Familiar Trouble Read online

“In you go.” He handed her the cat and shut the door. “When this is over, I’ll knock three times. Don’t open for anyone else.”

  The discussion was closed.

  As if a mere humanoid can boss me around. Not when there’s danger snarling at the gate like that damned hound on the English moor. While I agree we need to keep Tammy safe, I have to solve the mystery of what’s going on in Wetumpka. If the serial killer is here I will find him. Mere mortals cannot foil me.

  Tammy has obediently locked the door to our cubbyhole. Let me scratch and see if she gets the message that I need to be out helping Aiden. She’s smarter than the average bloke. Or should I say biped. Oh, if only Dad were here to help me communicate. He has a way with leggy redheads.

  She’s coming toward the door. She’s paying attention.

  “You want out?” she asks, her hand on the lock. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

  A little figure eight around her legs, some loud purring, another scratch. She’s relenting! The door opens and I shoot out into the dark, silent house. First check shows that the other houses in the neighborhood have power. This isn’t an outage, it’s a deliberate act to throw the house into darkness. Someone intends mischief. The culprit is a right lairy git, as they’d say on the streets of London. But he’s no match for a kitty trained in the deductive process of Sherlock Holmes, master detective.

  The thing that troubles me, pun intended, is that he might escape. Now’s our chance. Thank goodness Tammy understands the crucial role I’ll play in apprehending the monster.

  Footsteps! Someone is creaking through the house toward Tammy’s hideaway. I’ll guard her with my life. All nine of them! But it’s Aiden. He’s clearing the downstairs and heading up to the second floor to make sure that area is secure. I’ll remain on duty here.

  I’ve never seen a well-muscled man move as fluidly as Aiden. He’s silent as…a cat. There’s just no other descriptive term to use. He has grace and balance. I wonder if he might be reincarnated, some tawny beast of the jungle or a sleek black Florida panther. He reminds me of the big cats.

  Hark! I detect another presence in the house, equally fit and deadly. There is someone in the kitchen. Aiden is upstairs, it’s up to me to halt the intruder.

  He can’t see me but I can see him. I’ll just dart out and tangle in his feet. And there he goes, down like a load of bricks.

  “Thunderation and hellfire!”

  Uh-oh, that’s a familiar voice, and it belongs to Frasier McNaughton, not some criminal. I’ve tripped the Methodist preacher and sent him sprawling. And here comes Aiden from the second floor. I don’t know what’s going on, but I want some answers. Looks like the game is afoot, and I’m going to investigate.

  The reverend sat at the table in the brightly lit kitchen, an ice pack against the knot on his temple where he’d struck the floor. Aiden had found the flipped breakers outside the house and restored the power. Tammy had helped Frasier out of his plaid Macintosh and hung it beside the back door, curious as to what the minister was doing in her kitchen. He sipped a brandy that Aiden had poured for him.

  “I have no idea who sent the text,” Frasier said. “All it said was to hurry to Tammy’s house, that someone was breaking in. So I called the sheriff while I was on the way and came here as fast as I could. The house was dark, the back door standing open, so I came in. I didn’t think, obviously.”

  “You could have been injured,” Tammy said, removing the ice pack to check the knot forming. “I’d feel better if you went to the hospital.”

  “I already feel like a fool, rushing into a dark house to do what? I’m not exactly the white knight type. But I’m fine. I tripped over something and bumped my head.”

  Flashing lights and sirens in front of the house alerted Tammy to the fact that Rob Sieck had also arrived. “Aiden, the sheriff is here,” she said.

  “Good.” Aiden clenched his jaw. “Why would someone send Reverend McNaughton over here saying you were in a dangerous situation?”

  Tammy shook her head. This didn’t make sense at all.

  “I thought the text came from you, Aiden,” Frasier said. He sipped the brandy. “What is going on in this town?”

  “I didn’t send a text, but I’ll get to the bottom of it,” Aiden promised. “May I have your cell phone.”

  “Of course.” Frasier handed the phone over and watched as Aiden scrolled through the text messages. When Rob was in the house, Aiden filled him in on what had occurred. “I have Frasier’s phone. Here’s the text. ‘Tammy in danger. Someone is breaking in. Help her.’” Aiden read the text aloud. “It’s from a number I don’t know, but we’ll trace it.”

  Tammy caught Aiden’s eye. She didn’t say it aloud, but whoever had sent the text was likely the person who’d flipped the breakers and created the situation. To what purpose?

  “Frasier, has anyone asked questions about Tammy?” Rob asked. “Idle curiosity, someone interested in her activities?”

  Frasier removed the ice pack and sat up. “You know, when we were framing up the house for Habitat, several people asked where Tammy was. I might have made a statement to a few people that she was working on a Choctaw legend involving some star gazing up on the impact crater ridge.” He wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry. I stopped by the store and Benjy told me all about the spider web in the web and the link to a potentially new planet or star. I was fascinated. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth, but I’m something of a legend geek.”

  “Who did you tell?” Aiden asked gently.

  “It was a large group of people at the construction site. Mostly church regulars but a few folks I didn’t know. Some volunteers just showed up. Lumber delivery people, someone with plumbing supplies. That sort.”

  “Did you make a list of those who helped?” Aiden pressed.

  “I didn’t, but Marcia did. We’ll have it at the church.”

  Aiden nodded. “That may prove very helpful.” While it would include the church congregation, Aiden also hoped it included the suppliers and all who’d been on site with the volunteer work.

  “Do you think this connects to the murders of Debby Caldwell and Beverly Welch?” Frasier asked.

  “We don’t know,” Rob answered quickly. “But someone sent you here to Tammy’s house. Why? Why you? Why flip the breakers and send a preacher into danger?”

  Frasier shook his head. “I don’t know.” He turned to Tammy. “I heard you were the one who found Debby’s body.”

  Tammy closed her eyes for a split second. So the word was out. In a small town it was near to impossible to keep a secret. Wait until the gossip spread that she’d also been on scene when Beverly’s body was found. “What else are they saying?” she asked.

  “That you might be able to identify the killer.” Frasier frowned. “Oh, dear, I can see that would make you a target. But why send me?”

  “A question that demands an answer,” Aiden said.

  Tammy had a sudden inspiration. She saw a possible link. “Do you think they sent a minister because the Choctaw legend might be viewed as another religion?” She sighed. “Only a fringe person would believe that. Someone whose entire belief system is at odds with normal people. But there are lots of fanatics of all persuasions out there these days.”

  “A fringe person who might be murdering young women.” Frasier put the ice pack down and stood up. “I’m so sorry. I may have inadvertently played a role in endangering you, Tammy. What can I do to make it up?”

  “It was an accident, Frasier. My interest in the spider in the web wasn’t exactly a secret. Don’t worry about it.” Tammy put the best face on it she could, but she couldn’t help the tickle of fear that moved along her spine. The preacher had inadvertently pointed her out as someone who could identify the killer. And now, whether that person was the SSK or some other deviant, he was toying with her. Flipping her breakers and sending a minister into a darkened house where people were afraid—that was merely a game. The stakes had changed. Whoever he was, he wante
d to instill terror in her sleepy little community.

  “If you didn’t see the killer, maybe you should make a public statement to that effect,” Frasier suggested. “Or I could spread the word. Seems I have a talent for gossip.”

  “I think it’s best to drop the matter,” Aiden said. “Besides, there’s another angle here. If Frasier told a group of people about your interest at Rook’s Vantage and then the gossip spreads that you saw someone at the body dump, it’s possible Frasier was an intended target this evening. He could identify the people he talked with. And if one of those is the killer, then he can also identify the killer. By cutting the lights and sending him into a darkened house, it’s possible--”

  “They thought you might shoot me,” Frasier said in a small voice. “Oh, my. That puts a real sinister spin on that text message.”

  “Indeed it does,” Aiden said.

  “First thing tomorrow, I’ll set about righting the record. I’ll tell people Tammy didn’t see a thing.”

  Aiden shook his head. “Best to just let it drop.”

  “But I’d really like to undo the damage I’ve done.” The reverend shook his head. “I heard from Benjy that someone broke the light in the back of your store. This is all because of me.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Tammy said. “Aiden is right. We need to let this go. The less said now, the better.”

  “Rev. McNaughton, are you sure you won’t go to the emergency room?” the sheriff asked.

  “No, I’m going home and have another toddy to relax. I’m fine, just upset at my utter stupidity and big mouth. I’ve put us both in the line of fire.”

  “Shall I have a deputy drive you home?” Rob offered.

  “No, my car is parked down the street. I’m good.” Frasier put a hand on Tammy’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for my part in this. I can see that I have some work to do on governing my tongue. Gossip is one of the sins the good Lord preached against.”

  “Everything will work out.” Tammy forced a smile. “You take care, Frasier. You’re the only one who got hurt.”

  “I can’t believe I tripped.”

  Tammy looked at Trouble, who sat on a pillow beneath a back window. “Be careful driving home.”

  When the minister and the sheriff both had taken their leave, Tammy put on a kettle for some hot tea. Aiden was staring out the kitchen window, deep in thought. She made two cups and put one on the table for him before he spoke.

  “Tomorrow I’ll trace the cell phone text and get the list of volunteers at the Habitat build. We’ll find who’s behind this.”

  “Thank you for being here, Aiden. If I’d been alone-.” She thought about how differently the night could have turned out. “I have a gun. I might have shot Frasier.”

  “And no one would blame you.”

  “Except myself. I well may have killed him.”

  “I know,” Aiden said. “It troubles me. This isn’t the normal pattern for the SSK. But I know it’s him. I know it.”

  “Is it possible you’re so determined to catch him that you’re making two terrible murders fit a pattern?” Tammy hated to ask, but she had to.

  “I don’t think so. But something strange is going on here. Tomorrow, I’ll have more answers. I’m going to sleep on your sofa.”

  “That isn’t nec--”

  “Perhaps not, but it’s what’s going to happen. Or I can call Rob back. I’m sure he’ll be happy to stay.”

  “No. Please don’t do that.”

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll catch some sleep and in the morning I’ll have some answers.”

  Tammy knew it was pointless to argue. Aiden might leave, but some law enforcement officer would be sleeping on her sofa. She felt safer knowing it would be him.

  Chapter Seven

  Sleep eluded Aiden as he turned fitfully beneath several blankets on the sofa. The December night was crisp and cold, and he welcomed the chill. He had many things on his mind. He mentally fit the pieces of the case over and over in his head, all the while ignoring the fact that Tammy was sleeping only a short distance away. The one kiss they’d shared had opened the door to a lot of emotions he’d bottled up. The hint of dreams he’d thought he’d left far behind. He liked her. She had spirit and intelligence and kindness. She was funny and warm. He really liked her. A lot. And he wanted to know more about her. He’d chosen a life that wasn’t compatible with the desire he’d begun to feel—he would never put another woman in danger because she was near him. But he couldn’t stop his feelings.

  So when his thoughts drifted to Tammy’s lips or the feel of her curves beneath his hand, he returned to the case. In both areas he courted frustration.

  The evidence of new SSK killings had added up perfectly—well, not perfectly. The time line was off. The SSK typically took his time stalking and selecting his prey. In the past, the serial killer had chosen young women of a certain type. Those in love, those not anchored in corporate level jobs but waitresses, tellers, service industry women. So far, that had proven true with the two young women killed in the Wetumpka area and the woman who’d been found floating in the river in Montgomery County. But Debby Caldwell and Beverly Welch--not even a week had passed between those killings. The normal range was several months, at least. What had spiked the timeline? Was it because Tammy had seen the killer at the body dump? Was the SSK going on a spree before he moved to new territory?

  Aiden sat up. That would account for the very strange turn the case had taken.

  The other explanation was that the Wetumpka killer was a copycat. Someone who’d learned of the silk stockings used by the SSK and decided to mimic that method of murder. Whether it was the SSK or a copycat, the killer had to be brought to justice. But it disheartened Aiden to think he’d come to the small Alabama town on a false lead. If the SSK wasn’t here, no telling where the murdering bastard had gone. He might be in any mid-sized American city, stalking and killing with no one even taking notice.

  Aiden threw back the covers and stood. He started when he saw golden eyes staring back at him from the window sill across the room. Trouble. It was Tammy’s preternatural cat. It was almost as if the cat were watching him—making certain he was no danger to Tammy.

  Trouble sprang down and crossed the room, rubbing against Aiden’s shins. He headed toward the kitchen, meowing as if he were hungry, then stopped and looked back at Aiden.

  “I’m not sure I’m allowed to feed you early morning snacks,” Aiden whispered to the cat as he rubbed his ears.

  Trouble spun in a circle, his claws gently catching Aiden’s hand.

  “Sorry, old man. I won’t be manipulated. I think it’s good you’re watching out for Tammy,” he said, stroking the cat’s silky fur.

  When Trouble jumped on the sofa, Aiden took the hint and settled back under the blankets. He had to catch some sleep if he intended to be any use the next day. With the cat on his chest, he finally drifted off, only to share his sleep with dark images of a figure in black skulking through the streets of the small town.

  The next morning, Tammy was up and dressed and ready for work by seven. Aiden was slightly amused at her efficiency and her obvious discomfort at waking up with him in her house. He felt the awkwardness too. Even Trouble seemed caught up in the charged emotions. He kept prancing through the kitchen meowing and demanding that someone pet him.

  “Looks like Trouble is all discombobulated with a man in the house,” Tammy said, picking up the cat and putting him on his feeding station beside the back door. Trouble immediately jumped down and went to back door and scratched to go out.

  “He doesn’t like the menu?” Aiden asked.

  “I don’t know.” Tammy held the cat in her arms as she opened another can of cat food. “He prefers fresh caught grouper, or seafood in a delicate broth.” When Trouble rejected the second offering of food, she opened the back door and let him into the yard. “Must be a call of nature,” she said. “Are you still going to help Frasier with his housing project?”

 
; “I am. After the crime scene people dust for prints on the breaker box, and I check the text message and take care of some other matters.”

  “Shall I bring muffins to the building site?”

  “Why don’t we have lunch?” Aiden asked as they walked to the front door. He wanted time to sit across from Tammy, to be with her without the distraction of others. More importantly, he didn’t want her at the site in case the killer was there. “By then I should have some news and I can tell you what I’ve discovered.”

  “Okay. I should leave for work. I’ve neglected the store and it’s going to be a brutal day.” She stood, uncertain, at the front door. “Thank you for staying here last night. For everything.”

  Aiden wanted badly to kiss her, but now wasn’t the time. “See you at noon.” He pulled open the front door for her and found Trouble waiting on the sidewalk. The three of them stepped outside into the brisk winter day.

  “I’m staying open at the bookstore late tonight. I generally have a number of last minute shoppers.”

  Aiden knew he looked surprised. He’d forgotten all about the holiday. “Damn. Christmas Eve. My mind has been so far away from holidays. Maybe we could do something together for Christmas Day.” He spoke before he thought.

  Tammy’s grin said he’d played right into her hands. “Yes, I was thinking the same thing. And I have a plan. One you may not approve of. I’ll tell you all about it. Later.”

  Before he could ask any questions, she and the cat hopped in her car and backed out of the driveway. It was only then that he realized he’d have to call the sheriff’s office for a ride to work unless he could hitch with the crime scene guys. Tammy had played him like a cheap fiddle. He grinned. He liked a woman who knew how to make a point.

  In the daylight he decided to examine the area around the breaker box. The finger print team would be there soon, but he wanted a leisurely look with good light. A wild rambling rose bush had taken over the flower bed near the breaker box—Aiden knew it well because he’d felt the thorns last night when he’d flipped the power back on. The bush was thick with stalky branches and many thorns. He took his time searching through it and at last was rewarded. A fragment of material had been caught in one of the branches. He recognized the swath of cloth as something from a camouflaged pair of pants or shirt. Cotton, the pattern used by the military for the Middle East confrontations.