“That, coupled with the fact I know the FBI trained him to defend himself, I choose to trust him to be safe. And because Ilove him, I don’t tell him how many nights I’ve spent waiting by the phone when he’s supposed to call and can’t. Things come up often in his line of work. But I know he’s doing important things out there. And a little therapy never hurt anyone.” She opened a bag of potato chips, placing a handful on her plate and offering Maggie the bag. “Bad guys don’t take holidays, and my son is my hero.”
She smiled, taking her own handful of chips and laying them on her plate. “That’s a really nice way of looking at it.” She let the salty crunch take over, her mind absorbing Deb’s words. Therapy would be nice; there had been therapists at the non-profit who had helped her initially, but they always recommended getting someone else long-term. But until she got off Sean’s health insurance, it wasn’t possible without him knowing about it.
Once the divorce was final, she’d look into it.
“Tablesixteen,orderup!”Luke called out the last of the lunch rush as he hefted the plates onto the pass-through. Maggie swept by and picked them up with a wink as he blew her a kiss.
Yes, he was in deep. No, he hadn’t figured out what he was going to do about it.
He still had time.
Cliff, the mail carrier, knocked on the back door, despite it being open to let the heat of the kitchen out. “Hey, Luke.”
“Afternoon, Cliff. What have you got for us?”
He handed over the mail, a small pile of envelopes he’d take home to Mom later. But there was one addressed to Maggie again: a large manilla envelope about an inch thick.
His instincts screamed at him. Something wasn’t right.
He nodded this thanks to Cliff and poked his head through the swinging door to the dining room. “Maggie? Can you come here when you get a sec?”
She looked up from pouring coffee for Mr. Roberts and nodded. Luke ducked back into the kitchen and tucked the other envelopes away to give to Mom later.
Maggie met him in the kitchen, her forehead creased with concern. “What is it, Luke?”
He hesitated, holding the thick envelope with its chicken-scratch address close. “There’s another piece of mail addressed to you.”
The color drained from her face. “Damn it.” She covered her face with her hands and took several deep breaths. Then she lifted her head and pulled out her phone. “I’m calling MacDonald.”
“Good plan.” Her phone call didn’t take long, and MacDonald appeared at the back door in only a few minutes.
“It’s nice to get some walking in.” Her attempt at a joke fell flat, and she watched Maggie with a kind look on her face. “Why don’t we see what they sent you?”
Luke flipped the envelope out so it faced up, and Maggie’s eyes widened. “I know that handwriting…” Everything in the kitchen fell away, and there was nothing but Maggie, and that goddamned envelope. Her hand trembled as she took it from him, shaking so badly it took three tries to open it. The envelope fell to the floor and MacDonald snapped gloves over her hands, then bent over to pick it up and place it in the evidence bag she’d brought with her. Maggie unfolded a thick wad of paper, and held them up to her face. Three bullet holes pierced the papers, giving him a view of the tear streaking down her cheek. A sharp inhale preceded the pained whine from her throat.
His entire being vibrated with the need to go to her. But something told him to tread carefully.
Luke approached the woman he’d come to think of as his and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Maggie didn’t respond to his touch, her gaze frozen to the papers in her hand. She wasn’t hiding them, so he looked.
Not only had whoever sent this shot it with a gun, they’d written on it in red marker. “Til Death Do Us Part, Margaret,” scrawled across a bunch of official-looking text, and the title of the document?
Petition of Divorce.
Luke’s stomach sank and his pulse pounded in his ears. Maggie wasmarried?
The floor might as well have dropped out from under him. His throat tightened so much he thought he’d choke on air. Luke considered himself an honorable person, and he would never knowingly hit on a married woman. Much less sleep with one. Maggie became his anchor to the world around them. Why hadn’t she said anything?
“Mag…Maggie?”
“He… he found me.”
The terror in her shaky voice brought Luke’s attention back to her. Her free hand gripped his forearm hard enough to leave bruises that matched the ones on his soul.
MacDonald gently pried the papers away from Maggie, placing them in her evidence bag. “I’ll take these in, Maggie, and we’ll be in contact with the Oklahoma City precinct. This is another clear violation of the protection order.” She sealed the bag and tucked it into a satchel at her hip, then carefully pried the nitrile gloves off. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Maggie groped in her apron for her phone. “I need to call my lawyer.”
“If you have her information, I’m happy to send her a copy of our full report on what’s been going on.”
