No Place To Run. Marion Faith Laird
down their pizza and scattered to their rooms before bringing up Lorie’s distress.
“Something else has happened since that note.”
Lorie turned to look at him. She nodded slowly.
“What?”
“Somebody called.” Jen spoke before Lorie could. “Just as we were leaving for the day.”
“And...?”
Color drained from Lorie’s face.
“She wouldn’t tell me what he said.” Jen sounded irked. “But it must have been pretty bad.”
Matt waited until Lorie turned to him. Her anguished expression revealed more than words.
“You should have notified us immediately so we could put a trace on the call. Was it the person who sent the note?”
Lorie gulped. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.”
“So I insisted she come home with me.” Jen took another swallow of sweet tea.
“Good idea.” Was Lorie going to tell him voluntarily, or would he have to drag the information out of her? “Well? What did he say?”
Tears formed in her eyes, making them glisten. She blinked them away.
“Just one word. It was enough.”
Matt raised both eyebrows in a question.
Lorie took a deep breath, and, as she let it out slowly, breathed her answer. “Murderer.”
Jen’s hand flew to her mouth. “You didn’t tell me! Oh, you poor thing! No wonder you were so shaken. Do you think that’s what the note meant?” She reached over the table and patted Lorie’s hand.
Lorie nodded.
“You were cleared completely.” Matt’s words were firm. “There’s no reason you should have to put up with this kind of harassment.”
Lorie flashed him a grateful smile.
Matt turned to look at Jen. “Speaking of the note, what was the story with the invoice you tried to hide from me?”
J.T. got the expression of a foxhound that had just picked up the scent. This was apparently news to him.
“It was for an order of books from a new publisher. One of the patrons put in a request. Unfortunately, he happens to be on the library committee in the county board of supervisors, so we had to order them.”
What books would Jen find so objectionable? “Smut?”
“No.” Jen sighed. “Worse. Books claiming the Holocaust never happened.”
The pizza and salad soured in Matt’s stomach. His grandfather had been among the troops that freed the prisoners at Dachau. He’d shown Matt the photographs, pictures of things he’d never imagined one human being could do to another. Then again, that had been the problem. The Nazis hadn’t considered their victims to be real human beings. He fought against the rising indignation and managed to keep his voice calm.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know if I should—”
“Who?”
Jen sighed. “Supervisor Pitt.”
Ouch. Joseph Pitt was a prosperous businessman who not only had friends in high places but was headed there himself. His radical beliefs hadn’t kept him out of office. He always managed to gloss over the more controversial aspects of his beliefs when not among his fellow extremists. But, after a long conversation with the man at a social event when Pitt had been much the worse from whiskey, Matt knew way more than he ever wanted to about the repellant way the man’s mind worked.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I was embarrassed.” Jen picked up her plate and headed toward the dishwasher with it, even though it still had leftover pizza on it. “I detest having that hate-filled propaganda in our little county library. But I need the job.”
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