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THE DEVIL’S PAWN

M. J. Macie

ALSO BY M.J. MACIE:

The Palmetto Connection

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, the giver of all talents. I really can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

To my husband, Mark and my sons, Billy and Timmy. Thanks for believing in me.

A special thanks to my sisters, Debbie and Lynnie, who encouraged me and prayed for me faithfully. And to my mother-in-law and first draft reader, Marie. Thanks not only for your prayers, but also for your enthusiasm.

Finally, to my mom, Lucy and the rest of my numerous and loving family members. Thank you all for your prayers and encouragement.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishment, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Amazon.com

ISBN:1441462139

EAN-13:9781441462138

Copyright © 2009

Copyright © 2007 by Mary J. Maciejewski

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Four Years Later

ONE

Robin Wilder’s head shot up as her eyes flew open. Her eyes scanned her bedroom as the seconds passed. She struggled to regain control of her breathing, too frightened to move.

She laid her head back on the pillow as her heart slowed to a steady pace. The dream had awoken her. Another night as the same voice in her head, enraged and full of contempt, violated her sleep and made sure she would never forget.

Robin let out an exasperated sigh. After four years of reliving the scenario repeatedly, she’d spent another fitful night wondering what, if anything, she could’ve done differently. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, aware it was too late to matter.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep but instead found herself grappling to untangle her body from the twisted heap of blankets.

Exhausted, she buried her face in her pillow then rolled back onto her side and opened her eyes. Her digital clock read ten minutes after six.

Robin grabbed her pillow and covered her face, ordering herself to stop rehashing the incident as though by doing so she could change what had happened. Yet, wrapped in the darkness of her room, her heart began to race as it had that dreadful day. Once again, she found herself powerless to prevent the horrifying memories as they rushed to the surface of her mind.

A quivering sensation rose from within her gut in waves of panic, dread and remorse. She could almost feel the walls and windowpanes vibrating as she remembered his fists beating against her door, the contempt in his voice echoing in her ears. Drag your sorry self out here and see what you’ve done . . . What did you think? That I wouldn’t find out? . . . Don’t ever try to hide from me.

Robin shook her head but couldn’t stop the sickening flood of bile from rising to her throat. She took a deep breath and forced herself to keep her eyes closed.

Minutes passed before she fell back into oblivion, shutting out the memory of the flashing lights and the cries of those who’d gathered around a sight so appalling it had paralyzed her life and tormented her dreams ever since.

Twenty minutes later she cracked an eyelid open and smacked the snooze bar, hoping to stop the irritating buzz of her alarm. She’d just fallen back to sleep, yet it was time to get out of bed.

Robin wiped a tear from her cheek and closed her eyes again. She needed a few more minutes. She’d begun to force a new dream to emerge, attempting to erase the recurring nightmare, when a sudden thumping sound startled her.

Her eyes flew open and her hand covered her heart as she listened. This time the chime of her doorbell accompanied the next series of whacks.

Robin shook the agonizing memories from her mind and rolled onto her side to take another look at the clock. Four minutes had passed since she’d hit the snooze bar. No one but Hardy Shaw would come to her door at such an unimaginable hour of the morning. Didn’t the man ever sleep? She grabbed the thick plaid quilt from her bed and wrapped it around herself as she headed toward the front door. She swung it open and a stream of crisp frigid air blew against her face as Hardy stepped inside.

He kissed her on her cheek, avoiding her mouth. “Wow, that’s some potent morning breath,” he said, brushing past her. “I’ll put on the coffee.”

“What do you expect? I just crawled out of bed.”

“Not much, babe.”

“Why do you insist on coming over this early in the morning? You know I’m not awake yet, and last night I was writing until after midnight.”

“Nag, nag, nag.”

Robin shot him a stern look.

“I’m kidding,” he laughed. “Can’t take a joke, huh? Besides, I don’t come over every morning.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You know,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “if you’d let me stay overnight once in a while . . .”

“Don’t even think of going into your, ‘why I should let you sleep over,’ speech again.”

Robin yanked the quilt over her shoulders. “What I’d give to have a normal morning like other people.”

“Yeah, yeah. All right already,” he said, raising his arms in self-defense. “I know better than to rile you before you’ve had your coffee. Go hop in the shower. I’ll make some toast to go with it. The butter might sweeten you up some.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Robin walked to her room and spread the quilt across the bed. The emerald, chestnut and scarlet coverlet matched her draperies and offset the dark brown carpet in her room. She then stepped into her closet and chose a white turtleneck and a pair of blue corduroy dress slacks. She carefully laid them on the bed to prevent them from wrinkling.

Once in the shower, hot water engulfed her body and the sharp pellets felt exhilarating on her face and back. She longed to spend the entire day standing beneath the warm flow but lingered a few more minutes before stepping out.

She grabbed her robe and unfastened the clip from her thick cinnamon hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. She then brushed black mascara on her lashes, satisfied it had enhanced her deep-set brown eyes. The final step was a shade of warm red lipstick on her full lips.

Robin glanced at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Well into her thirties, she’d managed to maintain a youthful look with few crow’s feet and the same clear complexion she’d had in her twenties.

“Coffee’s about ready,” Hardy said, knocking on the bathroom door. “How long you plan to be in there?”

Robin heard sounds coming from her bedroom. If she was right, Hardy was rummaging his way through her belongings again. “Stay out of my chest of drawers and closet!” she shouted, wondering if he’d even heard her through the door. “Why do you have to be so nosy?”

“The correct word is inquisitive. I’m a reporter, remember? What do you expect? Besides, I’m not touching anything. I’m looking at the pictures on your dresser.”

Robin had a difficult time understanding what he’d said but had a good idea what he was doing. “You’ve seen those pictures more than a hundred times and they’re not on my dresser. They’re in my jewelry box and I told you to stay out of there.”

“Yeah, yeah, take it easy already. You know I won’t mess with anything. I have something I need you to hold on to for me.”

“Wait a minute,” she shouted, stuffing her cosmetic bag into the cabinet beneath the sink. “I can barely hear you.”

She opened the door and stepped into the bedroom. “What did you say?” she asked as she saw him on the edge of her bed pulling his hand from the front pocket of her pants, her turtleneck beginning to slide toward the floor. “You’re digging through my pockets now?”

“No,” he said. “I said I have something —”

“You wait one minute, Hardy Shaw,” she said, snatching the pants from his hand. “You’re messing up my room and wrinkling my clothes. Can’t you leave anything alone?”

Her anger faded at his wounded child expression. “I’m not hurting anything.”

Robin suppressed the urge to laugh at the ridiculous look on his face. No matter how angry he’d made her, he always managed to charm her into forgiving him.

“Go wait for me in the kitchen. You know, if you didn’t come over at this unthinkable hour of the morning, we wouldn’t be arguing right now.”

“We’re not arguing,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “We’re communicating.”

“Very funny.”

“Besides, if I didn’t come over, I’d miss the chance to watch you get dressed.”

Robin laughed and pushed him away from her, but not before giving him a playful slap on the arm. “I haven’t let you watch me yet. What makes you think I’m going to change my mind now?”

Hardy grabbed her hands and pulled her onto the edge of the bed. Both fell back and began wrestling and tickling each other while trying not to roll off and onto the floor.

“I was thinking,” he said, giving her his charming, yet sinister smile, “maybe I could persuade you to change your mind.”

Robin slid her fingers through his hair grabbing a fist full of copper curls and staring into his dark, forest green eyes. “The only thing you’re persuading me of, is not to let you into my house this early in the morning. Now get up. You’re wrinkling my clothes.”

Hardy leapt to his feet and stood at attention, giving Robin a military salute. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I must wait until after the marriage ceremony. Then I’ll be here to wake you each and every morning and have the privilege of watching you dress.”

Robin snatched a pillow and threw it at him. “I told you it’s important to me to wait until I’m married. So don’t tease me about wanting to do this right.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am. After all, the lady’s virtue is at stake.”

“Hardy!”

He began walking backward toward the door with his arms raised in the familiar gesture of self-defense. “The coffee is ready, oh royal highness.”

Another pillow flew across the room and missed his head by a few inches. “I’m losing my patience with you, mister.”

Robin fell back on the bed. She’d been awake less than an hour and already he’d exhausted her. She should be furious with him for waking her and messing up her morning routine, but he had a way of brightening her day. His energy level astounded her, and it took all her strength to try to keep up with him. Most of the time, she couldn’t.

She’d realized he was a powerhouse of vitality the moment they’d met. It had been about a year earlier at a scheduled book signing she’d been doing for her latest novel.

Throughout the following year, they’d spent a great deal of time together and Robin had found his enthusiasm and energy incomparable. Hardy had seemed to spend every waking moment either writing, editing, or chasing down a lead for a story. He listened to the police scanner faithfully and followed a lead any time, day or night. It didn’t matter if it was a domestic call, robbery, or a car wreck. If he heard police and paramedics were on the way, he was right behind them.

Often that had meant leaving her at a restaurant, or wherever they were at the time, to pursue the story. Robin understood that his passion for his work was much like her own passion for writing and tried not to take offense by his behavior.

The sound of glass shattering on the kitchen floor jolted Robin’s thoughts back to the present. She let out a groan. What did he break this time?

Robin finished dressing and hurried into the kitchen to see Hardy talking on his cell phone while sweeping the remains of a coffee cup onto the dustpan.

“Sorry about what this’ll do to you,” he said, “but you should’ve thought of that sooner. . . You shouldn’t have been there in the first place. . . What you’re doing now is deliberate. . . Are you kidding? Have you given any thought to the position you’ve put Paige Hanson in and what that girl is going through. . . You’re going to have to deal with it.”

She noticed his surprise when he saw her in the kitchen. He turned away from her and whispered something into the receiver.

She kept an eye on him while she poured herself a cup of coffee and noticed he was quick to end the conversation, snap the phone shut and put it into his coat pocket.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Look. I need to skip breakfast. I have to go check on something.”

“Wait a minute. We haven’t talked about your writing a story about Jerod running for mayor. You know how important this is.”

“I don’t have time now.”

“Well you better make some because I thought I just heard you mention Paige Hanson when you were on the phone. She’s one of my students. What’s going on?”

“See what happens when you eavesdrop? You get it all wrong. I was talking about a guy named Gage Manson. I don’t know a Paige Hanson.”

“So, are you going to tell me what the conversation was about, or not?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I know better than that.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Come on, Hardy,” she said, slipping her arms around his waist while placing gentle kisses on his neck. “Don’t make me force it out of you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

Robin pulled away from him and took a step back. “Since when have your stories become top secret?” she asked.

“Robin, don’t start that again.”

“Unless . . .” she said, her eyes scrutinizing his, hoping to see the truth in his expression.

“Listen,” he said. “There’s nothing for you to get yourself all in a tizzy over.”

“Stop that! This doesn’t have anything to do with the stories you’re working on for the paper, does it? You’ve stuck your nose into something else, haven’t you? Something you don’t want me to find out about. Why? Are you doing something illegal or without Billy Ray’s permission?”

“Now don’t go imagining things.”

“Your recent behavior leaves me no other choice. That, and the fact you’re suddenly not telling me anything.”

“Come on, Robin.”

“Start talking.”

“You know, your behavior is beginning to trouble me as well. You know how my job works. All of a sudden you don’t trust me? Since when are you so suspicious?”

“Don’t try and derail the train, Hardy. Tell me. What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

TWO

Paige Hanson lay motionless on the bed, staring at the sagging water stained ceiling tiles. Her eyelids half closed, she turned her head as the man she hated, a man who dominated and terrified her, drew open the curtains. Over his shoulder, she watched as the flickering orange neon sign for the Eazy Rest Motel stop flashing.

The sun would soon rise and if he didn’t leave, someone would notice him for sure. For all she knew someone could’ve been watching his activities already, but that wasn’t her problem. In fact, that’s what she wanted.

He turned from the window and Paige lowered her eyelids, letting strands of hair conceal her eyes as she watched him slip his cell phone into his pocket. He began plucking pieces of fuzz from his suit jacket and smoothing a lint brush across his slacks. The chair he’d laid his clothing on the night before was old and torn, and had left loose fibers clinging to his outfit.

The stagnant twang of mold and stale cigarettes lingered in the room. Of course, she knew he’d never allow them to remain on his suit. Someone might wonder, even suggest he’d been up to something. He was too careful to let that happen. He’d douse them with the odor eliminating fabric spray she knew he kept in the trunk of his car.

He never overlooked or forgot a single thing. That was what she hated most about him. His keen memory of the most insignificant details made it impossible for her to escape the grip he had on her life.

The man turned to the window again and she opened her eyes all the way. The clouds concealing the moonlight drifted past, revealing frost upon building rooftops and cars in the parking lot.

Paige focused on the forms of the structures outside that moments ago were not yet visible. Traffic would pick up soon, but she knew people wouldn’t be walking the streets yet. Right now, it appeared as though everyone in Heritage was asleep. It was possible no one would see him leave, but she prayed someone would. Heritage may be small, but like any other town it had its disreputable side. No one who mattered wanted anyone to catch them hanging around this side of town.

Paige’s eyes focused on the door. What good would it do if someone did see him? People would rather use discretion about anything they’d witnessed than admit to being in the area, or to having seen him walk out of a seedy motel room. They’ve turned their backs on far worse deeds than this to protect their own reputations.

She closed her eyes and recalled how happy she’d been when she and her best friend, Sara, had left Vermont to attend college in South Carolina. It’d been her opportunity to do something exciting with her life. She’d hoped to take advantage of the city’s urban growth, certain it held promise of future opportunities for a prosperous career. Instead, she found herself a slave, trapped in its moral decay.

The man turned from the window and coughed, bringing her thoughts and feelings of despair back to the dismal room. She felt a sneeze coming on and carefully, as though asleep, rolled onto her side. Her waist length, honey blond hair covered her face and shielded her eyes.

“How wonderful that you can sleep,” he whispered. “Oh, and by the way. Happy birthday.”

Paige lifted a lid, exposing a bloodshot, yet bewitching sapphire blue eye. Out of the corner of it, she watched him approach the bed.

“Ah, twenty,” he said. “Almost legal.”

Her heart began to pound. She held her breath to keep from trembling and to control the feeling of repulsion welling within her.

He sat on the edge and she cringed as he stroked her cheek then twisted strands of her hair between his fingers before releasing them. “Unlike you,” he whispered, “I spend my nights tossing and turning, unable to fall into a deep sleep.”

Paige slowly exhaled. That didn’t surprise her. No one as evil as he should enjoy the privilege of a good night’s rest. She knew better than to assume his guilty conscience had kept him awake. More likely his calculating mind.

“It took me the entire night to decide upon a plan of action,” he said, wrapping his index finger around several thin strands of her hair and yanking them.

Paige flinched and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. Dreading the notion he may want her again, she moaned as though she wasn’t ready to wake then turned back onto her side, diverting her eyes from him.

“You know what it is I have to do, don’t you?” he said.

Her fingers clenched the bedspread. She understood what he meant to do but knew she was powerless to stop him.

Paige held her breath again. Unsure of how much longer she could stand this, she fought to suppress the urge to leap out of the bed and dash toward the door. She’d never get away though, and he’d make her sorry she’d tried.

She’d found it more difficult to deceive him during the past weeks but knew she was better off faking sleep and waiting for him to leave than to let him know she was awake. Soon he’d be gone, and she could get dressed and as far away from him as possible. Until then, she’d force herself to keep still.

His hand brushed across her face, pushing the protective strands of hair away from her eyes. “I know you can hear me,” he said, kissing the strawberry birthmark beneath her earlobe.

Paige bit her bottom lip to restrain from crying out or reaching up to gouge his eyes from their sockets. Instead, she kept silent and prayed he’d leave before she could no longer control herself and spring from the bed.

“I’ve decided I’m never letting you go,” he said. “Not ever.”

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, shuddering from the thought and sickened by his touch and the smell of his hot breath on her face.

“You belong only to me. And you best not forget that.”

Paige didn’t move, but peeked to see him pull his arms through his overcoat. She let out a sigh. He was leaving.

A moment later, she lifted her eyelids as the door swung open. A blast of refreshing, frigid air rushed across her face as he stepped outside of the room.

***

Luther Avery stuffed the keycard to his room in his pocket, tossed the newspaper back on the counter, and strolled out of the Eazy Rest’s lobby sporting an arrogant grin. At twenty-two, he’d had one hell of a better night than most hard-core bachelors, and one he looked forward to repeating.

A wave of icy air wrapped around him as he stepped into the parking lot. He spotted his car but hesitated long enough to brush his hand over the front of his overcoat to clear it of any lint.

He shivered, lit a smoke and headed toward his car. He looked to his left and stopped. This time, it was because he recognized another patron leaving one of the other motel rooms.

His grin widened as he observed the well-dressed gentleman who had less business being on that side of town than he had.

“Well now, what do we have here?” he mumbled as he watched the man get into his car and drive off. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s gone slumming. It’s amazing what you can discover by being in the wrong place at the right time.”

Luther reached his car and started the engine. He turned the defroster on then climbed back out to scrape the windshield. No sooner had he begun than a metallic green corvette pulled up and the driver’s side window lowered.

Luther nodded to the man behind the wheel. “Baxter.”

“Well, Avery. By the look on your face I’d say you enjoyed the extra bonus I hooked you up with last night.”

Luther took a rubber band from his pocket and pulled his shoulder length, dark brown hair into a ponytail. “Focus Baxter. Give me my percentage on the last two I reeled in for you and this prosperous little operation of ours.”

The man took an envelope from his pocket and handed it to him. Luther pulled a small stack of bills from it and began counting.

“It’s all there.”

“Since when have you known me to trust anyone?”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.” Luther said, stuffing the envelope in his coat pocket.

“Listen, Avery. Any chance you could rustle up a couple more hotties for me? I’m hosting a party this weekend and need all the extra entertainment I can get.”

Luther shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Sure kid, but remember the more you bring me the more money fills them envelopes I’ve been giving you.”

“I told you I’d look into it, didn’t I?”

Luther turned from the man and resumed clearing the frost from his windshield.

“Got one hell of an attitude problem, kid. You’d better learn to watch your step. You know, one of these days that mouth of yours is gonna —”

“Save it, Baxter. Get the hell out of here.”

Luther glared into the man’s eyes until the window went back up. Baxter’s car sped off and Luther resumed scraping, this time using more vigorous strokes. He couldn’t wait for the imbecile to be out of his life for good.

Months ago, it had taken Luther all of three seconds to realize he’d come in on the losing end of the deal with Baxter and could remain there for some time. He hated that Baxter had his hands tied financially, and he especially hated how much the moron enjoyed the control it gave him.

Luther knew he was ten times smarter than Baxter was. If he was blind, he could run the operation better. His problem had been the cash flow. He didn’t have any, and Baxter knew it. The scumbag had been taking advantage of that from day one.

What continuously scratched Luther’s nerves like sandpaper was that he took as much of a risk as Baxter but made less than half the profit. Whenever the idiot became too much of a pain, Luther comforted himself with the knowledge that while the guy had the cash, he didn’t have the brains. And he didn’t know the rules of the game. The new rules.

Luther, on the other hand, knew he had the panache to succeed and that would be his trump card. Baxter was on his way out and he didn’t even know it.

Luther smiled. Things would be different soon. He’d learned everything he needed to know before Baxter had given him his first payment. He’d managed to save most of the money he’d earned from their little endeavor and had about enough to take control of the entire operation.

He tossed the ice scraper onto the front seat floor and climbed inside the car. Why wouldn’t he? He needed Baxter like he needed an unmentionable disease. He was nobody’s patsy. From now on, he’d get the big cut instead of the leftovers. “Let’s see how well the dimwit does when he has to do his own leg work,” he said aloud. “He’ll be groveling for help within a week.”

Luther hacked up a wad of phlegm, opened the door and spit. He’d played errand boy long enough. Time to find some other shmuck to do the menial work for a pittance stuffed into an envelope.

If all went according to his plan, he’d have full control of the business within a few months. He had several exciting ideas on how to turn his little venture into a profitable enterprise. He’d start in Heritage, expand into Charleston, then head up the coast and set up a site in Myrtle Beach. Once established, he’d move west to Columbia. However far his new endeavor expanded, it won’t include Conrad Baxter.

***

Jerod Grainger stood in dismay as his wife hurled her coffee cup into the sink, shattering it and watching as the pieces bounced off the sink, flew onto the cupboard, and scattered across the floor.

“Look what time it is,” she said. “I’ve had it with you!”

“Dixie, stop it,” Jerod said. “Did you take your medicine?”

“Quit with the medicine already! This isn’t about my mind. It’s about you, and what you’re doing. Stop trying to confuse the issue.”

“You mean what you think I’m doing.”

“I didn’t get one full minute of sleep all night, thanks to you. You’re ruining everything.”

“No, sweetie, I’m not. You’re imagining things.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

“Dixie, you’re way off base here. Now, you’re feeling overwhelmed about this.”

“Quit twisting this around to make it about me.”

“You’ve taken on far more than you can handle.”

“You know I can hold my own. I’m not some feeble minded, sickly wimp.”

“You’re not invincible either. Dixie, I believe with this race coming up, you’ve put yourself under a great deal of unnecessary stress and it’s taking its toll on you.”

“I can take the pressure along with the best of them and you know it.”

“Apparently you can’t. Not anymore.”

“Yes, I can! It’s you I can’t handle. You’ve gotten so out of control.”

“Me?” Jerod slid his fingers through his hair. “Had I any idea that running for mayor would put this much pressure on you, I’d never have considered it. What am I talking about? It’s not too late to back out of the race.”

“What!”

“Honey, I can’t stand what this is doing to you. Your health and our marriage mean more to me than running this town. I’m dropping out.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? Obviously, the race, our jobs and who knows what else, has caused you an overabundance of stress. I mean, look at yourself. You never had to resort to swallowing pills to calm your nerves. Is this worth it?”

“You can’t drop out. I thought you wanted this.”

“I do, but ever since I got into this thing you’ve been anxious and acting weird. You come up with the most preposterous notions. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells here. You’re not behaving like yourself anymore and it’s scaring me.”

“But this race means everything to us. You have to run. It’s what you’ve worked toward for years.”

“I want it desperately, but winning isn’t going to matter. Not if it destroys our life together.”

“It won’t. I won’t let it. I promise you I’ll get through this. Together, we can work it out.”

“I don’t know. It’s putting your health at risk and I won’t be guilty of doing that. My ambitions will not come before my wife’s welfare.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not the race. It’s —”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to get into that again.”

Dixie lowered her head. “I’m not.”

“Because if you are —”

Jerod’s body stiffened as Dixie wrapped her arms around him.

“No. It’s me,” she said. “I know it is. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I’m sorry I ever imagined you’d do such a thing to me. Forgive me?”

Jerod leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “If you promise to take your medicine and behave. I love you, Dixie. But you’re driving me nuts already.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m already tired and frustrated. I don’t need this added pressure.”

“I know, I know. Let’s not fight anymore. I hate it when we fight.”

“Well, I guess that’s entirely up to you, now isn’t it? Are you going to stop attacking me?”

Dixie held up two fingers and nodded. “Scouts honor.”

“Because, try as I have, I can’t come up with one reason to explain why my running for mayor is causing you so much anger and anxiety.”

Dixie lowered her gaze. “Me neither,” she said. “I swear, Jerod. I want this for us more than anything.”

“Do you?” he asked as he pulled himself from his wife’s embrace.

“What do you mean? How can you even ask?”

“Because my running seems to have caused you to somehow snap. Unless . . .”

“What?”

Jerod tilted his wife’s chin until she looked straight into his eyes. “Dixie, is there something going on that you’re not telling me?”

THREE

Robin put down her coffee cup and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Hardy said. “It’s just that I think old Dex may be at it again, is all.”

Robin took a step back. “What’s he doing this time?”

“I swear the man’s got it in for me. He’d sell his mother’s soul for a story.”

“Don’t exaggerate. Tell me what he’s done.”

“He doesn’t have what it takes to be a reporter, and he couldn’t smell a lead if his life depended on it. I don’t know where he gets off thinking he can sneak around trying to steal my work?”

“Which story is he trying to get involved with?”

“I’m not sure, but he’s been stalking me again. I think it’s been going on for a couple of weeks now, but I can’t prove it. I saw him on the streets yesterday, and I’ve no doubt he’s up to something. Problem is I haven’t been able to figure out what it is yet.”

“Maybe you should talk to Billy Ray again.”

“I did, but it irks me to have to go to him. He’s the paper’s owner, not a referee. I don’t want to keep running to him because of Dex’s insecurity. It’s not fair to the guy.”

“It’s his responsibility, Hardy. He handled the situation the last time this happened, and I’m sure he’ll do something more about it this time.”

He drew her close, tilting her chin and kissing her on the nose. “Now, honey, this is nothing for you to fret your pretty little head about.”

Robin pulled herself from his arms. “Stop patronizing me! And don’t expect me to believe that nothing else is going on.”

“Ah, come on now.”

“You think I haven’t noticed how strange you’ve been acting lately. You’re always dying to give me the details of the stories you’re working on. Now, all of a sudden you’re clamming up. So, come on. Let’s have it.”

“I have everything under control.”

“I’m not playing around, Hardy. You’re tense about something other than Dexter Thorpe, and I want to know what it is. I’m worried about you.”

Hardy took a deep breath and Robin knew it was his gentle way of letting her know she had exhausted his patience.

“I’m working on another lead, is all.”

“That means it’s something important. What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Quit freaking out over this.”

“Freaking? Oh, that’s a good one.”

“You know what I mean. There’s nothing for you to get all worked up about.”

“I’m not buying it. Something’s going on with this new story and I want to know what it is and why you’re trying to hide it from me.”

“It’s work, baby doll,” he said, kissing her lips this time then walking toward the door. “Just work. I need to run. I’ll catch up with you at the café later today.”

He was about to walk out the door when Robin stepped in front of him, blocking his way. She wasn’t in the mood to play games. She wanted answers.

***

Billy Ray Moore was late. Each morning he arrived at the Heritage Advisor at least two hours before everyone else. As owner, publisher, and editor-in-chief, he felt it was his obligation to be present as his employees began shuffling in at eight. He also enjoyed having a couple of hours of peace and quiet to get his thoughts together and a bit of work done before the chaos started.

This morning, however, was different. He was running late and needed to meet Hardy in Charleston in less than forty minutes. He shouldn’t have even stopped by the office but wanted to flip through the stack of mail on his desk while he had the place to himself. He’d snatch his phone messages on the way out and return calls while driving downtown.

He slipped the black Volvo into his designated parking spot in front of the narrow, three-story building and shut off the engine. He then tilted the rearview mirror toward himself and ran a comb through his thin, gray hair. At fifty-four, he knew he was lucky to have any. His father was bald by thirty.

Like his father, Billy Ray was a tall, husky man with a deep, raspy voice and an addiction to caffeine. Thick fingers wrapped around the Styrofoam coffee cup he’d picked up at the gas station on the way over. Steam rose from the lid’s small drinking slit as he lifted it from the cup holder, took a sip and opened the car door.

“Morning, boss.”

Billy Ray turned to see Dexter Thorpe standing several cars away. Why was he at work early?

Dexter leaned his arms across the top of his car, the frame of his lanky body resting against the door. Jet-black hair matched the thick-rimmed glasses held up by a nose too large for his face.

He reminded Billy Ray of a television character from the sixties. “Morning, Dex. Cold enough for you?”

“I haven’t been this cold since I was a teen living up north,” he said. “It feels like I’m back there right now.”

“I can’t remember it ever being this cold in Heritage, and I’ve lived here all my life. Newscaster said it might even snow some. What a story that’ll make.”

Dexter laughed. “It better not! I came down south to get away from the stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say. So, Dex, why are you here early? Got something special going on this morning?”

“What’s with the third degree?”

Billy Ray shot him an angry look. “Whoa! Down boy. Remember who you’re talking to.”

“Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I have a few things I need to work on at my desk, so I thought I’d come in a little early. Is there a problem with that?”

Billy Ray hated the guy’s attitude and regretted ever hiring him. Why he’d taken a chance on a man he knew would be a risk, he didn’t know. Dexter had been a pain in the butt since his second day on the job. “No problem at all. You working on anything in particular? Or are you having trouble with one of your stories?”

“No to both your questions.”

Billy Ray didn’t miss the insolent look Dexter gave him and it made him suspicious. “Then why get here early?”

“I need to polish up a writing assignment and make a few calls. That’s all. Why you asking?”

Billy Ray took a deep breath to restrain himself from letting Dexter have it. “Because I have every right to. Besides that, it’s been brought to my attention I may not be giving you enough work to keep you out of trouble.”

“What are you talking about?”

Dexter’s indignant expression grated on Billy Ray’s nerves. He didn’t have time to get into it with him, especially in the parking lot, but he didn’t want to put it off until later either. He knew he’d be too busy the rest of the day.

“Look, Dex, I spoke with Hardy last night and again a few minutes ago.”

“And?”

“He says you’re following him around again. Thinks maybe you’ve been talking with people, trying to get involved with the Jasper Wheat story. Any truth to that?”

Dexter clenched his fists and Billy Ray knew he was preparing to spew venom. He wasn’t in the mood for another one of the man’s explosive episodes and planned to stop him short if he started getting carried away.

“None!” Dexter said. “I can’t believe the nerve of that guy.”

“Don’t get defensive on me now. And I don’t need you going off like a three-dollar rocket either. I had to ask.”

Dexter put his hand to the top of his forehead as if to salute but instead made the familiar gesture Billy Ray had grown tired of seeing him make.

“I’ve had it up to here with Hardy Shaw,” he said. “Who does he think he is anyway?”

Billy Ray took a step backward. The man looked like a vicious animal ready to strike, and the change in his voice and demeanor scared him. “Now calm down, Dex.”

“Why should I?” he said. “He’s been giving me a bum rap around here since I started. I’ve been trying to keep my slate impeccable, advance my career and make a name for myself. Now, thanks to that arrogant little —”

Billy Ray raised his hand to stop him from saying anything more. “Don’t go there, Dex.”

“I saw him on the street twice yesterday. It was a coincidence. I wasn’t following him.”

“All right then.”

“I have work of my own to keep up with. If I’m ever going to make it to assistant editor, I need to prove to everyone, especially you, that I’m entitled to it.”

“I said all right. We’ll leave it at that.”

“Hardy has charisma, but he isn’t half as intelligent as I am. I’m more qualified than he’ll ever be. But here he is running his mouth and ruining everything for me. And what I don’t understand is why no one will believe me.”

Billy Ray took another sip of his coffee. It was warm but he’d have preferred it hot. He didn’t have time for this, but it was his job to settle the matter. “Oh, come on now, Dex. You know why he doesn’t trust you.”

“Enough already! I admitted to following him around when I first started, but that was six months ago. You know I wasn’t trying to move in on his beat. For Pete’s sake Billy Ray, I wanted to learn something from the guy.”

“Well, you sure picked a strange way to go about doing it. How can you blame him for thinking the worst? If you’d have come to me first, I would’ve let you go out with him.”

“I know that now. Look. I made a mistake, and I admitted it. I didn’t want to look stupid my first week on the job, that’s all.”

“That’s understandable, but —”

“What? Is that such a crime? I was afraid to ask. I don’t know. I suppose I felt intimidated by him.”

“I can see why but had you come to me first, Hardy would’ve eventually trusted you enough to introduce you to a lot of good contacts. He could’ve done a great deal to help your career.”

Billy Ray snorted out a fake cough. Who was he kidding? Dexter Thorpe had the personality of a catfish. All the help in the world couldn’t make him amiable enough to gain, much less keep, loyal contacts.

“Instead he’s doing everything to the contrary,” Dexter said, interrupting Billy Ray’s thoughts. “It’s not right, I tell you. He’s treating me like some sort of devious spy or something.”

“Come on Dex. That’s a little farfetched, don’t you think?”

“No. He acts as if I’m always up to no good. He’s gone and turned everyone against me by raising such a ruckus over the whole thing.”

“Now you’re exaggerating. No one here is against you. Although you have to admit, you acted pretty suspiciously. Even I’d wondered about you.”

“Well I apologized and look what happened. Hardy assumed I’d admitted to moving in on his beat. That’s what he’d told everyone. This is a small town and now I can’t even run into him without being accused of espionage. I’m telling you, Billy Ray, I’ve had it with him. I’m not taking this anymore!”

“Now calm yourself down, Dex. I’m on my way to Charleston to meet up with him. I’ll tell him it was a coincidence he saw you and that you’re not following him around. I’ll ask him to back off and give you another chance.”

Billy Ray watched as Dexter’s scrunched shoulders began to relax. Good. Now that he’d done his duty and handled the problem, he could get some real work done.

“I appreciate it, Billy Ray.”

“Make sure I don’t find out you’ve been up to something. Because if I do, I swear, I’ll kick your butt all the way back up north.”

“I’m not the one who’s been up to no good. I don’t know what it is Hardy’s working on these days, and I don’t want to know. You be sure and tell him I said that.”

Billy Ray’s coffee was getting cold and he was going to be later than he’d thought. He’d have to skip going to his office and instead head straight for Charleston. “I get what you’re saying, Dex. Now I’m the one losing patience here. I swear I feel more like a school teacher than the owner of a newspaper.”

Dexter lowered his head. “Sorry. This isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have gotten bent out of shape with you. I know you’re doing the best you can. Hardy’s your star reporter and you need to keep him happy. But I mean it, I don’t want anything to do with the people or the things he’s been getting himself mixed up with lately.”

Billy Ray didn’t miss the anxious tone in Dexter’s voice. Was this another of his theatrical displays or was something going on with Hardy he should know about? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He watched as Dexter turned away from him and walked toward the building. Now Billy Ray was the angry one. If Dexter knew something, he’d better quit with the dramatics and tell him what it was. He didn’t have the time or patience to play guessing games. “I asked you a question.”

Dexter kept walking. “Forget it. It doesn’t mean anything. You have a good day.”

Billy Ray grunted and again wondered why he’d ever hired the man. Sometimes he wanted to shake him senseless, but knew it’d be a waste of effort. Dexter was as headstrong as an angry mule.

He tried to take a sip of coffee but found the liquid cold and bitter. Instead, he tipped the cup, poured the rest of it onto the ground, and walked back toward his car. He didn’t know which of the two exasperated him more. Since he’d pacified Dexter for the time being, he decided to turn his attention to Hardy, and Dexter’s insinuations about him.

Billy Ray climbed into his car, started his engine and headed toward Charleston. Had Hardy planned a project for the paper without his consent? Or had he become involved in something unethical? Either way, Billy Ray planned to find out.

FOUR

Robin stared Hardy down. Why had he stopped talking to her about the details of the stories he’d been working on, and everything else for that matter?

She knew along with his regular writing duties for the paper he’d always worked on at least two or three lead stories at a time. Billy Ray had once told her that he considered Hardy the general assignment reporter at the Heritage Advisor because he could handle multiple tasks while running circles around the other reporters. He’d said Hardy’s research and attention to detail were unparalleled, and his writing and reporting were of the highest standard in journalism. So what type of assignment would require confidentiality?

The night before he’d mentioned a possible lead that could push him to stardom in investigative journalism but refused to tell her about it. Had something about this new story turned into more than he’d considered?

Robin had been aware of the two stories he’d been working on before she’d asked if he would interview Jerod Grainger. She’d become furious with him for not wanting to do it, and now it looked as though he’d taken on another story instead.

“Look, Robin,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I need to get out of here. I have a billion things to do. You know I’m working around the clock to get the first word on that string of burglaries on the peninsula. Historic Charleston is where the tourists go. That’s what makes news.”

“I know, but —”

“I’m also up to my neck in paperwork researching Jasper Wheat. They’re doing more than pointing a finger at a man for murdering his wife. They’re accusing one of Charleston’s most prominent lawyers. If he did it, and I believe he did, I know I can come up with something that might help the case. I could become a part of making this story go national.”

“It’s not your job to investigate the crime. That’s for the police to handle. You’re supposed to report it as news.”

“You don’t understand anything about journalism.”

“What I do understand is that Jerod Grainger is our friend. He too is a prominent citizen in this community, but because he wants to run for mayor, instead of from the electric chair, you want nothing to do with writing a story about him.”

“Let’s not get started on that again.”

“Well, how much time could it possibly take you to help out a friend?”

Robin watched him take another deep breath and knew he realized she’d defeated him. He had to admit, if only to himself, that she was right.

“I know what you’re saying,” he said. “And I knew you’d be bringing up the subject again.”

Robin put her hands on her hips. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Somehow, I had a feeling you’d fight me on this one. I already talked to Billy Ray about doing an interview.”

Robin grabbed his neck and kissed him. “Oh, Hardy.”

“Billy Ray said he wanted to wait for verification. You know, to see if Jerod had enough signatures on his petition. He needed to have five percent of those who registered to vote, and Billy Ray felt there was no sense going ahead with it if he didn’t. Now that it’s official, he’d brought up the idea of doing an exclusive on him.”

“That’s great! It’s exactly what Jerod needs. From what I hear, Boyd Hicks has been mayor forever.”

“Well, I guess it’s about time for a change, isn’t it?”

“I hope it’s enough to get Jerod elected,” she said. “He’s the perfect candidate, but people need to know more about him, like how much he’s done for Heritage. They need to know how important this city is to him.”

“They will. You’ll see.”

“Because of you. Hardy, your getting involved is the boost he needs to kick off his campaign in the right direction.”

Hardy held his arms in front of himself. “Easy, killer. He’ll have to hit the streets along with the other candidates, but folks will get to know who he is, if they don’t already.”

“You know as well as I do this isn’t just another race. People are going to want to know everything about anyone who plans to go up against Boyd Hicks.”

“And the candidates will all make themselves known.”

“But Jerod’s not one to boast about himself. Hardy, you need to do it for him. Everyone buys the Advisor and the entire city respects you. Once they read what you have to say this place will be buzzing with excitement. This race will be the biggest thing that’s ever happened in Heritage. And it’s such a huge step for Jerod.”

Hardy laughed. He put his hands on Robin’s shoulders and pulled her to him. “Calm down, sugar. You’d think you were the one running for mayor. Listen, we decided to give all four candidates a shot at a full page. I plan to find out about each one’s platform, any changes they want to make to the city, and what they intend to do about the future welfare of Heritage.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!”

“I’ll be writing Jerod’s story first. We’ll run a major feature on him. His photo alone will take up a quarter of the front page. I figure a nice four-column head shot of him will catch people’s attention. Then I’ll do a follow up piece after we run the stories on the other candidates.”

“Can you do that?”

“We can do anything we want. Sure, we cover stories happening all over the tricounty area, but since we’re a local paper, we try to keep our focus on what’s happening here. Besides, Billy Ray said it’s fine, and he’s the boss.”

“Oh, Hardy, this is fantastic news.”

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