If she wakes.
Truman hugged the tall woman. “She’s going to be fine, Sandy. We know what a fighter she is. She’s tougher than this.”
“Why does she have to be so damned tiny?” Sandy muttered into his shoulder with a mix of tears, anger, and exasperation in her voice.
“I hear you.”
Sandy pulled back, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “She told me she was nervous.”
“Yes, I know the vandalism rattled her. She took it very personally.”
The woman pressed her lips together, eyeing him curiously. “Did she tell you who she suspected?”
Surprise rocked Truman. “No. She told me she had no idea.”
“Damn her. She’s so stubborn.”
“She told you who she thought did the vandalism?” And perhaps nearly killed her?
“She wouldn’t tell me.” Sandy’s brows came together as she concentrated. “She said . . . her memories were running away with her thoughts and that it was too far-fetched. You knew the murdered reporter talked to her the day before she was killed, right?”
“No.” Frustration ignited. “What did Tabitha Huff tell her?” He fought to stay calm. Usually people around here couldn’t keep their mouths shut about anything. Bree was an exception.
“Bree was confused by the interaction. The woman approached her in the hardware store and asked if she was Bree Ingram.”
Truman ran a hand through his hair. How is Tabitha tied to this? “And?”
Sandy wrinkled her nose. “Bree swears Tabitha asked if she still reads the Midnight Voice . . . but that can’t be right. She must have asked if she’d ever read it.”
Truman blinked. “How . . .”
“Right?”
“Did Bree know Tabitha from somewhere?”
“She swore she’d never met her before . . . but Bree said she used to read the paper religiously when she was younger. It was always there at the checkout stand, you know? Before it went digital. I guess it was a guilty pleasure for Bree.”
“What does a tabloid have to do with this attack?” Truman muttered.
“Tabitha Huff talked to me about my vandalism on the same day.” Sandy looked away, biting her lip.
“And you’re just telling me now?” It was getting harder to keep his temper in check. Usually stories ran rampant around town. Why are people choosing now to keep quiet? “The woman was murdered, and you didn’t think to tell anyone? Jesus, Sandy. Bree was nearly killed . . . You could be attacked next. We need to get you somewhere safe.”
Could Sandy be the next victim?
“I can’t leave right now. But don’t worry, I’m very careful.”
Unable to stand still any longer, Truman paced in a small circle on Bree’s porch and shot glares at Sandy. “Careful. Define careful for me. Are you armed?”
“I left it in my car.”
“Lot of good it does there,” he muttered. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
Her chin went up. “I have a concealed carry permit. I practice. I’ve been careful for ten years.”
Since she escaped from her husband.
“And if he wrestles the weapon away from you?”
“Then I’ll have to shoot first, won’t I?” Her gaze told him she’d do exactly that.
He studied her face. This wasn’t the time for a lecture. Sandy’s stiff back and planted feet told him she wouldn’t listen anyway.
“We aren’t done with this topic,” he warned her. “But right now, tell me what else Bree said. You mentioned memories.”
Sandy nodded. “I could tell she was thinking about a past incident. But she wouldn’t give me any details.”
“I wonder if Lucas would know anything.”
“I had the impression this was something she kept close to her chest. She wouldn’t tell me . . . I don’t know if she’d tell Lucas. She’s rather protective of him.”
“Like mother, like son,” said Truman. “I wonder if she’s had a similar attack in the past.” He took a deep breath. “I wish she’d told me if someone had broken in or physically attacked her before.” He gave Sandy a side-eye. “How come it’s so hard to drag information out of both of you?”
A nervous smile touched her lips. “Must be why she’s my best friend. We’re alike. Can we go in now? I’ll be fast.”
Truman opened the door and watched as Sandy squared her shoulders. She stepped carefully over the threshold and headed toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. She put her hand over her nose and turned to Truman, her brown eyes stunned. “Is that smell . . .”
He nodded.
Her jaw tightened, and she continued down the hall. In Bree’s bedroom she stopped. “Can I touch things?”
“What do you need to do?”
“Just get a change of clothes out of her drawers and closet.”
“Touch only what you need to.”
Sandy opened a drawer with one finger and removed underclothes and a pair of black yoga pants as Truman watched. At the open closet she took a shirt and sweatshirt. Truman was about to mention how warm the weather was but kept his mouth shut. Sandy had picked comfort clothing, the type of clothes to wear while watching TV from the couch all day. It’d be quite a while before Bree could wear the clothing. The task was more for Sandy; she needed to do something.
“I’ll grab her Kindle,” Sandy murmured. “She’ll like that. I’ll run this stuff back to the hospital after I stop by my place. I had someone new set up the breakfast buffet, and I want to look it over.” Sandy nervously chatted away, and Truman knew she wasn’t looking for conversation. She was simply filling the silence of the house. She found the Kindle in a nightstand drawer and rooted deeper for the charger, still talking about the buffet food.
Truman watched. The room had been lightly searched overnight. Everyone had agreed it appeared the attacker hadn’t entered any of the bedrooms.
Abruptly Sandy’s monologue stopped. “Truman . . .” She had removed a few folded pieces of paper from inside the cover of the Kindle and was scowling at one. It was wrinkled, as if it’d been balled up at one time. Her hand shook as she gave it to Truman.
You’ll do it if you want your son to live.
His blood turned to ice; his hands were numb on the paper. “What do the others say?”
“More of the same,” Sandy whispered. “Oh my God. What did he want her to do?”
Truman took the three sheets of paper with gloved hands. They were slightly smudged as if they’d been rubbed in dirt. Found outdoors?
Each one threatened Bree or her son. None specified what she was to do.
Did she already know what to do?
“Do you think the same person attacked her?” Sandy whispered and then turned accusing eyes on him. “Why didn’t you find these earlier?”
Guilt swamped him. “We were looking for evidence left by the attacker.”
“I’d say he left these at some point in time.”
“Why didn’t she come to us with these?” Truman silently cursed at Bree. “Why didn’t she tell Lucas?”
“Because he’s threatened in the notes too.”
“All the more reason to tell someone.” He eyed Sandy. “Don’t hide this kind of shit.”
“Never.” Her hand trembled as she took a page from him and read it again. “Why wouldn’t she say anything? What would she lose by taking these to the police?”