My Deadly Valentine - By Valerie Hansen & Lynette Eason Page 0,11

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 separate attacks. The third was the one outside here, the note on my truck this morning.”

“You’re forgetting the calls,” Rachel said. “I got weird phone calls just before the service.”

“Where were you at that time?” Logan asked.

Jace answered, “In your parking lot. I assume that whoever made the calls was watching. As soon as we went inside, he knew he’d have plenty of time to place another note without being seen.”

Nodding, Logan scowled. “I agree. And, unfortunately, we’ve never had a need for surveillance cameras around the church until now. I’ll speak to the church council about getting some ASAP.”

“There’s one more thing,” Jace said. “Harlan didn’t seem to think it was significant, but all the notes were printed with children’s crayons. I thought that was kind of odd.”

“It is interesting,” Logan said. “What conclusion do you draw?”

“None, so far, except maybe that the perpetrator was trying to emulate childish writing. The letters were shaky and poorly made.” Jace felt Rachel’s shoulder tremble beneath his touch. “The sheriff didn’t even send the notes to a crime lab. He said he refused to waste his skimpy budget on such nonsense—and that’s a quote.”

“Censored, since we’re in a church, I imagine.” The pastor smiled benevolently at Rachel. “Tell you what. I still have a few contacts in law enforcement in Chicago. I’ll see if Harlan will let me get the notes analyzed for him.”

“Oh, thank you,” Rachel said. She got to her feet and held out her hand. “Even if you don’t find out anything new, at least I’ll feel as if somebody else is trying to do something to help me.”

Logan grasped her hand and glanced over her shoulder at Jace. When he said “I thank the Lord that you have someone like this in your corner, too,” Jace felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

“Just doing my job,” he said flatly, dismissing the compliment.

“Over and above the call of duty,” Logan countered, “but have it your way. As I often say, ‘The Lord works in mysterious ways.’”

“Well, it wasn’t God who brought me to Serenity,” Jace insisted.

“Oh? Why did you come here?”

He could have answered truthfully, simply, and ended the query. He could also have revealed details of his previous anger and the resulting