He wanted to press her to explain, but a pair of shiny, expensive-looking black high heels appeared in front of him. He fixated on them for a moment, then allowed himself the luxury of savoring every inch of Marlee Masters’s long, lithe frame as he lifted his head.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. The agitation in her posture clearly indicated the woman didn’t have a sorry bone in her body. She wanted their attention, and she wanted it now. Something about her demeanor made him want to shut her down, but then she shifted her focus to Lori, and her expression softened.
“Hey, Lori.” She paired the casual greeting with a brief flutter of her hand. “Can you help me?”
Lori met the other woman’s gaze, surprise written all over her face. “Um, sure.”
Marlee darted a quick glance at him, then shrugged. “I guess you can see this too.” She thrust out her phone, and Ben watched as his deputy carefully took it from her.
Lori cradled the device in both hands. He didn’t blame her for the extra caution. Replacing that particular model could eat up a mere mortal’s entire paycheck—before taxes. Which, he supposed, made sense. Marlee Masters seemed the type to be accustomed to having the latest and greatest.
He tipped his head to the side as he looked at the blank screen. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, sorry. Here.” She plucked the phone from Lori’s hands and unlocked the screen by flashing a megawatt grin at the camera. The moment it sprang to life, she ditched the beauty queen routine and placed the phone back in Lori’s hands. “Open the message app.”
Lori did, and Ben leaned close enough to see a string of text conversations appear. There were a couple labeled “Dad,” one with “Mom” and a whole string of others showing only ten-digit phone numbers rather than contact information.
Lori opened the first of the unlabeled texts. It read simply Welcome home.
Lori tapped back to the list screen, her expression tightening. “I take it you don’t know who this was from?”
Marlee shook her head. “No.”
The next message read Lookin good marlee.
His deputy snorted and clicked off the second message, mumbling, “Too busy for capitalization or punctuation, I see. I guess we can narrow it down to someone who flunked English in school.”
Marlee laughed, but the sound was mirthless.
Ben peered over Lori’s shoulder. The third and fourth messages were along the same vein. One, a brief approval of the dress she’d worn to visit Eleanor Young; the other, unsolicited commentary on whether she should be eating whatever it was she had been carrying in a Brewster’s bakery box.
“Nunya, you jerk,” Lori muttered as she clicked back to the list of calls.
She started to open the next text, but Ben stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “Wait.”
Both women swung startled gazes in his direction. “What?” Lori asked, suddenly on high alert.
“They get worse,” Marlee said, frustration making her voice low and tight.
“They’re all from different numbers,” he said, pointing to the list on the phone. “Have you tried to call any of these numbers?”
At last, he felt the full force of Marlee’s blue-flame eyes on him. “Yes. They all go to a recording saying the person is unavailable.”
Rubbing his chin, Ben shook his head. “Burner phones or some kind of automated thing?” he puzzled aloud.
“No clue. But I guess whoever he is, he’s already tired of me. Read the last one. It came while I was in there,” she informed them, nodding toward the viewing parlor.
Ben tore his gaze from Marlee’s troubled expression, his gut tightening with dread as Lori scrolled to the most recent text and opened it.
Can’t wait to see more of you
