My Deadly Valentine (3 page)

FOUR

S
unday morning dawned bright and sunny, although the temperature was predicted to rise no higher than forty degrees by afternoon. Rachel wasn’t surprised. There were slim daffodil fronds peeking out of the ground and a few crocuses and hyacinths had already bloomed. Other than that, there was little sign that winter was past.

Shivering, she pulled her wool coat over her pale blue sweater and skirt, picked up her purse and bible and stepped out onto the front porch of her modest brick home to wait for Jace.

Chilly weather wasn’t the only reason she was trembling, she realized with chagrin. Going back to church after having been absent for so many months was bound to cause a stir. So was being accompanied by a handsome newcomer.

That thought made her smile in spite of her misgivings. She knew it was wrong to gloat but she could hardly wait till the news of her arrival reached Lance Beech and his cohorts.

“Some loving Christian I am,” Rachel admonished herself. “Shame on me.”

Sighing, she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer for forgiveness. She and Lance had parted amiably, at least as far as she was concerned. Why he had grown so antagonistic afterward was beyond her. She had phoned several times and tried to get him to discuss their breakup but he had always hung up on her, leaving her to come to her own conclusions.

The thing that hurt the most was that so many folks had sided with him. At least that was how it had seemed. In retrospect, she wondered if her own guilty conscience about the breakup had colored her perception or made her imagine negative reactions from other people that were not really that bad.

Noticing the slow approach of a white pickup truck, Rachel’s heart leaped. Was that Jace? If so, he was right on time.

She waved. The truck pulled into the circular drive and stopped in front of her. Before the driver had time to jump out, let alone circle to the passenger side, Rachel was already climbing in.

“I would have opened that door for you,” he said.

“Sorry.” Her tingling cheeks warmed under his scrutiny and the slanting rays of the sun. “I was in a hurry because it’s so nippy out this morning.”

He rubbed his hands together and blew on them, creating a cloud of steam inside the truck’s cab. “I know what you mean. I didn’t care that my truck’s heater was broken when I lived in California. I haven’t been this cold since I went to ski camp in my teens.”

“I’ve never been skiing,” Rachel said, thankful that he was making small talk rather than being too serious.

“So, how long will it be before we see summer around here? I can hardly wait.”

“You won’t be saying that when it’s over ninety degrees with one hundred percent humidity.” Rachel laughed when he made a silly face. “I’m not kidding. It gets good and hot during the middle of summer in Arkansas.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll remember that. Any other tips you can offer a California transplant?”

“Well, stay out of the long grass and weeds as soon as the temperature warms up.”

“Because of snakes?”

Rachel fastened her seat belt as he pulled away from the curb and started down the road. “Them, too. But it was ticks and chiggers I was thinking of. They lie in wait in the grass and then jump onto your ankles.”

“I know about ticks. What’s a chigger?”

“Invisible and itchy. You’ll find out soon enough. One misstep and you’ll be an expert.” She leaned forward and pointed. “Slow down. There’s Serenity Chapel.”

A sloping asphalt drive led to the church that was perched at the front of a hill. Behind it, redbud trees were showing the first flush of pink color against the dark green cedars. Many oaks stood bare, awaiting the warmth and longer days of spring as their signal to leaf out.

“Where do you want me to park?” Jace asked.

“Anywhere is fine. I’m not fussy.”

She was gathering up her belongings when the cell phone in her purse jingled a tune. “Oops. I forgot to shut that off. Good thing it didn’t ring during the sermon or Pastor Malloy would have been upset.”

Unfolding the little phone and putting it to her ear, she smiled and offered a cheery “Hello?”

No one responded. Rachel scowled. “Hello? Is anybody there?” She held it out and looked to see if there was a number she recognized on the lighted screen. Apparently, the number had been blocked. “Huh.”

“What’s the matter?” Jace asked.

“There’s nobody on the line. You heard the phone ring, too, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Loud and clear. Maybe it was one of those computer-generated calls where they try to sell you something.”

“That’s probably it. Oh, well, it served a purpose. It reminded me to shut this off.” Before she could do so, however, the little phone rang a second time.

“Hello? Hello?”

This time, instead of silence, Rachel heard an indistinguishable sound. “What? Speak up, please. I can’t hear you.”

She looked at Jace and noticed that he was on full alert, scanning the church parking lot through the truck’s windows.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

Just then, in the temporary hush before Jace spoke again, she heard a distinctive sound. Someone was breathing hoarsely, harshly, as if bent on sounding menacing.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Rachel insisted, although her hands were shaking.

Jace snatched the phone away from her and held it to his ear.

“Nothing,” he said a few seconds later. “The connection’s broken.”

As he handed the cell phone back to her his warm, reassuring touch lingered on her hands, cupping them and stilling their quaking.

She didn’t mind one bit. “It’s not even safe at church,” she whispered, biting back tears.

“You’re safe with me,” he assured her. “Wherever we are, I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“How? We don’t even know who or what we’re up against.”

She could tell from his tight-lipped expression that he had no ready answer, no explanation that would calm her fears.

That’s because he knows there’s real danger,
she concluded with a start. She wasn’t the only one who was nervous. Her companion and protector was just as tense as she was. And that scared her even more.

In light of all that had happened, it was hard for Jace to relax and participate in the worship service because he kept looking for clues about who might have been threatening Rachel. Given the timing of the cell calls, he assumed that whoever had made them had been watching. To have done that, he would have had to be in or near the church parking lot. Therefore, he might also be taking part in the service.

By Jace’s estimation there were at least a hundred men in attendance, which gave him plenty of suspects. However, just because the threatening notes were phrased as if composed by a man, that was no guarantee there was no woman involved. He’d seen plenty of cases that had seemed to be of masculine origin which had turned out otherwise.

Solving this puzzle was not going to be easy, Jace mused, shaking hands with fellow worshippers after the conclusion of the service. Rachel had introduced him to so many people he was thoroughly confused, especially when she tried to relate one to another by mentioning the participants’ kinship.

Finally, he held up his hands in surrender. “Whoa. I appreciate your trying to orient me as to who’s who, but you lost me at the last third-cousin-twice-removed.”

Rachel chuckled. “Sorry. You’ll be all right as long as you remember that nearly everyone is related in some way to everybody else.”

He saw her jaw clench and noticed that she’d suddenly sobered. “What is it? Something wrong?”

“Only the usual,” she said. “See that man over there in the tan sport jacket? That’s my father. I had hoped we could get in and out of here without running into him, but he’s seen us.”

“Who’s that with him?”

“One of the guys I told you about. Dad wants me to date him.”

“How can I help?”

“Just be yourself.” She snickered. “I think. I really don’t know you well enough to be certain, but I suspect my father won’t like you much. He’s never approved of any of my friends.”

“Then we should give him something to think about,” Jace said, slipping his left arm lightly around the waist of her coat and pulling her close to his side in spite of the resistance he could feel from her as her father walked toward them. “Try to act as if you like me. We’ll never fool him if you look like you’re about to clobber me for getting fresh.”

“Who says I’m not?”

He laughed. “Atta girl. Keep that spunky spirit and you’ll be fine.” Sticking out his free hand and smiling, he preempted Mr. Hollister’s anticipated criticism with a cheerful, “Glad to meet you, sir. Rachel’s told me so much about you. It’s a real pleasure.”

Beside him, he felt the young woman’s tension start to ebb, especially once her father had accepted the offer to shake hands. Although the older gentleman was scowling and so was the slim, twentysomething man with him, Jace felt as if he had won the first skirmish. He was sure it helped that their meeting had taken place right outside the church and in the presence of so many townspeople.

Rachel found her voice. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Jace Morgan. Jace, this is my father, George Hollister. And this is…”

“Alan Caldwell,” the younger, dark-haired man said, also offering his hand.

“Pleased to meet you both.” There was no doubt in Jace’s mind that neither George nor Alan was really pleased to make his acquaintance. They were both smiling and acting amiable enough but there was an undercurrent of tension as thick as L.A. smog on a windless day.

George cleared his throat. “So, you’re the new deputy Harlan hired. I’d wondered what you looked like. Should have spotted you from the military haircut.”

“And now we’ve officially met, so you know,” Jace said with a smile, then turned his eyes on Rachel and gave her a barely perceptible squeeze. “I think I’m really going to like it here.”

To his surprise and amusement, she tilted her head, looked up and batted her eyelashes at him. Jace nearly burst into laughter. Whether her father took her actions seriously or not, the whole scenario was hilarious.

Apparently, Alan was not amused. The younger man wheeled and stalked off while Rachel’s father blustered something about having to meet someone for Sunday dinner, then also took his leave.

As soon as George was out of sight, Jace loosened his grip and stepped away. “That was fun. I think we got his attention.”

Rachel giggled. “Looks like it. I can hardly wait till he phones me and reads me the riot act about keeping company with a man who’s not from around here.”

“That’s a prerequisite?”

“Absolutely. Dad will want to know your grandpa and father, at least, not to mention your more distant kin.”

“Then he’s out of luck,” Jace said, still smiling. “They’re both deceased.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too. But life goes on.” He led the way toward his truck. “So, what do folks do around here on a Sunday afternoon?”

“Usually go out for dinner, then kick back at home. What did you have in mind?”

Jace shrugged, hoping he looked nonchalant. “I don’t know. It’s getting a little warmer but I suppose it’s still too cold for a picnic.”

“Only if you want to avoid frostbite.”

“I know what you mean. I almost gave in and wore my uniform jacket over my suit this morning. I thought this was the south. It’s supposed to be hot here.”

“Like I said, it will be in a few more months. It’s barely February.”

“I know. But I keep hoping.” As Jace approached his pickup on the passenger side to unlock the door for her, he noticed what looked like a flyer tucked under one of the wiper blades. A quick perusal of nearby vehicles told him that no other cars had been similarly tagged.

He put out an arm to block her path. “Hold it. Wait here.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Probably nothing. I just want to be sure before you get into the truck.”

“Sure of what?”

Jace didn’t answer. He leaned over so he could read the note without touching it, then got down on his knees to check the vehicle’s undercarriage, just in case.

When he rose and dusted himself off, he returned to Rachel. “We’ll need to phone the sheriff’s office.”

“Why? What is it?”

“Another threat,” he said, stepping between her and the few cars that remained in the lot. “I was afraid we were being watched.”

Her voice quavered. “And?”

“And, unfortunately, I was right.”

FIVE

T
he springtime sun was still shining overhead but in Rachel’s heart, it was the depth of winter. This couldn’t be happening to her. Not in Serenity. And surely not at church.

Pastor Logan Malloy joined the small group gathered around Jace’s truck, listened to what was being said, then spoke directly to the sheriff. “Hi, Harlan. What’s the trouble?”

“Just tomfoolery,” the portly sheriff insisted. “Pure and simple. Some yahoo’s got a grudge against Miss Rachel here and he’s actin’ out by leavin’ threats. Last one was stuck on this here truck.”

Before she could speak in her own defense, the pastor did it for her. “I wouldn’t be so quick to brush it off as an innocent prank if I were you. Anybody who’s willing to behave like this on church property shows no conscience. And little or no regard for right and wrong, either, assuming they’re able to tell the difference.”

Rachel sensed Jace’s closeness and once again stepped into the shelter of his arm around her shoulders, unconcerned about social proprieties. Truthfully, she felt a lot less bashful than usual, especially since there was so much strength and comfort associated with his presence.

The fact that all the men had begun casting questioning glances at Jace convinced her that further explanations were in order. “Jace—Deputy Morgan—was the one who responded to the first threat at the shop and he’s been very helpful ever since.”

“You have his references?” Logan asked Harlan.

“Yep. All in order. He comes highly recommended. All the way from Los Angeles, too.”

“I see.”

“Really, Pastor Logan,” Rachel said. “You’re beginning to sound as critical as my father.”

With that, the pastor smiled. “I am like a father in many ways. You’re a member of my flock so that makes you partly my responsibility.” He offered his hand to Jace. “Sorry if I sounded suspicious.”

Jace grinned and shook his hand firmly. “No problem. I know why you did. Because I’m not from around here, right?”

“Right. We tend to look after our own. Is this your first visit to Serenity Chapel, Jace?”

“Yes. Miss Hollister invited me and I thought it would be best if she didn’t drive over alone. Not till the sheriff and I get to the bottom of her troubles.”

“If you have a few minutes, I’d like to discuss the case with you. That is, if Harlan doesn’t mind.”

The sheriff shook his head, making his jowls shimmy. “Naw. You go ahead, Pastor Malloy. I know you’re just like an old fire horse. No matter how long ago you quit, being a detective is in your blood.”

“That it is.” Turning to Rachel, Logan Malloy said, “We can talk in my office.”

“Fine. I have nothing to hide,” she told him, falling into step between the pastor and Jace. “I haven’t done one thing wrong.”

She felt Jace’s hand lightly touch hers before he said, “You may not think you have, but somebody sure does.”

The realization of how right he was sank into Rachel’s consciousness and gave her chills from her toes to the nape of her neck. Somebody disliked her enough to try to scare her to death with empty threats.

Suddenly, a far worse theory arose. What if the threats weren’t empty? What if her antagonist meant to do her real harm?

The pastor’s study reminded Jace more of a den than an office. Although there were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves along one wall and a desk in the corner, there was also a cozy seating arrangement with a sofa and several comfortable chairs.

Rachel took one of the chairs, so Jace chose the couch. He leaned back and stretched out his long legs before lacing his fingers behind his head. It wasn’t until he saw Rachel’s eyes widen that he realized the pose had exposed the sidearm he carried beneath his suit jacket.

He adjusted the jacket and straightened. “Sorry about that.”

She was shaking her head. “I should have known. My father rarely went anywhere without a gun.”

“Where did he work?” Jace asked. “Harlan acts as if he’s had the sheriff’s job in Serenity for ages.”

“He has,” Logan chimed in. “It’s an elected office with very few qualifications other than a clean record and enough buddies to vote you in.”

“My dad worked down in Little Rock for a while,” Rachel said. “As he got older he was promoted to detective and assigned to a drug task force. That took him all over the state but he spent as much time at home as possible.” She smiled wistfully. “My mother wasn’t bothered a bit by his being away so much. She’s always been independent.”

“Like you,” Jace said with a smile, noting that his comment did not seem to please Rachel as much as he’d hoped it would.

“I prefer to think of myself as unique.”

“That, you are,” the pastor said. “By the way, the folks at the halfway house want to thank you for all the cards and the roll of postage stamps. Most of them love to send mail but rarely have enough money to buy anything nice like that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So,” Logan went on, “what is it that’s going on in your life? Who do you suspect is harassing you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. It all started a few days ago and it’s just been getting worse and worse.”

If Jace had not sensed that she was fighting tears he would have stayed put. When he noticed her misty eyes, however, he got to his feet, circled her chair, and laid one hand lightly on her shoulder for moral support while he addressed their host.

“The sheriff said you were a detective?”

“In days gone by,” Logan replied. He swept his arm in an arc that encompassed the room. “This is my true calling. But I do occasionally find use for some of the things I learned in my former life.”

“All right,” Jace said. “This is what I know personally. The first reported incident was a box of dead flowers and the cryptic note that came with it. That was Friday morning.”

“How was it delivered?”

“It had to be in person. There was no shipping label and no indication that one had been removed.”

“Go on.”

“The second note was found Saturday after the back door was jimmied, but it could have been there all along and we simply missed seeing it.”

Logan leaned his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. “Is that what you think?”

“No. I think it was two separate attacks. The third was the one outside here, the note on my truck this morning.”

“You’re forgetting the calls,” Rachel said. “I got weird phone calls just before the service.”

“Where were you at that time?” Logan asked.

Jace answered, “In your parking lot. I assume that whoever made the calls was watching. As soon as we went inside, he knew he’d have plenty of time to place another note without being seen.”

Nodding, Logan scowled. “I agree. And, unfortunately, we’ve never had a need for surveillance cameras around the church until now. I’ll speak to the church council about getting some ASAP.”

“There’s one more thing,” Jace said. “Harlan didn’t seem to think it was significant, but all the notes were printed with children’s crayons. I thought that was kind of odd.”

“It is interesting,” Logan said. “What conclusion do you draw?”

“None, so far, except maybe that the perpetrator was trying to emulate childish writing. The letters were shaky and poorly made.” Jace felt Rachel’s shoulder tremble beneath his touch. “The sheriff didn’t even send the notes to a crime lab. He said he refused to waste his skimpy budget on such nonsense—and that’s a quote.”

“Censored, since we’re in a church, I imagine.” The pastor smiled benevolently at Rachel. “Tell you what. I still have a few contacts in law enforcement in Chicago. I’ll see if Harlan will let me get the notes analyzed for him.”

“Oh, thank you,” Rachel said. She got to her feet and held out her hand. “Even if you don’t find out anything new, at least I’ll feel as if somebody else is trying to do something to help me.”

Logan grasped her hand and glanced over her shoulder at Jace. When he said “I thank the Lord that you have someone like this in your corner, too,” Jace felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

“Just doing my job,” he said flatly, dismissing the compliment.

“Over and above the call of duty,” Logan countered, “but have it your way. As I often say, ‘The Lord works in mysterious ways.’”

“Well, it wasn’t God who brought me to Serenity,” Jace insisted.

“Oh? Why did you come here?”

He could have answered truthfully, simply, and ended the query. He could also have revealed details of his previous anger and the resulting inadequate job performance that had nearly cost a man’s life. Instead, he chose to avoid any explanation that might touch him too deeply.

“I needed a change of scenery and this assignment seemed perfect,” Jace said, feigning a nonchalance that he did not feel.

He wasn’t sure if it was the preacher in Logan Malloy who saw through him or if it was the former detective who was peering all the way into his wounded soul. Either way, he didn’t like feeling so exposed, so vulnerable.

Rather than remain longer and face more questions, Jace reached for Rachel’s hand and gave it a tug. “If you have any ideas that might help, you can reach me at the sheriff’s office or at Rachel’s card shop.”

“Fine. I’ll start by talking to Harlan and offering those tests.”

“Good. Thanks.” Jace was already guiding her toward the exit. “We’re going to go grab a bite to eat.”

“Would you like to have prayer before you go?”

Jace would have continued out the door if Rachel had not balked. “I—I’d like that.” Her gaze searched Jace’s. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all.” And he didn’t. Not really. He had often prayed for himself and his loved ones in the past. And he’d certainly prayed for his partner’s survival after the gun battle that had left them both wounded.

That prayer had been answered, although not in exactly the way Jace had envisioned. Roy had lived, all right. Lived to steal Sandra’s affection for good.

Why had God allowed that to happen? Jace wondered silently as the pastor began to pray aloud. He and Sandra had seemed perfect for each other, real soul mates. Yet she had chosen another man.

Yeah, a man that I almost got killed,
he mused.
But I didn’t do it on purpose. I couldn’t have.

Peace descended like a blanket of warmth, draping around his tense shoulders and soothing him all the way to his core. It wasn’t just wishful thinking. He had not caused anyone harm on purpose. He suddenly knew that with great certainty.

Thank You, Father,
he thought as he blinked back unshed tears.
Thank You for everything, even losing Sandra.

The fact that he was able to pray that prayer and truly mean it spoke deep into his heart. He was genuinely thankful that he had not remained in that relationship, even though its end had caused him such anguish.

But why? he wondered. Was it all really predestination? Was there such a thing? And if so, was there more to the overall scenario, such as his landing in Serenity just when Rachel Hollister needed him?

That notion did not sit well with Jace. He was perfectly willing to believe that he and Sandra did not belong together. He was far less eager to accept the idea that he had been sent to Arkansas for the sake of one particular woman.

As Logan said “Amen,” his gaze connected with Jace’s and Jace felt as if the pastor could peer directly into his soul. Perhaps Logan was still not sure that Jace’s motives were pure. Or maybe he was just the kind of man who sensed undercurrents of unrest.

“Call me any time you want to talk,” Logan said, shaking Jace’s hand firmly in parting.

“Keep us posted about the lab work,” Jace said. He knew that wasn’t all the pastor had meant by the offer. Logan obviously knew plenty about human nature and it wouldn’t have surprised Jace to learn that he also planned to phone California to check his references, something Harlan had probably not bothered to do.

Well, so be it. Jace had nothing to hide. He might not be proud of his actions in regard to his former partner but he had been formally cleared of any wrongdoing. If those reports weren’t enough to satisfy the local law enforcement folks, then he’d just move on to another job.

Only not yet, he warned himself.
Not until I see that Rachel is safe and whoever is stalking her is properly punished.

So, where did you get the idea that she needs only you?
he asked himself cynically.
Anybody could protect her.

Except that he was the one who had evidently been put in place to do so, he added with a scowl. If this situation was God’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t a very funny one.