Page 41 of Secret Stalker

Chapter Thirteen

Bex towel-dried the breakfast dishes and packed them into a box. That was the last of them. From here on out, however many days she had left in Destiny, she’d use paper plates and disposable utensils. Tomorrow was trash day. She’d empty the refrigerator tonight and set the bags at the curb.

She’d already had her RAV4 taken to Eddie’s to get the windshield fixed. Ralph, the owner, was going to sell her mom’s Taurus for her. Movers were scheduled to arrive later in the week to take the boxes she’d designated to go to her condo in Knoxville. Then, as soon as her lawyer gave the okay, an auction company would hold an estate sale for everything else, including the house. In just a few short weeks, it would be as if her mother had never even existed.

A sob escaped before Bex even registered the tears flowing down her cheeks. Her knees buckled and she sagged to the floor.

“Oh, Mama. Mama, Mama, Mama. I miss you so much.”

The grief hit her like a tidal wave, pushing her under, drowning her in darkness and sorrow. She’d cried when she’d first gotten the call from the hospital, of course. But that was nothing compared to the paralyzing pain that racked her now. She curled into a ball and cried until it seemed like there was no moisture left in her body to form any tears, until her throat ached from the strength of her sobs. And then she fell into an exhausted slumber right there on the kitchen floor.

When she woke up, only a short time had passed. But it felt like a lifetime. Her lifetime, her mother’s, her family’s. Nothing would ever be the same again. She’d never hear her mother’s voice on the phone. Never see her smiling face when the limo pulled up to Bex’s condo for one of her mom’s trips to Knoxville. Never swap much-loved books in the mail with favorite passages highlighted in pink. Bex had thought she’d dealt with her grief before coming back to Destiny. But apparently she’d had to see the house all packed up to really push her over the edge and make her face her tremendous loss.

Feeling bruised from the emotional hit she’d just taken, she pushed herself up to sitting and rubbed her bleary eyes. This little house had been her home for eighteen years. She’d been happy here, the doted upon only child of two incredibly loving parents. Now both of them were gone. And Bex wasn’t sure how she could go on without them.

She was tempted to curl back into a ball. But she could almost see her mother scowling at her and telling her to “suck it up, Buttercup.” Her mom never suffered whining or pity parties. Bex wasn’t going to insult her memory now by ignoring all the life lessons her mama had taught her.

After replenishing her parched body with a bottle of water, Bex went outside to check the mail that she’d forgotten to check yesterday. That was one more thing she needed to do, set up a forwarding address. She supposed she could do that online tonight.

The bodyguard assigned to watch her this morning sat in his SUV parked in the grass across the street, no longer bothering to pretend that she didn’t know about them.

She waved and he waved back. Having him there made her feel safe. But she cringed at the thought of how much the twenty-four-hour security was costing Max. As soon as she sold her mom’s house she’d pay him back. She’d caused enough problems for him. Having him lose his savings wasn’t going to be added to that list.

She opened the mailbox and pulled out the short stack of envelopes—a final bill from the funeral home, the electric bill and a manila envelope with no return address or stamp. She hesitated, a cold prickle of unease flashing through her.

It wasn’t uncommon for people this far from town to stick a note in each other’s mailboxes. It was most likely a note from one of her mother’s friends, wishing her condolences. But with everything that had happened since her fateful trip to the Piggly Wiggly, the envelope took on a more sinister appearance.

The sound of shoes crunching on dried leaves had her looking up to see the bodyguard crossing the road toward her. He stopped in front of her.

“Miss Kane, I’m Neil Granger. I couldn’t help noticing the worry on your face. Something wrong?”

“Maybe. It seems silly, really, but this—”

“Didn’t go through the post office.” He frowned down at the envelope. “Mind if I open it?”

Since he was already pulling on a pair of latex gloves, she didn’t bother answering. When he was ready, she handed it to him.

“Please step back,” he said.

Her throat tightened at his request. Did he think someone had hidden something dangerous inside? It didn’t seem possible, as thin as the envelope was. But she stepped back anyway, watching him carefully pat down the surface and examine the edges before pulling the flap open. He peeked inside, then his posture seemed to relax and he motioned her forward.

“It’s some kind of picture.” He reached in and pulled it out. His gaze shot to hers, and he slowly turned the picture around.

Bex blinked in shock as the proof of her sins stared up at her from an eight-by-ten glossy photo. She couldn’t fool herself any longer. This wasn’t something she could run away from again. It was time to finally face her past.

* * *

MAXPROPPEDHIS booted feet on top of his desk and leaned back in his chair, watching the sun burn away the last of the morning fog through the police station windows. Yet another chilly day had dawned with no viable leads about who had arranged for the gangbangers to go after Bex in the grocery store. To say that he was getting frustrated was an understatement.

One desk over from him in the expansive squad room, Colby was leaning back in his chair, too. Both of them had the case files up on their computer monitors and were tossing theories back and forth.

“The Marcia thing is still bothering me,” Colby said.

“Tell me about it. I didn’t expect her to be released so quickly. She should be toughing it out in a jail cell right now.”

Colby jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the chief, who was talking to Donna by the interrogation room. “His orders. When you didn’t call back saying Miss Kane wanted to press charges, he wouldn’t let us lock her up. Sorry, man.”

“Nothing you could do. I’d just feel better if she wasn’t on the loose with that rifle. If she told us the truth, then her emotions are running high and impairing her judgment. What’s to stop her from deciding to go after Bex again?”

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