Perfect Alibi. Melody Carlson

       THREE

      As she took a quick shower—the first one she’d had since Kestra’s murder—she couldn’t keep her mind from replaying the events of the past few days. Would she always be haunted by fear? Mallory hurried to redress in the same work outfit she’d worn the past two days. It was what she used to call one of her “grown-up” ensembles, part of a limited wardrobe her mother had helped her to acquire when she’d gotten hired as an intern for the Channel Six News. “Dress for the job you want,” Mom had wisely advised. Mallory had done so...and she’d eventually landed a fantastic job...but where had it gotten her?

      She frowned at her pathetic reflection. A worn-out looking brunette in a rumpled linen suit and a pale green blouse that was anything but fresh. As she pinned her still-damp hair into a messy bun, she wondered why she’d told Mom to donate her old clothes to the resell shop last spring. Did she really think she’d never need her small-town wardrobe again? Plaid shirts and denim jackets were suddenly appealing. Comfortable and practical and much better than a bright orange jumpsuit. Not that she’d done anything criminal, although everyone seemed determined to pin something on her. Even when she’d told Detective Doyle she wanted to go home, she’d been warned not to leave the state.

      Curious about the state of the fire, she went back outside to check. Although it was barely five, the western horizon was gray with morning light—and she still hadn’t slept a wink. And felt pretty sure she couldn’t sleep now. Or ever. A dozen or so firefighters were still at work and although there were various chimneys of smoldering smoke, no flames were visible. Mallory sat down in a front porch wicker rocker, staring down at a large metal pot of pale pink geraniums and trying to remember a time when life had been good. But nothing came to her. All she felt was a bone-deep sort of numbness.

      She considered calling her dad. Chances were they’d reached Iowa by now—unless they were still on their way. But she had a feeling that if she heard his voice she would fall apart—and he would turn around and come back home again. Of course, that’s what she wanted...but she knew it was selfish. Her parents rarely took real vacations, rarely traveled anywhere outside of the state. And as soon as they found out about all of this...first Kestra...then this fire...well, she knew that would be the end of their big trip.

      Hearing footsteps, she looked up to see Logan McDaniel strolling purposefully toward her. To her surprise, her spirits lifted ever so slightly as she watched him approach. It was as if his mere presence breathed a spark of life back into her. Or maybe it was hope. Whatever the case, she was grateful.

      It was interesting to see him by the light of day. Still as tall as she remembered from high school, he appeared a little more filled out now. Dressed in his firefighter gear, he looked ruggedly handsome, and his long slow stride suggested a steady sort of confidence. This man was comfortable in his own skin. While a part of her admired this trait, another part of her was disturbed by it. It was this same quality that had first drawn her to Brock and a frightened little voice inside her head warned her to watch out.

      “It’s a hundred percent contained,” Logan announced as he came up to the porch. Leaning against a post he peered down at her. “It should be completely out in a couple of hours.”

      “That’s great news.” She forced an uneasy smile. “Thanks.”

      “Just doing my job.” He gave her a handsome grin, revealing even white teeth. “You clean up nicely.”

      “Thanks.” She slowly stood, folding her arms in front of her.

      “Are you okay?” he asked with a slight frown.

      She bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. Okay? That was not how she would describe anything related to her life right now. Definitely Not Okay.

      “I don’t mean to intrude, Mallory, but you seem uneasy or upset, like something’s bothering you. Need to talk?”

      She felt a part of her softening. Why shouldn’t she trust him? And yet...best to play it safe until she knew she could trust him. She sighed. “Well, witnessing your parents’ home...about to go up in flames...that’s a bit disturbing, don’t you think?” She frowned then glanced away to avoid his eyes.

      “Sure. It’s understandable that you’d be upset over the fire.”

      “Plus I’m a little sleep deprived.” She leaned back, wondering how much longer she could hold it together. His expression was so genuine...so sympathetic...it made her feel as if she was about to crack.

      “I’m sure it’s been a rough night for you.”

      “Try a rough couple days.” She spoke sharply, then instantly regretted it. Besides not wanting to divulge too much, it wasn’t as though it was his fault that her life was a train wreck.

      His brows arched, and she could see the wheels turning in his head, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

      “Sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I’ve been, well, going through some stuff. Hard stuff. I came here to be with my parents—but I totally forgot they were going to be gone.”

      “Yeah, your dad’s family reunion in Iowa,” he said casually. “He told me about it just last week. He was really looking forward to the trip. Did you know that he hasn’t seen all his siblings, all together in one place, for more than thirty years?”

      Of course, this was upsetting to hear. For a couple of reasons. First of all, if she told her parents about everything—as she wanted to do—it would ruin their vacation. How selfish was that? But the other reason she felt bad was hearing how Dad had shared personal family information with Logan—instead of her. But maybe she’d been too busy. Too caught up in her own life. Too selfish.

      “No, I didn’t actually know that,” she confessed. “But I do know that Dad has three brothers and two sisters. They live all over the country. I’ve met some of them, but I don’t really know them very well. Not by more than just name.” She studied Logan carefully. What sort of man was this? That her dad confided in him? Maybe she was mistaken not to trust him more.

      “Can you imagine how it would feel not to see a sibling for that long—thirty years? I know I’d miss Selma a lot.”

      She sadly shook her head. “Truth is, I was just missing my own baby brother, but at least I got to see him last Christmas.”

      “How’s Austin doing? I know he’s still in the navy, over in the Persian Gulf the last I recall.”

      “That sounds about right.” She stifled a yawn then regretted it. It wasn’t that she was bored...just extremely tired.

      He stood up straight. “Well, I can assure you that the fire is completely under control, Mallory. If you need to catch some winks, there’s nothing to worry about now. You’re safe.”

      She frowned toward the west where the sky was starting to glow like burnished gold. Nothing to worry about? She was safe? Really?

      “I would like to ask you some questions about the fire,” he continued in an authoritative tone. “Just to fill out my report. If you’re too tired now, I can come by later. That is, if you’re sticking around awhile.” He looked slightly puzzled. “I mean, with your parents gone on vacation and all. You plan to stay here, anyway? By yourself?”

      Before she could answer, she heard her phone buzzing inside the pocket of her linen jacket. Afraid it might be one of those nosy detectives again, demanding she return to the city, or maybe they wanted to lock her up...she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer it in front of him. Just the same, she reluctantly slipped it out to peek. But seeing it was a text message from “unknown” made her curious. The last text she’d gotten from “unknown” had contained a veiled threat. And, although the police had not taken it seriously, she had.

      “Excuse me a minute,” she told Logan as she quickly read the words—shuddering at the meaning. This was no veiled