Stranger in the Shadows. Shirlee McCoy
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but his list of evidence was slim—an unlocked back door, a smudge of dirt on the back deck that might have been a footprint, fingerprints that might have belonged to the intruder, but more likely belonged to someone who lived in the house.
“We’ll get prints of the other tenants. See if I’ve picked up anything that doesn’t belong to one of you. Can you come to the station Monday?”
“I’ve got to work, but I’m sure Opal will give me the time off.”
“Good. In the meantime, keep the doors locked and don’t take unnecessary risks. I’m thinking this is probably a kid playing a prank or hoping to find some quick cash, but you never know.”
“No, you don’t.” Chloe shifted her weight, trying to ease the ache in her leg, trying to convince herself that the sheriff was right and that what had just happened had nothing to do with her former life.
Tried, but wasn’t successful.
He must have sensed her misgivings. His gaze sharpened, going from warm blue to ice. “Is there something you’re not telling me? If so it’s best to get it out in the open now.”
“I’m just not sure what happened tonight was random.” There. It was out. For better or worse. If it made her look crazy, so be it.
“And you have a reason for thinking that?” His tone was calm, but there was an edge to his words, a hardness to his face that hadn’t been there before.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been followed into a building. It’s not the first time I’ve felt like I was in danger.”
“It sounds like there’s a lot more to the story than what happened tonight. Maybe we should finish this discussion in your apartment.” He started up the stairs, giving Chloe no choice but to follow.
Which was fine.
It was better to get everything out on the table now rather than later. And Chloe was pretty sure there would be a later. As much as she’d hoped things would be different here, she hadn’t been convinced she could leave all her troubles behind. Apparently, she’d been right.
“Do you want me to wait outside?” Ben spoke quietly as he followed her up the stairs and Chloe knew what her answer should be. Yes, wait outside. Yes, keep your distance.
Unfortunately, knowing what she should say didn’t make her say it. “No. You’re fine. I’m going to get some coffee started. Then we’ll talk.”
She stepped into the living room, limped to the kitchen, and pulled coffee and a package of cookies from the cupboard. If she had to talk about the past, she might as well have sugar in her while she did it.
“Cookie, anyone?”
The sheriff shook his head, a hint of impatience in his eyes. “You were going to tell me why you don’t think tonight was a prank.”
Chloe nodded, forcing her muscles to relax and her tone to remain calm. Sounding hysterical was a surefire way to make herself seem unbalanced. “Eleven months ago someone tried to kill me. He failed.”
The words had an immediate effect. Both men straightened, leaned toward her. Intent. Focused. Concerned.
Now if they’d just stay that way through the entire story, Chloe might believe that things really were going to be different.
“Who?” Jake pulled a small notebook from his pocket, started scribbling notes in it.
“A man named Matthew Jackson.”
“Do you know where he is now?”
“Federal prison serving a life sentence for murder.”
“Murder?” Ben reached over and took the cookies from her hand, pulled two out of the package and handed her one.
“My fiancé was killed in the accident Jackson caused.”
Jake glanced up from the notepad. “And you think that has something to do with what happened tonight?”
“I don’t know. I just know that ever since the accident, things have been happening.”
“Things?”
Was there a tinge of doubt in Jake’s voice, a look of disbelief on his face? Or was Chloe just imagining what she’d seen so many times on the faces of so many other police officers. “Like I said, I’ve had the feeling that I was being followed. A couple of times I was sure someone had been in my apartment.”
There was something else, too. Something that she didn’t dare bring up.
“You contacted the police?”
“Yes. They investigated.”
“And?”
“At first they thought I was being stalked by some of Jackson’s friends. He was part of a cult that I’d helped close down a few months earlier.”
“The Strangers?” Ben took another cookie from the pack.
Surprised, Chloe met his gaze, saw the interest and concern there. “Yes.”
“I remember hearing about it in the news. A computer forensics specialist was investigating a cult member’s death and found evidence that implicated the leader. He went to jail for money laundering, but they couldn’t prove that he’d killed his follower.”
“The deceased’s name was Ana Benedict. She started working as an accountant for the cult’s leader and was dead a few months later. Her death was ruled a suicide, but her parents didn’t believe it.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about it.” Jake was still writing, a frown creasing his forehead.
“I worked freelance for the private investigator Ana’s parents hired. They had her laptop, but there wasn’t much on it. I was hired to search for deleted files and I found plenty. Ana had documented everything. The Strangers were involved in the drug trade and were laundering money through their organization. I brought the information to the FBI.”
“And Jackson blamed you when the cult dispersed.”
“Yes.”
“You said that after the attempt on your life, you felt like you were being followed and that someone had been in your apartment. The police suspected other cult members?”
“For a while.”
“And then?”
Chloe grabbed mugs and poured coffee into them. Anything to keep from facing the two men who were watching her so intently. “They decided it was all in my head.”
“I see.” Jake spoke quietly, but Chloe knew he didn’t see at all.
She turned back around, handing a cup to each man. “Look, Sheriff Reed—”
“Call me Jake.”
“Jake, there may not be evidence proving I’m being stalked, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”
“I don’t think I said it wasn’t.” He sipped his coffee, exchanging a glance with Ben, one that excluded Chloe and conveyed a message she couldn’t even begin to figure out.
“No, you didn’t, but I’ve been told it enough times to imagine that’s what you’re thinking.”
“What I’m thinking is that I don’t know what happened in D.C. Whatever it was, it’s not going to happen here.” He placed his coffee cup on the counter. “I’d better head out. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, give me a call.”
“I will.” Chloe followed him to the door, holding it open as he stepped out and started down the stairs.
Ben held back, the concern in his eyes obvious. “Will you be okay here alone?”
“I’ve been living alone since I was eighteen.”
“That