Power of the Raven

“It wouldn’t exclude excitement, but it goes beyond that. What I’m really looking for is work that’ll allow me to contribute something worthwhile, maybe the kind of job where I can make a difference in my own way. I’d like to know I’m doing more with my life than just using up oxygen and getting by.”

“You want to know that you’re working toward something, not just working. That’s exactly the way I feel about my ranch,” he said with a nod. “You’ll find what’s right for you, too, if you keep looking and refuse to give up.”

As their eyes met, she felt a delicious prickle of awareness. More than anything, she wanted to get to know him better, to see the man beyond the yummy package.

Yet, although it was tempting to lower her guard, in the past, that kind of trust had led her straight to heartbreak and disappointment. Those memories were powerful enough to urge her to pull back.

Fifteen minutes later, they drove slowly past Bud Harrington’s house. The newspapers and mail Gene had seen before were still on the porch. In the daylight, Gene could see that a layer of dust covered the pickup, windows included.

“Someone screwed the license plate back on the truck,” he said, calling her attention to it.

“Maybe it’s not the same plate,” she said. “After all, Paul only saw the letters and wasn’t totally sure about the numbers.”

Gene stopped just behind the tailgate of the pickup. “There’s no dust on the plate, unlike the truck. How else could that happen except by taking off the plate, then putting it back on?”

“But why on earth would Bud go through all that trouble? Does he think he can somehow weasel out of this by using his own plates on the wrong vehicle? Or is someone messing with his mind?”

“And yours,” Gene said. “All good questions, and if he’s back, why not pick up the mail and those newspapers, too? It could very well be that someone else is responsible. Keep in mind that, as near as we can tell, Harrington doesn’t own a van, and the maroon one we saw didn’t look like a rental. Rental vans are usually white—or black.”

“So where does that leave us?” she asked.

“Right where we started. Nowhere.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess, Gene, but I’m glad you’re here.”

He gave her a slow smile. “I’ve got no regrets. I happen to like you.”

She bit her bottom lip and smiled. “I don’t care if that’s just a line. You make it sound good.”

He laughed. “It’s no line, sweetheart. You’re unpredictable and a bundle of trouble, but you’ve also got more than your share of courage and determination. You don’t back down, even when you should.”

She had started to answer when her phone rang. It was Miranda. “What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.

“We’re really shorthanded here, and Jerry wanted me to ask you if there’s any way you can come back in this afternoon. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment, so I’ve got to leave here soon, and we’ve got a real backlog,” she said. “Are you still at the station?”

“No, I’m not, but tell me something. Does everyone know what happened?” Lori asked.

“Yeah, Jerry told Harvey, then us to keep an eye out for anyone acting strangely,” she said. “Right now Jerry’s working your window, but he has a report to finish for Santa Fe this afternoon, so he’s pretty tense.”

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” she said, and hung up. At least there was a measure of job security knowing she was needed. “I have to get back to work ASAP. Can you take me to my car?”

“Sure. We’re just a few minutes from the restaurant now,” Gene said. “You can drive on to work from there and I’ll tail you until you arrive just to make sure there are no more surprises.”

“I really appreciate that, but I’m starting to feel guilty. You’ve been spending all your time with me, and I’m sure you’ve got responsibilities of your own you’ve been neglecting because of that.”

“Do you trust me?”

The quick, blunt question took her by surprise. “Of course. You’ve put your own safety on the line because of me. Why on earth wouldn’t I trust you?”

“All right, then,” he said with an approving nod. “You remember Officer Chavez suggested you get away from home for a while?”

“Yeah, but—”

He held up one hand. “I happen to think he’s right and I’ve got an idea. You get off work at five?” he asked.

“Thereabouts. More like five-fifteen or so.”

“Okay. I’m going to be waiting outside when you get off work, but don’t look for me. I’ll hang back and follow you home. Then I want you to pack up a few things and come with me.”

“Where to?”

“I’m staying at my brother’s place. It’s a small apartment, but you can have the bedroom. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She shook her head slowly. “You’ve been really terrific, but I can’t keep doing this to you. It’s just not fair.”

“I’m volunteering, so it’s fair,” he said with an easy smile. “You’ve met Paul, who’s in law enforcement, or at least was. I’ve also got two more brothers who are federal agents, and then there’s Preston, whose apartment we’ll be using. He’s a detective with the Hartley Police Department. If at any time you think I’ve said or done anything that’s out of line, you can pick one or two of them to come arrest me.”

She laughed, then, growing serious, answered, “What you’re offering me is very tempting, but standing on my own two feet is also important to me.”

“There are some fights that can’t be won alone, Lori. Think about my offer. This really isn’t a good time for a solo act.”

After Gene dropped her off by her car, she drove directly to work. She wasn’t sure what to do. As a kid she’d learned the hard way to rely only on herself, especially after her parents’ divorce. The bitterness between them had left her caught up in the middle. She’d learned to look only to herself for help since no one else was there for her. Those lessons had come at a high price and explained at least partially why close relationships made her uncomfortable. She’d worked hard to become independent, but, now, this new situation was forcing her hand.

Lori entered the DMV building, nodded to Harvey, the security guard, then walked across the room to her window, where Jerry now sat.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “Before you get started, I’d like to have a word with you. Come to my office, please.”

Lori followed the tall, shaved-headed man in his mid-fifties down the hall and into his small office.

“Take a seat,” Jerry said, then shut the door behind them. “I’ve heard about your continuing problem with Mr. Harrington. I’ve already alerted security, but I need to know if he may pose a danger to anyone else in this office.”

“No, he won’t. He’s focused on me, but I should tell you that I have no proof my stalker really is Bud Harrington,” she said.

Jerry leaned back in his chair. “This office has had problems with Harrington before, especially during a time when he was selling off a car collection and had to conduct business here frequently. On the surface, he’s a respectable jewelry maker, the owner of Harrington Designs, but the guy’s nuts. He gave one of our former clerks a hard time by harassing her at her window, but it never went any further than that. Security escorted him out.”

“I hadn’t heard about that.”

“I told the police all about it when they called earlier. It happened before your time here. Ann King, a former employee, had problems with him. It was nothing more than off-color remarks, but the second time, Steve Farmer was working the window next to hers and overheard him. He waved over a security guard, who threatened to hold him for the police. There were no more problems after that.”

“Then it looks like Harrington’s behavior went down a notch or two,” she said, and updated him.

“So he’s learned to disguise his identity,” Jerry said slowly. “Do you have any doubt that it’s Harrington?”

“Not in my own mind, but I also have no proof, so the police can’t arrest him.”

Jerry considered it silently, steepling his fingers and staring down at his hands, deep in thought. “I want you to keep me informed,” he said, then stood. “You know I’m about to go on vacation, but I can switch around the dates if there’s a chance you’re going to need a leave of absence.”

“I don’t foresee that. He’s no threat to me here with all the people around and Harvey on guard.”

“All right, then. Let’s get back to work and see if we can process everyone by closing.”

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON AND Lori was working at her window when she finally decided to take the next step on her own. If she confronted Harrington, put it on the line by telling him that she knew he was the one stalking her, maybe he’d stop playing these crazy games—or at least back off for a while.

Fifteen minutes later, Lori closed her window. As her break started, she found the telephone number for Harrington Designs in the phone book, reached for her desk phone, then stopped. Calling him from here was a bad idea. Harrington’s caller ID would show the origin and he might use it to get her into trouble. She didn’t want to give up her cell phone number, either.

Lori walked to the lobby. Mounted on the wall was one of the few landline public phones in the area.

She inserted two quarters and dialed the number, trying to figure out the best way to say what she needed.

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