Midnight Exposure Read online

  The mayor was a bit of a letch, but he probably knew everyone in town. Jayne couldn’t afford to pass up any possible source of information. She surveyed the dining room. A dozen other patrons were scattered among the booths and tables. Safe enough. “Sure.”

  “Mandy, could I get some coffee, please?” Nathan motioned to the waitress. His gaze lingered a little too long on the pretty brunette, but he wasn’t leering. His eyes were filled with real warmth when he looked at Mandy. Clearly there was something going on between the diner owner and his employee. He turned the Times article so he could read it. “Interesting. I suppose you like art?”

  “Oh, yes. Are you familiar with R. S. Morgan?”

  “No. Can’t say that I am.” The mayor shook his head. “I’m afraid Huntsville is a very humble town. No exclusive art galleries. We do have some excellent local artisans, though, including our own excellent wood-carver.” The mayor paused to sip his coffee.

  Could it be that easy?

  Jayne popped a French fry into her mouth and rearranged her poker face, but her pulse did a quick jig. Next to her, Jed stood in the aisle, leaning over to get a better view of the picture.

  The mayor set his cup in the saucer. “Mark Stewart at the lumberyard carves the most lifelike ducks. And Martha at the Craft Depot sells handmade quilts.”

  “Sounds lovely.” Jayne hid her disappointment by finishing off her club sandwich. Her editor wasn’t going to pay for pictures of a duck carver.

  “I’d be happy to give you a personal tour of our town,” Mayor Hall offered. “Including introductions to all Huntsville’s artists.”

  Jayne swallowed. Looking for an excuse to make a hasty exit, she checked the display on her phone. The mayor’s interest didn’t feel entirely professional, and even if it was, she did not get into cars with strange men. “I’d love to, but I have to run. Can I have a rain check?”

  Nathan considered. “How about tomorrow? The snow shouldn’t be an issue until midday. You’re staying at the inn, right?”

  “Yes.” This town wasn’t small; it was microscopic. She had no problem with a tiny white lie to avoid spending time alone with the mayor. “But I’ll have to let you know. I have a conference call.”

  “I’ll stop by in the morning.” Ugh. The mayor had crossed into the too-pushy-for-comfort zone. She glanced at his left hand, casual-like. No wedding ring. Double ugh.

  “OK.” Jayne’s face ached as she faked enthusiasm. “But no promises.”

  “I understand. Tell Mae to save me a blueberry muffin.”

  “You bet. I should get moving.” Jayne scooted out of the booth. The hunter was still standing in the aisle, staring at the article and blocking her exit.

  He glanced up at her sheepishly, like he’d been caught doing something wrong, as he stepped out of her way. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  Did the hunter know R. S. Morgan?

  Jayne bit back the question and made a mental note to “run into” Jed in a more private location. She stopped to pay her tab at the tinsel-trimmed counter. A minute later, zipped and gloved, she pushed through the glass door. The cold wind was an eye-watering shock. Inhaling was like swallowing razor blades.

  A second gust froze her right down to her cotton bikini, and she braced against its breath-robbing bite. She’d thought Philadelphia got cold in the winter, with the damp that drifted off the Delaware River, but Maine made Philly feel like Aruba.

  Jayne huddled inside her down jacket, more fashionable than functional, as she race-walked around the corner of the building. In the overcast gloom of the rear parking lot, her Jeep listed oddly toward one side. She rounded the vehicle. Both tires were completely flat. Could she have run over nails or glass? Jayne bent closer. Both sidewalls bore six-inch slits. She raised her eyes. Shock pushed her back two steps. Her windshield was covered with the same symbols that had been on her door at the inn.

  Reed flattened his palms on the reception desk of the tiny police station in the basement of the town hall. Huntsville only employed two cops, Chief Hugh Bailey and his lieutenant. Hugh’s office was dark. The lieutenant’s office door was closed, but light glowed behind the glass.

  The scrawny, goateed guy working the front desk looked up from his computer screen and gave Reed a tired sigh.

  “Is Hugh around?” Reed asked. He was pretty sure the kid was the mayor’s son, Evan, home from college for winter break. Nepotism was alive and well in Huntsville.

  “Nope.” The kid yawned and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “And the lieutenant’s on the phone. Whatcha need?”

  “Don’t know. Hugh called me.” Reed was not going to get into it with Lieutenant Doug Lang, egomaniac extraordinaire. Three minutes in the same room as the lieutenant was enough to make Reed’s molars ache.

  “The chief should be back in a few. You can wait or leave him a message. Whatever.” The I don’t give a shit was implied.

  The phone rang. Reed helped himself to paper and a pen, more than happy to leave the chief a note and delay the inevitable confrontation. As he pushed through the doors onto the sidewalk, the outside air felt refreshing as opposed to blistering cold.

  “Reed?” The voice was female—and distressed.

  Reed turned. And every thought in his head leaked out of his slack-jawed mouth. It was her, his goddess. Again.

  “Hi.” Relief flashed briefly in her eyes before her tone shifted to all business. “I need to talk to a policeman.”

  “You need Chief Bailey.” Reed tore his eyes away. Sure, Lieutenant Doug Lang was inside, but goddesses should not have to consort with assholes. “But he’s not in his office now.”

  Her pale skin was pink from the cold. The tinge emphasized the odd scar on her cheek, a shiny circular depression the size of a quarter. With better light than during yesterday’s dusk encounter, Reed could see that the wound hadn’t been large, but it’d been deep. His chest went taut as he considered the various ways she could have been injured. Thanks to his former career, the list of possibilities was long, varied, and violent. His desire to press his lips against the mark, on the other hand, was totally inexplicable.

  “Any idea when he’ll be back?”

  “Should be soon.” Don’t ask. Don’t get involved. Shit. The desire to help her was a compulsion. He might as well try to stop breathing. “What’s wrong?”

  Something flashed in eyes the soft, pale blue of an aquamarine. Relief? Or something more?

  Reed stared into their clear depths, momentarily riveted. Was she attracted to him? The mere thought sent a wave of heat through Reed. He hadn’t considered dating since he’d moved up here. There were some pretty, single women in town. A few had made their interest clear, but Reed hadn’t felt the tiniest spark of chemistry.

  Jayne Sullivan had ignited an explosion in two ridiculously brief meetings.

  Danger Will Robinson.

  Reed blinked, breaking the connection. He unzipped his parka, letting a wave of cold wrap itself around his chest to lower the heat wave that was building up underneath his wool sweater. He kept his eyes and his imagination off the wave of hair that curled over one shoulder and tumbled across her breast. Which he should not picture naked in his head. Too late. He knew it’d be as perfect as the rest of her.

  The lady needed help. Say something, moron. But his vocal cords refused to cooperate. And his brain was occupied with mentally stripping off each piece of her clothing. Reed’s blood began to flow in a southerly direction.

  She chewed a full pink lip and nervous fingers pulled a tiny tube from her pocket. Her purple gloves were knit, with little rubber dots on the insides of the palm and fingers. Reed swallowed. Watching someone apply Chapstick had never been so erotic. He shifted his weight. His jeans definitely hadn’t been this tight when he’d left the house. He took a moment to admire the concrete under his Timberlands. And to get a grip on reality. This woman was here to see Hugh. She needed a cop. Not a horny handyman.

  “The chief should be back in a
few minutes.” Reed nodded in the direction of the door behind him. In his peripheral vision, he caught Hugh’s squat figure hustling toward them. “And here he is.”

  Reed gave Hugh’s extended hand a quick shake. “Hugh. This is Jayne Sullivan. She needs to speak with you.”

  “Hey, Reed.” Hugh’s gaze passed over Reed with a flicker of acknowledgment, then settled on Jayne. Surprise and a rare smile spread across his bulldog face. “How can I help you?”

  She stepped forward and extended a gloved hand toward the chief. “I need to report a crime. My tires were slashed right in the parking lot of the diner. And there’s this weird graffiti all over the windshield.”

  “Why don’t you show me?” Hugh raised his chin to look over her shoulder and catch Reed’s eye. “Care to tag along, Reed?”

  “Yeah. Sure, Hugh.”

  Hugh turned back to Jayne. “Tell me more.”

  She stepped into place beside the chief. Reed followed. Damned if the back view wasn’t just as sexy as the front. Snug, low-rise jeans hugged her perfect body and highlighted every mouth-watering curve. While admiring her, Reed kept his ears tuned to the conversation as she succinctly outlined her situation for Hugh. Someone had written weird symbols on her door at the inn as well, but Mae had blown it off as Bill’s scribble.

  “Was anything stolen?” Hugh asked as they rounded the diner and strode across the back lot.

  “No. There wasn’t anything of value in there.” As they approached her vehicle, Jayne’s shoulders hunched against the wind, and she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. Her posture stiffened as she walked to the front of the Jeep, which listed drunkenly from the two flats.

  Hugh stooped to examine her tires. “Son of a b—gun.”

  Jayne stared. “It’s gone. Five minutes ago there were weird symbols all over the windshield.”

  “I don’t see anything there now,” Hugh said evenly, but Reed could hear the hint of disbelief in his tone.

  “Wait. I can prove it.” Jayne reached into her purse for her digital camera.

  Reed stepped up to the Jeep and leaned close. “The windshield is cleaner that the rest of the vehicle.” He swiped a fingernail along the edge. Tiny white shavings came away on his nail. “What color was the writing?”

  “White. Looked like soap.” Jayne’s camera beeped as she turned it on.

  Reed extended his hand toward Hugh.

  The chief fished out his reading glasses and grasped Reed’s hand to adjust the distance between it and his face. “Could be soap. But if someone took the time to soap your windows, why would he wipe it off minutes later?”

  Jayne pulled the picture up on the LCD display on the back of her camera. “See.”

  Hugh leaned in. “Looks like a bunch of scribbling to me.”

  Reed scanned the parking lot. If the miscreant had wiped the soap off her windshield, the miscreant was nearby. Maybe watching them right now. Daylight reflected off the back windows of the diner, the darker interior making the customers inside invisible.

  There was a pause as Hugh considered. “We’ll fill out a report and ask around, but unless we get lucky and someone actually saw the incident, there isn’t much I can do.”

  “What about getting the surveillance tapes from the parking lot?”

  “Nathan doesn’t have cameras out there,” Hugh said.

  “So, there’s nothing you can do?” Jayne’s frustration bubbled into her voice.

  “Again, I’m sorry, Miss Sullivan. This kind of thing doesn’t happen too often practically next door to the police station. Did you argue with anybody?” Hugh asked.

  Her resigned exhalation signaled surrender. “I’ve been here less than a day. I checked into the inn. I took some pictures. I ate lunch at the diner. That’s it.”

  “I’m sorry you had such an inhospitable welcome, Miss Sullivan.” Hugh sighed. “It was probably teenagers. Even small towns have their share of juvenile delinquents. We have more vandalism than you’d think. I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise anything. Let’s go to my office. You can give me a list of everyone you’ve interacted with since you arrived.”

  Hugh led the way back toward the station.

  “There’s something else.” Jayne’s voice lowered as she reluctantly fell into step beside the chief, but Reed could still hear her. “A man my testimony put in prison was granted parole last week. During the trial, he made threats.”

  “But he’s in Pennsylvania?” The chief was sharper than he looked. He’d noticed her license plates.

  “Last I heard he was still in Philadelphia.”

  “Keep in mind that a stranger stands out in Huntsville. He can’t hide in plain sight here. Someone would notice him right away,” the chief pointed out. “Why don’t you give me his information so I can get a picture? That way I can keep an eye out for him. I’ll call the auto shop for you, too. We’ll take pictures of the damage and have the auto shop pick up your vehicle.”

  “All right. Thank you.” But she didn’t sound relieved by Hugh’s offer.

  As their feet hit the sidewalk, Reed gave the diner parking lot another quick scan. The odd crime did not sit well in his gut. If Jayne was telling the truth, someone was following her. If it was Bill, Reed doubted she was in any danger. But Bill wouldn’t slash her tires. Would he?

  They descended into the municipal building’s basement. Hugh opened the door to the station and held it for Jayne. He escorted her into his office and filled out a report while Reed waited in the lobby. “I’ll need a copy of that picture.”

  “Your computer’s a little old. It doesn’t have the right memory card slot. I’ll e-mail it to you as soon as I get back to the inn.” Jayne gave Hugh her personal information.

  Ten minutes later, Hugh ushered her toward the exit. “Can you come back tomorrow and sign your statement?”

  “Yes. Looks like I’m stuck here anyway.” She bit the words off, her body rigid. “I’m sorry. I don’t do the victim thing very well.”

  Reed’s eyes flicked back to the scar on her face. Why did it bother him so much? It wasn’t like he knew her or was likely to ever see her again.

  But he wanted to. And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth? The first woman to attract his attention in years was just passing through. Just as well. He had no place in his life for a woman, especially a woman with baggage.

  “That’s OK. You’ve every right to be mad. It’s tears I can’t handle.” Hugh patted her arm, a fatherly gesture he pulled off without seeming condescending or sexist. “No one likes being a victim. In my book, being pissed off is a whole lot better than crying.”

  She gave him her personal information, then turned toward the door. Outside, Reed knew the wind was whipping down Main Street as if it were the tundra. Despite the fashionably furry boots and puffy down jacket, she wasn’t dressed for a Maine winter. She’d looked cold standing in the parking lot next door; she was going to freeze her lovely ass off walking all the way back to the inn.

  “Need a lift?” Reed didn’t want her to leave, especially not alone. Not after today’s weird events. “I’ll be done here soon.”

  Heat flashed in her eyes for a nanosecond, but she backed away. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  “Hugh’ll vouch for me. If I had any nefarious plans, I wouldn’t make the offer in the presence of the chief of police.”

  “Reed’s OK.” Hugh nodded. “Damned fine carpenter.”

  “Thanks anyway. I’ll manage.” She gripped her bag tighter under her arm and hurried out the door.

  Reluctantly, Reed ripped his eyes off her retreating figure. Jayne’s predicament—and her killer body—were a lot nicer to contemplate than the reason Hugh wanted to pick his brain.

  The chief hadn’t called him down here to talk about carpentry. No, this was about Reed’s old job, the one he’d left behind. This was about homicide.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Very nice.” Hugh’s eyes crinkled as the outer door closed behind Jayne Sullivan.
“Looks like she’ll be here a few days anyway. You should go for it.”

  Reed turned his back on the exit—and the woman beyond the door. “If the forecast is anywhere near accurate, I’ll be snowed in for the weekend. Besides, I don’t have the energy for a woman like that.” But my God, if his past had been nice and clean and normal, he’d be doing everything possible to spend time with her.

  “For Christ’s sake, man, then stock some Red Bull.” Hugh led the way into his office. “Hell, if I wasn’t married, I could find the energy for a woman like that.”

  “Doris hears you say that, she’ll roast you alive, slowly.” Reed’s gaze strayed to the chief’s desk, where Miss Sullivan’s police report beckoned. She was thirty. Closer to his age than he’d thought. That fact pleased him more than it should.

  “No doubt.” Chuckling, Hugh waved him toward a wooden chair that looked like it’d been pilfered from an old school. “Shame she’s had such a rough time here in town. Odd, though, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. And I’m not a big fan of weird.”

  “Me either.” Hugh adjusted the knob on the space heater that whirred away in the corner. “We should keep an eye on her.”

  Reed blinked away from Hugh’s comment and eased his butt onto the cracked pine seat. “Why did you ask to see me?”

  Good humor bled from Hugh’s craggy face. “I appreciate you coming here. I know this is hard for you. Some hunter found one of those missing hikers from Mayfield out by the quarry. You hear about that?” The chief’s sharp gray eyes bore into Reed’s, accurate as any polygraph.

  Reed knew what was coming next. He blinked away to study a row of framed marksmanship awards that hung over the chief’s head. Hugh looked and acted deceptively laid-back. It was easy to forget that under the country-bumpkin act was a cop with thirty years of experience. Unlike his weekly plug for Reed to take over the chief position, Hugh wasn’t going to let this request go without a fight.

  “I did.” Reed forced the words out through a constricted throat. Five years ago he’d buried his career as a homicide detective along with his wife. “I don’t do that anymore, Hugh.”