Page 64 of Her Rugged Guardian

“Come in.”

Bart’s voice was heard as I was already opening the door to his small office, refusing to take no for an answer from him. He and I needed to have a nice chat.

“Hey, buddy,” he said more casually than I thought he would, given the case he was working on. “You comin’ here to issue a formal complaint against that sexy woman you live close to? Did she piss in your Wheaties? I’ve heard from several sources she’s got your number.”

I sat down in the single chair opposite his shitty nineteen-eighties desk, glaring at the commendations he had framed on his wall. In a town full of hockey heroes, I’d been one of a handful of people to really sing his praises. Even his father hadn’t cared, acting as if his own son was nothing but a failure. Bart had grown up with a star hockey player for a father, a beauty queen for a mother. That had set the poor kid up for failure.

In my mind, he was more successful than all of us put together. I don’t know why that bothered me today more than usual other than I’d been thinking far too much about the past. “That’s not why I’m here.” I glanced out his dingy window into a portion of the parking lot. His job certainly was no more glamorous than mine was. At least it was honest.

“What’s going on, Jake? You look haggard.”

“That’s what happens when you chase a misbegotten dog into the danger zone.”

Bart narrowed his eyes the same way he had in the past when expressing his concerns about my mental health. “Danger zone? Buddy, you’re not making any sense.”

“The marshy forest near Tangerine Sunset.”

“That’s right. Ms. Dayne has a dog.”

“Not much goes down you don’t know about.”

“Is there a point to why you’re here, cause I’m pretty busy.”

The goddamn phone call had unnerved the fuck out of me, especially after Cassandra had finally told me what the asshole had said to her. I’d kept pressing until she’d mentioned the feeling of being watched, seeing someone on her driveway. And the cigarette butt. That had taken me some time to find and I doubted there’d be any DNA left, but I’d brought it with me.

She’d also begrudgingly told me about the basic threat from Malcolm Robinson, which had corroborated what I’d heard at the diner. I’d had more than one run-in with the man, the asshole slimy in the worst way. Did I think him capable of the heinous murders? I wasn’t certain enough he had it in him to go down that rabbit hole. The man was a douchebag, a real bullyand always had been, but I didn’t see him as psychotic. Still, I had plans on ruffling his feathers just to get him off her case anyway.

Maybe then I’d determine whether he’d had anything to do with Margaret’s death.

I’d only left her alone because she had a meeting with a wine consultant, someone who could easily guide her on what she could hope for in the future. However, my skin continued to crawl at the thought of leaving her alone.

“What’s going on with the murder case?” When I asked the question, I sensed his mood changing.

Bart narrowed his eyes, the amusement leaving them. “You know I can’t talk about the case.”

“Well, you need to.” I leaned forward, giving him a hard look. “Maybe you need to look outside the box.”

“Do you know something that might prove helpful, cause I’ve got shit right now. No evidence, no connection to the women that I can find. No DNA. I’m shitting bricks because the mayor is all over my ass on this one.”

“I think Cassandra has been targeted.”

“Oh, you’re on a first name basis now, huh?” Bart jerked up from his desk, heading to the old Mr. Coffee machine he kept on his credenza. He didn’t bother asking me if I wanted a cup. He never did when I annoyed the hell out of him. I seemed to be doing that with everyone lately.

“Cut the crap, Bart. She’s in danger and I ain’t gonna let anything happen to her.”

“Let me repeat. Do you have something that will help or are you just barking up a tree? I’m down a deputy at this point, which means I’m working eighteen-hour days. That doesn’t bode well for the homelife.”

“I think the killer has been watching her house, including standing in her driveway. She noticed him from her window in the bedroom a couple mornings ago. He also called her last night. And he left this as a souvenir.”

My buddy cocked his head over his shoulder as I slid the baggie across the surface of his desk. He almost spilled the coffee by pouring too much, a few drips making him hiss. “Where did you get that?”

“The end of her driveway.”

He threw me a look before walking closer, yanking the bag into his hand. “Ah, fuck, man. That could have been left there by anyone.”

“Only Cassie saw him smoking it when he was standing in her driveway.”

“And she’s certain the guy she thinks she saw is the same dude who called her?”

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