Dead By Midnight by Beverly Barton

it.”
    â€œThen feel free to proceed. And if while Griffin and Nicole are away, you require anything else, simply let me know.”
    â€œYes, thanks. I will.”
    â€œGood day, Maleah,” Sanders said, ever the courteous if somewhat stern gentleman.
    Â 
    Lorie had changed clothes four times that morning. The routine of bathing, doing her hair, applying makeup, and dressing usually took about an hour, less if she hurried. But today it had taken her two hours. When she had put on the first outfit and checked herself in the mirror, all she had seen was how large her breasts looked in the clingy yellow cashmere sweater, a Christmas present from Cathy and Jack this past year. She certainly didn’t want Mike to accuse her of using her sexuality to gain attention or, God forbid, to entice any of his deputies. The second outfit had gone too far in the opposite direction, the long-sleeved, mid-calf-hemmed dress making her look as if she were trying to downplay her attractiveness. Her third attempt had been jeans, the legs tucked into black boots, and a hooded black rhinestone sweatshirt. Too youthful. Mike would think she was trying to look like a teenager. Finally, she had chosen a pair of charcoal dress slacks, a silvery gray silk blouse, and a simple black sweater.
    When she walked into the sheriff’s department, all eyes turned toward her. What was wrong with these people? But she knew that, to a person, all of Mike’s employees either knew firsthand or had heard through local gossip about Mike and her, about their past relationship and the fact that Mike now despised her.
    Her heart raced and moisture coated the palms of her hands. She was so nervous that you’d think she was a criminal who had been caught red-handed. Instead, she was the victim or at the very least, the potential victim.
    A middle-aged female deputy, her brown hair cut short and styled in choppy disarray, approached Lorie, a noncommittal expression on her face, neither smiling nor frowning.
    â€œGood morning, Ms. Hammonds. I’m Deputy Ladner. The sheriff has assigned me to take your statement.”
    Lorie nodded and offered the woman a hesitant smile, which was not reciprocated. Instead the deputy said, “Come with me, please.”
    As instructed, Lorie followed the woman to what she assumed was the deputy’s workstation. She pulled out a chair for Lorie and motioned for her to sit. Deputy Ladner sat behind her metal desk, picked up a pen and paper, and interrogated Lorie. Or at least that was how Lorie felt, as if she were being given the third degree. Five minutes later, apparently finished, the deputy handed the pen and file form to Lorie.
    â€œIf you’ll sign”—she tapped her finger on the dotted line—“right here, please.”
    Lorie hurriedly read over the form, then signed it and laid it and the pen on the desk. She looked directly at the deputy. “Thank you.”
    When she rose to her feet, the deputy did the same. “You’ll let us know if you receive another letter or a phone call or—”
    â€œYes, of course,” Lorie said. For all the good it will do me. This woman doesn’t believe a word I’ve said. She thinks I made the whole thing up. No doubt Mike told her to do her duty, but warned her not to take me seriously.
    â€œIs Sheriff Birkett in his office?” Lorie asked.
    â€œUh…yes, I believe he is,” Deputy Ladner replied, “but…er…I’m sure he’s busy. Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Hammonds?”
    Without replying, Lorie turned and walked away hurriedly, every step taking her closer to Mike’s closed office door. Just as she reached the half-glass door and could plainly see Mike sitting behind his desk, a cup of coffee in his hand, Deputy Ladner grasped Lorie’s arm.
    She turned and glared at the other woman, who loosened her hold and then dropped her hand away.
    â€œYou can’t