Marked for Murder. Lauren Nichols

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СКАЧАТЬ being a crutch. He’d wanted to can the big, fancy wedding, find Reverend Landers and start their married life together. He was tired of being last on her list. First she chose to stay on the job, then she balked at the move to Pittsburgh, then her dad died and she wanted to postpone the wedding again. He deserved better, he’d told her. She’d cried and handed back his ring. That’s when he found out what all the excuses and delays really meant.

      Cole took a long swig of his cranberry-whatever to combat the dull ache in his chest.

      She’d wanted out.

      Down the road, heavy metal gave way to moody saxophone tones and stirring lyrics. And against Cole’s will, Richard Marx’s “Endless Summer Nights” took him back to another night like this one. One clear, moonlit mid-July night, after he’d moved to Charity. They’d gone to Payton’s Rocks, a huge tumble of boulders and high grasses two miles from the town limits.

      Far from the lights of town, they’d sat on his truck’s tailgate, and gazed in awe at the heavens. He’d never seen stars like that before—billions upon billions of them shimmering in an ink-black sky that stretched farther than his mind could ever comprehend. He’d felt small and insignificant that night, humbled in the presence of God’s universe.

      That’s how large his love for her had been back then. Back when he was first in her life, not last in a long string of other people and other commitments.

      Suddenly a police cruiser with lights flashing sped up the street and appeared to swerve into Margo’s driveway down the block. Bolting to his feet, Cole craned his neck past the weeping willow tree in the B&B’s front yard to be certain. His heartbeat skyrocketed. An officer was getting out of the prowl car and rushing up Margo’s front steps.

      Her motion lights went on, followed by her porch light.

      There was only one reason for a patrolman with lights flashing to go to his chief in the middle of the night, and it wasn’t because a bunch of kids were partying. There’d been more trouble.

      Cole flew pell-mell downstairs and out the door. He raced for that porch light, glad he’d had the presence of mind to pack a small duffel. If he looked like an idiot wearing gray sweats with cowboy boots, he didn’t care.

      He could see the two of them now, through the screen door. The interior door had been left open.

      He slowed as he reached the sidewalk, knowing that Margo wasn’t going to like this, knowing that he was overstepping. But the need to know what had happened was strong, and he climbed the porch steps. Hopefully by midday tomorrow, he’d have official standing in the investigation.

      His leather soles scraped on the gritty concrete. Apparently, they heard it, too.

      Margo’s eyes widened for a second and then, lips thinning, she excused herself and stepped out on the porch. She spoke in an undertone. “Sometime you’ll have to tell me how you knew about this.”

      “Are you asking me to leave?” he replied in the same low voice.

      “No, but you need to give me a few minutes.” She nodded at the padded redwood chairs on her lattice-trimmed porch. “Pick one.”

      Then she went back inside and shut both doors.

      They opened again a few minutes later, and she beckoned him inside. The familiar second set of eyes he encountered didn’t look pleased to see him.

      “Steve,” she said to her officer, “I think you remember Cole.”

      O’Dell should remember him, Cole thought, though they’d never been formally introduced. O’Dell had taken his place two years ago, after Wilcox gave him the ax.

      The husky patrolman with the ruddy complexion nodded, but the lips beneath his red brush of a mustache didn’t smile, even when he offered his hand.

      Cole shook it, guessing O’Dell’s age at somewhere around forty. He had a strong grip and thick fingers, and though his stiff expression had cracked a little, Cole knew he and O’Dell weren’t going to hit it off—probably because he saw Cole as the intruder he was.

      If Margo had picked up on the tension, she didn’t react to it. “Since Cole worked the original Gold Star case, he’ll be coming aboard tomorrow as a consultant. I spoke to Bernice a little while ago,” she added when Cole raised a questioning brow. “She doesn’t see a problem.”

      She turned to O’Dell again. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s back up and start again for Cole’s benefit.”

      O’Dell pulled a plastic evidence bag from his pocket. It contained a folded sheet of typing paper with a piece of masking tape attached to it.

      “As I said, I’d just finished some paperwork and was heading out to shut down the party place when I saw the note. Charlie had told the kids earlier that it was lights and fire out by midnight.” He indicated the evidence bag. “Someone taped it to the door while I was occupied.” O’Dell’s lips thinned. “Looks like it was meant for you.”

      Cole studied Margo’s face. She never flinched. She just led them to the kitchen table, opened the bag, grasped the note by the very tip of one corner and eased it out. She shook it open on the table.

      Shock and anger splintered through him as words in colorful crayon leaped from the page.

      BACK OFF, LADY, OR YOU’RE NEXT.

      It was signed with a gold star.

      Cole’s gaze darted to Margo again. She still looked detached and unaffected—just a police officer assessing evidence. But at the base of her throat, her pulse was throbbing.

      She tucked the note back in the evidence bag just as cautiously as she’d retrieved it, then turned to O’Dell. “Okay. Photograph it, make a detailed note for our files, then run this over to the state-police barracks. Their lab will take it from here.”

      Cole trailed behind them as she walked O’Dell to the front door. “He probably wore gloves when he wrote it, but if we’re lucky, maybe he got sloppy and left a print on the masking tape. Did you dust the door?”

      “I will when I get back. I thought it was more important to get this to you.”

      She nodded. “I’ll call and let them know you’re coming. See you in a few hours.”

      When the prowl car had pulled out and Margo had spoken to the PSP, she hung up the phone and walked back to Cole. She was dressed in her sweats and pink T-shirt again, and that pulse in her throat was still moving along at a steady clip. Her hair hung long and silky around her shoulders.

      “Now,” she said wearily. “What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

      He guessed that depended on her definition of stalking. He preferred to think of it as watching over her. “No, I was sitting on the porch when O’Dell flew up the road and pulled into your driveway. Obviously, there’d been some trouble.”

      He tried to ignore the ball of fear in his stomach. “That was pretty bold of our friend, taping that note to the door. You need to take a few precautions. Is there a chance Sarah could move in with you for a while?”

      She looked at him as though he’d suddenly grown two heads. СКАЧАТЬ