When she swung open the front door, Shane was hurrying down the steps that ran along the side of Yesteryear Antiques. She stepped outside and lifted the hand holding the leash. By the time she and Buttons descended the porch steps, Shane was next to them.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired, sore.” She gave him a wry smile. “I discovered just how many times I roll onto my left side during the night.”
He winced. “Ouch.”
“That was during those brief spans of time where I was actually sleeping soundly.”
“Nightmares?”
“Yeah, a few.”
“They’re the pits.” Something in his tone said he was speaking from experience. “Any time you’re having trouble sleeping and need to hear a friendly voice, feel free to call me.”
An uncharacteristic softness nudged its way into her heart. She was used to taking care of herself. She hadn’t had any other choice. She’d had to look after her own interests all her life, because no one else had. Shane’s unexpected care and concern was making her all mushy inside.
Last night, she’d felt so protected lying in the grass, Shane shielding her with his own body. Then he’d followed her to the emergency room and, once they’d allowed him to go back, he’d never left her side until she was home and locked safely in the house.
“Thanks.” She looked down at Buttons, who was making his way along the front hedge, sniffing each bush, hunting for whatever marked a location the perfect potty spot. “Come on, Buttons. Go already.” As much as she enjoyed talking to Shane, morning coffee took precedence.
She shifted her attention away from the dog and let her gaze drift past Shane to the driveway where the two cars sat side by side. Hers had something on the windshield, tucked under a wiper blade. A knot formed in her stomach, dread that was apparently reflected on her face, because Shane spun to check out what she’d seen.
“Another note.” His voice held an ominous tone.
“I hope they didn’t do anything to my car this time. I can’t afford any more repairs.”
“If they did, we’ll have them on camera.”
“We had them on camera last time, too. A lot of good it did.” With the perpetrator wearing a coat and ski mask, all they’d gotten was a rough estimate of his height and weight.
She stalked in that direction, Buttons trotting along beside her, eager for a walk. When she reached the car, Shane held up a hand.
“Don’t touch it. We need to call the police.”
She lifted a brow at him. “Isn’t that sort of what you are?”
“We need to go through the official channels.”
She frowned. “Here, the official channel is Branch.”
“How about one of his officers?”
“That would be Alan White or Tommy Willis. The problem is, Branch intercepts every call I make. If dispatch gives my address, he makes sure to respond himself. Same thing with BethAnn’s store.”
“Too bad there isn’t a way to bypass him.”
“Maybe there is. I’m going to give BethAnn a call. We all grew up here and went to school together. Harmony Grove is a small town, and some of the gang has remained friends. Alan was three years behind us, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she has his cell number.”
She headed toward the house, giving a light tug on the leash. Before she stepped onto the porch, Buttons made a beeline for the nearest shrub, finally ready to get serious. Once Buttons had finished, Shane followed the two of them inside, where she phoned BethAnn. The call netted the result she’d hoped—BethAnn had Alan’s cell saved in her contacts. Shane took a seat on the couch while she spoke with Alan, asking if he could stop by her house.
By the time she’d traded her PJs for jeans and a button-up shirt and put the coffee on to brew, Alan had arrived. He had the patrol car, which meant he was on duty. At least she didn’t drag him away from any personal activities. Knowing Alan, though, he wouldn’t have minded.
He jumped from the patrol car wearing a crisp blue uniform and a worried frown. As he approached, he glanced at the sling. “Are you all right? I heard about what happened last night.”
“I think so. But I might have something to add.” She pointed at the envelope wedged against the windshield of the Bug.
Alan walked to his trunk, then returned wearing latex gloves. “I’m glad you didn’t touch it. I might be able to lift some prints.”
Shane stood next to him as he took the envelope and carefully removed a single page. She moved closer. It was a note, short and to the point: The first shot was a warning. The next one will be for keeps.
A blanket of dread fell over her, wrapping her in its dark embrace. When her eyes met Alan’s, her concern was reflected in his gaze.
“This guy is serious.” He dropped the paper and envelope into a zippered bag. “Hopefully I can get some prints.” He nodded toward the security camera mounted on the door frame. “Was that on?”
“Yes, but we haven’t checked the footage yet. I saw the note and called you right away. We can watch it on Shane’s tablet.”
“What do you say we do that now?”
Shane left and soon returned with the item. The video revealed the same thing the last one had—a man in a ski mask, jacket and gloves. He’d walked up her driveway, glancing over his shoulder, slipped the note under her wiper blade, then backtracked and disappeared.
Alan frowned. “Not much help.”
When Jessica glanced up at Shane, deep furrows marked the space between his brows, and his lips were pressed into a straight line. “Another threat and we’re still no closer to figuring out where they’re coming from than when this all started. Now are you convinced you need to leave?”
She planted her right fist on her hip. She had enough stubbornness for both of them. “I’m not turning my back on my sister.” After all the injustice Prissy had
