I had no fight instinct left in me. It was time to run. With everything I had, I raced for my momma's front porch, hoping the attacker wasn't going to follow me and finish the job.
As I stumbled inside the door of my house, I said, "Did you call Chief Martin yet?"
"No, I didn't want to make you any angrier than you already were."
"You'd better call him after all. Somebody just attacked me in the park. He'd better get over here." I dead-bolted the door as soon I got inside, then went into the closet for a baseball bat we kept there for protection. It wouldn't stop a bullet, but I'd put my swing up against just about anything else. I had been a pretty mean softball player in high school, and I still knew how to swing for the fences.
All of my mother's defiance left her as she rushed to me. "Are you all right? I'm so sorry."
"Why? You didn't grab me from behind out there."
"No, but you ran off because of me. Tell me what happened, Suzanne," she said.
"Momma, you know I love you, but I just want to do this one time, okay? Get the chief over here, and you can hear all about it when I tell him what happened."
She nodded, and reached for the phone as I slumped down on the couch. The threat had been all too real, and I wondered who I'd spooked enough to make them come after me.
In a way, I guess it was progress, but not the kind I'd been hoping for.
"So let me get this straight," the chief said after he'd heard my story twice in our living room. "You didn't see who attacked you, and after he grabbed you from behind and threatened you, he just ran off. Is that it?"
My mother snapped, "Phillip Martin, I expect you take my daughter's complaint seriously."
The chief of police for April Springs was a large man, carrying thirty pounds more than he should have. He was my mother's age, but still had a full head of ginger hair, though it was starting to go white at the temples.
"I'm interviewing her, aren't I? Dorothy, I've got three officers I can't spare investigating the park even as we speak. What more can I do?"
"You can believe her when she tells you that she was mugged," my mother said.
He nodded. "I believe that's exactly what happened."
"Hey, wait a second," I protested. "This wasn't just some random act of violence. It had something to do with Patrick Blaine's murder. And you keep saying it was a man. I can't be sure that's true. It could have been a woman."
"So now you're changing your story?"
I had to bite back my temper. "I never said it was a man. But whoever it was, I know it was because of what I've been doing."
The chief shook his head. "You have no proof of that, Suzanne." He frowned, then added, "From what I've been hearing around town, you're under the impression that you're better at my job than I am. Now you're saying that you're so good, the killer is afraid of your investigation, but not mine?"
He stared at me, no doubt waiting for me to deny what I'd been up to, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of admitting I was exploring the crime, as well.
"Let's get back to the mugging," my mother said.
I interrupted her. "I wasn't mugged, Momma. The
voice told me to butt out or I'd be next. Does that sound like a random attack to you?"
"I'm sorry, Suzanne," my mother said, obviously a little flustered by my retort. "I misspoke."
The chief's cell phone rang, and he moved over by the window to take the call out of our hearing.
As he was talking, Momma said, "I'm trying to support you here, you know that, don't you?"
I patted her shoulder gently. "I know. I guess I'm just a little jumpy."
"With the week you've had, you've got every right to be," she said.
Chief Martin hung up, then said, "They swept the park twice, and nobody's there."
"Not now," I said. "Why on earth would they stick around after they attacked me?"
The chief blew out a huff of air. "Suzanne, there's nothing I can do about it if I can't find anyone to question. But it might not be a bad idea to take his advice."
I couldn't believe he was suggesting it. "So, you're taking this bully's side over mine? I should just crawl into a hole and pull it in after me, is that what you think?"
"What I think is that you should let me do my job," he said, not even trying to hide the aggravation in his voice.
"I'm disappointed in you, Phillip," my mother said.
"Dorothy, you know I hate like fire going against you, but Suzanne's going to get herself into trouble if she keeps trying to do my job for me."
My mother just shook her head. "It appears she has
to, since you're not making any progress. Thank you for coming by, Phillip. You may see yourself out."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, obviously hurt by her curt tone. Perhaps he was finally beginning to learn that no matter what he did, he'd never have her for his own.
After he was gone, Momma said, "Suzanne, you need to stop this, and I mean this instant."
"You're taking everybody else's side? What happened to loving and supporting me?"
She shook her head. "Don't do that, child. I love you, and I can't bear to see you get hurt. You're all the family that I have left. Don't you understand that?"
A trail of tears slowly slid down her cheek, and I hugged her before I wiped it away.
After a few moments, she said, "Do you promise?"
"No, ma'am, I'm sorry, but I can't. This isn't something I want to do. I have to, or I might be next."
"Not if you stop right now."
I shrugged. "I can't take that chance."
This was getting us nowhere.
There was a knock at the door, and I found myself hoping it was Jake Bishop.
It was Officer Grant, one of my regular customers, instead.
"Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I was out sweeping the park with everyone else, and I thought you should know for your own peace of mind, there's nobody's out there."
"Thanks, I appreciate that."
After he left, I started for my room, and Momma asked, "Where are you going?"
"To bed."
She said, "Do you honestly think you can sleep with all that's happened?"
I glanced at the clock. "It's nearly nine o'clock, and I have to be up at one. When do you suggest I go to bed? If I don't get some sleep, I'll never make it through tomorrow."
"Good night, then."
I made it into my room and collapsed on the bed. I worried over what had happened for thirty seconds, then I let it all slip away. I'd learned early on that the only way to function with my crazy schedule was to sleep whenever I could, for however long I could manage.
My problems would still be there come morning, or what passed for it in my life, and I needed to be fresh if I was going to handle things without getting myself killed.
The next morning, George was waiting for me when I opened at five-thirty.
"Why didn't you call me last night? I could have helped when you were attacked."
I shook my head. "I didn't call you because I didn't want to worry you. How'd you find out, anyway?"
"I talked to one of the men searching the park for the attacker last night. You know him, don't you? The kid's name is Grant."
"He's a customer of mine," I admitted.
"Well, I'm glad he said something. Suzanne, from now on, you need to come clean with me and keep me in the loop, do you understand? It's serious business."
"Hang on a second," I said. "I called Chief Martin, and he thought it was just a random mugging."
George got close enough to me so I could feel the heat coming off him. "You know better, though, don't you? You were warned to butt out. What do you think this guy's going to do when he realizes you're still digging into the murder? Do you honestly think you're going to be so lucky next time? One man has died, Suzanne."
It was clear I'd hurt George's feelings by not calling him, and that just wasn't right. "Listen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to exclude you."
He accepted my apology. "I'm just saying, I can't help you if you don't tell me everything. What did Bishop say when you told him?"
"I never called him," I admitted. "It was so late when it happened, and all I wanted to do was go to bed."
George handed me his cell phone. "Call him."
"It's too early," I said.
"Would you do it as a favor to me?"
I shrugged. "I will, but I'll use my own telephone." I didn't want George hitting redial later and calling the state investigator himself.
I expected to get his voice mail, but to my surprise, he answered on the first ring.
"Bishop here."
"Hi, it's Suzanne."
"Hey, did you get my note yesterday?"
"Thanks, it was sweet of you." I took a deep breath, then said, "I'm guessing you haven't talked to Chief Martin yet."
"Not since yesterday afternoon. Why, what's up?"
I rubbed my forehead for a second, then said, "There was an incident in the park last night, and I thought you should know about it."
"What happened? Are you all right? Where are you?"
"I'm at the shop," I said. "Somebody grabbed me while I was out walking, but I managed to get away."
"Did they say anything to you?" Bishop asked after a moment's pause.
"They warned me to butt out, or I'd be next," I admitted, hating to repeat the chilling words over the phone.
Jake's voice went cold. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"I've got nowhere else to be," I said. "I've got a shop to run."
"I'll see you soon," he said, then hung up.
I turned to George. "There, are you happy?"
"Not until he shows up. Until then, I'll be at a table up front watching out for you. Don't go out the back way, and don't let Emma go there, either."
"I'd say no if I could, but the advice is too good to pass up." On impulse, I reached back into the case and grabbed a pumpkin donut and a small carton of milk. "These are on the house. Thanks for caring."
"Sure," he said gruffly. George fought hard to keep up a rough exterior, but I had an idea how soft he was on the inside.
Jake came in fourteen minutes later, and from his expression, it was clear that this morning, he was unhappy with me.
"You should have called me, Suzanne," he said.
"Everything happened so fast," I replied. "By the time I thought about it, I was nearly asleep."
He looked around the shop, which was starting to fill up in the predawn rush. "Is there somewhere we could talk?"
"The only place with any privacy at all is my office."
"Then let's go there."
I nodded. I didn't care to broadcast our conversation for the world to hear any more than he did.
Jake followed me through the door to the kitchen, and I could see a few frowns on the faces of my patrons. They'd obviously been hoping for a show, but I wasn't in any mood to give them one.
His presence intensified in the close proximity of my office. I took the main chair, and he leaned against the wall, looming over me.
"Now, tell me exactly what happened," he said, giving me his full attention.
"Like I told you over the phone, somebody grabbed me, I fought back, and then I called Chief Martin."
"Do you remember his exact words when he threatened you?"
"I'm not likely to forget," I said as I felt his phantom grasp. "He said if I didn't butt out, he was going to do more than hurt me. That's when I got away."
"How'd you manage to do that?"
"I dug my nails into his arm, and he let go. He
had a heavy jacket on, so I doubt I made any marks on him."
Jake took my hands in his. "That's not going to help, is it? Your nails are really short."
"Try making donut dough with a manicure," I said.
He dropped my hands. "So, there's not much chance you wounded him."
"Probably not. I broke a nail, but I doubt it did any good. I got away, though. That's all that counts. He won't forget me soon."
Jake studied me a moment, then asked, "Suzanne, are you sure it was a man?"
"No, I can't be positive about anything," I admitted. "To be honest with you, I was scared, and all I could think of was to try to get away. I tried to tell the chief that it could have been a woman, but he wasn't interested in hearing any of my theories. I'm just glad I escaped."
"You're right. That's really all that matters," he said. There was a hint of softness in his voice when he said it.
He stood there a second, then asked, "Is there any chance that you're going to stop digging into this?"
"I can't," I said softly.
He looked as though he wanted to cry. "Listen, you've got to let us handle this. It's too dangerous for you."
I thought about lying, I swear I did, but something made me tell him the truth. "He was my friend, and besides, my neck's on the line, and no one else's. I'm motivated."
"To do what, get yourself killed?"
"Don't you understand? I don't have a choice."
He shook his head. "I'm not getting through to you, am I? You're putting your life in jeopardy."
"I'm being as careful as I can, but I'm not going to sit around here waiting for the killer to come after me next."
I wasn't sure what he said; it was spoken softly and nearly under his breath.
"What was that?" I asked, seeing if he had the guts to repeat it.
"I said that stubborn streak of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days."
He started for the kitchen, and his escape, as I called out, "Jake, I'm not trying to drive you away."
