CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“How were things with the town council?” Bobby asked Gage when he stepped into the sheriff’s office and stood stomping the snow off his boots on the mat. Next, he shrugged like a shaggy dog, knocking the snow that had started falling again off his coat and baseball hat. She had to admit, the new beard he was growing transformed him into the rugged outdoorsman—and didn’t that get her heart beating faster?
“Tobias and Harold have the town maintenance crews working on salting down the sidewalks, hopefully to keep anyone from getting injured, especially over at the courthouse and city hall.” He filled his mug with coffee and sat behind his desk, taking a drink. “Deke has the volunteer firemen helping dig out people in the new subdivision and the paramedics are shadowing the electrical line crews, in case there’s injuries with the downed powerlines.”
He took another drink, savoring the hot brew with an ahh. “How have things been here?”
“Libby emailed me the list of seniors living in the outskirts of town and on farms. We divided it up between us and the Baptist Ladies. Most of them are doing well. They prepared early.” She laughed.
“What?” Gage asked with one brow lifted at her.
“Just something funny happened when I called Mr. Murphy. He told me, and I quote, Mrs. Deputy, I’ve weathered many a winter storm. Got plenty of wood for the fire, the pantry is stocked with food, and the Mrs. has three new jigsaw puzzles. Take more than a little wind and snow to put us under.”
“Mrs. Deputy?” Gage lifted one brow at her.
She shrugged, coming over to sit on the corner of his desk. “Apparently the sheriff marrying one of his deputy has the elderly citizens a bit confused as to what to call me. I kind of like it.”
“I do, too.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “So everyone was accounted for, Mrs. Deputy?”
“Unfortunately, no.” She handed him the paper in her other hand. “There are about ten families, other than the Amish on the north side of the county, we haven’t been able to get ahold of. When I called Daniel, he was already on his way in. So he and Cleetus each piled a snowmobile onto their trucks and were headed out to check on them.”
Gage studied the paper in front of him, then reached for the county map. “They didn’t happen to take the sat phones with them, did they? Cell service is sketchy out there on a good day.”
“First thing Daniel grabbed,” she said, returning to her desk. “They also took a first-aid kit and were stopping by the Peaches ’N Cream for thermoses of coffee. Knowing Pete and Lorna, they were probably laden down with soup and biscuits for anyone in need of it.”
Out of habit, she picked up her cell phone to check for any calls or messages from Chloe.
“Did you talk to your sisters?” Gage asked. They’d been together for less than a year and the man could already tell when she was worrying.
“I got a little longer chat with Dylan. She was between cases. Apparently, a car full of college students thinking a trip in a blizzard was a good idea until they plowed into a stranded car has her with several surgeries this afternoon. Luckily, nothing fatal.”
“That’s good news. Any word on Chloe?”
She shook her head. “No. Dylan hasn’t heard from her either. And that’s got me worried. Chloe lives by her phone. I tried the law office. Apparently, it’s closed for the next two days.” She picked up her pen and started tapping it on the desk. “I know you think I’m being an over-protective big sister, but it’s not like Chloe to go silent on me. Not even as a teenager. Something is very wrong.”
* * * * *
The nearly two feet of snow blanketing the area was a royal pain in the ass, but it also benefited the plan. Work wouldn’t question an absence today or maybe even tomorrow. Which would leave plenty of time to take care of exacting revenge on the man who caused Isaac’s death—Wes Strong.
He’d been an elusive target for the past six years. Six years of living his life, while Isaac had been dead and buried six feet under. A brother who hadn’t deserved to die in some jungle thousands of miles from home.
Dead because Wes Strong hadn’t taken care to keep him alive.
* * * * *
“Besides your boss and the big corporation, who else do you think might want to hurt you?” Wes said, fingers poised over his keyboard once more, glad to be back on the track of her stalker and out of the memories that haunted him. He’d never talked about that night in the deer stand with anyone. Voicing his near suicide aloud made him feel like a coward. Yet, Chloe understood without judging him. Would she be as empathetic if she knew he’d gotten so many good men killed?
Chloe didn’t answer and he suspected she might fight the switch in topic, but after a moment she simply nodded. “There’s Joe Whitehead.”
“The former football strong-safety? That Joe Whitehead?” Okay, that threw him a curveball. He hadn’t expected a sports hero to pop onto her stalker-possibility list.
“The one and the same.”
“Isn’t he serving time for spousal abuse?”
“Actually, it’s twenty years for assault and kidnapping his wife. It was his fourth offense. He got the maximum.”
Wes typed the name onto the list of suspects then paused. “I thought you were a corporate lawyer. What does this domestic violence case have to do with you?”
Chloe gave a little shrug and shifted in her seat. “I do pro bono work in my spare time. Joe’s wife Tamika was a high school friend of mine. I filed the restraining orders against him for her. He kept violating them. When one of Joe’s punches landed her in the ICU with a broken eye socket, it was the last time. With no college education or job skills, she didn’t have any money of her own and no way to support her children. Before the prosecution went after Joe’s freedom, I went after his money in her divorce.”
“How much did you take him for?”
The question bristled her. She’d heard more than one male lawyer and client claim women were always out for more money than they deserved. She sat straight up in her seat, pointing a finger at Wes. “I didn’t take him for anything. Why is it men always assume a woman wants to take a man for everything he has? Shouldn’t she get some compensation for being his personal punching bag?”
Wöden lifted his head to stare at the pair of them.
Wes held up his hands in submission. “Whoa, there counselor. I didn’t say she shouldn’t. Personally, I think any man who treats a woman like that deserves to lose everything he holds dear.”
The sincerity on his face eased some of her ire, slightly. She sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and tapping her foot on the floor as she stared out into the snow falling once more outside the cabin window, tears of frustrated anger burning her eyes. A moment later, the large grey and white wolf-dog nuzzled her foot. She froze. Then Wöden moved to slip his head under her hand. Carefully, she rubbed her hand in his thick fur. The action gave her comfort.
“I fought for my client and friend to have enough money for a nice home in a safe area of another town and to pay their bills and for her education so she could get the skills necessary to support her kids. The judge awarded her more than we’d asked for. I was very proud of Tamika. She asked me to use the extra money to set up education accounts for her kids and trust funds in case anything happened to her.”
“Sounds like a very sensible woman.”
Shaking her head, Chloe continued to run her hands through Wöden’s fur. “She wasn’t always. That’s how she ended up with Joe in the first place. She believed marrying a famous athlete would make her famous and living the bling life without any worries.”
“Until the fantasy life turned into a nightmare?” Wes asked, all censure out of his voice.
“I think she would’ve put up with it for longer if she hadn’t had kids.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I noticed she changed after her daughter was born and even more after her son. She wasn’t on the gossip pages or on social media as much. Her posts and tweets had more to do with her kids than partying with the rich and famous.” Wöden laid down at her feet. She lifted one leg up into the chair, wrapped one arm around it and relaxed into the cushions. “It’s one of the reasons I wanted to help her. She was in over her head and wanted to get out before Joe killed her or one of her kids.”
“You said he broke the restraining orders?” Wes asked, rubbing the day-old stubble on his chin.
“Yes. All four. Why?”
“I’m just thinking he’d have had to develop stalking skills to find her, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes, but like I told you earlier, he’s in prison for twenty years. I don’t see him stalking me from inside a jail cell.”
“True. But he might still have the resources to hire someone to do it for him.”
“This feels too personal to be a hired thug. Besides wouldn’t it make more sense for him to be terrorizing Tamika?”
“Yes, on both counts. Still, I’ll keep him on our list,” Wes said, typing on his laptop again. “We’ll see if he’s had any regular visitors at the prison.”
“You’re going to access federal prison records on your little laptop while we’re snowed in out here in the woods?”
He gave her a nonchalant shrug. “I have an app.”
She snorted. The man had an app for everything. “You’re kidding, right?”
He didn’t answer, just lifted one eyebrow her direction. “Anyone else you want to add to the list?”
Chloe pulled more cookies out of the packet and munched on them. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that the man on the couch had connections that could get him into federal data bases and apps that let him clone cell phones, much less search her own memory banks for anyone who’d ever threatened her. The whole thing—Wes and her stalker—seemed too surreal.
“Anyone else you might’ve pissed off doing a case pro bono?” Wes prompted her.
She focused on the few side cases she’d had since joining the firm. One name came to mind. “Nathan Tremont.”
“And who is Nathan Tremont?”
“He’s the owner of the Tremont Athletic Goods stores. There are several in the Cincinnati, Dayton and northern Kentucky area.”
“What did he do?”
“Ran a stop sign while talking on his cell phone and t-boned my client’s car.”
“Did he do time?”
She shook her head. “Just a fine and points on his driving record.”
“So why would he be after you?”
It was her turn to give a casual shrug. “Tremont and his insurance company wanted to settle out of court for a pittance of the amount he’d cost my client, Mr. Algeron. He came to me for advice and we sued him in civil court for damages and reimbursement of medical bills. I made sure he felt the pain in his wallet that matched the pain Mr. Algeron did when his car was hit.”
Wes made a face and started typing.
“What?” she asked, feeling like she’d been caught cheating on a test or something.
“Nothing. You just go for the jugular, don’t you?”
“One of the things I always remembered my father saying when I was little was, the best defense is a good offense.”
“A football guy, huh?”
“Bengals all the way.”
Wes studied her with those intense blue eyes of his again. “Amazing how something our parents say can influence us years later. This time your dad’s advice may have triggered Tremont’s need for revenge.”