Deputy Defender. Cindi Myers

Certainly, Andy Stenson had kept her in the dark about his blackmailing activities and the real source of his income. “We’ll put extra patrols on the house,” Dwight said. If he had to, he’d park his own car on the curb and stay up all night watching over her.

      “Thank you,” Brenda said. “In the meantime, I’m going to contact the paper and let them know what’s going on. I want whoever is doing this to see that I’m not afraid of him. Besides, if everybody knows what’s going on, I’ll feel safer. People complain about how nosy everyone is in small towns, but in a situation like this, that could work to my advantage.”

      “That’s a good idea.” He turned to look at the letter and envelope still lying on the table. “Let me take care of these, and I’m going to call in some crime scene folks to go over the scene and see if we missed anything. Come with me and we’ll call the paper from there.”

      “All right,” she said.

      “I’ll come with you, too,” Lacy said. “Travis should be back from his class soon.”

      “Give me a minute,” Dwight said. He walked out to his SUV to retrieve an evidence pouch. The women huddled on the porch together, talking softly. Brenda was calm now, but he could imagine how upsetting seeing that photograph had been for her. The person who had left that note wasn’t only interested in persuading her to destroy the book. He could have done that with another death threat, or even a physical attack.

      No, the person who had left that photo wanted to inflict psychological harm. The man—or woman—had a personal dislike for Brenda, or for women in general, or for something she represented. Or at least, that was Dwight’s take, based on the psychology courses he’d taken as an undergraduate. He’d have to question her carefully to determine if there was anything in her background to inspire that kind of hate. With that photograph, the note-writer had gone from a possible annoying-but-harmless prankster to someone who could be a serious danger.

      * * *

      BRENDA RODE WITH Lacy to the sheriff’s department, grateful for the distraction that talk about the upcoming wedding provided—anything to block out the horrible image of her dead husband on that note. The photo, more than the threat beneath it, had hit her like a hard punch to the stomach, the sickening pain of it still lingering. Dwight had been shocked, too, though, typical for him, he hadn’t shown a lot of emotion. Somehow, his steadiness had helped her step back from the horror and try to think rationally.

      Whoever had sent that note wanted to shock her—to terrify her and maybe, to make her reluctant to dig into the reason behind the threat. The letter writer mistook her for a weak woman who would do anything to make the pain go away.

      She had been that person once. When Andy dismissed her questions about all the money he was spending on remodeling their home with an admonishment that she didn’t need to worry about any of that, she had backed off and accepted his judgment. The idea made her cringe now, but she had been so young, and unwilling to do anything that might mar her happiness.

      She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Turning away from things that hurt or frightened her only made them more difficult to deal with later. Now she faced her problems head-on, and in doing so had discovered a strength she hadn’t known she possessed.

      Paige Riddell was waiting in the lobby of the sheriff’s department, and confronted Dwight as soon as he walked in. “How dare you treat my brother the way you did this morning,” she said before the door had even shut behind Dwight and the two women. “He was trying to help—to do something good—and you shut him down as if he were trying to rob the place. You wouldn’t even give him a chance.” Her voice shook on the last words—Paige, who to Brenda was the epitome of a tough woman. Paige, who had taken on Henry Hake’s money and position and defeated his plans to build a luxury resort in an environmentally fragile location. Now she seemed on the verge of tears.

      “Why don’t we go into my office and talk about this?” Dwight gestured down the hallway.

      “You didn’t have any problem with confronting Parker in public, so we’ll do this in public.” Paige glanced at Lacy and Brenda. “I’m sure Dwight has already informed you that my brother has been arrested before. He’s not trying to hide that. He made a mistake and he paid for it. He went through rehab and he’s clean now, and trying to start over—if people like the deputy here will let him.”

      Dwight frowned, hands on his hips. “If Parker has a problem with something I said, he should come to me and we’ll talk about it,” he said.

      “Parker doesn’t want to talk to you. He didn’t want to talk to me, but I saw how down he was when he came back from the history museum this morning, so I pried the story out of him. He said you looked at him like you suspected him of planning to blow up the building or something.”

      Dwight’s face reddened. Brenda sympathized with him—but she also related to Paige’s desire to protect her brother. Dwight clearly hadn’t liked the young man, and his dislike had shown in the encounter this morning. “Paige, does Parker know you’re here?” she asked.

      Paige turned to her. “No. And when he finds out, he’ll be furious. But he’s been furious with me before. He’ll get over it.”

      “Why was Parker at the history museum this morning?” Dwight asked.

      “Because he’s interested in history. It’s one of the things he’s studying in college. I told him the museum was looking for volunteers and he should apply.”

      “That’s kind of unusual, isn’t it?” Dwight said. “A guy his age being so interested in the past.”

      “Tell that to all the history majors at his school,” Paige said. “Parker is a very bright young man. He has a lot of interests, and history is one of them.”

      “Any particular type of history?” Dwight asked. “Is he, for instance, interested in the history of World War II? Or local history?”

      Brenda held her breath, realizing where Dwight was headed with this line of questioning.

      Paige shook her head. “I don’t know that it’s any particular kind of history. American history, certainly. Colorado and local history, probably. Why do you ask?”

      “Does your brother have any history of violence? Of making threats?”

      “What? No! What are you talking about?”

      “I can check his record,” Dwight said.

      “Check it. You won’t find anything.” She turned to Brenda and Lacy. “Parker was convicted for possession of methamphetamine and for stealing to support his drug habit. He was never violent, and he’s been clean for three months now. He’s going to stay clean. He moved here to get away from all his old influences. He’s enrolled in college and he has a part-time job at Peggy’s Pizza.”

      Brenda wet her lips, her mouth dry. “Do you have any yellow stationery at your place?” she asked. “With dancing cartoon flowers across the bottom?”

      Paige’s brow knit. She looked at Dwight again. “What is going on? If you’re accusing Parker of something, tell me.”

      “Brenda received a threatening note at the museum this morning,” Dwight said. “It was written on distinctive stationery.” Brenda noticed that he didn’t mention the note at her home.

      “The only stationery I use is made of recycled paper,” Paige said. “It’s plain and cream-colored. And Parker didn’t write that note. He wouldn’t threaten anyone—much less Brenda. He doesn’t even know her.”

      “I’m not accusing him of anything,” Dwight said.

      “Right.” Paige didn’t roll her eyes, but she looked as if she wanted to. “I bet you’re asking everyone in town about their stationery.” She turned to Brenda again. “I know Parker would hate me if he knew I was asking this, but please give him a chance at the museum. He needs constructive things to fill his spare time, and he’s a