The town of Willow Grove.
The official Web site for Willow Grove didn’t amount to much, and there was nothing on the Web page to indicate that Rose Browning had ever had much standing in the community. However, the site listed contact information for the mayor, Floyd Chamberlain. If Daniel was lucky, Mr. Chamberlain would have heard of him. If he was very lucky, the mayor would be the talkative sort.
It took a little flirting with the mayor’s female aide to get through to the mayor himself, but eventually Floyd Chamberlain took Daniel’s call. “Dr. Hartman, it’s a pleasure to talk to you. I saw you last year on a Fox News segment on school shootings. Our school system has implemented several of your suggestions.”
“Hope they’ve worked for you.”
The mayor’s booming voice rumbled over the phone line. “Oh, they have, Dr. Hartman! They have! We don’t have much in the way of crime around here, but teachers at the high school say the warning signs you mentioned helped them stop problems before they happened. What can I do for you today, sir?”
Daniel decided the truth, or a close approximation, was the way to go. “I’m doing a case study of some murders in Birmingham, and I’ve come across someone from your town. Rose Browning. Are you familiar with her?”
There was the briefest of pauses before the mayor said, “Certainly am. Very sweet, lovely girl. I was sorry to see her move away to the big city.”
Chamberlain was saying all the right things, but that brief hesitation, along with a guarded tone in his voice, piqued Daniel’s interest. “She’s peripherally involved in the cases I’m looking into-recently lost a friend in a violent crime.”
“Oh, no. Poor thing.” The mayor sounded genuinely distressed. “I’d hoped once in a lifetime was enough.”
“It’s happened to her before?” Daniel opened his notepad and scrabbled through the motel desk drawers for a pen.
“Last December.” Chamberlain made a soft clicking noise with his tongue. “I reckon you know she’s a wedding planner-”
“Yes.”
“She’d planned a wedding for Carrie and Dillon Granville. Carrie was a real sweet girl, from a real good family.”
“But Dillon wasn’t?” Daniel surmised from the tone of the mayor’s voice.
“Oh, he was a good-lookin’ boy. Lord knows, half the girls in town were crazy over him, but he could be wild as a hare when he got to drinkin’. And he got to drinkin’ a lot.” The mayor’s voice tightened. “Carrie’s mama and daddy didn’t want her to marry Dillon. He didn’t have a real steady job and he had that wild streak, but Carrie was convinced he was the man for her, and so was Rose. She helped Carrie make up her mind.”
Daniel frowned. That didn’t sound like the Rose he knew.
Then again, how much did he know about her? The first time he’d seen her, she’d been sitting alone in a bar, looking like bait for the next horn dog who walked through the door.
Maybe she had a wild side he didn’t know about.
“Rose planned the wedding for Carrie and Dillon, free of charge, since Dillon didn’t have much money and Carrie’s mama and daddy refused to be part of the whole thing.”
“I take it things ended badly.”
“Last December, apparently, Carrie had decided she’d taken enough of Dillon’s craziness and set about leaving him. Dillon wouldn’t let her go, so he shot her dead. Rose had decided to visit them that day, take them a Christmas present.” Chamberlain lowered his voice. “Poor Rose got there just in time to see Dillon kill himself.”
Daniel’s stomach clenched in sympathy. “My God.”
“She took it real bad, of course. Wasn’t that long before she moved away. And now you say it happened to her again?”
“She didn’t witness it this time,” Daniel said.
“Thank goodness for that, at least.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chamberlain, for your time. Appreciate it,” Daniel said, meaning it.
“I don’t know what I’ve done but prattle on like an old fool,” Chamberlain responded, but he couldn’t hide the pleasure in his voice. “I hope you don’t think Rose had anything to do with the crimes you’re investigating-”
“Not at all,” Daniel assured him. He didn’t think, for a moment, that Rose Browning had anything to do with the murders.
He was less sure, however, that she had no knowledge about the killer that she hadn’t yet chosen to share with him.
But what kind of secret could she be keeping?
His cell phone rang as he was heading out the door to find some lunch. Shrugging on his coat, he answered. “Hartman.”
“Daniel, it’s Rose Browning.”
The warm timbre of her voice sent a shudder of heat rushing through him. “How’d you get my cell-phone number?”
“Melissa gave it to me.” She hesitated. “Something’s happened. I don’t know what it means.”
He went instantly tense. “You okay?”
“Yes, but-could you come here as soon as possible? I need to show you something.”
“I’ll be right there.” Ringing off, he locked the motel-room door behind him and raced for the parking lot.
“DO YOU THINK IT MEANS anything?” Rose gazed up at Daniel, hoping he’d tell her she was letting her imagination run away with her. But the grim set of his mouth squelched that hope.
“Don’t suppose you were wearing gloves when you opened it?”
“No, sorry. I didn’t think to-”
“No reason you should.” Daniel put his hand on her shoulder, sparking a wildfire down her arm before his hand fell away. “I’d like to have this fingerprinted and analyzed, anyway. Mind being fingerprinted so we can eliminate your prints?”
“Of course not. I’ll do whatever you want.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, afraid to ask the next obvious question. She forced herself to voice it, anyway. “Do you think it’s from him?”
Daniel met her worried gaze, his expression calm, but serious. “I don’t know. From what I know of Orion, he hasn’t ever tried to contact anyone-the press or police or any future victims-”
“You think I might be a future victim?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“But it’s possible.”
“Any woman in the world is potentially his victim.” Daniel caught her hand in his. “I don’t think you should panic until we know a little more about the note, though. Could be from someone in the neighborhood who simply forgot to sign it.”
She could tell he didn’t really believe that, but he was right about one thing. The last thing she needed to do was to panic. The sadistic bastard who was killing the women of Southside fed on panic and fear. The only way to beat him was to keep her head and stay alert.
She took a bracing breath. “Okay. What do I do next?”
“Come with me to the South precinct to get printed. Have a plastic bag I could use to protect this?” He gestured toward the card on the counter.
Rose retrieved a plastic sandwich bag from the pantry and took it to Daniel. He used a pair of tweezers to maneuver the note and its envelope into the bag, then tucked the bag in his pocket. “Let’s go.”
Daniel led her outside to his Jeep, his hand warm against the small of her back. He handed her into the passenger seat, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment. “This could be a break, Rose. Could be the break we need.”
Or it could be the beginning of a killer’s campaign of terror, Rose thought.
With her as his next target.
