“Bree was confused by the interaction. The woman approached her in the hardware store and asked if she was Bree Ingram.”

Truman ran a hand through his hair. How is Tabitha tied to this? “And?”

Sandy wrinkled her nose. “Bree swears Tabitha asked if she still reads the Midnight Voice . . . but that can’t be right. She must have asked if she’d ever read it.”

Truman blinked. “How . . .”

“Right?”

“Did Bree know Tabitha from somewhere?”

“She swore she’d never met her before . . . but Bree said she used to read the paper religiously when she was younger. It was always there at the checkout stand, you know? Before it went digital. I guess it was a guilty pleasure for Bree.”

“What does a tabloid have to do with this attack?” Truman muttered.

“Tabitha Huff talked to me about my vandalism on the same day.” Sandy looked away, biting her lip.

“And you’re just telling me now?” It was getting harder to keep his temper in check. Usually stories ran rampant around town. Why are people choosing now to keep quiet? “The woman was murdered, and you didn’t think to tell anyone? Jesus, Sandy. Bree was nearly killed . . . You could be attacked next. We need to get you somewhere safe.”

Could Sandy be the next victim?

“I can’t leave right now. But don’t worry, I’m very careful.”

Unable to stand still any longer, Truman paced in a small circle on Bree’s porch and shot glares at Sandy. “Careful. Define careful for me. Are you armed?”

“I left it in my car.”

“Lot of good it does there,” he muttered. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

Her chin went up. “I have a concealed carry permit. I practice. I’ve been careful for ten years.”

Since she escaped from her husband.

“And if he wrestles the weapon away from you?”

“Then I’ll have to shoot first, won’t I?” Her gaze told him she’d do exactly that.

He studied her face. This wasn’t the time for a lecture. Sandy’s stiff back and planted feet told him she wouldn’t listen anyway.

“We aren’t done with this topic,” he warned her. “But right now, tell me what else Bree said. You mentioned memories.”

Sandy nodded. “I could tell she was thinking about a past incident. But she wouldn’t give me any details.”

“I wonder if Lucas would know anything.”

“I had the impression this was something she kept close to her chest. She wouldn’t tell me . . . I don’t know if she’d tell Lucas. She’s rather protective of him.”

“Like mother, like son,” said Truman. “I wonder if she’s had a similar attack in the past.” He took a deep breath. “I wish she’d told me if someone had broken in or physically attacked her before.” He gave Sandy a side-eye. “How come it’s so hard to drag information out of both of you?”

A nervous smile touched her lips. “Must be why she’s my best friend. We’re alike. Can we go in now? I’ll be fast.”

Truman opened the door and watched as Sandy squared her shoulders. She stepped carefully over the threshold and headed toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. She put her hand over her nose and turned to Truman, her brown eyes stunned. “Is that smell . . .”

He nodded.

Her jaw tightened, and she continued down the hall. In Bree’s bedroom she stopped. “Can I touch things?”

“What do you need to do?”

“Just get a change of clothes out of her drawers and closet.”

“Touch only what you need to.”

Sandy opened a drawer with one finger and removed underclothes and a pair of black yoga pants as Truman watched. At the open closet she took a shirt and sweatshirt. Truman was about to mention how warm the weather was but kept his mouth shut. Sandy had picked comfort clothing, the type of clothes to wear while watching TV from the couch all day. It’d be quite a while before Bree could wear the clothing. The task was more for Sandy; she needed to do something.

“I’ll grab her Kindle,” Sandy murmured. “She’ll like that. I’ll run this stuff back to the hospital after I stop by my place. I had someone new set up the breakfast buffet, and I want to look it over.” Sandy nervously chatted away, and Truman knew she wasn’t looking for conversation. She was simply filling the silence of the house. She found the Kindle in a nightstand drawer and rooted deeper for the charger, still talking about the buffet food.

Truman watched. The room had been lightly searched overnight. Everyone had agreed it appeared the attacker hadn’t entered any of the bedrooms.

Abruptly Sandy’s monologue stopped. “Truman . . .” She had removed a few folded pieces of paper from inside the cover of the Kindle and was scowling at one. It was wrinkled, as if it’d been balled up at one time. Her hand shook as she gave it to Truman.

You’ll do it if you want your son to live.

His blood turned to ice; his hands were numb on the paper. “What do the others say?”

“More of the same,” Sandy whispered. “Oh my God. What did he want her to do?”

Truman took the three sheets of paper with gloved hands. They were slightly smudged as if they’d been rubbed in dirt. Found outdoors?

Each one threatened Bree or her son. None specified what she was to do.

Did she already know what to do?

“Do you think the same person attacked her?” Sandy whispered and then turned accusing eyes on him. “Why didn’t you find these earlier?”

Guilt swamped him. “We were looking for evidence left by the attacker.”

“I’d say he left these at some point in time.”

“Why didn’t she come to us with these?” Truman silently cursed at Bree. “Why didn’t she tell Lucas?”

“Because he’s threatened in the notes too.”

“All the more reason to tell someone.” He eyed Sandy. “Don’t hide this kind of shit.”

“Never.” Her hand trembled as she took a page from him and read it again. “Why wouldn’t she say anything? What would she lose by taking these to the police?”

“Maybe she didn’t take them seriously.”

“Then she would have thrown them away.”

Truman stared at the words if you want your son to live.

He whipped out his cell phone and called Lucas’s number.

TWENTY-FOUR

Standing in the warm late-morning sun, Mercy looked at the notes.

Inside plastic sleeves was paper that had been ripped out of a spiral notebook, the left-side edges still tattered. She met Truman’s calm gaze. He’d called her to Bree Ingram’s home to discuss Tabitha Huff’s possible link to Bree’s attack. Detective Evan Bolton had arrived a few minutes after. Both he and Truman looked as if they’d been up most of the night. Their faces were long and their eyes were tired.

Is Bree’s attack part of the Gamble-Helmet Heist case?

Truman thought so.

“Has Lucas been warned?” she asked.

“Yes. He’s at the hospital. County has a deputy at the door of Bree’s room. I told the deputy to stay close.”

“Did Lucas ask why?”

Truman looked grim. “He did. I told him we found some threats at his mother’s house that included him. He was shocked. I had to repeat several times that he’s to stick by the deputy. He wanted to drive right out here and take a look.”

“I understand why he believes that he doesn’t need protection.” The office manager was the size of a professional linebacker.

The sound of tires on gravel caught her attention. Her boss had arrived. Jeff joined their group, looking as exhausted as the first two men.

“We’re a sad-looking bunch,” Mercy commented. “Looks like none of us got much sleep last night.” She handed the threatening notes to Jeff.

“I’m not sure I follow what these have to do with the robbery,” Jeff said, blinking wearily at the handwriting.

“Shane Gamble brought in Tabitha Huff after Ellis Mull was found. Tabitha met with both Bree and Sandy to ask about their vandalism,” Truman stated. “Tabitha was murdered, and now Bree has been attacked—nearly killed.”

“Where’s Sandy?” Mercy asked.

“She’s checking the buffet at her place, and then she’ll go to the hospital to stay with Bree. She found the notes.”

“Sandy discovered these? Did she lead you right to them?” Mercy asked, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

“Why was she allowed at the scene?” Detective Bolton asked with a hard look at Truman.

Truman raised his chin the tiniest bit. “I was with her at all times. She was getting clothing for Bree and found the notes in her room. I saw it happen.”

“I thought Ms. Ingram was still unconscious,” Jeff added. “Why did Sandy take it upon herself to get clothes for a woman who couldn’t ask for them and won’t need them for a while?”

“I get it,” Mercy replied, feeling a guilty need to back Truman. “Sandy’s a doer. She’s the type of person who can’t sit still. I can see her pacing in Bree’s hospital room, needing to do something.”

“That’s pretty much the impression I got too,” answered Truman.

Mercy didn’t miss the glance he flicked her way. He didn’t need her to speak for him.

“Shane Gamble said he gave Tabitha a message to deliver,” Mercy reminded Jeff. “Could it have been for Bree or Sandy?”

“Tabitha Huff talked to nearly every person in a ten-mile radius of town,” Jeff muttered.

“But Bree was clearly in some sort of danger.” Mercy pointed at the notes in Jeff’s hand.

“How would Gamble know Bree was in danger and want to warn her?” Truman asked. “Why would he know anything? He’s sitting in prison.”