Читать книгу Clandestine Cover-Up - Pamela Tracy - Страница 11

The next morning, Vince’s brother took care of the tires. After Darren checked out the rest of the car, Tamara packed a suitcase and headed back to Phoenix. She’d been very lucky when she’d arrived in Sherman two weeks ago. She’d signed a lease on her sister’s old apartment, already furnished, and then scouted the town for a place to hang her shingle. She’d lucked into the old church because her landlord was the one selling it. Now she hoped severing her ties in Phoenix would be as easy. She needed to deal with putting her condo on the market, packing up or putting into storage her belongings, which she’d left with middle sister Sheila, and trying to find out just exactly what Massey’s new lawyer was up to.

It took two weeks for her to change the For Sale condo to a For Rent condo after realizing nothing was selling; two weeks to recognize that the belongings she’d left at her sister’s really belonged at the Goodwill since she didn’t really need anything; and two weeks to realize that while physically William Massey was behind bars, figuratively, he was still very much a presence.

During his trial, he’d acted as his own lawyer. All that did was confirm for authorities just how dangerous he was. A class-three felony and her testimony put him behind bars for two years.

And already he was filing an appeal that had potential. Thanks to a new lawyer who was all over the minute details of attorney-client privilege, two years might not happen.

The entire drive back to Sherman, she debated her next move.

Stay in Phoenix? Move to Sherman? Find a job in New York City? Surely she could get lost there?

In the end, Sherman won. She’d already started rebuilding her life, even purchased her own building. In truth, she wanted to be in Sherman. She wanted to be near her sister and soon-to-be-born nephew. She wanted a small-town practice. But more than anything she wanted to feel safe again.

If that was even possible after the warnings and dead mouse.

Sheriff Jake Ramsey had phoned her in Phoenix a half-dozen times over the past two weeks. He’d checked out her place of business and her place of residence more than once. He’d taken fingerprints, and questioned her neighbors. He figured the target of the threats was Vince, or more likely, one of Vince’s brothers. If Tamara hadn’t found the note, Vince would have found it, shrugged and tossed it. Just another day in the life of a Frenci.

Tamara knew better. Yes, Vince had a connection to the building and grounds, but she had a gut feeling that the warnings and the mouse weren’t meant for him. After all, what were the odds that someone would go looking to slash his tires, find him at Tamara’s apartment, and then think, Oh, boy, let’s slash her tires, too!

As she pulled into the parking lot of the old church, she reconsidered yet again. Maybe she should have thought a little harder, waited a little longer before making an offer on this particular building.

The roof looked sound although a rickety weathervane leaned dangerously to the left. The small parking lot to the right of the building would need to be repaved. The walkway, too. The front porch would need to be both refitted and repainted. The front door looked sturdy enough if somewhat odd with the brown wrapping paper taped over the graffiti.

At least there was no new warning sign today.

She walked around the church. The lawn looked a little overgrown. It made sense. Since Tamara had purchased the church, Vince no longer worked for or was paid by Lydia. She needed to hire a handyman—and soon.

Reaching in her purse, she pulled out a business card.

The card said, “Vincent Frenci, handyman and general repair.” She knew the phone number on the card by heart.

She was pretty sure he wasn’t at church. At least, he hadn’t been there the one Sunday she had visited with her sister.

She’d taken the card out at least three times a day, each time telling herself she wasn’t going to call him when she got back to Sherman. No, she’d hire a landscaping firm.

But she dialed his number anyway.

It was totally against her character.

Yet exactly what she’d been planning to do every day for the past two weeks.

Vince parked his truck, exited and made his way toward the porch. Tamara was sitting on the front stoop, leaning back, and looking all the world like she was comfortable. Sensibly, she’d shed her jacket, but she still looked too warm in a white button-down shirt tucked into blue creased slacks. Black heels completed the outfit.

Her eyes were closed. Vince would have given the keys to his beloved truck just to know what she was thinking, what had put the half smile on her face.

He doubted she relaxed often, especially since a stalker had made her his target.

He stopped and looked down at her, enjoying the view. “Well, Miss Jacoby, I hear you are still the proud owner of a church.”

She opened her green eyes, not looking the least bit perturbed that he’d snuck up on her.

“I’m not so easily scared off,” she said. “Nothing’s happened for two weeks.”

“You haven’t been here for things to happen,” he pointed out.

“William Massey is still in jail. The courts are looking over transcripts trying to determine if his rights were violated during the trial because of my testimony. But—” she looked over at Vince “—my ex-fiancé says there’s nothing to worry about.”

He settled down on the stoop next to her, noticing how much bigger he was than she. His legs stretched two steps farther than hers. His arms, well, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them so he simply leaned back, using them as anchors.

She didn’t move over. He liked that.

“Are you worried?”

“Of course! I’m taking this very seriously. I, more than anyone, know how out of hand a situation can get. I’m watching my back. And—” she sobered “—I don’t for a minute think any of this is aimed at you. Jake is way off.”

“Jake is way off,” Vince agreed. “I’ve gone back and forth a dozen times. I wish the warnings were aimed at me rather than you.”

“So, why do you think your tires were slashed?” Tamara asked.

“I think my tires were slashed because someone is bothered by the fact I’m near you,” Vince said simply.

“That’s silly.”

He didn’t answer, just looked at her, until she nodded. “This means that anyone near me is in danger. Exactly what I worried about and why I don’t want to stay with my sister and her husband right now. And maybe why I made a mistake coming back here. Yet, here I am. It’s a crazy world.”

“How crazy is it?” Vince asked. Maybe if he knew just what had happened, what the papers hadn’t reported, and what Tamara had really gone through, then maybe what was happening now would make sense since it involved him. “Tell me about Massey.”

Tamara blanched. For a moment, he thought she’d walk away and leave him sitting there. Finally, she softly asked, “How much do you know?”

“I know that your firm was representing him and that he took a liking to you. I know he sent you love letters and followed you. I know he broke into your apartment and you managed to fight him off.”

She no longer looked relaxed. She looked rigid, uncomfortable, and Vince almost said, Let’s do this later, but then she started talking.

“You know a lot,” she acknowledged. “Working for a top law firm really helped keep the reporters at bay. The media had to be careful with every word lest they let something slip that either put me in danger or compromised the case.”

“You mean the papers didn’t want to be sued by your firm.”

“That, too,” Tamara agreed. “Why should they be so different? Everybody, my neighbors, my coworkers, they all started being so careful around me. They talked the sympathy game, but I could tell, they were mostly grateful that what was happening to me wasn’t happening to them. However, my sisters acted with righteous indignation. Lisa, right away, wanted me to come stay with her. Sheila wanted me to fight. Both didn’t think the law acted fast enough. Terry, my fiancé, couldn’t keep his annoyance at bay. See, my stalker interfered with other cases—both mine and his—and eventually Massey interfered with social events.

“I should have trusted my gut with Massey,” Tamara said morosely. “The minute he showed up at our law firm, my skin crawled. He looked like such an ordinary guy, but it took only a minute for me to recognize that the look of detachment was fake and that he’d mastered the art of mind games. We sat in the firm’s conference room and I wrote down everything he said. Now, I look back, and I realize I was such a different person back then.”

“Why did he hire your firm in the first place?” Vince asked.

“He was accused of purposely running a mother and her daughter off the road.”

“Reckless endangerment?”

“It was almost vehicular manslaughter but the woman pulled through so her lawyer was going for aggravated assault. She’d recently filed a restraining order against Massey. Seems he’d been following her and had even approached her a couple times asking her out. When she refused he did things like grab a grocery bag out of her hand and fling it to the ground. They had a witness for that. He’d show up at the daughter’s school and pretend to be a relative sent to pick her up. The school called the police. By the time they got there, he was gone. But the girl’s teacher identified him.”

“Seems pretty cut-and-dried.”

“Yeah, but the letter of the law has to do with intent. He rammed the mother’s car but claimed his intent wasn’t to harm. Plus, the mother was driving on a suspended license. She’d lost hers thanks to a DUI.”

“Was she intoxicated when the accident happened?”

“No, but it was still something we would bring up in court, trying to get him either acquitted or get him a lesser sentence.”

“So, what happened with that case? Did he start stalking you right away?”

“Yes, he started stalking me right away. First it was a thank-you card and an offer to dinner. Then, it was flowers every day to the office. We released him as a client. I got a restraining order. He changed tactics quickly. The notes stopped, the flowers stopped. He painted the words You belong to me on my door,” Tamara said next.

“Red paint like here?”

“Red must be the color criminals like best.”

“No wonder you were standing so still that first day. I thought at first I’d have to pick you up, like a piece of furniture, and carry you somewhere.”

“He started calling every night at midnight and he’d play music. He had a favorite song. To this day I can’t get the first verse out of my head. It’s all about love and waiting until no one else is around.”

“Hard to believe,” Vince said.

“Massey broke into my condo the night Terry and I broke up. I was upset, and for the first time in months, I let my guard down. I was too busy crying to look over my shoulder.”

“He followed you inside?”

“To this day, I don’t know. I’d been home for maybe an hour. I went to bed, but I wasn’t asleep. Then, he was there. When I hit him with the flashlight I’d been keeping by the bed, it sliced into his forehead. The blood gushed so quickly I had time to push him away from me and run from the apartment to my next-door neighbors. He left blood on my bedsheets. It was enough to seal his fate.”

“Some people belong in jail. Which is where Massey is,” Vince reminded her. “Somebody else is pulling our chains now. My gut feeling is that it’s this building you need to stay away from. There has to be some reason why Lydia left it to rot. You should get rid of it and find somewhere else for your office.”

She blinked, and he could see that the idea that the church was the catalyst hadn’t occurred to her. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t give up that easy, which meant he needed to stick around a while. Since she wasn’t going to agree with his suggestion, he made another. “So, I take it instead of letting it rot, you’re going to hire me on to help renovate.”

“Why make some other handyman a target when you already fit the bill?”

He liked that, even with all that was going on, she still had a sharp tongue. Working with her and for her would never be dull.