New Year Heroes: The Sheriff's Secretary / Veiled Intentions / Juror No. 7. Delores Fossen

      Mariah sank into a seat at the table, her weariness evident in the slump of her shoulders and the hollowness of her eyes. “He’s just trying to be helpful.” She unscrewed the lid on her water and took a long, deep drink.

      “It would be helpful if he’d just leave me to the job of upholding the law.”

      The next three messages were from neighbors, offering to cook, offering to help. Another two were from reporters looking for an interview. The next message shot a new burst of adrenaline through Lucas.

      “Touching scene in the cemetery.” The familiar voice filled the room. “Is she consoling you, or are you consoling her?” The sound of insects was background noise. “A minute ago I stood so close to you both that I could see the sweat on Lucas’s forehead and I could smell that flowery perfume that Mariah wears.”

      Mariah jumped as the sound of a shot filled the room. The sound was followed by a low laugh. “I could have killed you just now,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

      The line went dead.

      Mariah released a loud gasp. “He was watching us as we searched. He was there all along.” Emotion choked her voice and she backhanded her water bottle off the table, unmindful of the water that spilled across the floor. She jumped up, her eyes wild. “What kind of person does something like this? What kind of monster is he?”

      “I don’t know.” But there were things Lucas needed to do, and with that in mind he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in the number at the sheriff’s office.

      “Ben, first thing in the morning I need you to check out the cemetery for me. Somebody took a shot at Mariah and me out there tonight. I want you to see if you can locate the bullet.” He quickly explained to his deputy where they had been standing when the gun had been fired and where he thought Ben would find the bullet. It would at least tell them what kind of gun it came from.

      The next call he made was to Ed Maylor. “Ed, did I wake you?”

      “Nah, I was just sitting here watching the boob tube. What’s up?”

      “I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Would you run by my place and tell Marquette to give you my overnight bag and a couple of clean uniforms, then meet me at the station with them?” He looked at Mariah, who stood with her back to him as she stared out the window into the night. “I’m going to be here at Mariah’s until this is resolved.”

      “Sure. When do you want to meet?”

      “An hour.”

      The last call was to Deputy Louis DuBois. “Where are you, Louis?” he asked when the man answered his cell phone.

      There was a long pause. “I’m in my car between Magnolia and Main. Uh, I’m looking for Phil Ribideaux.”

      “What do you mean you’re looking for him?” Lucas asked.

      “Uh, I seem to have lost him.”

      Lucas closed his eyes and squeezed the phone more tightly against his ear. “What do you mean you lost him?”

      “I’m sorry, Lucas, but he got into that little sports car of his and he must have seen me behind him because he took off around a couple of corners and was gone.”

      “How long has it been since you had him in visual contact?” Lucas asked.

      “At least an hour,” Louis confessed. “I’m heading toward his house now to see if he’s returned there.”

      “Keep me posted.” Lucas clicked off and muttered a curse.

      Mariah turned to face him. “What’s happened?”

      “I had Louis following Phil Ribideaux, and apparently in the past hour he lost him.”

      She leaned against the wall and brushed a strand of her unruly curly hair away from her face. “An hour. That means it’s possible it was Phil Ribideaux who was in the cemetery.”

      “It’s also possible it was a dozen other people,” Lucas replied. “In truth, I can’t imagine Phillip Ribideaux having the imagination or the balls to pull something like this off.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “Look, I need to go down to the station. Will you be okay alone for a little while?”

      Her gaze went to the telephone. “What if he calls again?”

      “I don’t think he will, at least not again tonight. I think he’s had his fun for now.” He frowned. Funny … all the people who had shown up that morning had been well-meaning neighbors, but there had been no phone calls, no appearance of anyone who seemed to be Mariah’s close friend. “Is there somebody I can call to be here with you? Maybe a good friend?”

      She shook her head. “Jenny was becoming a good friend, but other than her I have no close friends here,” she replied. “Between my job and Billy, there hasn’t been time for fostering any real friendships.” She rubbed her left wrist. “Besides, I’m a private person. Friends want to know where you come from and where you’re going. I didn’t want to talk about the first and I don’t have answers for the second.”

      She turned back to face the window. “Go do whatever it is you need to do. I’ll be fine here.”

      She might be fine, but he was an emotional wreck as he drove to his office. Despite the lateness of the hour, he’d called Wally and told him to gather the deputies for a briefing. He also wanted to coordinate with Agent Kessler.

      As he drove, his head filled with thoughts of Jenny. He’d clung to the perverse hope that somehow she was behind her own disappearance, that she wasn’t in serious danger other than getting a butt-chewing from him when she finally showed up.

      But as they’d walked the cemetery, he’d realized Mariah was right. Jenny might not mind making him worry himself sick, but she’d never do something like this to Mariah. She’d never keep Billy away from his mother.

      However, it was possible that Jenny’s bad choices in friends and relationships had put her in this position. Remy Troulous was one of those bad choices. What the hell had she been doing with him? And where the hell was Remy Troulous now?

      Lucas knew it was useless to search for the man. He was like a swamp rat, able to scurry through darkness and hide in any number of holes. He wouldn’t be found unless he wanted to be, and there was no way to know when he’d decide to make an appearance.

      Did Remy have anything to do with this? Or was it possible Phil Ribideaux was behind it? And what about the mysterious Frank Landers? The questions served no purpose other than to give him a headache and intensify his weariness.

      He was going to have to get some sleep. He was running on empty and there was no way he could be sharp and focused, either physically or mentally, without rest.

      The sheriff’s office was in a building smack-dab in the middle of Main Street. He parked in the space allotted to him, then went inside where his deputies and the FBI agent awaited.

      They all looked as tired as he felt. It didn’t take long for him to fill them in on what had happened at the cemetery, then listen to each of them report on what they’d been doing in the past few hours. None of them had anything substantial to report.

      The Shreveport authorities had still been unable to locate Frank Landers, Remy Troulous was missing in action, as was Phil Ribideaux. Further interrogations of Mariah’s neighbors had yielded nothing, and by the time Lucas left the office with his overnight bag and clean clothes in hand, he carried with him an overwhelming sense of frustration.

      The first forty-eight hours after a crime was committed were crucial, and Lucas was aware that they knew little more than they had in the first hours after Billy and Jenny had disappeared. He and his men were doing everything they could to find Jenny and Billy, but at the moment the kidnapper was definitely in charge.

      Eventually he would make a mistake. Lucas had no doubt about that. The phone calls told Lucas