Time of Death

“Then you know they made several porno movies together,” Maleah said.

“Yes, of course I know. I told you that I had a bit part in one of those movies.” Lorie glared at Mike, who lifted his gaze from the floor and glared at her.

“When was the last time you saw either of them?” Mike asked.

“Not since I left LA and came home to Dunmore.”

“Heard from either of them since then?”

“No.”

“You’ve had no communication of any kind with either of them?” Maleah asked.

“None.”

“Do you know of anyone from the time y’all worked together who might have wanted to kill them?”

“No. I have absolutely no idea why anyone would want to kill either of them or kill me. And my only connection to either of them is in the past, nearly ten years ago.”

“I figured you’d have no idea who the killer might be,” Maleah said. “It could be something as crazy as an unbalanced fan who for some reason has decided to kill the actors from his favorite films.”

“Great. I had a bit a part in one adult movie ten years ago and now I’m targeted by some nut job who happened to like that stupid movie.”

“Karma’s a bitch,” Mike said, his voice a low grumble.

Lorie and Maleah snapped around and stared at him.

“That was a damn cruel thing to say,” Maleah told him.

A red tinge crept up Mike’s neck and quickly darkened his face. “You’re right.” He looked at Lorie. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she said.

He snorted and then looked at Maleah. “I’ll have a patrol car drive by Jack and Cathy’s every hour once Lorie’s staying with you and by Treasures when Lorie’s at work. If I had the manpower, I’d assign someone to her, but she’s got you so she really won’t need police protection on a twenty-four/seven basis.”

“Thanks.” Maleah grabbed Mike’s arm. “Let me walk you out, Sheriff.” She shot Lorie a quick glance. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you go pack a bag?”

Lorie hated the thought of being forced to leave her home. But what if the person who had killed Dean and Hilary really did intend to kill her? Her best chance of survival could well be having Maleah Perdue as her bodyguard.

Maleah gave Mike a well-deserved tongue-lashing, reminding him that his actions toward Lorie Hammonds were completely unprofessional and most decidedly uncalled for.

“I don’t believe you’re naturally a cruel or vindictive man,” she said. “But you’ve treated Lorie as if she doesn’t deserve even common courtesy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you enjoyed hurting her and that you don’t give a rat’s ass if somebody does kill her.”

“That’s not true. At least the part about my not caring if somebody kills her. I don’t wish Lorie dead.”

“Are you saying that you enjoy hurting her?”

“Yes. No.” He shook his head. “Damn, I don’t know.”

“What’s the matter with you? That woman in there”—she pointed to the front door—“is in danger. Some unknown person out there somewhere has targeted her as one of his victims. And what do you do? You act like a vindictive ex-lover. You know what that tells me?” When he didn’t respond, she elaborated. “It tells me that you still have some very strong feelings for Lorie, that whether you want to or not, you still care about her.”

“That’s a damn lie! I hate her.” Crap! He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. But Maleah had pushed the wrong buttons. Or maybe she had pushed all the right buttons to force him to admit his true feelings.

“I don’t have to deal directly with you from here on out,” Maleah told him. “When Jack gets back from his honeymoon, assign him to this case. Or go ahead and put one of your other detectives in charge. It’ll be better for everyone involved that way.”

“Good idea. You and Jack should work well together. But as the sheriff, I need to stay involved if one of our citizens is being threatened by a serial killer.”

“Fine by me as long as you can keep your personal feelings under control. I’ll report to you until Jack comes home.”

“Okay.” Mike stepped off the porch, but paused and glanced back at her. “By the way, how often does a serial killer forewarn his victims?”

“I have no idea,” she admitted. “But the Powell Agency is sending in a profiler first thing tomorrow, and I’m sure he’ll have all the answers.”

“Derek Lawrence?”

“That would be the man.”

“Good. I got to know Derek last year when he helped us out on the Fire and Brimstone case. He and Jack got pretty buddy-buddy.”

“Yes, I believe they did.” She barely got the words out through her partially clenched teeth. “God knows why my brother took a liking to such an egotistical SOB.”

“Watch out, Ms. Perdue, now your unprofessional attitude is showing.”

Grinning, Mike walked off and didn’t look back. He got in his car and drove away, doing his best not to examine too closely his feelings for Lorie Hammonds.

Derek Lawrence had worked with Holt Keinan a couple of times in the past few years. He liked and respected the Powell agent who was a former sharpshooter for the Birmingham SWAT unit. Although they had little in common, their backgrounds as different as night and day, they had hit it off the first time they met.

When he saw Holt halfway across the bar at Logan’s Roadhouse, he held up his hand to acknowledge he’d seen Holt motioning to him. At seven-thirty on a Thursday evening, the bar wasn’t terribly crowded. He figured most of the customers were waiting to be seated in the restaurant.

He shook hands with Holt, then took the bar stool beside him.

“What’ll you have?”

Derek eyed the other man’s bottle of Guinness. “Same as you.”

Holt placed the order with the bartender, then turned back to Derek. “Our table should be ready in about ten minutes or less.”

“Sounds good.” The bartender handed Derek his drink. He turned up the bottle and swigged down several large gulps before setting the bottle on the bar. “I interviewed Jared Wilson, the other victim’s brother, this afternoon and the Sevier County sheriff’s office sent me copies of Dean Wilson’s case file. I thought we could go over whatever you’ve got on the Hilary Chambless case after dinner tonight and then compare the two cases. In the morning, I’ll head out for Dunmore, Alabama, where Perdue is working on a case that involves a potential victim.”

Holt grinned. “Perdue? You two still locking horns?”

Derek chuckled. “No doubt she’s told everyone that I actually do have horns and a tail and carry a pitchfork as well as breathe fire and eat live rattlesnakes.”

Holt almost choked on his beer. Instead he spewed it into his hand, then wiped his hand off on a cocktail napkin. “Damn it, man, warn a guy next time, will you? Whatever you did to her, it must have really pissed her off. As long as I’ve known Maleah, I’ve never seen her react to anybody the way she does you.”

“Maybe I remind her of somebody,” Derek said. “To my knowledge, I’ve never done anything to the lady. Perdue stays as far away from me as she possibly can.”

“Hmm … Who knows? She’s a woman and there’s no use trying to figure out how a woman’s mind works. But you know, you might ease the tension between you two a little if you’d start calling her Maleah instead of Perdue.”