Tough Customer

Now, as they waited for an elevator, Berry noticed how dwarfed her mother was by his height. Even Berry, who'd been taller than every boy in her class since seventh grade and had graduated high school with only a few of them having outgrown her, felt diminutive next to him.

They decided in favor of the stairs over waiting any longer for an elevator. As they walked up the one flight, Berry felt his stare like a physical pressure on the center of her spine.

The courthouse structure dated back to 1898, but it had been well maintained. The sheriff's office had original paneling and hand-carved molding around the plaster ceiling. The window glass was wavy but lent the room character. The wide desk was flanked by matching flagpoles. Between Old Glory and the Texas state flag hung a painting depicting Santa Anna's surrender to Sam Houston.

When they entered the office, the two men in it stood up. One was the lawyer her mother had summoned to the house last night. The other was Sheriff Tom Drummond.

He stepped from behind his desk and met them halfway to embrace Caroline, taking her shoulders between his hands and kissing her cheek. 'Always a pleasure to see you, but I hate the circumstances of this meeting.'

'So do I, Tom.' She turned to indicate Berry. 'I believe you met my daughter last year at the country club's Labor Day picnic.'

'Of course. Ms. Malone.'

'Berry, please.'

He took her hand and patted it warmly. 'I assure you, this case has the full attention of this office. Your mother's company has become important to this community by turning a stagnant real estate market active. Anything concerning her concerns me, especially your safety. We're going to catch this character. I give you my word.'

'Thank you. I have every confidence in you.'

The lawyer--his name was Carlisle Harris, Harris Carlisle, Berry couldn't remember which--was roughly the sheriff's age. He was a nice-looking, pleasant gentleman, but she felt sure her mother had chosen him more for the evident shrewdness behind his bright black eyes than for his cordiality.

He had shown up at the lake house last night as though Caroline had waved a magic wand to produce him. As soon as her mother had learned the nature of the emergency and Ski Nyland had begun posing questions about Berry's pistol, Caroline had politely asked him to hold off until she called her attorney. The deputy hadn't liked it, but he had complied, and Berry hadn't uttered another word until the lawyer got there.

He stepped forward now to shake hands with her and Caroline in turn.

The sheriff must have sensed Ski Nyland's impatience because he curtailed the pleasantries and suggested they all take seats. Berry and her mother sat side by side on a well-worn leather sofa. The men sat in armchairs that formed a semicircle facing them.

The sheriff began. 'Ski has given me a rundown of what happened out at the lake house last night, and I have a copy of your official statement, Berry. Harry, you got a copy?'

'I did,' said Harris Carlisle. 'Thank you.'

'Is there anything you'd care to add to it, Berry?' the sheriff asked. 'Anything you've remembered between last night and now that could help us track this guy?'

She shook her head. 'I was as comprehensive as I could be. To capsulize it, Oren Starks has been stalking me for months. Last night he came to the lake house, shot Ben, and threatened to kill me.'

'You met Starks at your place of employment, is that correct?'

'Delray Marketing in Houston.'

'I understand that he was fired from the company.'

'Some months ago.'

'Do you know why?'

'He wasn't a good fit,' she replied. 'At least that was the water- cooler speculation for why he was let go.'

'Did you think he was a good fit?'

She turned to Deputy Nyland, who'd posed the question, and answered coolly. 'It isn't in my job description to evaluate co-workers.'

'Candidly, did you think Oren Starks was a good fit?'

'No, I didn't.'

'Why not? Wasn't he any good at what he did?'

Berry gave a half smile. 'Oren wasn't good at his job, he was exceptional.'

'I don't follow, Berry,' the sheriff said. 'Ski said you painted this guy as an oddball.'

'His personality has no bearing on his skill,' Berry said. 'Marketing is about creativity, and strategy, and making dozens of components come together to form a harmonious whole. One wrong element throws the whole thing off. At Delray, Oren was our go-to guy when a campaign wasn't coming together the way it should. He had a knack for isolating the piece that didn't fit.'

'Yet he was a misfit at the company,' the sheriff said.

'Ironically, yes. He made people uncomfortable. Women in particular. I wasn't the first he focused his unwanted attention on.'

'Were sexual harassment complaints filed against him?'

She shook her head. 'None officially. Oren didn't do anything overt. No touching. No obscene e-mails or lewd texts. He's too intelligent, too sly to do something that could have trapped him.

'But he was very clever with innuendos implying an intimacy that didn't exist.' As an afterthought, she added, 'If you took issue with one of his remarks, he could make you feel as though you'd mistaken his meaning.'

'Was this your experience?' the sheriff asked.

'Yes. At first. I began to think I was reading too much into the things he said and did. But after he was fired, he became more persistent and aggressive. To the point where I grew frightened of him. I thought that if I came here and stayed the summer in Mother's lake house--which she'd been trying to get me to do ever since she bought it--if I came here, essentially disappeared for a while, Oren would become discouraged or simply lose interest and leave me alone.'

'When you say stalking...' The sheriff leaned forward, inviting her to elaborate.

'Calling several times a day. Constantly sending me text messages.'

'Why didn't you change your phone number?' Deputy Nyland asked.

'Too many people have that number. Clients, co-workers, people who need to reach me for a quick solution to a time-sensitive problem. It would have been very inconvenient to change it.'

'More inconvenient than being stalked?'

'You don't have to answer that, Berry,' her lawyer said.

She didn't answer. Instead, she redirected her attention to the sheriff. 'Oren would show up at my house uninvited. Sometimes he would be parked at the curb, or even sitting on the porch, waiting for me when I returned home. He would appear at restaurants where I was having dinner and would send flowers with enclosure cards that suggested a romantic relationship. I assure you there was none. He sent me small gifts that--'

'Like what?'

Flustered by the deputy's constant and skeptical interruptions, she had to think for a moment. 'He once sent me a video game. A Dungeons & Dragons kind of game. Fantasy stuff with wizards, evil sorcerers, castles with mazes. You know the kind of thing.'

'You're into that?'

'Not at all, Deputy Nyland. But Oren is. He loves puzzles of any kind, and he's