Elise nodded. She’d put that name behind her, even went so far as to consider her old self as someone who’d died along with Stan. Alice Klaus had been young, naive and stupid. Elise Johnson was savvy, aware and would never harbor a killer in her home. Ever.
“Have you or the boys told anyone your former names?”
“No. The two years we spent in Minneapolis gave us time to adjust to the new names. When we moved here, we started our new lives. No one knows who we are.”
Melissa snorted. “Someone does.”
“Question is who?” Paul held the evidence bag up. “Who would write a note like that and for what purpose?”
“Could be just a scare tactic.” Melissa shrugged. “Who have you made mad since you moved here?”
Scratching through her recent memories, Elise could think of only a couple people she’d angered. “One of my students’ parents, or maybe a student?”
Paul glanced up, his blond brows rising on his tanned forehead. “A student?”
“I have a bully and a talker. I sent the talker to detention for two days straight. Her mother read me the riot act, claiming I was denying her daughter an education, although she gets the same work at the detention center as in the classroom. In fact, she gets more. The only thing she doesn’t get is cheer practice and she’s benched for the next game.”
“Do you think that student could be using your past against you?” Paul asked.
“Ashley?” Elise shook her head. “She’s more interested in her next boyfriend than exacting revenge on a teacher.”
Melissa’s mouth thinned. “You’d be surprised what kids can do.”
Elise pressed her fingers to her temples where a dull ache grew into a steady pounding. “I’d be more afraid of her mother than Ashley. Gerri Finch is a nightmare in heels. Your basic overachieving stage mother.”
Melissa stared across the evidence to Paul. “Wouldn’t hurt to question her.”
“Does that mean you’re taking the case? Or should I have turned this in to the police?”
“Technically, we don’t have a case,” Melissa said. “No one’s been hurt.”
“Yet. That’s the whole idea. I don’t want anyone else hurt by my husband or whoever sent this. I don’t want to be responsible for any more murders.”
Paul lifted one of Elise’s hands. “Elise, your husband murdered those women, not you.”
She pulled her hand from Paul’s grasp, wanting the comfort, but feeling unworthy of it. “I should have seen through those late-night service calls.” She threw her arms in the air. “At the very least, I should have suspected something. Good God, I lived with the man.” The manipulative, verbally abusive, domineering son of a—
“You weren’t the only one who trusted him. He had an entire community snowed.” Melissa moved up beside Paul. “In most cases involving serial killers, the people closest to them never saw it coming.”
Elise rolled her eyes, a shaky laugh erupting from her throat. “Oh, that makes me feel so much better about the women my husband killed.”
“I know it’s not much. But it took us a while to figure him out, as well.” Melissa gave her a crooked smile. “Hell, we were almost too late to save your sis—”
“Mel, let me handle this,” Paul said.
Melissa’s face turned pink and she backed away. “Yeah, maybe you should.”
Elise felt sorry for Melissa having to walk on eggshells around her. Elise didn’t need people feeling sorry for her any more than she wanted their blame for the deaths. After two years, she’d managed to start over and put the horror behind her, only for it to resurface and slap her squarely in the face. Would she ever be free of Stan Klaus?
“Elise.” Paul was talking to her. “For now, we’re going to do some checking without opening a case. The local police would be handling this one if we were to turn it in, which we might do soon if we need their help.”
“I’d rather the locals didn’t know any more than they have to. We have to live here. I can’t keep uprooting my children and moving every time someone recognizes me.”
“Or threatens you and your children?”
Her blood ran cold. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “If my husband is still alive, he’ll come after his sons. I won’t let him have them. I swear I’ll kill the monster first.”
PAUL AND MELISSA RODE BACK to San Antonio in silence. Paul immersed in his memories of North Dakota and the first contact he’d had with Alice Klaus. He remembered thinking how unfair life was to dump this horrific burden on such a nice woman and her kids. He’d gone to the evacuation shelter and played with Brandon and Luke to help her out and give her a break while her hometown flooded and her life fell apart.
She’d been strong then, but now he recognized her behavior as that of a person in shock and denial. The Texas sunshine had done her good, tanning her pale northern skin. She was too young to be widowed and too pretty to live alone. Elise Johnson needed a man around to run interference for her and provide some kind of protection. Either that or a gun.
The sound of little boys shouting in the backyard had grounded Paul in Elise’s reality. A gun in the house wasn’t a good idea, either. Not with curious boys on the loose.
Stan had set fire to the house he supposedly died in. When Paul, Melissa, Nick and Brenna left the house, the river had already flooded the road and the house was a raging inferno. By the time they were able to return, the house had been swept away in the floodwaters. Stan’s vehicle had been found along the banks of the Red River, five miles south of Riverton. Empty.
Had Stan Klaus survived? If so, why had he showed up now? Why not sooner?
Paul turned to Melissa. “Until we get something solid to go on, I want this case kept between you and me.”
“You’re the boss.” Melissa gave him a mock salute. “It really is hard calling you boss.”
“You didn’t have to take this assignment, you know. And if you recall, I tried to talk you out of it.”
“And miss my one and only opportunity to transfer to Texas?” She gunned the accelerator of her cherry-red F150 four-wheel-drive pickup. “I’d take a job with the devil himself just to leave the snow behind.”
AT 7:00 P.M., PAUL ENTERED the Bureau building in San Antonio and headed for his office, Melissa close on his heels.
As they passed Special Agent Trevor Cain’s desk, the agent looked up from his conversation on the telephone. His eyes widened and he smiled up at them. “Muy bien. Adios,” he said into the receiver and hung up. “Hey, Bradley, Fletch. Where’ve you been?” Cain rose from his desk and followed them down the hall.
“Cain.” Paul acknowledged the man with a nod before he entered his office.
“You’re pulling a late night,” Melissa commented, standing in the doorway. “Still working those applicant background investigations?”
“Yeah.” Trevor moved as if to enter, but Mel wasn’t in a hurry to make way. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb, effectively blocking his entrance.
Thank goodness Mel had decided to transfer to San Antonio with Paul. She understood him, could read him like only a close friend could. Paul smothered a grin.
“Your ability to speak Spanish is a plus around here,” Mel commented.
Paul fought impatience. He was ready for the conversation to end and for Cain to disappear so that he could discuss Elise with Mel.
Cain