Debby Giusti - Killer Headline

O’Reilly nodded to Clay. “Having you in pursuit probably scared him, as well. Doubtful he’ll hit this house again.”

Violet and Clay thanked the officer and walked him to the door. Once he drove off in his patrol car, Clay checked his watch. He still had a job to do.

“I know it’s late, Violet, but we need to go over some security measures you can take to protect yourself.” He pointed to the table lamps. “Leave a light on so you don’t come home from work to a dark house. Install dead bolts on your front and back doors. Lock all windows, even the one in the laundry room.”

She nodded, her mouth pursed. “I won’t leave it open again.”

He glanced at the phone on her desk. “Call home before you pull into the garage. If someone’s inside, the sound of the phone might encourage them to flee.”

She squared her shoulders. “I can take care of myself, Clay.”

He smiled at her flair of independence. “Seems to me you weren’t quite so confident about an hour ago when the guy was standing in your kitchen. Just as I mentioned earlier, it could have been the mob.”

“Could have, but wasn’t. The officer agreed with me. It was local riffraff.”

“In either case, don’t leave your notes on organized crime where someone can read them.” He pointed to the desk where her laptop sat, along with a stack of papers. The notes on top chronicled some of the Martino family’s most recent exploits, which he’d noticed when Violet was occupied with the cop.

She dropped her hands to her hips. “You have no right to rifle through my papers.”

Seems she was feeling a bit more confident now.

Violet cocked her hip. “Don’t tell me you drove over twelve hundred miles just to give me a security briefing.”

“I had a few days off and planned to take you out to dinner so we could discuss your security face-to-face.” He kept his voice calm. She had been through a lot this evening. He needed to cut her some slack.

“You’re probably hungry,” Clay said. “We can discuss how you’re going to stop gathering information on the mob over Chinese or Mexican. Maybe Thai?”

Anger flashed from her eyes. “You can’t tell me what to do, Clay.”

“For your own safety.”

“The mob isn’t the problem right now. You are.” Her voice was razor sharp.

“You’re upset,” he said. “Surely once you’ve eaten—”

“Leave now or I’ll call Officer O’Reilly and tell him I have another problem.”

“Violet, you’re acting irrational.”

He should have weighed his words.

She pointed to the door. “Goodbye, Clay.”

Things had certainly taken a turn for the worse. As much as he regretted upsetting her, Violet needed to realize her own vulnerability.

If a local punk could break and enter, the mob could, as well. Only they would have ensured she got the message to back off loud and clear, and their way of handling problems was usually fatal.

Hopefully, once Violet had time to process everything that had happened, she’d realize Clay’s advice was sound. He had made his point. One she’d remember. Better to leave while he was ahead.

“I’ll let myself out.” Clay headed for the kitchen door. The cold night air swirled around him when he stepped outside. A scrap of paper blew along the walkway. Clay bent to retrieve the note he hadn’t noticed earlier.

He unfolded the paper and read the typed message. Back off!

Had the man who’d broken into Violet’s house intended to leave the warning? Violet’s scream had frightened him, and the paper had probably fallen from his hand as he ran away.

The Mafia didn’t usually warn its victims, yet someone in Missoula knew Violet’s curiosity was taking her in a dangerous direction.

Was the mob using someone local to put the heat on Violet? If so, they wouldn’t let up until she was quieted once and for all.

Clay glanced at her home. The light from her kitchen window spilled into the darkness. He wouldn’t disturb her again tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

His first duty was to convince Violet to stop digging around in Mafia business. The second was to learn where and how she got her information. The third was to ensure her safety. If the mob showed up in Missoula, he’d add a fourth bullet to the list.

Keep Violet alive.

Violet locked the door behind Clay, feeling relieved to have him out of her home. But when she looked at the spot where the intruder had stood, she wished she hadn’t been so hasty sending Clay away. He offered security and a voice of reason. She regretted her outburst. Of course, she wasn’t thinking clearly.

Having her home broken into had thrown her usual levelheaded composure into a tailspin. Clay’s insistence on turning her misfortune into a teaching moment had rubbed her already stretched nerves to the point of breaking.

Peeved as she was at Clay, she knew he was right. Her inquiries about the mob could be her downfall if the Martino family found out. She needed to be careful.

Violet rechecked her front and back doors to ensure they were locked. As an added precaution, she wedged a straight-back kitchen chair under each doorknob to provide another obstacle should tonight’s mystery guest return or Clay’s warning about the mob prove true.

What had brought him to Missoula? Something more than her phone call the other night. The big guns in Chicago wouldn’t have sent Clay on a wild goose chase to Missoula if she hadn’t ruffled a few feathers in Illinois or stepped on someone’s toes.

Her dark mood brightened. A knowing smile slipped across her lips. Score one for the home team.

Not bad, Vi. Not bad at all.

Officer O’Reilly had assured her tonight’s intruder wouldn’t be back, which was a relief. In addition, Clay’s warnings wouldn’t change her mind.

The undercover cop from Chicago hadn’t scared her off. In fact, he’d made her more convinced than ever to continue the course she was on. She must have uncovered something that the cops and the Feds didn’t want exposed. This story about the mob could be bigger than even she had expected.

Kicking off her heels, Violet settled into her desk chair and booted up her computer. She pulled up her e-mail and started a new message.

Her cursor followed each keystroke as she typed in Gwyn’s address and Need more info as the subject line. In the message box, she typed, Tell me everything you know about Clay West.

“Thank you, Clay,” she mumbled. “If it hadn’t been for you, I might have given up on this story about women killed by the mob.”

But nothing, not even a handsome cop, would stop her now.

Clay hustled down the dark street to where he’d parked his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called Chicago.

FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Jackson McGraw answered on the second ring.

“Someone broke into the reporter’s home. I chased the guy a couple blocks but lost him.”

“One of Martino’s guys?”

“The cops suspect locals. They’ve had a number of recent petty crimes in the area.” Clay told Jackson about following the perpetrator, and the note Clay found when he left Violet’s house later that night. “Doubtful the mob would have left a warning message.

But they may have alerted someone local to keep her under watch. If the guy’s being strong-armed to do the mob’s bidding, he may have thought scaring Violet off would work to his advantage.”

“Which is exactly what we’re trying to do, as well.”

“I drove home the point about her security issues. In fact, I conducted a little training exercise within the home as you requested.”

Jackson chuckled. “Let me guess. Violet wasn’t impressed.”

“Irritated would be a better word to use.”