Page 44 of Secret Stalker

“I think we shouldn’t rule anyone out yet. We’ll work on a timeline for her as well, track her movements since Bex got into town. Who knows, maybe someone will remember seeing her talking to one of the Caldwells or their hired hands.”

Colby stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Where are you going?” Max asked.

“To the hospital. I’m going to see if I can’t put the screws on Chucky and Lenny and get a make and model on that car.”

“Sounds good.” Max stood. “I’ll go with you. We can play good cop, bad cop.”

“Only if I get to be the bad cop this time,” Colby teased.

“We’ll toss a coin.”

Colby laughed and they both rounded their desks.

Max stopped, staring at the double glass front doors of the squad room. One of the bodyguards he’d hired was opening the door. And behind him was Bex.

* * *

BEX’SDARKHAIR swirled around her. She clutched her jacket closed against the light wind that was a precursor to the storm that Mable Humphries had predicted days ago.

Beside Max, Colby said, “Wow. Never thought I’d see her voluntarily come here. You think maybe something else happened?”

That was exactly what Max was worried about. Bex’s face was paler than he’d ever seen it. And he couldn’t think of a single reason for her bodyguard to have brought her here unless something terrible had happened.

As soon as she saw Max, a look of relief seemed to pass over Bex’s face and she hurried toward him.

“Max, thank goodness. Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

Max frowned in confusion at the bodyguard standing next to her before looking at her again. “I’m fine. What happened? Did someone try to shoot you again?”

Her eyes widened. “No. No, nothing like that.” She half turned and motioned toward the man beside her. “Mr. Granger, the picture please.”

“What picture?” Max asked.

In answer, the bodyguard held up a manila envelope. Max noted he was wearing a latex glove, so he automatically grabbed one for himself out of the top drawer of the closest desk and yanked it on before taking the envelope.

The frightened look on Bex’s face, and the way she kept glancing at the chief on the other side of the room still talking to Donna, told Max something was very wrong. The little hairs were standing up on the back of his neck. And he didn’t like the determined glint in Bex’s eyes, like she’d made some kind of important decision. Whatever had brought her here, he wished she’d spoken to him in private about it first.

“That was in my mailbox this morning,” she explained. “The mail comes in the afternoon. But I forgot to check it yesterday. As soon as I saw what was inside, I had Mr. Granger drive me straight here.”

Max pulled out the picture, then stared at it in surprise. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this—an eight by ten of himself walking into the police station.

Paint had been used to draw a red circle on his back. Special care had been taken to make the circle look like the crosshairs of a rifle. But that wasn’t what worried him. What worried him were the words, also in red, painted across the bottom—CONFESS OR ELSE.

The meaning was clear. Whoever had sent this to Bex wanted her to confess or they would kill Max. It didn’t take a genius to know what they wanted her to confess—that she’d killed Bobby Caldwell. He turned the envelope over.

“No stamp. No return address.” He looked at the bodyguard. “Were you on duty when the mail came?”

“No.”

“It doesn’t matter who was on duty,” Bex said. “I wasn’t home when the mail came. I was running errands.”

“And the bodyguards are watching you, not your house,” Max said.

“Exactly,” she agreed.

Footsteps sounded off to Max’s right. The chief was heading toward them.

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