Final Warning

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Adam sucked in his breath. “Gwen didn’t tell me about that.”

“She didn’t know. It happened after she’d left for the day.”

Mitch checked his watch. “I really need to get back over to Mary’s.”

“I’ll print out those e-mails now,” she said, heading toward the den. She rubbed her hands on her pants. “Then I think I’ll shower again before I go to work.”

Mitch reached out and stopped her. “Whoa, there. You don’t need to go to work. Why don’t you take the day off?”

“I can’t do that. I have a broadcast to do.”

Mitch waved his hand in dismissal. “Cancel it, or let Harley do it. You don’t need to go anywhere until we find out about whoever’s sending you these threatening messages.”

“What should I do? Hide in my house? No, thanks. Fala isn’t going to get in the way of my show or my life.”

He leaned toward her, gritting his teeth. “Don’t be so hard-headed. Your show isn’t worth the risk.”

Mitch might have appeared concerned about her this morning, but his words told her nothing had changed between them. “Not to you. You’ve certainly made that clear from the beginning, but it is to me.”

Mitch raked his hand through his hair. “Sometimes you…”

Adam stepped up beside them and placed a hand on each one’s shoulder. “Hey, guys, stop it. You’re both upset, but you don’t need to argue. We’ve lost a great friend.” He paused, blinked back tears and took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what. You two get the e-mails, and I’ll cook breakfast. Then we’ll all sit down and try to cope with what’s happened.”

Mitch’s shoulders sagged. “You and C.J. can eat. I’ll grab something later on.”

Adam frowned. “C’mon, Mitch. You’ve got to eat.”

“Sorry, I can’t. The chief will be waiting at the station for me.”

Adam nodded. “Then I’ll call Gwen to come over. C.J. can ride to work with her after breakfast. How’s that?”

She couldn’t believe it. They were standing here talking about her as if she weren’t capable of making her own decisions. “You don’t have to ask Mitch, Adam,” she said. “I’ll decide how I’ll go to work.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a long breath. “Fine. I suppose I can’t stop you from what you’re bound and determined to do. Just give me the e-mails, and I’ll get out of your way.”

Without a word she turned and led the way into the den. Adam’s voice drifted from the kitchen. She knew he’d dialed Gwen. “This is Adam. Something terrible has happened.” His voice dissolved into choking sobs. “Can you come to C.J.’s house?”

Dreading to open her e-mails, C.J. eased into her desk chair and turned on the computer. As she waited for it to boot, she closed her eyes in an effort to forget the horrible scene in Mary’s bedroom. She could only imagine the message Fala might have left to torment her for not saving her friend’s life.

Finally she opened her eyes, held her breath and clicked. No new message from Fala in her inbox. Cold fear replaced the short-lived relief that flooded her body.

With Mary dead, three victims remained. Only Fala knew their names and the times of their deaths.

Who would be next?

The smells from the kitchen had teased her nose while she printed the e-mails for Mitch, and she’d hoped he would change his mind about staying. Instead, he’d scooped up the papers from the printer tray and headed back to Mary’s without so much as a goodbye.

Gwen dropped the piece of toast she’d been nibbling onto her plate. “I didn’t know you were such a good cook, Adam. Maybe I need to take lessons from you.”

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Anytime, lovely lady. You know I’m at your service.”

C.J. smiled at the two of them. It was evident the attraction they’d felt when she introduced them a few months ago was blossoming into something deeper. She wiped her hands on her napkin and stared at the scrambled eggs in front of her. Adam had done a great job with the meal, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat. She lifted her fork and traced the flower pattern on the edge of the plate with the tines.

“C.J.?” Gwen’s voice caught her attention.

“Yes?”

“If you’re finished, Adam and I will clean up while you get dressed.”

She pushed back from the table and stood. “Thanks for being here, you two. It means a lot to have such good friends.”

Gwen rose and put her arm around C.J.’s shoulder. “We’re glad to help.”

Adam nodded. “Gwen’s right. We love you, and we’ll do anything we can for you.”

Fighting back tears, C.J. rushed toward the bedroom. Maybe a hot shower would make her feel better.

Thirty minutes later her reflection gazed at her from the dresser mirror. The dark circles under her eyes refused to disappear, even with a thick layer of makeup. She fluffed her hair one more time. What did it matter how she looked anymore? Who was there to care? Her audience would never know.

The doorbell rang. Maybe Adam or Gwen would get it. She listened for a moment until she heard the front door open and Adam’s voice. The storm door closed, and she supposed he had stepped outside.

Picking up her purse and coat, she headed toward the living room. She pulled the curtain back at the front window and looked out. Adam and Mitch stood on the sidewalk in front of the house talking. Adam nodded in agreement before Mitch turned and strode to his unmarked police car. When he pulled away from the curb, Myra followed. C.J. let the curtains fall back into place and watched Adam reenter the house.

“There you are,” he said. “Gwen’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”

She pulled her coat on and busied herself with the buttons. “What did Mitch want?”

A tiny frown creased Adam’s forehead. “He asked me to keep an eye on you for him.”

C.J. lifted her head and sniffed. “Does he think I need a keeper?”

He waved his hand in dismissal. “Of course not. He’s just concerned.”

She reached into her coat pocket and drew out her gloves. “Well, he could have come in and said goodbye.”

“C.J., give the poor guy a break. You were the one who broke the engagement. If you’d meet him halfway, maybe the two of you could work out your problems.” Adam stopped, and she knew he wanted her to say something. When she didn’t, he turned away. “Never mind. I’ll tell Gwen you’re ready to go.”

Adam’s words made sense. She’d sent Mitch away, and there was no going back. It was too late for them, and now it was too late for Mary. She swiped at the dampness on her face as the words of the riddle ran through her mind. It was as much a mystery to her now as it had been when she first saw it.

She clenched her fists. Why couldn’t she figure out the hidden meaning in Fala’s message? She could have saved Mary if she had. Now she had to live with a terrible truth—Mary’s death was her fault.

FIVE

C.J. glanced at the clock on the broadcast booth wall. The six o’clock news segment would be over in a few minutes, and she’d be back on the air. She clamped her headphones on and reached over to help Councilman Caleb Lawrence adjust his. When Harley had booked the councilman as a guest, C.J. had been surprised. Caleb had a reputation for being uncooperative with the media. Still upset over finding Mary’s body, C.J. hoped she could concentrate enough to do a decent job with the night’s show.

This was the first time she’d met Caleb Lawrence. The pictures in the newspaper didn’t do him justice. Widely hailed as one of the best tennis players in the city, he probably had his long hours on the courts to thank for his muscular body. A touch of gray in the dark hair above his ears added sophistication to his appearance. Rumor had it that even though he’d been married for twenty-five years, he was still quite the ladies’ man.

He winked at C.J. and patted the headphones into position. “Never had a pair of these on before.”

“I’d think someone in your position would have done lots of interviews.”

He shook his head. “All my radio campaign ads were recorded in the studio so they could be edited.” He pulled his chair a little closer to hers. “This is the first time I’ve agreed to do a live interview. I’m glad it’s with such a good-looking reporter. Maybe you can hold my hand through the whole thing.”

“Just relax, Mr. Lawrence, and you’ll be fine.” She pointed to the next room where Harley and Gwen were lining up the calls. “Harley and Gwen will be screening. I’ll find out what the question is before I ask you to address it.”

He smiled and leaned closer, his hand grazing her knee. “Thanks. What say we grab a bite of dinner after this show’s over? I know a quiet little restaurant that serves a great steak.”

She stiffened. “I know you’re married.”

He laughed. “What difference does that make?”

She bit her tongue in disgust at the arrogant man sitting next to her. What a jerk. He didn’t even realize how ridiculous he sounded. What his poor wife must have to endure.

She pulled the microphone forward and adjusted her headphones. “We’re getting ready to go on the air.”

Caleb, seemingly oblivious to her cool tone, removed some papers from a notebook and laid them on the console in front of him.

In the next room Harley counted down. He pointed to her, and she pulled the microphone closer. “And so I’m back and happy to welcome City Councilman Caleb Lawrence to C.J.’s Journal for the next hour. Thanks for dropping by to chat with me, Councilman Lawrence.”

Caleb leaned forward. “Thanks for having me, C.J.” His cocky, flirtatious tone of a few minutes before was gone, replaced by a businesslike demeanor.

C.J. breathed an inward sigh of relief. The way Caleb had come on to her she thought the broadcast was going to be a disaster, but maybe she was wrong. “I understand you’re about to complete your second term in office.”

“That’s correct.”

“And you’re getting ready to campaign for a third term?”

Caleb nodded to her. “Yes, I am. I’ve enjoyed representing the citizens of Oxford, and I look forward to continuing my service.”

“Well, I’m sure our listeners have lots of questions to ask you. Let’s get right to it and take your first call. Hello, caller. Welcome. What’s on your mind tonight?”

“My name is Donna, and I’m the wife of a policeman,” the woman said. “My husband puts his life on the line every day on the streets of this city. But our officers can’t keep up with the increased drug traffic and the rising crime rate. They need more manpower. When is the city going to address this problem and hire some new officers?”

“Good question, Donna.” She glanced at Caleb. “How do you respond to her?”

Caleb loosened his tie and smiled. “We have one of the best-trained police forces in the state. Our officers have gained recognition for their heroism and devotion to duty. The citizens of Oxford don’t have to worry. Our police have the crime situation under control.”

C.J. remembered conversations she’d heard Mitch have with fellow officers, as well as the city’s firefighters, about their concern over budget cuts and lack of equipment. Their frustration with the freeze on hiring had caused many shifts in both departments to work shorthanded.

No wonder crime was rising in the city. The police force was stretched to the limit, and Caleb Lawrence, chairman of the Public Safety Commission, was to blame for a lot of their problems. His refusal to adequately fund the city police and fire departments had placed citizens in danger many times.

She crossed her arms on top of the console and leaned closer to the mic. “Councilman Lawrence is right in his praise of our police department. We should be very proud of every man and woman on the force. They work hard in a dangerous job and often make tremendous sacrifices in their personal lives.”

Caleb nodded. “That’s right.”

She smiled as she glanced at him. “But I think our caller has a concern that needs to be addressed. During the time you’ve been on the council you’ve become chairman of the Public Safety Commission. Could you tell our listeners what responsibilities this group has?”

Caleb cleared his throat and took a look at the papers in front of him. “Well, we have several. We appoint the police and fire chiefs, recommend appropriations for the departments to the full council and approve promotions. I suppose you could say we oversee the management and supervision of both departments.”

C.J. nodded. “I see. And in the past four years, how many new police officers and firemen would you say have been added to the force?”

Caleb’s face flushed. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. He shuffled through the papers in front of him. “I don’t think I have the numbers on that.”

C.J. had never thought of herself as a hard-core news reporter like those she saw on television, but suddenly she wanted the citizens of her town to know how this man had sabotaged their safety.

“Well, let’s just take the population increase,” she said. “Two years ago the council annexed all the property up to the Cumberland River Bridge. That added about three thousand households to the city. How many police officers and firefighters were hired after that?”

His hands shook, rattling the papers he held. “I’m not sure, but we’re always on the lookout for new recruits. I believe Oxford deserves the very best, and I won’t hire someone just for the sake of numbers. I want our fine officers to have people they can trust at their sides, those who will strive to give the best protection possible to the citizens of our city.”

The man was pathetic. His reply sounded like something a publicist would have written. How had the citizens of Oxford ever elected him? Then she remembered how he’d tried to charm her before the program and how he said he never did live interviews, only recorded ones that could be edited.

C.J. leaned back in her chair. “Thank you, Mr. Lawrence. Let’s take another caller.”

For the next forty-five minutes, callers attacked Caleb over issues from dissatisfaction with the winner in the Miss Oxford beauty pageant to the price of gasoline. Perspiration poured from his body with each new caller.

C.J. almost felt sorry for him. He’d discarded his crumpled tie and loosened the top buttons on his shirt. His face was bright red. There was no denying it. Caleb Lawrence looked as if he’d been tied up, strapped to a spit and grilled until well-done.

Caleb finished his remarks to a caller, and she noted that the hour was almost up. Time for one more call. She leaned forward. “Hello, caller. Do you have a question for Councilman Lawrence?”

A soft chuckle sounded on the line. “For both of you, C.J.”

Her eyes widened. Fala. She should have checked the screen before she answered. Too late she saw the private number displayed. She glanced into the next room where Harley stood alone, grinning at her. He’d pushed his glasses up on his head and stood with his hands on his hips, his sagging pants held up by the belt underneath his potbelly.

She swallowed. “What’s your question?”

“I was just thinking about poor Mary Warren and wondered if the councilman knows whether the police have any leads in her murder yet.”

Caleb pulled the microphone toward him. “Not yet, but we expect to apprehend this lunatic soon.”

C.J. shook her head and grabbed for the mic, but he pushed her hand away.