Page 29 of Hiss and Make Up
She put the paper face down to start a new stack. She’d spent the last twenty-four hours thinking about what kind of person would plant a snake in a bunch of kids’ toys. The whole thing sounded ridiculous, but nothing else made sense. Someone did this. Intentionally. Why was the real question.
“Whoever did it has to know who your sister is, where she lives, and when she’d be gone.”
Marc slumped in his chair. “I know.”
He looked defeated. Family had always meant everything to Marc, and it was obvious he still felt that way. He would fight a bear for his sister, but he had no idea who to fight here, which was clearly killing him.
“So we’re looking for a dedicated stalker,” she said, “or someone who knows you well and has a serious grudge.”
“But wouldn’t a stalker come after me?” He shook his head. "Doesn't fit. I could see them going after Denise if coming after me didn't work first, but I haven't had any problems. Nothing other than the theft."
“And these.” She tapped the stack of hate mail. “But why would a stalker or some irate listener steal your stuff?”
“No idea. None of this makes sense.”
“So we’re back to someone you know.” She had already come to that conclusion, but she figured it was better to talk it out with him before flinging her theory in his direction. He didn’t handle it so well last time she did that. Better to lead him to the truth than vomit it on him.
Maybe she had people skills after all.
"But that doesn't make sense either. Why would they steal my dad's things? Why not come after me?"
"Unless they didn't know they were your dad's. Maybe they thought it was your stuff." Sierra chewed on the inside of her mouth for a minute to help her think. "Or! Maybe they do know you, and they knew it was your dad's things and that taking them would hurt you and your mom and sister."
"But who? Honestly, I don't have a whole lot of people who know me that well."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Vengeful ex-girlfriend?”
She didn’t want to know the answer to this any more than she’d wanted to know who his dance date was all those years ago. But the question needed to be asked.
“I haven’t had a serious relationship for a couple of years.” He chuckled. “At least.”
She relaxed a little. While she hated thinking about Marc with someone else, she hated the idea of dealing with an irate ex even more.
Marc stood and nodded at the stack of papers. "Keep looking. I’ll be back in a minute. Maybe something will jump out at you."
Sierra glanced back at the massive pile of paper growing in the printer’s output tray. This would take forever. But it had taken a whole lot of convincing to let her help figure out who was behind those snakes. She couldn’t back out over a few emails.
The more she thought about someone trying to hurt Denise and her kids, the more it bothered her. And Marc was right that Denise wasn’t one of her favorite people. Whoever was doing this was a real shithead for making her come to Denise’s defense.
And if she was feeling protective of Denise, she couldn’t imagine how much this must be tearing up Marc.
Not that she should be worrying about Marc’s feelings. On anything.
Or her feelings about Marc’s feelings.
Still, someone had to stop whoever this creep was, so why not her? Especially if she could get paid in the process. Getting paid meant Luna wouldn’t miss therapy. Liz could keep rescuing cats. And Sierra could stop disappointing them.
She sighed and grabbed another handful of hate emails. Time to earn some reward money.
* * *
Luckily, Marc had caught Janelle in her office on a Saturday. They’d had a lot of turnover recently, so she was catching up and updating their hiring page.
Marc tapped his foot in the HR office while he waited for her to return. This chair was one of the most uncomfortable things he’d ever sat in, but at least he’d escaped the discomfort of sitting a foot from Sierra and not being able to touch her.
“Here ya go hon’. Sorry, sent it to the wrong printer.” Janelle shuffled in, filling the room with an ocean of sickeningly sweet floral perfume.
Marc took the sheet of current job openings and cleared his throat as he fought back a cough. “Thanks.”
