Open Season Read online

  He hesitated, then told her the truth. “For a while. Then money problems start kicking in. Deputies can’t be indefinitely assigned to guard duty.”

  “Then unless I can make a positive identification of one of the three men from police photos, or they happen to solve the crime and it was someone else entirely, we’re looking at a long-term situation.”

  He nodded, his gaze holding hers. He wished she hadn’t made such an accurate assessment, but she was too intelligent and well read not to have eventually figured it out anyway. Watching her expressive face, he could practically read the thoughts chasing through her mind.

  “Don’t borrow trouble; we’ve got enough to handle right now. We’ll do this one step at the time. “You make the statement, give them descriptions of the three men, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “All right, but for now, I don’t just want my family guarded, I want them gone.” She turned to Evelyn. “How about a week in the Smokies? You and Aunt Jo, and Beth’s entire family”

  “I’m not leaving you with this going on!” Evelyn said fiercely.

  “I’ll be safer if you do,” Daisy pointed out, with irrefutable logic.

  Evelyn hesitated, torn between common sense and a mother’s instinct to fight for her child.

  “For one thing,” Daisy continued, “guarding one person would be much easier for the police than guarding seven. For another, I won’t be distracted if I know you’re safe, so I won’t be as likely to make any mistakes.”

  “She’s right,” Jack said, throwing his weight behind her arguments. “Pack up and leave town as fast as you can. I can assign a couple of officers to guard you until you do, and have the Huntsville department do the same for Beth’s family.”

  “What about the puppy?” Evelyn looked down at Midas, who was gnawing on one of the chair legs. “Who will take care of him?”

  Daisy followed her gaze and swooped down on him. “Midas, no, no,” she said sternly, picking him up. If her tone of voice registered with him, it wasn’t evident from the joyous wiggling, tail-wagging, and licking with which he welcomed her attention. “I’m obviously not going to work for the duration, so I’ll take care of him.”

  Evelyn said, “Midas, huh?” in a tone that said she had accepted, however reluctantly, the need to leave her daughter in Jack’s care.

  Daisy brushed her nose against the plush fur to hide the sudden tears that welled in her eyes. “Jack named him. It was either that or Fuzzbutt.”

  Jack moved forward before the scene got uncomfortably emotional. “Ladies, you have a lot of preparations to make. I’ll make some calls; Mrs. Minor, two of my officers will be waiting for you when you get home.”

  “Goodness,” she said, reaching for the phone. “I’d better warn Jo.”

  Thirty seconds later, she was heading out the door. Jack said, “Call Beth and tell her to start packing. Would Nathan already be at work?”

  “No, he’s on second shift.”

  “Good. I’ll call Huntsville and get some protection on them right away. If he has any problems reporting off with his employer, let me know and I’ll get the okay.”

  Evelyn was nodding as she went down the porch steps. She suddenly stopped and turned back to him. “There’s one thing I want you to know.”

  “What?” he asked warily, put on guard by the narrowing of her eyes.

  “I make a darn good mother-in-law, if I do say so myself. But I’ll make an even better enemy, if you let anything happen to my daughter.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, understanding completely.

  Daisy stared after her mother, her eyes round with surprise. “She just threatened you,” she said incredulously.

  “And very well, too.”

  “Um . . . that thing about a mother-in-law—”

  “We’ll talk about it later. Go get ready.” He rubbed a rough hand over his jaw, making a rasping sound. “Mind if I borrow your razor? I don’t want to leave you to go home and shave.”

  Daisy got ready while he was on the phone in her bedroom. She kept leaning out of the bathroom trying to hear what he was saying, but couldn’t make out many of the words. Finally she gave up and concentrated on what she was doing, staring at herself in the mirror and feeling as if none of this was real. She was ordinary Daisy Minor, a librarian who had lived her whole life in this little town. People like her didn’t expect things like this to ever happen to them. But she had decided to go husband-hunting, and now someone was hunting her. It was open season all around.

  Jack came into the bathroom. “Okay, everything’s set with your family. My officers will escort your mother and aunt to Beth’s house. They should all be out of reach within a couple of hours.”

  “Good.” She leaned forward and applied some lip gloss, then stepped back. “The bathroom’s yours. The razor’s in the medicine cabinet.”

  He looked down at Midas, who of course had followed them and was now plopped on his belly, chewing on Jack’s shoelaces. “You have a crate to put him in while we’re gone, don’t you?”

  “No, but that’s okay.” She bent down to separate puppy and shoes. “We’re taking him with us,” she said as she left to get dressed.

  Temple lingered over his breakfast of freshly squeezed orange juice and a bagel with cream cheese. Usually he left the house by eight-thirty, but by eight-forty-five he still hadn’t left. Patricia, their cook and housekeeper, left the kitchen to tidy the bedrooms and do the laundry.

  Jennifer didn’t eat; she seldom did, but usually it was because her stomach was too queasy from her drinking the day before. Today the queasiness was caused by jagged nerves. She sat silently, drinking a cup of coffee and wishing she could add just a dash of whiskey to it, but she didn’t dare. If she added one dash, she’d add two, and soon she’d leave out the coffee altogether. Her hands were shaking, and she clasped them around her cup, willing the shakes to stop, praying Temple would leave soon because she didn’t know how much longer she could last.

  He didn’t speak to her, but then he seldom did. They lived in the same house, but their lives were almost completely separate. He no longer told her when there were social functions she might have been expected to attend as the mayor’s wife; he no longer told her anything, not where he was going or when she could expect him back. He didn’t tell her the details of his day; if one of the kids called him, he didn’t even tell her that, though she knew from things they had said that they called him regularly. They must be calling him at work, she thought, because they never called here.

  She might already have lost them beyond recovery, she thought, and swallowed the nausea that welled up on a bubble of pain. Her babies . . . they were grown, now, but part of a mother always remembered that time when they had just come from her body, when they were so tiny and helpless and she was their entire world, and they were hers.

  Her children were ashamed of her. They didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t want to be around her. Temple had done this, but he’d done it with her help. She had sought refuge in a bottle instead of facing the truth: the man she loved didn’t love her, had never loved her, would never love her. She was a means to an end for him. She should have taken the children and left him, and no matter how nasty the divorce got—and it would have gotten nasty, she trusted Temple on that—at least she would have had her pride, and her children wouldn’t look at her with contempt.

  Jennifer looked at the clock. Five till nine. Why was he staying so long?

  The phone rang, startling her. Temple got up and answered it on the cordless, taking it with him into his office and shutting the door.

  So that was why: he’d been waiting for a phone call.

  Shakily she took her cup of coffee upstairs to her bedroom, closing and locking the door. Patricia had already made the bed and tidied her bathroom. Jennifer sat down on the bed and looked at the telephone. If she picked up now, Temple would hear the click; when she listened in, she always picked up just as he did, and she covered the mouthpiece with he