The Thanksgiving Target. Laura Scott
given how neat and tidy your home is, I doubt you left it out there.”
No, she hadn’t. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard, understanding why he’d looked so serious. “You think the vet is right? Someone hid some drugs in the sandwich and left it for Beau?”
“I think it’s possible. Call the police.” His voice held the unmistakable tone of a command. “I’m sure they can test what’s left of this for potential drug residue.”
The police. They already knew about her tire-slashing episode. What would they think now? At first, when she’d thought someone was following her, they hadn’t been too concerned. But then finding her car with all four tires slashed, she’d garnered more attention. And now poor Beau.
Why? How could this happen? What had she done to become someone’s target? She supposed she should be glad that Max had found the fast-food wrapper outside, which might indicate that whoever had tried to harm Beau hadn’t been inside her house.
Yet she still felt very alone and far too vulnerable.
“Tara?” Max’s expression now held concern. “Are you all right? Did you hear me? Beau will be fine, but you need to call the police.”
“I heard you.” She pulled herself together with an effort. She didn’t like taking orders from Max, but she couldn’t afford not to call the police, either. “I will. Thanks for following me home. I don’t know what I would have done without you. But I know you’re worried about Melissa. I don’t want you to feel as if you need to hang around. I’ll be fine.”
He hesitated, and she suspected he realized she was kindly trying to get rid of him. She didn’t think Max was the type to push his company on anyone—the way he’d so nicely asked her to dinner proved that. But he had insisted on following her home on the bus. He was the type of man who clearly took his role as protector very seriously.
He was only being nice, yet she suddenly felt very guilty for inviting him into the home she’d shared with her husband.
“Tara, I’d really rather wait until the police arrive. What if whoever did this is still hanging around somewhere close by?”
She bit her lip, wondering what to do. If she allowed Max to stay, then he’d end up hearing the whole story of what had been happening to her. And as much as she appreciated everything he’d done for her up until this point, she didn’t want to burden him with her problems.
She couldn’t help but glance toward her kitchen window over the sink, the one that overlooked her backyard. The image of the man with a ball cap following her as she went out for lunch last week rushed to the forefront of her mind. Was he the one who’d done the damage to her car tires? If she told Max about the guy, he would for sure refuse to leave. The memory of the man made her clench her fists, frightened to be alone.
This indecisiveness wasn’t like her. She needed to pull herself together, to create some sort of plan. Max was right. She absolutely needed to report this new development to the police. “Okay, you can stay for a bit.” She went to the phone and dialed the nonemergency St. Louis P.D. number that she now knew by heart. “Once I’m finished, I’ll make coffee.”
But Max was already shaking his head, making his way to the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen where her coffeemaker was located. “No, I’ll do it. You’ve had a rough day. Sit down. I’ll take care of everything.”
As before, his thoughtfulness brought a lump to her throat. How did his kindness manage to touch her so deeply? She didn’t want to think about Max, so she focused her attention on trying to fix her problems instead.
After giving the dispatcher on the other end of the line her information, she hung up and did as Max suggested, sitting down to put her feet up. She watched him working in her kitchen, realizing she was in danger of becoming too accustomed to Max’s calm, reassuring presence.
He was Melissa’s brother, here to look after his sister, not her. He was home for only a few weeks.
She’d learned a long time ago that it was better to stand on her own two feet rather than to lean on someone else. And despite how Max suddenly seemed to make himself at home in her house, she knew full well it would only be a matter of time before she’d be alone again.
The police arrived on her doorstep mere minutes after she’d placed the call. Either they were having a slow night or the police file on her had grown so thick she warranted a high-level response.
She found herself hoping for the former reason. The latter would indicate she had every reason to be afraid.
The two officers introduced themselves as Officer Anderson and Officer Schimberg. Officer Anderson was tall and thin, while Officer Schimberg was short and stout.
They asked her endless questions, going over the events again step-by-step. They walked through her house and then went outside to look around her back yard. As Max predicted, they took the food wrapper and the remains of the hamburger and promised to test it for residue.
“Ms. Carmichael, it’s highly likely these events, the man following you, the tire slashing and this possible drugging of your dog have all been done by the same perpetrator,” Officer Anderson said with a serious frown.
“Yes, I know.” From the corner of her eye, she caught Max’s scowl as he listened, but thankfully he didn’t interrupt.
“Are you sure you can’t give us a better idea who to look for? Some guy you’ve jilted?” Officer Schimberg asked. “Anyone at work that might have held a grudge against you?”
“I told you before that I’m not seeing anyone. My husband passed away just a little over a year and a half ago. Many of my clients aren’t happy with me, but I can’t think of anyone who would do something like this.”
“Which client has been the most unhappy with you lately?” Officer Anderson persisted.
She hesitated and then reluctantly admitted, “Tyrone Adams.” As much as she didn’t want to think Tyrone was capable of such cruelty, the young man was a different person under the influence of drugs. Could the mystery man with the blue baseball hat be Tyrone? She hadn’t gotten a good look at him to be sure.
“We’ll have a chat with Tyrone,” Officer Anderson said, looking happy to have at least one suspect.
“What about Lieutenant Forrester?” Officer Schimberg shot a suspicious glance at Max. “How long have you known him?”
She felt her face flush. “I only met Lieutenant Forrester tonight. His sister is a client of mine, and she’s sick in the hospital.”
“I just arrived home from Iraq today,” Max spoke up, seemingly not offended to be considered a possible suspect for the second time that evening. “I was on the AirTran Airways flight from Germany to St. Louis, with a layover in New York. My superiors will gladly verify my story.”
“Write down the name and phone number of your commanding officer, if you don’t mind,” Officer Anderson suggested.
Max did as requested, despite her protests.
After Max handed over the information, there was a moment of silence before the two officers exchanged a resigned look as they made their way to the door.
“Ms. Carmichael, we’ll check on Tyrone, but just in case he’s not the guy, you need to go through every single one of your clients, listing every possibility no matter how unlikely,” Officer Anderson said in a serious tone. “Please call us once you have the list.”
“I will.” Tara stood and followed them to the door. “Thanks for coming.”
Officer Anderson and Officer Schimberg left, and she closed the door behind them, warily turning to face Max. His expression was dark, like an impending storm.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re being stalked?” he demanded, in a tone that was soft yet edged in steel at