Cold Hearts. Sharon Sala

with what happened tonight.

      “I wasn’t asleep,” she added. “Today has been a nightmare, and I couldn’t close my eyes without—”

      She stopped in midsentence, remembering who else was in the room. She might resent him for the way they had parted company years ago, but she knew he was hurting for what he’d lost, and it was all her fault. She couldn’t face him and see the accusation in his eyes.

      Lonnie inserted a quick question to shift the focus.

      “Have you been having problems with any of your students?” he asked.

      Lissa was startled by the question, and for the first time reacted without thinking.

      “No, of course not! My students are six-year-old children. Whoever’s been calling me is a grown man.”

      Lonnie tried another angle. “What about parents? Have you had any run-ins with them?”

      Lissa shook her head. “No. My life was fine, unexciting, but fine until the phone calls began. And now this.” She pointed toward the porch. “How do I take that? Is this a direct threat aimed at me, or just an ugly reminder that I caused a man’s death?”

      At that point, Mack could remain silent no longer.

      “That’s bullshit, Lissa. You didn’t cause anything. That could have been anyone’s car. It happened. You didn’t have a damn thing to do with it.”

      “But it wasn’t anyone’s car. It was mine,” she said, and then began to sob.

      Mack had never been able to hear her cry, and now he got up and walked toward the kitchen to keep from taking her in his arms. He hurt for what she was going through, and for himself. And he knew something she didn’t. His dad’s death might turn out to have been a murder, which should free her conscience of any culpability.

      Lonnie could see she was too upset to continue and stopped the recording before slipping the phone back in his pocket.

      “I’m sorry this is happening, and while we don’t have much to go on, maybe we’ll get lucky and pull a print from the...evidence,” he said. “In the meantime, I would suggest you put up some security cameras. That might be the fastest way to identify your stalker. And remember, we’re only a phone call away. In the meantime, I’ll let myself out.”

      And then they were alone.

      Lissa began wiping at her tear-streaked face as Mack walked back into the room. She didn’t want him to see her tears, so she looked at the floor between his feet.

      The past ten years looked damn good on her, Mack thought. She wasn’t any taller, but the wide-eyed innocence of childhood was gone from her face, leaving her with a sultry pout to her lips and those sleepy green bedroom eyes. The flannel pig pajamas were more tease than cover, her bare feet a reminder of the bare body he’d once known as well as his own.

      “How does this work?” he asked.

      The question surprised her. The last time she’d seen him, nearly ten years ago, he’d been so enraged she didn’t think he would even want to be in the same room with her, let alone act as if nothing was wrong.

      “It doesn’t,” she said.

      “Will you let me help with the security system?”

      She shrugged. “If you mean you know someone who can install it, I would appreciate a name.”

      She’d shut down, and he felt it. Even more, he got it and knew it had nothing to do with his father’s death.

      “Then, I’ll be in touch. I am sorry about what’s happening to you.”

      Lissa strode to the front door with as much confidence as she could muster, then opened the door and stepped aside.

      “And I am so very sorry for your loss,” she said softly.

      Mack sighed. She was staring at the floor, refusing to meet his gaze. He got the message. He walked outside and was off the porch before he heard the lock turn. He didn’t belong here any more than that dead rat.

      * * *

      Reece Parsons was dancing with excitement, waiting for the reaction to his latest little love note. He hadn’t been certain of his next move tonight until he’d found out about Paul Jackson’s death, and then he’d known immediately what came next.

      It had taken a good five hours to find and catch a live rat before he could even go to her place, and then it was a matter of getting everything on her porch and waiting for the sound of her footsteps before he dropped the trigger on the rat and left it in its death throes on her doorstep.

      The moment he dropped the trap, he bolted into the shadows between her neighbors’ house and hers, then slipped down the first alley he came to and kept running. He was breathing hard when he finally reached the truck and unlocked the door. Everything was fine, just as he’d left it. His little dog was asleep in the seat, but he wasn’t through with Melissa Sherman. He clipped the leash on to the dog’s collar and dragged him out.

      “Come on, Bobo, let’s take a walk.”

      Bobo’s legs were short but his attitude was big, and the word walk was always welcome.

      Even though the night was chilly, sweat was drying on Reece’s forehead as he walked Bobo through the park, purposefully taking a shortcut that would take him within two blocks of Melissa Sherman’s house. He’d heard the sirens and guessed she’d finally called the cops. He wanted to see what was happening. It was a different kind of high to know she was that kind of scared.

      The wire-haired terrier was nosing beneath every bush and sniffing trails left by nocturnal creatures but Reece had other business and all but dragged Bobo back toward her house. They exited the park at a side street and immediately headed for the sidewalk. The moment he saw two cop cars at her place, he grinned. There was another vehicle at the curb and he wondered who it belonged to, but this was no time to get too curious. He decided he would just walk Bobo by the house and maybe get a peek at what was going on as they passed.

      Then, as if on cue, a stray cat slunk out from beneath the SUV parked at the curb and took off across the street. Bobo leaped forward so fast the leash slipped from Reece’s hands and he took off running after it. All of a sudden Melissa Sherman’s welfare was playing second fiddle to recovering his dog.

      * * *

      Carl took the pictures, then bagged up the dead rat and trap, securing everything inside his vehicle before he began to check out the neighborhood.

      The lights had been off in every house when they’d arrived, so he doubted there would be any witnesses, but it was his job to ask.

      He began with the house north of where Melissa lived and asked them if they’d seen anyone running away from her place earlier. He got a play-by-play of where the residents had been sleeping and what they’d had for supper before going to bed, but no one had seen anything.

      He went down the block, knocking on doors and asking the same question without getting a useful answer. He had just started back up the block on the other side of the street when he heard a small dog begin to bark. He turned around to look just as a man came running out of the shadows.

      * * *

      Reece was a little panicked. He loved Bobo and didn’t want to lose him, but this was not how he’d intended to revisit the scene of the crime. Not only was the dog outrunning him, but Reece was running out of energy.

      “Bobo! Bobo! Come back here! Heel, Bobo, heel!” he yelled, and then groaned when he saw an officer come off the porch of the house across the street.

      When the cop began running toward him, his heart skipped a beat. But when the officer made a little side step and grabbed the trailing leash and caught Bobo, he relaxed.

      Bobo’s escape ended with a yelp as the leash tightened and pulled him up short.

      The grateful