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  Her friend glanced at the door. “Well, I think it’s just tacky that he’d show up here tonight after everything that happened. He should be working on the case.” Rayne flipped her smooth, honey-colored hair over her shoulder. “And staring so openly. That’s just plain rude.”

  Gabby sighed as Ms. Minnie, owner and proprietor of the diner, sashayed over to their table, her flowery dress flowing as she moved and her feet scuffling in her house shoes. Her trademark, a dainty monogrammed handkerchief, wasn’t tucked all the way into her bodice. The woman was as sweet as her homemade chocolate pies, but her sense of fashion left a lot to be desired.

  Gabby and Rayne had barely placed their orders and watched Ms. Minnie shuffle to the kitchen when Sheriff McGruder ambled up to the table.

  “How’re you ladies this evening?” His gaze settled on Gabby, but she knew the politeness wasn’t for her sake. He had to play nice with Rayne sitting at the table. The VanDoren name carried a lot of weight in the great state of Mississippi.

  “Can I help you with something, Sheriff?” Gabby kept her tone even.

  “Actually, I was wondering if you’d thought any more about the incident this morning. Do you remember anything else, now that you’ve had a little time to calm down and think things over?” He shoved his thumbs through the belt loops of his khaki uniform pants and widened his stance, almost rocking back on his heels. “Anything you care to share?”

  So he did think she was holding back, as if she’d willingly let whoever attacked Robert and Howard escape charges. The breathing trick she’d mentally ordered for herself didn’t work. Blood rushed to her head, drowning out the clatter of the silverware, the gossips cackling and the music from the archaic jukebox. “You know what, Sheriff? Maybe if you would do your job, you wouldn’t have to waste the time of law-abiding citizens.” So much for any of Rayne’s poise rubbing off on her.

  His leathery, tanned face twisted into a scowl, and his eyes narrowed. “Seems to me you’re awfully defensive, Ms. Rogillio. Now why’s that?”

  “I’m not being defensive. I’m just pointing out the obvious.” Her heart pounded so hard it nearly cracked her ribs.

  “Uh-huh. I see.”

  His radio crackled to life. “Sheriff, we have a report of vandalism at the KLUV station.”

  Gabby perked up. Vandalism?

  “Any witnesses?” he asked into his radio and moved a step away from their table.

  “No, sir. A car was spray-painted. Driver called it in.”

  “Really?” McGruder moved another step away. Gabby had to lean to keep up with the conversation.

  “Yes, sir. He’ll be waiting at the scene for you. A McKay. Mr. Clark McKay. Says you met him this morning.”

  Gabby gasped.

  McGruder frowned in her direction. “Copy that, Marcie. I’m on my way.” He gave a curt nod to Gabby and Rayne. “Just remember, if you do think of anything, call me immediately.”

  No kidding? Gee, the man should get on the application list for NASA.

  Gabby only nodded, too busy digesting what she’d heard to reply.

  Someone had messed with Mr. McKay’s car? Could it be connected to the attack on Robert and Howard?

  THREE

  Yet another benefit of living in a small town—police make it in record time. Back in Philly he’d have been waiting at least thirty minutes to an hour. Here, it only took ten minutes from the time he placed the call for the sheriff’s car to squeal to a stop beside his.

  McGruder ambled toward him, toting a flashlight despite the streetlight’s bright glare. “Is this all the damage, Mr. McKay?”

  “All that I noticed.” Clark frowned. “You think there could be more?”

  “Couldn’t rightly say.” The sheriff shrugged. “I called for a tow truck. Once I’m done collecting evidence, he’ll tote it over to the auto shop and have the mechanic check it out.”

  The tow truck arrived just a minute later.

  McGruder looked at Clark. “I’ll file a report and get out here when it’s daylight to take some scene pictures.”

  Guess that was the best he could hope for. “I appreciate that, Sheriff.”

  “Need a ride back to town?”

  Somehow, the idea of riding in the cruiser with McGruder was akin to visiting a dentist for a root canal. “Actually, I hoped the tow shop might also rent cars.”

  “We do. I can bring you back with me to pick one up,” the tow truck operator, who had the name Fred stitched to the front pocket of his uniform, said as he completed securing Clark’s car.

  “Then I’ll find you tomorrow after I write up my report.” McGruder turned to Fred again. “Tell Lou I need a report if he finds any other tampering.”

  “Will do, Sheriff.” Fred nodded to Clark. “You ready?”

  Clark climbed into the passenger’s side of the tow truck. The whole business had been concluded in less than twenty minutes. At least something was going his way. His stomach rumbled. As soon as he grabbed the rental car, he’d find something in town to eat. It’d been a long day.

  And it wasn’t over yet.

  Gabby pushed back the empty pie plate and lifted her coffee cup. “Man, Ms. Minnie outdid herself with that one.”

  “It was good. I’m too full to move.” Rayne shoved her plate to the center of the table.

  “Good thing I have some time before my show. Need to let this food settle.”

  “I don’t want to wait too long, though. I need to take the sandwich to Amber.”

  The waitress came over and topped off their cups as patrons came and went. Gabby glanced around the diner and froze as her gaze collided with that of Mr. Clark McKay’s.

  “He’s here,” she whispered.

  “Who?” Rayne flicked her glance around the diner.

  “Shh. Don’t look. Mr. McKay.”

  Rayne ignored Gabby’s instructions and peered about.

  He stared, studying Gabby as she took a sip. She reminded herself that she shouldn’t like his attention. It didn’t matter how attractive she found him, gawking at her was just plain tacky. And the quickening of her traitorous heart aggravated her all the more.

  Carol Ann, the waitress, sauntered over to his table, her hips revealing curves which were more attractive on a woman ten years younger. “Honey, what can I get you?” Her voice floated across the diner.

  Gabby ground her teeth—could Carol Ann be more obvious? Her north-of-the-Mason-Dixon-Line roots showed. Almost as glaringly as her black roots against her platinum-blond hair.

  “Uh, coffee, I guess. And a meat loaf sandwich,” he mumbled to Carol Ann, but his gaze remained glued to Gabby. The waitress let out a loud huff and moved back toward the counter.

  Just a minute later, Carol Ann returned to his table with his order. “How about a piece of pie? Ms. Minnie’s pecan pie is famous down in these parts.”

  “Yes, fine. That will do.” His voice reverberated through the diner.

  The waitress smiled again, batting the eyelashes that were as fake as the Botox injections around her eyes, and strutted away.

  “It may be tasteless,” Rayne said with a smile on her rosebud lips, “but the man is handsome as all get-out, Gab.”

  She cut her gaze to him just as Carol Ann placed his pie in front of him. “If you don’t like that, honey, you let me know and it’s on the house.”

  He nodded, sparing a brief glance at her before darting his focus back on Gabby. What was his deal? Every nerve in her body seemed to be on full alert.

  Suddenly, he shoved to his feet. Tall, the man stood well over six feet. And the muscle tone in those wide shoulders? Land sakes, he looked like some modern-day Adonis. Gabby had the overwhelming urge to fan herself.

  He paused two steps from her table, his earnest stare pinning her to the spot. Time stood still. After taking the remaining strides to hover at the table, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee.” He didn’t address either woman in particular, but hi
s gaze remained only on Gabby.

  He was as handsome as Blake, which automatically made her worry. She wouldn’t let attraction put her heart at risk again. Her tongue tied.

  Rayne’s did not. “I see someone I need to talk to, but Gabby’s free. Isn’t that right, Gabby?”

  “I’d really like to discuss a few things with you, if you don’t mind,” Clark said.

  Rayne’s elbow dug sharply into Gabby’s side, combined with a glare. Gabby sighed and shoved to her feet. Maybe this was her chance to learn what he was really after. He was a man—he had to be after something. And she did want to learn more about his vandalism issue. “I can join you if you’d like.”

  He smiled slowly and nodded mutely. He waved her in front of him and then pulled out the vacant chair at his table for her. Carol Ann appeared as soon as he slipped into his seat. After she refilled his cup while she stared at him, nearly pouring coffee on his hand, she made a quick exit. He smiled across the table. “I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

  Gabby gave a slight tilt of her head. “Did we?”

  “I think so.” He let out a sigh and steepled his hands. “I believe you were shocked I’d purchased KLUV.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Is it such a bad thing?”

  Oh, his smile was deadly. Men with such disarming smiles ought to have permits for them. She focused on keeping her voice even. “You tell me. Why would an outsider be interested in a station in Mystique, Mississippi, of all places?”

  “I was looking for a slower pace of living and liked Mystique from when I visited my great-aunt. I moved here from Philly.” He took a bite of the pecan pie.

  “What’re you doing so far south?” A Yankee, that would explain the staring.

  “I wanted to get away from the rat race and decided to move closer to my aunt.” He smiled that killer grin again. “Mystique seems to suit me just fine.”

  She traced the cup’s lip, choosing her next words carefully. Maybe she needed to be more direct if she wanted him to share his agenda. “Mystique’s sure a long way from Philadelphia, Mr. McKay. Strange someone would just up and buy a business here without having stayed here for a spell. You haven’t stayed here long before, have you?”

  The smile jerked firmly back in place, hiding whatever true emotions lurked behind his gold-flecked eyes. “I’ve visited my aunt a lot over the years, but only a long weekend here and there.” He slipped the final bite of pie between his lips.

  “Mystique’s not a hopping town, that’s for sure.” She leaned forward a fraction of an inch. “Though I’d imagine a Yankee such as yourself would have lots of plans for how to fix that.”

  He sat back in his chair, smiling and staring at her. Mr. Clark McKay was one cool customer. Maybe she needed to be blunt.

  She smiled across the table. “Tell me, Yankee, what sparks your interest in KLUV?”

  Shock marched across his face. He cleared his throat. “Like I said, I want to make Mystique my home.”

  “Doesn’t explain your interest in the station.”

  “True. But I have a journalism background.”

  Like Blake. Fire burned in her belly. “And that qualifies you to run a station?”

  He grinned. “No, but I used to own an independent newspaper. They’re pretty similar.”

  Finally, a little background. “I suppose.” Gabby rested her chin in her hands and decided to see how forthcoming he’d be on another topic. “Sheriff McGruder was here when he got the call about your car.”

  A cloud dropped over his face. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “The dispatcher said there was spray paint involved.”

  He nodded. “Yes. Apparently someone wanted to send a message.”

  “And just what would that message be?”

  He gave her a wry grin. “Go home, Yankee.”

  Gabby sat back with a thud. “Any idea who’d do such a thing? And why?”

  “I don’t really know anybody in Mystique yet, outside of Aunt Beulah’s friends.” He chuckled. “I can’t imagine one of them stocking up on spray paint.”

  “Probably not.” She grinned and lifted a casual shoulder. Time to return to her main concern. “So, what do you think of KLUV?”

  “Looks like a solid investment.” He wadded up his napkin and set it on his empty plate. “I think it has a lot of potential.”

  A lot of potential? Gabby’s stomach threatened to reverse the supper she’d just devoured. That phrase usually meant big changes. Something she couldn’t fathom happening. “I think we’re doing pretty well.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m merely stating it could do better.”

  A big-city man changing everything…hadn’t she learned not to trust men like him? “So, is this what you wanted to discuss with me? KLUV doing better?”

  “No. Right now, I think it’s appropriate to make an announcement of the sale. I want you to help with that.”

  “You kinda did. At the station.” After they’d found Howard and Robert. She blinked back her tears.

  “I meant publicly.”

  The tears dissipated completely. “As in?”

  “On the air.”

  Her stomach knotted. “Do you think that’s smart? I mean, right now? While Robert’s in the hospital and Howard’s…”

  “I think it’s the perfect time.” He tented his hands over the table. “We don’t want to lose any advertisers or supporters, wondering what will happen to the station if Mr. Ellison is incapacitated in the hospital.”

  “I see.” The knot in her gut tightened.

  He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. Heat trailed up her arm. She tucked her hand into her lap. A frown marred his handsome face. “Understand I have to look out for the business. Mr. Ellison would do the same.”

  She plastered on a smile, knowing Robert would do no such thing. “I understand.” He was her boss. She didn’t have to agree with him. She just had to do what he said. “When would you like to make the announcement?”

  “I was thinking tonight. Maybe around eight. After the news and weather update.”

  “Fine. I’ll come in a little early.”

  Before he could reply, Rayne stood beside the table. “Gab, I’ve got to take this sandwich by the hospital and get back to work. You ready?”

  “Yeah, I’ll meet you at the truck.” She drew to her feet in one fluid motion. “Thank you for the coffee. I’ll see you at the station whenever you’re ready.” She turned and headed out the door, lifting her hand to wave as she passed the remaining townies on her way to the door.

  Digging into her purse for her keys, her mind argued with her heart. Clark McKay was trouble with a capital T, just like Blake Riggsdale. So why did her heart continue to thump like a Jamaican melody in her chest?

  Clark’s attention focused on the intriguing woman until he could no longer see her from the window, then remained there on the off chance she’d return for a last, parting look.

  She didn’t.

  With a sigh, he stood and ambled to the counter.

  “She’s a sweetheart, that Gabby.”

  Clark jerked his gaze from the window to study the white-haired woman watching him from behind the counter.

  “My name’s Minnie,” she said as an introduction, stuffing a handkerchief back into the bodice of her flower-print dress. “That Gabby, she’s something special.”

  “She sure is.” He whispered the words, but it didn’t matter. He spoke more to himself than to the proprietor of the diner.

  He handed his bill to the older lady. She rang him up on the antique register. “You that new owner of the house on Bridges Street, aren’t ya? Beulah’s nephew?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And I heard tell today that you’d bought KLUV from Robert.”

  Clark bit back a smile. Maybe the announcement wasn’t as necessary as he’d thought. It seemed like small-town gossip got the word out pretty fast with or w
ithout his help. Just like Eric had warned. “That’s right,” he said.

  “Such a tragedy,” she replied with a sigh. “Both of the owners getting attacked like that today.”

  “Both?”

  “Robert and Howard.”

  “Howard was an owner of KLUV?” Only Robert’s name had been on the paperwork.

  “Oh, yes.” She gave him his change. “Right up until a few months ago.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Oh, there was quite a to-do.” Minnie spun out her tale with Southern flair. “Right here in this very café. Robert said he wanted to sell the station and Howard—” she paused, patting herself “—Howard disagreed. So Robert said he’d buy him out. Which I suppose he did, if Robert’s sold the station to you. Strange thing, though—lots of strange things. The sale, those awful attacks, Robert and Howard quarreling when I’ve never known either man to have a harsh word for anyone.” She shook her head. “You be careful over there, young man. There’s something wrong there, mark my words.”

  After handing over a five for the tip, Clark nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I sure will.”

  He made a swift getaway, and slipped into his car, realizing she was right. There was something wrong. A big part of him wanted to ignore it. He was sick to death of scandal and accusations and uncovering truths ruthless people would go to great lengths to keep covered. He’d come to Mystique to slow down, to relax. And yet…once a newsman, always a newsman. And that newsman instinct was telling him that he couldn’t let this drop, couldn’t walk away before he’d learned what was really going on.

  Life in Mystique might turn out to be a lot more exciting than he’d thought.

  FOUR

  Gabby glanced at Mr. McKay, headphones settled over his ears. It was five minutes till eight when he’d shown up, ready to make the big announcement. That she was less than enthusiastic shouldn’t come across in her voice.

  This was her job. Mr. McKay was her boss, no matter how much the idea bothered her.