Chapter 10

Judd took his time getting back to the station, making a detour to talk with Tyler. The red paint hadn't come from Edison Hardware, which meant it had been purchased out of town or by someone else well prior to Jebediah's release from prison.

How much planning had gone into this? Her father would have needed to find out where she worked - not that difficult to guess when the library had been one of her safe spaces growing up. Books had always been her escape, so that in and of itself wasn't a stretch to imagine. But knowing her pen name? That was the part that made no sense. How would Jebediah have found that out in prison when Judd himself hadn't known as part of her everyday life?

In the back of his mind, he could admit to a little hurt over that. Why hadn't Autumn trusted him? How could she possibly believe he wouldn't support her in this? He'd been her biggest cheerleader all their lives. And, hell, it was a relief to know she had something else to fall back on if things at the library continued to worsen. But his hurt could take a backseat to the rest.

The fact was, outing her like this was exactly the kind of psychological warfare Jebediah had specialized in. It made him seem all knowing, all seeing, as if she had no escape. As if he knew all about her perceived "sins." So much of her childhood had been spent in anticipation of what innocuous thing he'd punish her for next in the name of his twisted religion. She'd come so far since then, but Judd had seen her face at the sight of those words scrawled on the wall. Neither of them had forgotten the hatred he'd spewed as he'd been hauled out of the courtroom after his conviction. This would set her back. And the bastard doing it at the library had violated yet another safe space for her. She wouldn't be able to walk in there again without being aware that her father knew exactly where she was. She'd wonder, all day, every day, whether he'd show up and what he'd do when he did.

Judd's blood was at a steady boil by the time he shoved through the doors of Wishful PD. "Report."

Darius fell into step beside him. "Buchanan is in interrogation."

"What's his attitude?"

"Annoyed but cooperative."

"Let him stew a while longer." It was an unabashed power play, but it also gave Judd a chance to gather more information. "Is the rookie back?"

While Darius had hauled Jebediah in for questioning, Corbett Raines had been tasked with reviewing security footage for the motel.

The kid emerged from the back. "Here, Chief."

The title still gave Judd a little hitch but he'd take the clout that went with it. "What did you find?"

"The suspect's car didn't move all night, and he didn't leave his room, except once to get ice."

"Was he in frame the whole time?"

"No. There was a four-minute window where he was off screen."

"Not long enough to get to the library and back, but maybe long enough to meet with somebody," Judd mused.

"Who?" Corbett asked.

"Maybe nobody. Maybe the same somebody who did the actual legwork to torch Autumn's apartment. The fact is, he didn't do this himself. Even if he didn't have physical limitations because of his illness, he's too smart to be this direct. He knows I've got my eye on him, just waiting for him to fuck up in any possible way that violates his parole. So he has to have help. The question is who?"

"Somebody he did time with?" Darius suggested.

"Maybe. Maybe somebody he knew from before. Corbett, dig back in our records and see what you can find about his former associates. Maybe he's looking to reconnect with some people. Darius, contact Parchman and get records of all visitors, phone calls, emails, and mail he had for his entire incarceration."

One dark brow winged up. "That's potentially a lot of records. I don't reckon they're gonna get back to us with that information fast."

"Probably not, but it's an angle. Do what you can. Also, compile a list of any former inmates in town who served time at Parchman while Buchanan was there."

"You got it."

The door opened again and Tyrell Weller strode in. "We already doing this again?"

"Looks like," Judd said equably.

"What is it this time?"

"Vandalism at the library. More harassment of his daughter."

"Surely, he wouldn't be that dumb."

"Oh, he's not. Not directly. I know he wasn't the one who physically did the deed, same as the fire. But somebody's had eyes on Autumn for him, reporting back. I don't for a minute believe he isn't behind all of it."

Tyrell looked skeptical. "You sure about that?"

"Tell me something. Why is he here? Why, when he got out of prison, didn't he go to Lawley or Jackson or the coast or anywhere in the state where people didn't know his name, didn't know what he did? He's gonna have a helluva time finding anybody willing to hire him here to do anything."

"He insisted he needed to come back to Wishful."

"Exactly. Because here he gets a front row seat to the destruction of his daughter's sense of safety. I think it's mighty damned coincidental that the day he gets out of prison, her house burns down. And the day after that, her place of work is vandalized in a way that directly points to the threat he made when he was hauled off to prison. He always used to get a power trip out of controlling and manipulating her. That hasn't changed. He's just having to go about it less directly. Give me enough time, and I'll find the evidence to back up my gut."

Tyrell lifted a hand in acquiescence. "All right."

"You want to sit in on the interrogation?"

"Sure."

Jebediah looked up from where he sat in one of the folding chairs, arms crossed, a scowl firmly in place. "Is this really how we're going to do this? You're going to keep coming up with excuses to bring me in and harass me?"

"Well now, that's gonna be up to you. If you stop finding ways to harass your daughter, we can work our way toward live and let live."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe this will refresh your memory." Judd pulled the evidence bag with Autumn's picture in it out of a folder and put it on the table between them. "Oh but you wouldn't have seen the full effect." He added a picture of the entire graffitied wall and watched Jebediah's face.

The older man's eyes narrowed, but there was no flicker of approval, no hint of a smile or recognition. "I didn't do this."

"Oh, I know. But see, all that shit painted on the wall sounds a helluva lot like you, don't you think? It was one of your favorite things to call her when we were growing up."

"Doesn't mean anything."

"See, I disagree. I think it means you've found somebody to do your dirty work for you. Just so you can remind Autumn you're out and could show up at any time."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you want control over her. You always did. That got taken away from you fourteen years ago and you want it back."

"I was a sick man."

"Oh? Is that what you're telling yourself? It was sickness that made you beat your wife and daughter? Sickness that had you going after her with a gun to keep her from leaving you, too?" Judd had meant to keep his tone bland and uninterested, but by the end he was growling.

Jebediah's eyes flared with something. Temper? Triumph? It was gone before Judd could read him.

"I've been rehabilitated. The state says so."

"No. The state says you're old and sick and less likely to cause problems than a lot of other offenders that need to be locked up more than you. But I know better, and I won't underestimate you."

"You're starting to sound like a broken record, Chief. Maybe if you made a recording of all your threats, I could listen to it on a daily basis and save us both some time."

"Oh, but why wouldn't I want to make sure you run out of yours?"

Jebediah looked to Tyrell. "Are you hearing this? For all we know, he's doing this stuff himself in the name of framing me."

Even as the insult whipped through him, Judd snorted. "Oh, you can be sure that if I were unethical enough to try to frame you for something, it wouldn't be with all this circumstantial bullshit. You'd be caught, ironclad, and we wouldn't be having these conversations."

The phone in Judd's pocket vibrated. He pulled it out to find a text from Autumn.

We were wrong. There's more. I need you. She followed it up with a GIF of a dumpster fire.

That sure as hell wasn't good. What had he missed on his search through the library this morning?

Shoving the phone back into his pocket, Judd rose, gathering the evidence. "You're free to go, for now. Be looking out for one of my officers to serve a restraining order in the next couple of days." It would take time to get the permanent one in place, but he'd get it done, if he had to corner Judge Carpenter himself.

Without a backward glance, he strode out of the room and went to see what shape the next phase of this shit show of a day would take.

* * *

"We're going to have to go through every book," Autumn hissed, frantically pulling children's books off the shelf in front of her and shaking each one to check for loose paper. They'd found half a dozen already.

"It'll be okay. We'll get it done. Riley will come help after work. As long as nobody tells - "

"Autumn!" Mitzi's shriek cut through the hushed atmosphere like a serrated blade.

Autumn squeezed her eyes shut. "Too late." Praying for some fortitude and a miracle, she replaced the book in her hand and pivoted to face the library director. "Yes, ma'am?"

Mitzi held a sheet of paper in her hand. The pinched expression and vaguely puce shade of her face was confirmation enough of what it was. "What is the meaning of this?"

What the hell could Autumn even say? I can explain. She couldn't. Not really. The idea of spilling out her personal business, trying to tell her boss how her father was determined to ruin her life, made her vaguely ill.

"I don't know. Someone is playing a very not funny prank."

"Someone? It's your name on these."

"I - "

"Excuse me." Liza Keeney smiled, a sheet of paper in her own hand. "I just wondered if y'all had this book available for checkout?"

Under other circumstances, Autumn might have laughed at the choked noise coming from her boss. But there was nothing at all funny about the current situation. "No. I'm afraid not."

"Where can I find it?"

Did people not understand how to privately google titles or search on Amazon? Autumn swallowed. "Any online ebook retailer."

Liza grinned. "Can't wait. I can't believe I know an author." She gave a happy bounce as she strode away.

Mitzi waved the paper. "These don't just have your name on them. You wrote them." She said it as if writing romance was akin to sowing seeds of the worst kind of sedition. To someone like Mitzi, it probably was.

Sick of the moralistic judgment, Autumn squared her shoulders. "They are excerpts from books I wrote, yes. But I did not do this."

Mitzi's gaze fell to the small stack at Autumn's feet and went back to the books. Her voice dropped dangerously low. "These are in the children's section?"

"Apparently. Livia and I are taking care of it."

Her nostrils flared. "In my office. Now!"

"With all due respect, we need to finish going through - "

"Now!"

Wonderful. I've lost my home, and now I'm probably going to lose my job.

She trailed her boss up the stairs to the office.

"Explain yourself," Mitzi demanded.

"What exactly do you want me to explain? Am I writing? Yes. I had to do something to make ends meet when my hours got cut. But I did it under a pen name, and I told no one here about it. I've done absolutely nothing wrong."

"You're telling me this," she slapped the paper on her desk, "isn't some kind of a publicity stunt?"

The accusation sent Autumn's temper soaring. It took three long breaths to reel it in enough she could speak. "I did not do this," she repeated. "Why would I? I'm well aware of how you feel about romance as a genre. Why would I do anything to imperil my position here? That makes absolutely no sense."

"I found this on the copy machine. Someone made these copies right here. If you didn't do it, then who did?"

"I don't know. Probably the same person who broke in here to vandalize the place last night. The one who posted a picture of me and outed me about my pen name on the bulletin board where everyone could see. This was an attack on me. Just like the arson on my house. Or are you going to accuse me of doing that, too, as some kind of a cry for attention?"

"Everything okay here?" The sound of Judd's voice caused a few knots to loosen before Autumn remembered why he was here.

Striving for calm, she turned toward him. "It seems last night's vandal also decided to make use of the copier. A number of...explicit passages...were printed and randomly inserted into books throughout the library."

Something flickered in his eyes at "explicit," but he remained professional. "It's likely our perp wore gloves doing that, too, but I'll check for prints. I'll need copies of the pages."

Of course he would. "I'll get them for you. If you're finished with me?" She looked back at Mitzi, who looked at least a little abashed.

"Yes, for now. We've got a couple of our volunteers coming in this afternoon. Let them man the desk while you and Livia search the stacks."

"Yes, ma'am."

Judd caught her eye as she strode toward the door, and she recognized the question there. Are you okay?

Not even a little bit.

He frowned as she scurried past. The door shut behind her and she heard the rumble of his voice as she hit the stairs. She told herself she didn't care what he was saying to Mitzi. That it didn't matter what he was sharing to try to protect her. But it was a lie. Her personal business was spreading through town. It was only a matter of time before this went beyond gossip and into the actual media, and every hope of privacy she had would be lost.

"What happened?" Livia whispered. "Did she fire you?"

"Not yet. But if this keeps up, I wouldn't put it past her. How far did you get?"

She pointed to a shelf, and Autumn automatically moved to continue.

"I've got to give the stack to Judd."

"Seriously?"

"They're evidence." Not that she was under any delusion that they'd lead him to who'd done this. It was just another way to undermine her and destroy the life she'd made for herself.

They'd found three more by the time Judd joined them in the children's section.

"Well, that's a wrinkle. Sorry about all this."

"Not your fault." Autumn reached for the next book, shook it, put it back.

"Firefly." He gripped her hand, tried to turn her to face him.

"Please don't," she whispered. Tears of frustration and sheer mortification were threatening to choke her, and if he held her, did anything to comfort her, she was going to break. There was too much work to do for that.

"Do you want us to save all the ones we find?" Livia asked.

"If we don't find prints on these, we probably won't find them on the rest. But hang on to them for a bit just in case."

Autumn just nodded and reached for the pile. She couldn't look him in the eye as she handed it over. All her heroes were Judd in some form, but these scenes in particular were from her first book, the one that was most obviously him. Now he was going to read them - out of context - which was somehow worse. And it was going to force the conversation she wasn't yet ready to have because she hadn't figured out how to approach the whole thing. She didn't know how that conversation would go, didn't know how he would react. Either way, time was running out.

Judd took the papers. "I won't bring anyone else in unless I have to."

"Okay."

He waited, but what else was she going to say?

"What time do you get off today?"

"It doesn't matter. I'll be here well after hours going through every book in the building, looking for more."

"Not alone?"

"I'll be here," Livia promised. "And Riley's coming to help when she can."

"All right. I'll be by when I'm finished for the day, and we'll head home."

She nodded, still looking at his shoes.

Judd chucked her under the chin, tipping her face up toward his. "It's going to be okay."

"How will it?"

"I don't know. It's a mystery." Even his crooked grin and a quote of one of her favorite lines from Shakespeare In Love couldn't drag a smile out of her.

"You've got work to do, Chief. And so do I."

He dropped his hand and stepped back. "I'll see you in a few hours."

Livia waited until he'd walked out. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I really don't. Let's just get this done."