A Penny for Your Thoughts Read Free Page A

she tried to form some coherent thoughts.
    Excuse me, someone just called me and said they were going to kill me. Ummm...yes, the phone number belonged to my boss in Michigan. No, he says he didn’t make the call. How do I know it wasn’t him? Well, because I know him...that’s all. He wouldn’t do something like that.
    She rolled her eyes and grimaced. Oh, yeah! That was going to go over well. She pulled into the small parking lot of the Gulf Shores police station and entered the thick glass double doors of the one-story red brick building. A young African-American woman in a sharply creased, dark blue uniform rose from a desk directly behind the counter.
    “Can I help you, ma’am?” she asked. Her sleek black hair, pulled back in a small chignon, emphasized high cheekbones and the almond shape of her dark eyes.
    “Well, yes. I was wondering...” Penny hadn’t really come up with an intelligent premise for her report. “Ummm...”
    “Yes, ma’am?” Officer Jenkins, whose name tag identified her, waited patiently with raised brows.
    “Uh, well, I’m staying down here for the winter. You know, one of those dreaded snowbirds...” Penny attempted a chuckle, but Officer Jenkins did nothing to encourage inconsequential humor, offering only a polite smile. “Well, the thing is...I just got an anonymous threatening phone call on my cell phone.”
    Officer Jenkins reached for a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen.
    “What was the nature of the threat, ma’am?”
    Penny’s face flamed. “Well, he said he was going to...ummm...kill me.”
    Officer Jenkins’ large dark eyes shot up from her pad of paper. She alerted, almost as if her ears actually pricked up.
    “I’m sure it’s nothing. But my boss insisted I call the police.” Penny shuffled nervously. What could the police do? Trace the call? Look up her phone records, as she’d seen on TV? To Tim’s number? She wished she’d never come in.
    “Yes, ma’am. You should make a report. Come around inside and have a seat. I’ll have you fill out a statement.”
    Penny’s shoulders sagged. It seemed she’d filled out more than her fair share of statements....just a few short months ago.
    She moved past the counter and pushed open a solid blue metal door as the young policewoman buzzed her in. Officer Jenkins pulled out a utilitarian blue acrylic chair, and Penny lowered herself heavily into it. What if they checked her records? Would her name come up in relation to Jerry’s suicide? She couldn’t bear to face the curious stares once again, the reports in the newspaper bandying her name about. How that information had been released to the public, she’d never know. It violated the standards of confidentiality--even after Jerry died.
    Officer Jenkins took a seat behind the desk and leaned her long-sleeved arms on the surface.
    “So, can you tell me exactly what the caller said?”
    Penny swallowed hard. “I answered the phone and someone...a male...I didn’t recognize his voice, but it was deep...said ‘Hello, Penny.’ When I asked who it was, he said...” Penny took a deep breath to steady her voice. Moisture broke out on her upper lip again. “‘You want to know who this is? I’m the guy who’s going to kill you.’” She gave her head a quick shake. “Or something like that. All of a sudden, I can’t remember his exact words.” Penny exhaled and slumped in her chair.
    “I see,” Officer Jenkins said. She dropped her eyebrows and resumed a professional expression. “And you say you didn’t recognize the voice?”
    Penny shook her head.
    “Do you still have the number? Do you have your phone with you? May I see it?”
    Penny nodded and dragged the phone from her pocket. She laid it on the desk.
    “I called the number back, and it was my boss’s cell phone. He’s in Michigan. But he says he didn’t call, and I believe him. He wouldn’t do something like that. He’s a mental health therapist. He wouldn’t...” She stared at the phone