“Like an artist?”
“Yeah, she does oil paintings.”
He didn’t see a connection, either. “Any chance the Tandys could be mixed up in whatever your sister was?”
“No way. They’ve always been good Christian people. He even teaches Sunday School. At least he used to. I can’t imagine either of them involved in anything shady.”
Maybe they weren’t involved–knowingly, anyway. But something told him there was a connection between all the seemingly unrelated incidents. He just had to find it.
God, please let that happen before anyone else gets hurt.
Chapter Seven
Jessica stepped out the front door into the early morning sunshine, Buttons trotting ahead of her. She’d already taken him out when she’d awoken at sun-up, but sun-up to noon was a long time between potty breaks for a little dog. At least, she assumed it was.
As he wandered the yard, she followed, her gaze fixed on the establishment across the street. She sighed and turned to face her own house. She was doing that a lot—searching out Shane before she even realized what she was doing. He was occupying a lot of her conscious thoughts, too.
She’d felt that pull of attraction from almost the first moment she saw him. That alone should have been warning enough to steer clear of him. But he was hard to avoid. For one, he lived right across the street. Even if he wasn’t dropping by every chance he got, she would still be bumping into him on a regular basis. Next, he was so…friendly. He took the meaning of neighborly to new heights, helping her clean up the house, taking her to dinner, sticking up for her against Branch. And third, she had a murder to solve. And like he said, two heads were better than one.
So she was spending way more time with him than she should. But she was a big girl. She could handle it. He seemed to be dealing with their closeness just fine. He said he wasn’t interested in relationships. Said he was a loner, moved around a lot.
She didn’t believe it. Whatever his reason for avoiding emotional entanglements, it had nothing to do with moving around. In fact, it was probably just the opposite—his not staying in one place for long helped him avoid serious relationships. He was running from something, but she’d probably never know what. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Transparent. For all she knew, he could be a fugitive. It wouldn’t be the first mistake she’d made in judging a man’s character, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
After taking Buttons back inside and hanging up his leash, she stepped out again, this time carrying her purse and her lunch. She moved toward the two cars sitting side by side in the driveway. Hers hadn’t moved in several days, Prissy’s even longer. As she slipped between them, something snagged her attention, white against the tinted driver’s side window of the Bug. A sheet of paper was taped there, folded in half.
She stopped at the door and pulled the page loose. At least it wasn’t a ticket. Even Branch wouldn’t be able to find a reason to ticket her in her own driveway.
The paper was lined, with a jagged left-hand edge where it had been pulled from a spiral notebook. Block letters filled half the page.
Jessica,
Look under your car. Quit your snooping and go back to Miami, or you’ll pay the price. Remember, accidents can happen.
Her pulse raced, pounding in her ears. What did they do to her car? She hurried down the driveway, putting a safe distance between herself and the vehicles. Near the street, she dropped to her knees and peered beneath the car. At that distance, she wouldn’t be able to see if someone had planted a bomb. She wouldn’t know what to look for anyway, regardless of distance.
Something didn’t look right, though. A small discolored area had formed near the inside edge of the front passenger’s side tire. It hadn’t been there the last time she’d parked, or she would have noticed.
She rose and made her way through the grass, toward the house. A couple of yards away from the right front quarter panel, she dropped her purse and the bag holding her lunch and looked underneath the car again. A steady drip fell from an open tube. Someone had cut her brake line. She pushed herself to her feet, a chill sweeping over her.
Accidents can happen.
Branch had spoken the same words. Would he cut her brake lines and then write something that would instantly draw her thoughts to him? Was he that bold? Yeah, he probably was. He likely considered himself above the law.
Whether he was responsible or not, he didn’t do it himself. He’d never get his hands dirty. But that didn’t mean anything. There were probably plenty of people he could con, or blackmail, into doing his bidding.
She needed to report what had happened. She also needed to call BethAnn to let her know she’d be late. She bent to retrieve her phone from her purse.
“Car trouble?”
The deep male voice behind her sent a shot of adrenaline through her. The note fluttered to the pavement as she spun and fell back into a fighting stance. Shane stood only four feet in front of her but quickly increased the distance, hands raised.
“Remind me never to sneak up on you.”
Relief cascaded over her, and she pressed a hand to her heart. “You startled me.”
He grinned. “I noticed. Is something wrong? I was coming down the steps and saw you looking under your car.”
“Something’s wrong all right.” She picked up the sheet of paper, grasping a corner between her thumb and index finger. If prints could be lifted from paper, she didn’t want to add any more of her own than necessary. “I found this taped to the driver’s side window. Someone cut the brake line.”
He read the page she held, and his jaw tightened. The quiet fury that passed over his features sent a flutter through her stomach. That wasn’t just neighborly concern she saw
