My Deadly Valentine Read Online Free PDF Page B

doesn’t mind.”
    The sheriff shook his head, making his jowls shimmy. “Naw. You go ahead, Pastor Malloy. I know you’re just like an old fire horse. No matter how long ago you quit, being a detective is in your blood.”
    “That it is.” Turning to Rachel, Logan Malloy said, “We can talk in my office.”
    “Fine. I have nothing to hide,” she told him, falling into step between the pastor and Jace. “I haven’t done one thing wrong.”
    She felt Jace’s hand lightly touch hers before he said, “You may not think you have, but somebody sure does.”
    The realization of how right he was sank into Rachel’s consciousness and gave her chills from her toes to the nape of her neck. Somebody disliked her enough to try to scare her to death with empty threats.
    Suddenly, a far worse theory arose. What if the threats weren’t empty? What if her antagonist meant to do her real harm?

    The pastor’s study reminded Jace more of a den than an office. Although there were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves along one wall and a desk in the corner, there was also a cozy seating arrangement with a sofa and several comfortable chairs.
    Rachel took one of the chairs, so Jace chose the couch. He leaned back and stretched out his long legs before lacing his fingers behind his head. It wasn’t until he saw Rachel’s eyes widen that he realized the pose had exposed the sidearm he carried beneath his suit jacket.
    He adjusted the jacket and straightened. “Sorry about that.”
    She was shaking her head. “I should have known. My father rarely went anywhere without a gun.”
    “Where did he work?” Jace asked. “Harlan acts as if he’s had the sheriff’s job in Serenity for ages.”
    “He has,” Logan chimed in. “It’s an elected office with very few qualifications other than a clean record and enough buddies to vote you in.”
    “My dad worked down in Little Rock for a while,” Rachel said. “As he got older he was promoted to detective and assigned to a drug task force. That took him all over the state but he spent as much time at home as possible.” She smiled wistfully. “My mother wasn’t bothered a bit by his being away so much. She’s always been independent.”
    “Like you,” Jace said with a smile, noting that his comment did not seem to please Rachel as much as he’d hoped it would.
    “I prefer to think of myself as unique.”
    “That, you are,” the pastor said. “By the way, the folks at the halfway house want to thank you for all the cards and the roll of postage stamps. Most of them love to send mail but rarely have enough money to buy anything nice like that.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    “So,” Logan went on, “what is it that’s going on in your life? Who do you suspect is harassing you?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. It all started a few days ago and it’s just been getting worse and worse.”
    If Jace had not sensed that she was fighting tears he would have stayed put. When he noticed her misty eyes, however, he got to his feet, circled her chair, and laid one hand lightly on her shoulder for moral support while he addressed their host.
    “The sheriff said you were a detective?”
    “In days gone by,” Logan replied. He swept his arm in an arc that encompassed the room. “This is my true calling. But I do occasionally find use for some of the things I learned in my former life.”
    “All right,” Jace said. “This is what I know personally. The first reported incident was a box of dead flowers and the cryptic note that came with it. That was Friday morning.”
    “How was it delivered?”
    “It had to be in person. There was no shipping label and no indication that one had been removed.”
    “Go on.”
    “The second note was found Saturday after the back door was jimmied, but it could have been there all along and we simply missed seeing it.”
    Logan leaned his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. “Is that what you think?”
    “No. I think it was two