Page 31 of Hiss and Make Up
“Then why would this person tell you to go back to Natchitoches?”
“What? Let me see that.”
He took the page from her and scanned the email. He didn’t remember this one at all, but that didn't surprise him. Before all of this, he'd only bothered to read the first lines of the cranky crackpot emails before filing them away.
The message didn't say much else. A few generic threats sprinkled here and there. Nothing of real substance.
“I got my degree at NSU,” he said. “I don’t talk about it. Never on the radio. But it’s not like the information’s hidden.”
“Okay, but if it’s some pissed off caller, wouldn’t they tell you to go back to New Orleans? Or Metarie? Or The Times-Picayune? Something obvious that you do talk about or the last place you lived or worked, not the college you went to?”
"Unless they didn't know where I worked last."
Sierra opened her mouth to say something, but she closed it and pouted, her lips sticking out like big, juicy targets. He wanted nothing more than to nibble on those lips.
"Well," she said, breaking her pout and snapping Marc out of his fantasy, "we know this person is from Louisiana."
"Why?"
She tapped a spot on the page and brushed her arm ever so slightly against his, sending tingles all the way up his arm.Tingles.
"They spelled Natchitoches right,” she said. “Nobody does that unless they live here."
"Fair enough."
"Also, it has to be someone who knew you went to college there and didn't bother to find out if you lived anywhere between then and now. Because if it was someone who knows you now and not then, they'd use the New Orleans connection instead."
“That’s a big assumption.”
“But it fits. Whoever wrote this isn’t just some irate listener or reader. Whoever wrote this knew you long before you worked here.”
Marc raised both eyebrows. Any lingering tingles were now long gone as he contemplated this information. "You might be right."
"Uh, yeah."
"Let's not get cocky." He put the paper down and considered what this new information could mean, but nothing made sense. "We don't know if this has anything to do with the other stuff."
"Check the date. Does it mean anything to you?"
Marc looked at the header. "That was a week before the equipment was stolen. Could be a coincidence."
"Seems like an awful lot of strange, random stuff happening around you. Do you really think it's all a coincidence?"
"Probably not, but how am I supposed to know what's connected and what's not?"
Sierra hopped out of her seat. "You aren't supposed to know anything. I, on the other hand, am going to earn that reward money."
"Wait, I said you could help me. I didn't say you could run off and figure this thing out on your own."
Sierra rolled her eyes. "Then help me. I'm not going to sit around waiting for you all day."
No, he couldn't ask her to do that. More importantly, she wouldn't sit around waiting for him even if he did ask her to.
“Grab the rest of those emails.” He folded the job list and stuck it in his back pocket.
“Where are we going?”
“The UL game."
