"You haven't told Max yet, I take it?" she asked.

"No. I don't want to tell him until after the game." I paused. "Truthfully, I don't want to tell him at all. Lately he's been talking a lot about how glad he is that the kids are getting older."

She smiled. "I think he'll be happy."

"I don't know." I shifted on my stool.

"Let's eat in the living room," she said. "It'll be more comfortable."

She handed me two plates to carry. I hopped off the stool and ambled into the living room to wait for her, relaxing in her eclectic taste. Framed modern art accented the red wall above the sofa. The rest of the walls were off-white. Her desk was in an alcove on one side of the room. Shelves, where she kept all her reference books, covered the three walls. I'd never really taken an in-depth interest in her research before, but now, as I looked over the bindings, I realized I'd been stupid. Given that many of the books were about cops and forensics, Abbie could probably answer my question about Jim Bob's lack of blood.

Distracted from my immediate concern over the pregnancy, I put the plates on the glass coffee table and went over to the shelves. I pulled out a book entitled Crime Scene Investigation and riffled through the pages.

Ice tinkled behind me as Abbie walked into the room. "What are you looking at, hon?"

I turned with the book in my hand. "Jim Bob was stabbed, but there wasn't any blood splattered anywhere. Why? Besides the fact that maybe he'd been moved?"

Abbie put the glasses on the coffee table. She then came over to where I stood. "Two reasons as far as I know." She took the book from me, flipped through the pages, and pointed. "One is that he was on his back and was stabbed in the liver. That would result in internal bleeding."

I glanced at the page. That was possible, given Jim Bob's position and where the knife had been located. I looked up at her. "What's the other reason?"

"He was already dead when he was stabbed."

When I arrived at Four Oaks Self-Storage, the door was unlocked, but Kevin wasn't at the front desk. His car was in the parking lot, along with another that I didn't recognize. I wondered if he'd gone out to show someone a unit.

I ran into Max's office, but my phone wasn't on the desk. I heard a step behind me.

"Kevin?" I asked, looking under some papers. "Where is my phone?"

No one answered. I turned around to see the muzzle of a gun in my face. My breath caught in my throat like a choke hold.

"Lose this?" Stefanie Jenkins asked, grinning widely and holding my phone in her hand.

After I started breathing again, I realized my phone wasn't the only thing that had been lost. She no longer had an accent. And for once, she'd dressed like a normal person in blue jeans and a cotton shirt that covered everything.

"It's so convenient that you're here," she said.

"Where is Kevin?" I hoped maybe he'd been out of the building when she arrived and he'd come in and rescue me.

"He's, shall we say, indisposed in the back room closet." She smiled slowly. "It's amazing what most men will do when a pretty girl offers them favors. He was so easily overcome."

She tossed my phone on the floor and pressed the gun into my stomach, making me wince. Then she pulled two keys from her pocket and dangled them from perfectly manicured fingers. "I'm quite convincing. Kevin confessed to me that the unit was double locked. He also gave me the code to get into the building. I don't need you, but you're coming with me anyway."

"What happened to your accent?" I asked.

"I'm not from the South at all." She jabbed the gun harder. "Come on."

I really had no choice, seeing as how she had a weapon pointed at me. Then I remembered the alarm button and sidled toward Max's desk.

"You must really think I'm a moron, Trish. Touch that alarm, and your guts are going to be splattered all over this office."

I did what she asked. Guts all over the place proved too vivid a description to ignore.

With her gun in my back, we walked to the climate-controlled building that housed Jim Bob's unit. I wished that one of our customers would pull in right now, but no one did. Saturday afternoons could be very slow. I punched the code into the keypad to get inside. The twenty-minute light came on, illuminating the hallway and the insides of the units. She handed me the keys. I undid the padlocks and pulled up the door.

People often keep weird things in their storage units, from cookies to trash, but I'd never seen the likes of Jim Bob's. It looked like a home office, complete with a desk, swivel chair, battery-operated light, and three large file cabinets.

Stefanie shoved me inside. I fell to my knees and bashed my head on the corner of the desk. Blood dribbled down my face. I tried to stop the bleeding with pressure while I watched her, just wishing for one chance to pull her hair out by the roots. Why hadn't I knocked her off Max's desk when I had the chance?

She shut the unit door and turned. "Do you know what my biggest regret is?"

I shook my head.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "That I didn't get a piece of that husband of yours. I certainly tried hard enough and on many different occasions."

Pulling her hair out by the roots wasn't going to be enough.

Her eyes shot open. "I should kill you just because he was faithful. Most men eventually succumb, even if it's just once. Maxwell never did."

My husband had never mentioned the other times she'd tried to seduce him. That made me so mad I stood up and took two steps toward her without thinking.

"Stop right there. Don't do that again. I'll pull this trigger in a second." She waved the gun at me. "Sit down against the wall and put your hands on top of your head."

I did what she said and looked around the unit. File cabinets, a desk. . . I knew what it all was. "I guess this was Jim Bob's headquarters?"

She nodded. "Yes. My dearly departed's second job."

"So," I said, "he was probably blackmailing half the town."

"Quite a few. He never asked for much from anyone. Just a little money or other things here and there. Didn't seem like much, taken one at a time, but altogether it was quite lucrative." She pulled a drawer from the desk.

"Did you kill him?"

"Oh my, no." She'd turned on her southern accent again. "Stabbing someone? Sugar, I'd get my nails dirty. If I ever wanted to kill someone, I'd make sure it wasn't messy." On her knees, she reached into the empty hole where the drawer had been and pulled out some keys.

"Do you know who did?" I asked.

"Nope." She got to her feet, smiling. "Lots of people had reason to, including you." She glanced at me slyly. "Isn't it ironic that you've been hauled down to the sheriff's office on a regular basis?"

"Did you have an affair with Daryl?" I asked.

"Until I found out who held the purse strings at his house." She walked over to a file cabinet.

"Why'd you stay with Jim Bob?"

"Everyone has things to hide. Unfortunately, he made me pay for my secrets by staying with him. Besides, there were other things I wanted." She waved the gun at me again. "Now, shut up, will you?"

She unlocked a file cabinet and yanked open a drawer. Her breath hissed through her teeth. She unlocked another and opened it. Then another. In a frenzy, she jerked every drawer open. One of the cabinets leaned forward. I wished it would fall on top of her and break her legs. She whirled around and faced me.

"Who took everything out of here?" She moved closer, pointing the gun at me. "Did you?"

I shook my head mutely, wondering if I was about to die.

"Did Maxwell?"

"I don't know."

If she shot a bullet at close range, would it travel through my body into the next unit? Then I thought of my baby. A brand-new life.

She stomped her feet, cursed, and spun around, wiping the desktop clean with her arm. Everything crashed to the floor. The light broke into two pieces. "It was the police. I'm sure it was."

She stood silently, then she turned to face me again, this time with slow deliberation that was far scarier than her frenzy. "All that time your husband was leading me on, making me think the stuff was still in here."

She moved closer to me and stood very still. I knew in that moment that she wanted nothing more than to get even with Max by killing me. I closed my eyes and prayed. Tension crackled in the silence. Neither of us moved, though I felt her gaze on me like heat.

The thought of Max finding me dead was more than I could stand. Poor man. He'd be a widower twice. And my baby would die. I wanted to cry, but I was too afraid. Instead, I involuntarily reached up and grabbed the cross necklace Max had given me, thinking about how much I loved him and how bad I wanted to live and spend the rest of my life with him. She said she wouldn't kill someone in a messy way. Please, God. Please let her remember that.

Her breathing changed, and I felt the air shift as she moved. I opened my eyes, expecting to see the barrel of the gun pointed at my head. Instead, she'd walked over to the unit's closed door.

"I'm leaving you locked in here. Everyone is at the baseball game. They'll only start missing you in a couple hours. That'll give me time to get away. I hope they find you before you die of thirst."

With that, she turned her back, walked out of the unit, and pulled the door down, wheels grating in their tracks. Then I heard the snaps of the padlocks shutting. The outside door slammed as she left, sending a whoosh of air down the hall that vibrated the building's metal walls. The lights went out, leaving me in total blackness.

Chapter Seventeen.

The building creaked and settled around me. I stood up and wondered when Max would notice I wasn't at the game. My legs started to shake. I groped around until I found Jim Bob's desk chair and dropped into it. Max and Detective Scott were going to kill me if I didn't die in this unit first. I'd done exactly what they told me not to do. Put myself in danger, although I really couldn't have anticipated this.

I heard voices in the distance. They could belong to anyone, so I didn't get my hopes up. Where was Stefanie? She must have gotten a new car, because I didn't recognize the one in the lot as hers.

I thought about how she'd tried to seduce Max over and over again. My shaking stopped. I got mad. How dare Miss Fancy-Pants lock me in a storage unit? I hopped out of the chair and shuffled over to the wall, feeling my way to the door. There had to be a way to break out of here. I'd do it, even if I had to dismantle the door in the dark with my bare hands. I'd just begun to investigate the mechanism with my fingers when I heard the building door open. The lights came on.

I held my breath. Had Stefanie changed her mind and returned to shoot me? I reached down and grabbed the body of the broken desk light to hit her with.

"Trish? Are you in there?"

Max. I was so relieved to hear him that I didn't care if he was mad, as long as he hugged me first. I dropped the piece of lamp I held.

"Yes," I said.

The locks jiggled, and then the door slid open revealing Max, Detective Scott, and Corporal Fletcher.

"Thank God." Max rushed in, yanked me into his arms, and held me tight. Very tight. Too tight.

"Max," I gasped.

"What, baby?"

"I can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry." He loosened his grip. Then he noticed the blood and examined my head with his fingers. "Are you hurt bad?"

Corporal Fletcher moved closer to us. "Mrs. C., you need to go to the doctor and get that checked out."

"I'll be okay." I tried to push Max's hand away. All the tall men hovering over me made it hard to breathe.

"I'm glad to see you alive," Detective Scott said. "We got Stefanie."

"How did you know I was here? Why didn't I hear sirens?" I wished Max would stop messing with my head.

"Abbie," he said. "I called her when you didn't show up. She told us where you'd gone."

Detective Scott nodded. "We didn't use the sirens because we didn't want to broadcast the fact that we were coming."

Max's arm was securely around my shoulders as we walked from the climate-controlled building. Cop cars with flashing lights surrounded the office, and five or six uniformed deputies stood around. Too many cops.

"Kevin's in the storage closet," I said. "I imagine he'll think twice before kissing another woman again."

Detective Scott glanced at me. "We found him."

I thought about Stefanie trying to seduce Max. My anger grew. "Where is Steffie?"

"In a cruiser," the detective answered.

"I want to see." I pulled away from Max and headed toward the cop cars.

Max hurried to keep up with me. "Trish, I don't think that's a good idea." He realized my true intention. The other men didn't know me so well.

I marched to the car where she was held. I hoped she wasn't handcuffeda"that she would jump out and attack me, because I was ready to take her down.

I yanked the door open.

Across the parking lot, one of the deputies who was jaw jacking with another, noticed me. "Ma'am, you can't do that," he yelled.

I heard footsteps running toward me. Stefanie didn't look up.

"Not too brave when you don't have a gun, are you?" I snarled at her. "And who's going to do your nails in jail, anyway? Too bad, because that orange color you wear might match your prison jumpsuit."

She shifted until her back faced me.

"Mrs. C.," Corporal Fletcher said behind me, "you need to get away from the car."