Free Blackmail by Robin Caroll Page A

he’d be able to hang on. The long hours and stress explained her atrocious appearance this midmorning.
    Buzzzzzzzz!
    â€œI’m coming.” Sadie rushed down the hall, smoothing her blouse as she did. She gripped the knob and flung open the front door.
    Nobody.
    She stepped onto the porch, looking up and down the sidewalk along the road. Nary a person in sight. Odd, very odd. She turned to go back inside when she spied a white envelope on the rug in front of the door.
    An envelope with her name written in bold, black, block letters.
    Bile rose into the back of her throat. She snatched the envelope, glancing over her shoulder. Still no one in sight.
    Sadie hurried back into the house, slamming the door behind her. Her hands trembled as she turned the dead bolt. With herback against the wall, she slid down into a crumpled heap on the floor, clutching the envelope.
    No chance they’d forgotten about her. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to regulate her breathing.
    Better to get it over with than prolong the agony.
    She slit open the envelope and pulled out the paper. Her heartbeat escalated as she read.
    BACK OFF YOUR INVESTIGATION INTO THE DAMAGE HAPPENING AT VERMILION OIL IMME DIATELY, OR YOUR BROTHER’S BODY WILL BE FOUND IN THE BAYOU. DON’T GO TO THE POLICE. WE ARE WATCHING YOU.
    She let the letter drift to the floor. She couldn’t do this alone. Not anymore. But who to turn to?
    Not the police. No, she’d been hassled by them too often in her past. And Caleb was right—they’d probably pull him into child protective services and send him to a foster home. Besides, the letter told her not to go to the police. And it also said they were watching her.
    Shivers rippled over her body.
    But if she didn’t go to the police what would happen to Caleb?
    Tears escaped down her cheeks. Just when happiness and hope had bloomed, this letter had to come and drown them out with fear and loathing.
    She needed someone she could talk to, someone who was official, but not in law enforcement—just in case someone tried to take Caleb from her. Who would believe her? She couldn’t involve Pastor Bertrand—he and his family had been through enough in the past several months. She couldn’t talk to Georgia—how could she involve her friend?
    Jon Garrison’s image flitted across her befuddled mind.
    Could he help her? He had resources. He had to protectCaleb, right? Would he honor the demand and not go to the police? Was she confusing her own personal feelings toward him with his position?
    Was she willing to take that chance?
    Â 
    â€œYou got the report from Terrebonne juvie.” Lisa smiled at him from the doorway of his office. “Pretty fast, considering. It just came by FedEx.”
    â€œFedEx, huh? And the state won’t let me use anything but the good ol’ United States Postal Service.” Jon shook his head and took the envelope from Lisa. “Thanks.”
    â€œNo problem.” She hesitated at the door. “I’m going to lunch. Want me to pick you up anything?”
    â€œNo, thanks. I’ll grab something later.”
    She shrugged and left without further conversation.
    Jon ripped open the envelope and withdrew a folder. He’d only tossed the packaging into the trash when his outer office door slammed.
    â€œMr. Garrison?”
    He stood and moved from behind his desk.
    Sheriff Theriot and two men in suits lumbered in the doorway.
    â€œMay I help you?”
    The sheriff gestured to the men. “These are Special Agents Ward and Lockwood with the FBI.”
    He nodded at the men. “The FBI? To what do I owe the honor?”
    Agent Ward had a large bald spot that glistened under the lowwattage overhead lights. “We need a list of all parolees and those on probation in the area with a history of violence. Also, any who ever worked for Vermilion Oil.”
    â€œAnd any who