Marion Laird - No Place To Run

Matt looked at Lorie again. “Did you know about this?”

“Yes. When he explained why he wanted them, he said it was just to present both sides of the issue.”

“And you believed him?”

Lorie straightened up. “Mr. Pitt has been nothing but good to me since I came back to Dainger County. He swayed the library board in my favor after they had second thoughts about hiring me. He even gave my Mustang a free tune-up at the Pitt Stop. I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

J.T. snorted. Matt flashed him a warning glance. Retreating behind his napkin, Jen’s husband turned the snort into a cough.

“Supervisor Pitt has always been careful to stay on the right side of the law.” Matt turned to Lorie again. “But I wouldn’t get too close to him if I were you.”

“Why not?”

Matt gave the obvious answer. “He’s a politician. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Lorie smiled, the first relaxed smile he’d seen since they’d parted earlier at the library. A surge of elation rose in him at the sight of it, and he squashed it. Lorie Narramore was a citizen, and he’d protect her as he’d protect any other citizen.

He had absolutely no reason to get carried away with emotion.

None.

* * *

Lorie was still sorting the books from the overnight drop when Jen arrived for work the next morning. She joined Lorie in the cubbyhole where they stored supplies.

“Any more notes?” Jen took a stack of books from Lorie and put them onto the rolling cart.

“No, thankfully. I’m beginning to hope it was just somebody’s idea of a joke.”

Jen snorted. “Pretty sick joke if you ask me. And what about that phone call?”

Lorie rubbed both hands up the sides of her face and through her hair, messing it up thoroughly. “I know. Yesterday seems like a bad dream.” She scraped her hair back into a ponytail again.

“I hope you were careful driving home.”

“Extra careful.” She’d watched every driver with exaggerated caution, but there hadn’t been any problems. Still, her dog and cats were nowhere close to being as happy as she was when she arrived home.

“Sleep okay?”

Lorie shook her head. “I kept hearing noises, but it was nothing, every time.”

“Every time?” Jen’s eyebrows rose. “How many times?”

“I don’t know. Four or five.” Lorie rubbed at her sleep-deprived eyes. “I’ll be okay.”

“I knew you should have stayed in our guest room. Then if you’d been woken up, you’d have known it was only one of my hooligans.”

Lorie nodded. “I appreciate it, but in case things get ugly, I don’t want your family in the middle of it.”

Jen muttered something as she rolled the book rack out the door. It sounded like, “Things are already ugly.”

Wednesday at the library lasted forever. A few regulars came looking for their favorite authors, but up till three o’clock, it stayed quiet. Lorie busied herself going through the stacks, checking to see whether any books needing repair had sneaked past returns.

As she was in the 799s, she noticed a book spine sticking out at a crooked angle. She reached up to shove it back into place.

Just as her fingertips touched the spine, she spotted a scrap of white sticking out of the top.

Fingerprints.

Lorie snatched her hand back. Could it be the vanished note from yesterday?

“Jen!”

“What do you need?” Jen appeared at the end of the row of shelving.

Lorie looked at her. “Do you see anything out of place?”

“No.” Jen glanced around the stacks. “Wait, what’s that?”

“I’m not sure. I think it might be the note. The book didn’t look like that when I shelved it this morning.”

A frown crossed Jen’s face. “Was the paper sticking out when you found it?”

Lorie nodded. “I did touch the spine before I saw the paper, but I haven’t moved it.”

“Call Matt. Or Vangie.”

Lorie reached into her pocket for her cell phone. “Could you get me my purse? I stuck Matt’s card in there.”

“Good choice.” Jen grinned. “I’ll be right back.”

While she was away, Lorie looked at the book title. Hunting and Gun Safety by Oswald Smith. Her stomach twisted. Had the note been left in that book on purpose, or had it just been an unhappy coincidence?

Lorie fought against the rush of memory threatening to overwhelm her. Not now, Lord, please.

Jen returned with Lorie’s brown leather purse slung over her arm. She tossed it, and Lorie caught it before it could smack her in the ribs.

“Thanks.”

She found Matt’s card in a side pocket and punched in the number with trembling fingers.

His phone rang once, twice—

“MacGregor.”

“Matt, I mean, Deputy MacGregor, this is Lorie Narramore. I think I’ve found the note.”

* * *

A jolt of electricity smacked Matt’s middle when he heard the suppressed fear in Lorie’s voice.

“Where?”

“Tucked into a library book that was put back crooked.”

“Have you touched it?”

“I shelved it this morning—the note wasn’t there then. When I spotted it just now, I only touched the spine, before I realized the note might be there. I hope I haven’t messed up any fingerprints.”

“I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Don’t let anyone else touch it.”

“Thank you.”

After reporting the call to dispatch, Matt drove toward the county library.

The parking lot was about a third full. Matt made a mental note of the vehicles. Three pickup trucks in various states of disrepair, plus one shiny new Dodge Ram belonging to the mayor’s first cousin and a gunmetal-gray Mercedes-Benz.

Matt parked next to Lorie’s car, a sporty blue Mustang convertible that looked as though it would be happier cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway than winding along the curves of Dainger County’s hilly roads.

Matt locked his car door and headed inside. Jen stood behind the checkout desk, scanning a patron’s mile-high stack of books.

“She’s by the seven-ninety-nines,” she said, before he even had a chance to ask.

“Thanks.”

Lorie looked up as he rounded the stacks. Was that relief in her eyes?

“Thank you for coming.”

Matt nodded then followed her glance to the book sticking out of the shelf.

“Is that the culprit?”

“Yes. Aside from the initial mistake, I haven’t touched it. I have no idea whether that’s the note, but it seems a little coincidental if it isn’t.”

Matt reached into his pocket for the fresh set of latex gloves. He slipped them on, pulling them in place with a snap.

Surprised by its weight, Matt nearly dropped the tome as he pulled it off the shelf. Recovering it like a fumbled football, he opened it to the sheet of paper. Crimson blood-dripping letters in font size 72 screamed at him from the page. He lifted his eyes to Lorie’s.

“What was it the original note said?”

Lorie started. “Original note? You mean—” She took a deep breath. “It said, ‘Don’t think you can get away with it.’”

“That’s what I thought. Can you explain this, then?” He held the page where she could read it.

Lorie went deathly white and staggered against the bookshelf.

BANG! HE’S DEAD, read the top of the note.

Halfway down the page, it continued: YOU’RE NEXT.

FOUR

No, Lord. This can’t be happening.

Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, Lorie struggled to find words. Matt would expect her to say something, not just stand there like a pillar of salt. First she had to keep from throwing up.

“Take a deep breath.” Matt’s voice penetrated the ringing in her ears.

Lorie tried, and had a fit of coughing. When she recovered, she took in as deep a breath as she could.