Free Cold Hearts by Sharon Sala

unaware she was crying.
    “No. I have no idea.”
    Lonnie kept firing questions. “How long has this been going on?”
    She shivered. “Almost a month.”
    “Can you elaborate on what’s happened?”
    She did, telling him about the progression of phone calls, the frightening innuendos that had turned into stalking, ending with what happened tonight.
    “I wasn’t asleep,” she added. “Today has been a nightmare, and I couldn’t close my eyes without—”
    She stopped in midsentence, remembering who else was in the room. She might resent him for the way they had parted company years ago, but she knew he was hurting for what he’d lost, and it was all her fault. She couldn’t face him and see the accusation in his eyes.
    Lonnie inserted a quick question to shift the focus.
    “Have you been having problems with any of your students?” he asked.
    Lissa was startled by the question, and for the first time reacted without thinking.
    “No, of course not! My students are six-year-old children. Whoever’s been calling me is a grown man.”
    Lonnie tried another angle. “What about parents? Have you had any run-ins with them?”
    Lissa shook her head. “No. My life was fine, unexciting, but fine until the phone calls began. And now this.” She pointed toward the porch. “How do I take that? Is this a direct threat aimed at me, or just an ugly reminder that I caused a man’s death?”
    At that point, Mack could remain silent no longer.
    “That’s bullshit, Lissa. You didn’t cause anything. That could have been anyone’s car. It happened. You didn’t have a damn thing to do with it.”
    “But it
wasn’t
anyone’s car. It was mine,” she said, and then began to sob.
    Mack had never been able to hear her cry, and now he got up and walked toward the kitchen to keep from taking her in his arms. He hurt for what she was going through, and for himself. And he knew something she didn’t. His dad’s death might turn out to have been a murder, which should free her conscience of any culpability.
    Lonnie could see she was too upset to continue and stopped the recording before slipping the phone back in his pocket.
    “I’m sorry this is happening, and while we don’t have much to go on, maybe we’ll get lucky and pull a print from the...evidence,” he said. “In the meantime, I would suggest you put up some security cameras. That might be the fastest way to identify your stalker. And remember, we’re only a phone call away. In the meantime, I’ll let myself out.”
    And then they were alone.
    Lissa began wiping at her tear-streaked face as Mack walked back into the room. She didn’t want him to see her tears, so she looked at the floor between his feet.
    The past ten years looked damn good on her, Mack thought. She wasn’t any taller, but the wide-eyed innocence of childhood was gone from her face, leaving her with a sultry pout to her lips and those sleepy green bedroom eyes. The flannel pig pajamas were more tease than cover, her bare feet a reminder of the bare body he’d once known as well as his own.
    “How does this work?” he asked.
    The question surprised her. The last time she’d seen him, nearly ten years ago, he’d been so enraged she didn’t think he would even want to be in the same room with her, let alone act as if nothing was wrong.
    “It doesn’t,” she said.
    “Will you let me help with the security system?”
    She shrugged. “If you mean you know someone who can install it, I would appreciate a name.”
    She’d shut down, and he felt it. Even more, he got it and knew it had nothing to do with his father’s death.
    “Then, I’ll be in touch. I am sorry about what’s happening to you.”
    Lissa strode to the front door with as much confidence as she could muster, then opened the door and stepped aside.
    “And I am so very sorry for your loss,” she said softly.
    Mack sighed. She was staring at the floor, refusing to meet his gaze. He got the message. He walked outside and