Kaleidoscope Eyes (17 page)

Annie pressed her face against Kodi’s fur. How could anyone hurt such beautiful, tenderhearted animals? She would never understand that.

Not in a million years.

Kodi whined, and Annie let her go with a shaky laugh. “Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to blubber all over you.”

She stood and picked up the document again, turning it over. There, on the back, was a Post-it note.

Annie stared. Read the note again. Then stamped her foot. Kodi jumped and barked, scolding her.

“Well, I’m
sorry!
But this is driving me nuts. Who is sending this stuff?”

And how did that person know her so well?

Grabbing the blue envelope, Annie slit it open. Inside was a folded envelope and a DVD. A note card-size envelope was taped on the DVD case. Annie pulled the envelope free and opened it. The enclosed ivory note card was elegant in its simplicity.

The writing inside was bold and masculine.

Annie looked from the note to the DVD to the pictures of the dogs then back to the DVD. She glanced down at Kodi, who cocked her head. The message was clear.

Why not?

“Okay fine.” She picked up the DVD and took it to the living room. “Ill watch it.”

Kodi came to settle at her feet while Annie started the show. The first episode was about a police officer, and by the middle of the show, Annie had to admit she was drawn in. There was something so noble in the officer … and in the way the voice narrating handled everything. The narrator’s insights were both moving and challenging. When the episode was over, Annie actually felt … good. Then another episode began—this one about firefighters. It didn’t take long to be enchanted by the men working together in such a hazardous environment. One man even talked openly and honestly about his faith.

Later in the episode, when the firefighters went running toward the window of a burning building where a child was trapped, Annie could hardly breathe.

She perched on the edge of her chair, hands clutched together as she watched and prayed. Of course, she knew the show was taped, not live, but she couldn’t help it. She was so afraid something was going to—

The explosion hit her with an impact that was almost physical. She stared at the screen, tears streaming down her face. As the camera panned the destruction then went dark, the narrator’s voice came on again.

“A good man died that day. A man who lived his life to serve others and a God he believed in. A lot of us are struggling right now, wondering how that God could let a man like this die so needlessly But we can know this much: Ken Hall lived a life worth honoring. As do his brothers at the station. These men put everything on the line for us. For you. For me. And though they never ask for thanks, that’s what we’re giving them tonight. So thanks, guys.”

“And thanks, Ken. Rest well. You deserve it.”

The screen went dead, and the only sound in the room was Annie’s blubbering. She blew her nose and pushed out of her chair, retrieving the DVD from the player. This E J was right—the
show was good. And uplifting. And she could see why they wanted to feature someone like her and Kodi.

But …

A show like this wasn’t just about honoring people who put themselves on the line for others. It was about ratings as much as about doing good. And when that kind of agenda was present, things could get complicated.

She had Serafina’s window to work on. She needed to focus to do that. Besides, what if these TV people came and there wasn’t a callout? How exciting would
that
be? “Okay, folks, here we have a K-9 search and rescue dog sleeping in the house … in the yard … in the art studio … Wait! Watch for it! Yes … she’s rolling over!”

What was she supposed to do? Sit around hoping someone got lost? No—no way. And having strangers underfoot wouldn’t exactly be conducive to creativity. Nuh-uh. No thanks.

She looked down at her snoring dog, then took the DVD back to the kitchen, put it in its case, and slipped it into the envelope. She pulled a sheet of stationery from her desk and wrote her reply: “
Thanks, but I’ll pass. Annie Justice
”

She set the envelope on the island, where she’d see it and remember to get it in the morning mail.

And though Mr. E J Curry might be disappointed, he’d just have to accept one immutable fact: She and Kodi were
not
star material.

That decided, Annie reached for the phone. Time to do what she should have done a half hour ago instead of watching that tape.

Call her brother and turn the threatening note over to him. Then pray he caught the creep. Before any other surprises found her.

SIXTEEN        

S
EPTEMBER
30

Jed usually liked surprises.

Usually.

But this surprise was far from pleasant.

His cell phone hadn’t rung. And he didn’t understand it. He’d been so sure Annie Justice would call when she received the envelopes.

How could she
not
call? His plan had been perfect!

He eyed his cell phone.

He’d checked the battery. Fully charged.

Signal? All bars present and accounted for.

The ringer was on. The volume was cranked. There was only one reason it sat there, silent as a tomb.

She wasn’t going to call. He should have accepted that after the first twenty-four hours. But he’d kept telling himself she just needed time.

“Hey, you got a package.”

Jed turned just in time to catch the envelope Andy tossed his way He could tell by feel that it was a DVD. Frowning, he turned it over and read the postmark.

His frowned shifted into a scowl. So much for his so-called genius. Man! He’d pulled out all the stops on this woman. He’d been so sure he’d win her over.

Face it, Curry. You’ve lost your edge. First Ken, now this. If you can’t even convince some woman from the sticks to let you film her, it’s time to
give
up.

“Bad news?”

He didn’t answer Andy Just tossed the package on the counter.

“You’re not going to open it?”

“What for? She wouldn’t have sent the disc back if she’d agreed to do the show.”

“She … ” Understanding lit Andy’s features. “Annie Justice.”

“Right.” Jed grabbed a coffee mug, went to the coffeemaker, and poured—but what filled his mug could hardly qualify as coffee. He grimaced and was about to dump the thick black liquid when Andy peered over his shoulder.

“Day-old sludge, bud?”

Jed’s fingers tightened on the mug. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah—” Andy took the carafe and dumped the rest of its contents—“if you like drinking used motor oil.” He started a fresh pot of coffee, then picked up the package, tore it open, and upended it on the counter. A folded letter and a DVD slid out.

Jed turned away. So Miss Playing-Hard-to-Get had sent a note, had she? Well, he didn’t need to read it. Any more than he needed Andy to tell him what was and wasn’t good. Coffee was coffee, right? Just heat it up and drink it. He slid the mug into the microwave and jabbed the
Beverage
button.

Andy scanned the letter, then waved it in the air. “Her stationery even has a German shepherd at the top.”

Jed grunted, removing his now steaming brew from the microwave, and tossed back a swallow of the thick black concoction. Only fierce determination kept his throat from tossing it back.

Fighting the overwhelming urge to spit the gritty mess into the sink, he forced it down, then pasted a satisfied smile on his stiff features as he chewed the grounds now coating his tongue.

Andy eyed him. “You are seriously warped, my friend.”

Jed shrugged and started to turn, but before he could make his escape, Andy shoved the note in front of his face. The handwritten words danced their defiance: “
Thanks, but I’ll pass … ”

“Nice handwriting.”

Andy just stared at him.

Keeping a stubborn grip on his nonchalance, Jed lifted the coffee mug to force down another drink, but apparently Andy had had enough. He plucked the mug from Jed’s hand, shoved the letter in its place, then marched to the sink and dumped the evil glop where it belonged: down the drain.

“You don’t drink crud, man—” Andy poured some of the freshly brewed coffee into Jed’s mug and handed it back to him—“and you don’t accept defeat. You fight, man. Stare it square in the eye and wrestle it to the ground. But give in? That’s just not your style.”

Jed looked down at the note. Andy was right. So Annie Justice was a harder sell than he’d anticipated. Did that mean he was beat?

No way.

So his plans hadn’t worked so far. Did that mean he’d run out of ideas for convincing her?

Hardly.

In fact, thoughts were swirling through his mind right now. Fueled by Andy’s words, the thoughts swept doubt out of the way, pounding it into the ground as they circled, coalesced … and created a truly intriguing idea.

That familiar surge of adrenaline hit him. Oh, man. Forget intriguing, this idea was
great.

No doubt about it. Annie Justice was as good as signed.

He lifted the mug and took a sip, then paused as the rich, robust flavor filled his senses. Ahh … now
that
was coffee.

“Better?”

Jed’s concession slipped out on a smile. “Definitely.” He pulled
his cell phone out of his pocket. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some calls to make.”

Andy leaned back, resting his elbows on the counter. “I know that look. You have a plan.”

Jed took the letter and tacked it to the wall above his desk, right next to Annie’s picture. He studied that picture, then turned back to his friend. “‘Action is eloquence,’ my dear Andrew.”

Andy’s exaggerated sigh drew a smile to Jed’s face. “If you try to tell me
that’s
Obi-Wan Ke—”

“Nope. That’s Shakespeare.”

“And it means?”

“It means, my man, that you’re right. I have a plan. And I owe it to you.”

“Now, don’t go gettin’ all mushy on me.” Andy pushed away from the counter. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Jed punched a number into his cell phone. “Get packed.”

“Packed?” Andy crossed his arms over his chest. “To go where?”

“Heaven on earth, ol’ bud.” Jed grinned. “Heaven on earth.”

Dan Justice stood on the sidewalk, staring from the building in front of him to the white sheet of paper in his hand.

He’d been hoping against hope he was wrong. Praying he was wrong. But there was no denying it any longer.

“So, were you right?”

Dan turned to the man next to him. Frank Weeks was a solid cop. He’d been working in the cybercrimes unit for a couple of years and was as close to a computer genius as Dan figured he’d ever meet. “I was right. The letter Annie received in her mailbox was on Expressions stationery.”

Killian’s stationery.

Frank pulled the gallery door open. “Well then, let’s check it out.”

As they went inside, Dan schooled himself to stay calm. There had to be an explanation. One other than the obvious.

Killian looked up from where he was standing, studying a painting on the wall, and his brows arched up above the rim of his glasses. “Well, well. Deputy Dan, as I live and breathe. What brings you to my humble gallery? And who’s your friend?”

Dan introduced the two, then held the paper out to Killian. “This is what brings us here.”

Killian took it, a frown pinching his brow as he read. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Hardly” Dan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Annie’s been receiving threatening notes. First on e-mail, and now this was put in her mailbox.” He kept his attention trained on Killian’s features. “Notice anything about the paper?”

Killian looked up, an odd light in his eyes at Dan’s tone. Then he studied the paper … and his frown deepened. He held it up to the light.

When his gaze met Dan’s, there was a hint of something there. Anger? Fear? Dan couldn’t quite tell. “Killian, is that Expressions stationery?”

“It is.” Killian tapped the bottom right-hand corner of the sheet. “That’s our watermark.” He handed it back to Dan. “But if you think I had anything to do with this, you’re mistaken.”

Dan folded the paper and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “You’ve never been fond of Kodi.”