Jenna’s heart stopped. “Shh!” She wrapped her arms around both of her girls.
“Jenna!” Turnquist’s voice boomed through the house. His boots pounded on the stairs. “Jenna!”
Relief flooded through her. “Up here! In my room! It’s okay!”
He flew into the room, his weapon in his hand. “I heard a scream.”
“Another visitor,” she said, and hitched her chin toward her jewelry box.
Turnquist strode across the room. “Shit.” He looked at the finger, but didn’t touch it. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s fake, someone’s idea of a sick joke.”
“Or worse. The rings look real.”
“They are,” she whispered, “or damned good fakes.” Her stomach was in knots, and she felt the urge to throw up at the depths of depravity of the person who had done this. “They look like Lynnetta Swaggert’s engagement and wedding ring.”
“No!” Cassie cried, her already-pale face losing its last hint of color. “Not her real ones, right? These are just…kind of the same.”
“I noticed them the other day when Lynnetta was altering a dress. If these aren’t Lynnetta’s rings, then they’re a damned good copy.”
Allie’s eyes grew wide. She wrapped her arms around her mother and Jenna held her close. “I’m scared, Mom.”
“Me, too, baby. Me, too.” For the first time in her life, Jenna didn’t know what to do. Her home had been violated and was obviously unsafe. Whoever had been terrorizing her came and went at will. Despite the alarm system. Despite her contacts with the police. Despite her damned bodyguard.
She stared out the window to the snow falling, and she prayed the power wouldn’t go out.
Where could she take her children? Where would there be a haven where her daughters wouldn’t have to be in harm’s way? And how would she get them out of here? The roads were nearly impassable and all the hotels in town were full. And the son of a bitch wanted her to run. That much was obvious. Why else try to scare her witless? Anger rode along the back of fear. Who the hell was this bastard? What was he trying to do? “We’ll be okay,” she said firmly, stroking Allie’s hair.
Cassie stared at her mother, silently accusing her of the lie. For once there wasn’t a trace of anger, disrespect, or sarcasm in her gaze. Just plain, naked fear. “I think we should all go to L.A. for the holidays.”
Jenna didn’t argue, but said, “I think that’s what he wants.”
“He? Who? The sicko who did this?” Cassie asked.
“Yeah.”
“Too bad—I still think we should leave. Go somewhere else. Mom, this kind of thing never happened in California.”
That much was true. It was almost as if the bastard wanted her to return. Why? Did he feel threatened that she was up here? Wanted her gone? Or was he trying to push her back to California because he wanted her there? Why? To make more movies?
Robert.
He wants the kids closer.
“I’m calling the sheriff,” Turnquist said. “He’ll send out men, or get in touch with the Oregon State Police. I want this place gone over with a fine-tooth comb. Meanwhile, all of us, we stay together. In the den. When the police get here, I’m going to tear this place apart.”
“Be my guest,” Jenna said as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed. She didn’t care if he pulled the walls down. She just wanted the son of a bitch nailed.
Carter pushed the speed limit through the snow. He planned to explain that he’d seen someone snooping around Wes’s shop, had taken off after the guy, called BJ on his cell, and then, after losing the suspect in the snowstorm, had returned to the scene, where he would meet up with Wes. That would explain a lot. Cover his lies.
He pulled into town and saw Wes’s truck parked on the street by his electrician’s shop. It was a hole in the wall, not much more than an office and a repair room where he kept spare parts and tools. Wes was inside, the lights on, standing in the middle of the office.
Carter walked in the open door.
“What the hell’s going on?” Wes demanded, his face furrowed and dark, the smell of beer and cigarette smoke clinging to him.
“I saw someone poking around.”