Chapter Seven

The sheriff asked questions and took notes for more than an hour. They’d walked the entire house and found the upstairs to be only partially wrecked. Jackson suggested that they’d not had enough time to do a thorough trashing with his arrival.

Once they finished walking over every inch, Clare made a pot of tea, and they sat at the kitchen table while they went over the events of the afternoon several more times.

“So you both think that Morgan is behind this,” the sheriff said.

Clare put down her cup with a nod. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

Jackson placed his hand on her wrist. “Wait a minute, sweetheart.”

The sheriff cocked his head. “You got another theory?”

Jackson looked at Clare, then back at the sheriff. “There is a man from Clare’s past that could be involved.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “You think Mark did this? Why?”

“I don’t know that he is. But he abused you, and from what I’ve heard, men like that don’t let go easily.”

The sheriff looked Clare straight in the eye. “I want his full name and his last location.”

“Sheriff, it’s not Mark,” she said.

“Name,” he said, not taking her denial for an answer.

She got to her feet with a huff. “It’s ludicrous to think it’s him.” She went to the stove and refilled her cup. “He doesn’t even know where I live.”

Jackson came up behind her and steadied the tea pot shaking in her hand. “Clare, he has to be checked out.”

“I need to check every possible avenue,” the sheriff added. “I can’t just jump on Morgan because you two have had words.”

She looked up at Jackson’s handsome face, and he gave a half nod. “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “His name is Mark Cutter. He lives, or lived on Bay Wood Drive in Los Angeles. The way he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s moved again.”

“He moved around a lot?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes. He’s always looking for a better place. Each one more impressive than the last. Something about charming his clients, or some such BS.”

She took a long sip of her tea and burned her tongue, but she didn’t care. It was better than talking about Mark. Anything was better than talking about him, especially if he really was behind the break-in. He wouldn’t be happy with her disappearance, and that thought sent a chill down her spine.

The sheriff got to his feet. “Okay, that’s enough for me to go on.” Jackson and Clare walked him to the door, and he paused. “Are you staying here tonight?” he asked Clare.

She nodded as she wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s my home. I’m not leaving.” No matter how scared she was.

The sheriff looked to Jackson.

“And I’m staying with her,” Jackson said.

Clare’s gaze jumped to Jackson as a zing shot through her at that statement. She knew he didn’t mean that he’d be sleeping in her bed, but it still made her stomach do a flip.

“Call if you hear anything or think of anything else,” the sheriff said as he left.

Jackson shut and bolted the door behind him. “Let me call Kyle and let him know what’s going on,” Jackson said. “Then I’ll cook up those steaks you’ve got sitting in the fridge.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said with a rush. “I’ve got my gun. I can take care of myself.”

He grinned. “You certainly can. But nothing short of Armageddon is going to get me out of this house. And besides, it will take both of us to get this place back in shape.”

Her shoulders fell. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been at the thought of spending the night alone. She had to sleep, not that she’d be able to, but all she had to do was fall asleep, and she’d be vulnerable.

She shoved her hands in her jean pockets. “I would say I’m sorry you got involved in all this, but I’d be lying.”

He winked at her, then put his cellphone to his ear. “Hey big brother. Just wanted you to know I won’t be home tonight. No, nothing like that. Something’s come up.”

Clare went about preparing dinner, her mind buzzing with all that had happened.

Jackson appeared beside her and told her how Kyle was spitting bullets and wanted to charge over to Morgan’s and punch his lights out.

“No love lost between them, I take it,” she said.

“Can’t stand one another.” He took the steaks and placed them on the old griddle on the stove. “I’d do these outside, but that grill is ready for the dump.”

“Grandpa was probably the last to use it. Granny and I tried to keep it simple.” She hesitated, the carrots she’d cut for the salad sitting on the chopping block. “Jackson, do you really think it’s Mark?”

He came up behind her and gave her a gentle hug. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to take any chances.”

She nodded and resumed her work on the salad.

They talked over dinner, mostly about the break-in, but very little about what they’d intended to discuss from their earlier conversation.

Once they finished dinner, did the dishes, those that hadn’t been smashed, they began to clean up the rest of the house.

“Although my gut tells me it was probably not your ex, I think it was still a good idea to tell the sheriff about him,” Jackson said, after he’d tried to put one of the desk drawers back together without success.

“I know. It’s just I’d hoped that part of my life could stay in the past.”

He looked up from her grandfather’s old chair. “It will be when this is all over. And I think too, that you might feel better after the sheriff runs a check on him.”

She sighed with a nod, the broom still in her hands. “You’re right. It will be better to know a little more.” She moved to the closet and put the broom away with a yawn.

“Why don’t you go up to bed? You’re exhausted,” Jackson said.

She stifled another yawn. “Okay. But I don’t think I’ll sleep.”

He grinned. “Give it a try. I’ll be right here should you need me, or if anything happens.”

She cast him a small smile then went upstairs to bed. The minute she lay down, however, her eyes popped wide open and sleep refused to come.

****

It was hard to watch Clare disappear up the stairs and not follow her. After the terror that had ripped through him that evening at the sight of the front door busted open, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a big soft bed and hold on to her forever.

According to his mother, the Chase men had a tendency to fall hard and fast for the right woman. Which explained why he hadn’t ever actually proposed to Brittany. He’d eased into a relationship with her, convincing himself she was the one for him. Maybe, when he thought about it, that was why she left. Maybe she knew they weren’t right for one another from the beginning.

However it happened, he’d finally found the right woman. And he planned on keeping her safe.

With that thought, he noted the late hour and decided to make a few rounds around the house. Make sure everything was as it should be. He hadn’t expected on being overtaken by a couple of guys hell bent on beating him to a pulp.

Without a word, they hammered him, over and over. When Jackson finally had trouble getting back to his feet, one of them said, “Leave. Or else.”

“Afraid I can’t do that,” he replied, and spit out the blood pooling in his mouth.

He hated it was so damn dark he couldn’t make out their faces. He didn’t think he’d ever seen them before, but with sweat and dirt in his eyes, the night sky overcast with thick clouds, one of them could’ve been his brother and he doubted he’d know it.

The one that spoke nodded to the other. That’s when the silent one produced an axe handle.

Bracing for the blow, trying to think how the hell he was going to get out of this alive, a shot rang out.