A Promise to Protect. Liz Johnson

the button on her phone to end the call and slipped it back into her purse. The hair on her arms was just beginning to fall back into place.

      She turned to call to Matt, only to find him already at her side, the offending note gripped between two gloved fingers. “Ready?” He nodded toward the police station across the street and fell into step beside her.

      * * *

      It took all of Matt’s willpower not to run to the police station and demand to know why they hadn’t done more to protect Ashley and her charges. How could the cops let a car be vandalized right across the street from their station? He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. For all intents and purposes, he was a civilian here with no authority. And the police wouldn’t be willing to work with him if he charged in, taking over the situation.

      He could sit back this time. Watch and listen. Any mission was doomed to fail if there wasn’t enough intel. Time for a little recon.

      As they entered the fluorescent light of the station, Ashley’s back arched a fraction, her pointed chin sticking out just a little bit farther, and he couldn’t help his smile as she approached the unassuming officer standing behind the counter.

      “I’d like to speak with the chief.” Ashley’s voice, completely even and free of any hint of the scare she’d just received, carried to every corner of the room. If the chief was in, he’d heard her.

      “I’m sorry.” The officer folded his newspaper and set it on the counter, smoothing it out with a single swipe. “The chief isn’t in right now.”

      Ashley leaned in a little more, her eyes unblinking. “Well, then, who can I speak with about my smashed windshield and the threatening note left under my wiper? Perhaps you’re available to take a look at it?”

      “Sorry. I’m the only one here, and I can’t leave.” The burly desk sergeant flipped his hand toward the two chairs on the opposite side of the room. “But you can wait here for the chief if you want to.”

      Ashley’s shoulders dropped a fraction, but she marched over to the chairs as though this was why she’d come to the station. Matt couldn’t match her nonchalance; his frown was still on display. When they were settled into the seats, he bent toward her. “Is it usually like this?”

      “Small town. Small police force.” She never took her gaze from the sergeant—at least, what was visible of the top of his head behind the paper he’d resumed reading. “The chief knows my situation, but he’s still only one guy.”

      The police might not be much help. Matt had hoped that they would be halfway to identifying the threat to Ashley by now. But if the local law enforcement wasn’t equipped to do that, it was up to him. Which meant he needed information and a place to start. No time like the present.

      “So who do you think tried to run you over last week?”

      Taking an audible breath, she sat a little taller in her chair. “Like I said before, we get calls and threats at Lil’s Place. It’s just part of the job. Ex-husbands. Soon-to-be exes. Boyfriends. We’ve heard from them all. But we hadn’t had anything significant for a few weeks before last. Of course, we hadn’t had any new residents for a while up until last week. But there’s something different about these threats.”

      “How so?”

      She folded her hands in her lap, every inch the calm and collected professional until her knuckles turned white. She squeezed them so hard that the tips of her fingers turned red; she seemed wound tighter than a guitar string. But at least he could help her. He’d do whatever it took to make sure that Ashley—and anyone that she called family—was safe from whatever goon lurked in the shadows. He owed that to Ashley and her mother, who’d welcomed him into their family—and he owed even more to Tristan, who would never forgive him if anything happened to Ashley on his watch.

      “Usually we know exactly who the threats are from. Abusive husbands aren’t usually afraid of being recognized.” She glanced into his eyes as she chewed on her lower lip. “These notes are different. They’re so vague. No names. No precise demands. They could be from anyone.”

      Matt finally set the note from her windshield down on the table next to his bouncing knee. “And you haven’t seen anyone lurking around your place?”

      Instead of answering his question, Ashley jumped up as two men entered the station. “Chief Donal, may I speak with you?”

      So this was the missing chief.

      “Hello, there, Miss Sawyer.” As he turned back to his companion, his sport coat pulled tight against his round belly, and he unbuttoned the jacket. “I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow, Jimmy. Same time?”

      Jimmy nodded and waved, but not before tipping his nonexistent hat at Ashley. He didn’t bother with more than a glance in Matt’s direction before disappearing out the door. Matt didn’t like a guy who didn’t at least acknowledge another man, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it as he gave the police chief his full attention.

      “Well, well. Miss Sawyer. Twice in one week? What have I done to deserve such a treat? And you’ve brought a friend.” Donal stuck his hand out. “Albert Donal, police chief.”

      Matt stood slowly, careful not to favor his injured leg. It wouldn’t do to have anyone thinking he wasn’t up to his assignment. He squeezed the other man’s hand just hard enough to let the chief know he wasn’t dealing with a pushover. “Senior Chief Matt Waterstone.”

      Donal pulled his hand back, nodding. “A navy man.”

      Ashley clearly had no time for formalities; she stepped directly in front of the older man. “Someone smashed in my windshield and left me another note.”

      Using a gloved hand to make sure he didn’t leave fingerprints on the note, Matt held it out to the chief.

      Donal’s eyes narrowed, and he ushered them into his office. He produced an evidence bag and slipped the scrap of paper inside.

      When he had settled into the leather chair behind his wide desk, the police chief studied the paper. “Where’d the note come from?” He didn’t tear his gaze from the message, as though studying it would reveal some sort of hidden meaning.

      “It was under my windshield wiper.”

      Donal glanced up then, surprise crossing his features. “Sit down. Please.”

      They accepted the offer, both leaning toward the chief.

      “Did you see who left this or what smashed your windshield?”

      Matt looked at Ashley, but she didn’t wait for him before diving in. “We were running a few errands—to Puckett’s Pharmacy and Jenni’s shop—and when we came back, someone had smashed it and left the note.”

      “Whoa, there.” Donal held up both hands. “We don’t know that the same person who wrote the note also smashed your windshield. For that matter, we don’t know that the broken windshield wasn’t an accident of some sort. We have had an increase in vandalism since the layoffs at the plant. It might even just be kids playing a prank.”

      “You think this is kids?” Matt couldn’t keep the astonishment out of his voice. “Kids didn’t leave that note. And what are the chances that someone would leave a note for Ashley and someone else would randomly vandalize her car all on the same day? That’s some coincidence, don’t you think?”

      The chief looked directly into his eyes, something the older man hadn’t done so far. “I hear what you’re saying, but this note isn’t much to go on. I can’t assume anything without real evidence.” He looked sincere, as though he wished he had different news. “In and of itself, this note wouldn’t even hold up in court.”

      Ashley’s nose wrinkled at this bit of news. “So you’re saying that that—” she swung her finger toward the plastic bag still in Donal’s hand “—isn’t dangerous enough? Someone who’s willing to use violence to make a point could