But if this wasn’t Del, I wasn’t sure who else to look at next. Carter, possibly.
The list of people who’d want to hurt Maisey was infinitesimally small because she was exactly what Chelsea had always called her—a saint. Or as damn near one as anyone I’d ever met.
But thinking of Chelsea reminded me of her text messages to Maiseythe other day. The cold and calculating cruelty that had shaken Maisey. But Chelsea was nowhere near Swift Rivers. And what would she get out of terrorizing her sister, other than the perverse pleasure she’d always gotten? I couldn’t see a win for Chelsea out of this. It could only lead to bad press if news got out that an up-and-coming actress was bullying her little sister.
No, we were infuriatingly back to square one.
? ? ?
It was after midnight by the time Cleaver and Sandy left, and I was able to lock the door behind them. Maisey stood with her arms wrapped around her waist and that same wide-eyed, haunted look she’d had on the street outside Frank’s.
I tugged her to me, and it took a moment, but her shoulders relaxed, and she hugged me back.
“You can drop me off at the station tomorrow morning and take my car to work,” I told her.
“I can walk,” she said.
“No.” It was a fiercely uttered command that had her stiffening. “No way you’re walking around on your own right now, especially if you’ll be off late. I can use the rig at the station for whatever I need during my shift.”
“What if your car gets vandalized too?” she asked, pulling back to look up at me.
The idea of her being here alone with only Vader and her injured father while someone came at my SUV or the house or her made my stomach roll. Cleaver had promised he and the other deputies would drive by regularly, but that wasn’t going to prevent someone from waiting until they’d turned the corner before they struck.
What if whoever this was broke into the house? Vader would go nuts, but what if they injured my dog to get to her? What if it hadn’t been her dad who’d spread the Sterno over his kitchen? What if all of this had nothing to do with Maisey and me at all?
“Maisey, do you think this could have something to do with your dad?”
Confusion drew her brows together. “Dad?”
“The fire at the house started before all this. And it’s been your car targeted, which might be someone using you to send him a message. Whoever it is would assume you’d tell him about it, and my door was painted after he moved in.”
“I can’t imagine anyone coming after Dad.”
“Maybe someone he interacted with for his job?” I asked. “Did he ever drive for someone shady?”
“You’re asking if he was working for criminals? Delivering what? Drugs or guns?” Her eyes turned stormy. “Absolutely not. I mean, the company Dad works—worked—for handled all the actual clients, but if Dad knew they were moving anything illegal, he wouldn’t have stayed with them.”
She was likely right. I might not have the highest opinion of Lewis after what he’d done to Maisey, but I’d always considered him a straight arrow.
“Besides, we both said this feels immature. I can’t imagine drug dealers writing a stupid note or smashing a windshield,” Maisey added.
I couldn’t disagree. But nothing else really made sense either. Not even landing back with Delilah as the perpetrator. Sure, her personality fluctuated dramatically day to day. You might get work Delilah when she was at the mayor’s office, or flirty Delilah at the bar, but the truth was, I still considered her more friend than foe. And when Del was actually pissed at you, she usually came straight at you with a nasty barb and, occasionally, bared claws.
My head hurt from all the possibilities. Possibilities we wouldn’t be able to resolve tonight.
We needed a few hours of rest to clear our heads. But I also couldn’t stand the thought of Maisey going to the guest room and tossing and turning by herself. So, I pulled her hand into mine and tugged her down the hall—not in the direction of her room, but in the direction of mine.
Her feet slowed, dragging a bit. “What are you doing?”
“I won’t get any sleep if you’re alone in another room. I’ll just lie there, worrying about you.”
She huffed. “Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be at the firehouse for four days, Beckett.”
My chest tightened all over again. “Don’t remind me.”
When we stepped inside my room, Vader pushed past us to join the cat, who was sleeping in a tight ball on the foot of my bed. He licked the kitten before curling up beside it. His natural prey instincts should have told him to chase the cat, but instead, he was a complete pushover. A goner. It was pretty sappy, but the truth was, I was as much a goner for Maisey as my dog was for a cat.
Those thoughts and the word sappy squeezed my lungs instinctively. An old habit. But I reminded myself it was just a reflex, born of years of allowing my past to rule me.