A Thin Dark Line

last night.'

'My God.' She couldn't tell if his shock was genuine or not. He took a step toward her. 'Were you hurt?'

'No. I ducked, as it happened.'

'Do you know who did it? Was it because of me?'

'I don't know.' Was it you? she wondered.

'It's terrible someone would want to hurt you, Annie,' Marcus said, his gaze a little too intent. He inched closer to her by just shifting his weight. 'Especially when you know it was someone wanting to punish you for doing the right thing. That's the way of the world, I'm sad to say. Evil tries to eradicate good.

'Were you alone?' His voice softened. 'You must have been frightened.'

'That would be a mild understatement,' she said, resisting the urge to step away from him. 'I suppose I should be getting used to that kind of thing. I seem to be a favorite target all of a sudden.'

'I can empathize. I know exactly what you went through, Annie,' he said. 'Having a stranger reach into your life and commit an act of violence. It's a violation. It's rape. You feel so vulnerable, so powerless. So alone. Don't you?'

A shudder vibrated just under Annie's skin. He said nothing threatening, nothing menacing. He offered her his understanding and concern… in a way that was just a little too intense. He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief, as if the subject matter were making him salivate. Something about the light in his eyes seemed almost excitement, a secret. No one would have understood -except Pam Bichon. And possibly Elaine Ingram before her.

'I know what it's like,' he said. 'You know I do. You've been there for me so many times. I wish I could have been there for you. I feel so selfish now-calling you about someone throwing a rock through one of our parlor windows last night, wondering why you didn't call me back. And all the while you were in danger.'

'You called the sheriff's office, didn't you? About the rock?'

'I shouldn't have bothered,' he said bitterly. 'They're probably using the rock for a paperweight today. I'm sure they threw the note away.'

'What note?'

'The one bound to the rock with a rubber band. It said YOU DIE NEXT, KILLER.'

Victor made his strange squealing sound again and covered his face with his book.

'It was terribly upsetting,' Marcus went on. 'Someone is terrorizing my family, and the sheriff's office has done nothing. I'm being stalked just as surely as Pam was stalked by some deranged person, and the sheriff's office would be just as happy if someone killed me. You're the only one who cares, Annie.'

'Well, I'm afraid last night I was busy caring about not getting killed myself.'

'I'm so sorry. The last thing I want is to see you hurt, Annie-especially on my account.' He shifted closer, tilting his head down to an angle for sharing secrets. 'I care a great deal about you, Annie,' he murmured. 'You know that.'

'I hope you don't mean that in a personal way, Marcus,' she said, testing him. There were people just one floor down and his brother standing ten feet away, watching them over the edge of his picture book. He wouldn't risk anything here. 'I'm working on your case. That's all.'

He looked stunned for a split second, then smiled in relief. 'I understand. Conflict of interest. Your saving my life-twice-was merely in the line of duty.'

'That's right.'

'And your looking into my alibi and coming to the house the other night, even though it wasn't officially your case-that was just because you're a good cop.'

'That's right,' Annie said, another ripple of unease ribboning through her. Once again, he was reading something into her actions that simply wasn't true. And yet, his response was nothing she could even have related to someone else as being inappropriate.

'I'm just a deputy,' she said. 'That's all I can be to you, Marcus. Do you understand what I'm telling you? You shouldn't be sending me gifts.'

'A simple show of my gratitude,' he said.

'Your taxes pay my salary. That's all the gratitude I need.'

'But you've gone above and beyond the call. You deserve more than you're getting.'

Victor whimpered and rocked himself. 'Then and now. Enter out. Time and time now, Marcus. Very red.'

'It's not appropriate for you to give me gifts.'

'Do you have a boyfriend?' he asked, straightening, a fine thread of irritation tightening his voice. 'Did it make him angry-me sending you things?'

'That would be none of your business,' Annie said. She hardly dared blink for fear she would miss some small nuance of expression that would give him away.

'Very red!' Victor keened. He sounded on the verge of tears. 'Enter out now!'

Marcus glanced at his watch and frowned. 'Ah, we'd better go. It's getting on toward eight. Victor's bedtime. Can't disrupt the schedule, can we, Victor?'

Victor clutched his book to his chest and hurried toward the door to the hall.

Marcus made a stiff little bow to Annie, trying to be dashing. 'May I walk you out, Annie? Obviously, you need to be careful.'

She refrained from pointing out that having him escort her would hardly be considered a safe thing. He was either a killer or possibly the target of a killer. 'I'm not leaving just yet. I've got some work to do.'

He let it go as they started down the aisle toward the front of the room and better light. 'Have you made any progress on finding that driver who helped me?'

'No. I've been very busy.'

'But you're trying.'

The DMV list was still under the blotter on her desk. 'I'll do what I can.'

'I know you will, Annie,' he said as they reached the vacant desk area, where Victor stood in the doorway facing the hall, rocking himself from side to side. 'I know you'll do your best for me, Annie. You're very special.'

Before Annie could protest again, he said, 'Will you be going to the street dance with anyone Friday?'

As if he meant to ask her, Annie thought, amazed. She took another step away from him. 'I'll be going in uniform if they hold it at all. I'm scheduled to work.'

Marcus sighed. 'Too bad. You've been working so hard lately.'

Because of you, Annie thought, but she wasn't going to be the one to bring on another round of cloying gratitude.

She watched the Renard brothers go, Victor hugging the wall of the stairwell, his bird book raised to hide his face. Mask.

He wanted to hide who he was behind another facade. His brother may well have been hiding an alter ego beneath his bland, ordinary face. Annie turned toward the printer and the stack of articles that involved Chaz Stokes, who used his badge as a mask to cover God knew what. Mask.

'Yeah, Victor,' she murmured, collecting her things. 'There seems to be a lot of that going around.'

'It doesn't match,' Doll harped. 'I told you it wouldn't match. I had a premonition.'

'It's wet, Mother,' Marcus said, dabbing at the paint with a sponge in hopes of better blending it in with the rest of the wall. 'Paint always appears lighter when dry than when wet.'

Doll scrutinized the dining room wall, her thin face pinched tight with concentration. She crossed her arms and declared, 'I don't believe it's the same color. What's it called? Is it called forest?'

'I don't know, Mother. The can has a number, not a name.'

'Well, it had ought to say forest. I distinctly remember choosing the color forest. If it doesn't say forest, then how can you know it's the same shade?'

'Because I know that it is.'