for the truth. She didn’t see any deceit. She saw no lies. No hesitation, no searching for answers or a plausible excuse.
“I don’t know. I’ve been in the military a long time. I was off on medical leave for three months this year. I don’t think I have anyone personally who hates me. However, if a terrorist happened to be on American soil who knows about me, he could easily have targeted me. The problem is, he would’ve been after everybody else in my unit too.”
She tapped her finger on the folder, thinking about that. “Give me the names of the men in your unit. And who else met her.”
Mac gave her six names without hesitation.
“If you think of any more, let me know. I’ll run down these names, verify your story, and take it from there.”
He looked at her and asked, “Am I free to go?”
She nodded, and then her smile fell away. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate the next hit. “I need you to stay in town for the moment.”
A thundercloud swept across his face.
She expected that and looked for any sign of loss of control.
But instead he groaned and said, “Fair enough. But please hurry up. I’m finally cleared medically to go back to work next week.”
She stood and said, “I’m working on it.” Alex shook his hand and walked him back to the waiting area. Caitlyn caught sight of Alex, lifted a hand, and waved. Alex let her guard drop, and she smiled at her friend and waved back. She stood for a long moment and then realized she was attracting attention. She turned and headed back to her office.
Why the hell did the most interesting man she’d seen in over a decade end up being a murder suspect?
Just her bloody luck.