by Jennie Marts
She dug her phone free as Rich finished his slice of pizza and washed it down with a drink of beer.
She didn’t recognize the number but it had a Denver area code. Ignoring Rich, she tapped the phone and quickly read the message.
“It’s Jack. I lost my phone. Had to get a new one. Sorry we got in a fight. Let me make it up to you by buying you an egg roll. Meet me at the Chinese Dragon in fifteen minutes. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Waiting for her? What the hell?
He wanted to buy her an egg roll? And take her out to eat? She didn’t think he even liked Chinese food. And what about the slutty princess? He didn’t even mention her.
But she didn’t care. She’d eat anything—even crow—if it meant there was a chance that she and Jack could work things out.
She sent a quick reply. “OK. See you then.”
A prickle of unease crept up her spine at the unfamiliar number, but her need to see Jack overshadowed the frisson of doubt.
It made sense that he could have easily lost his phone in the mess at the arena. They hadn’t really talked much on the way home, so maybe he just hadn’t had a chance to tell her.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Rich said as he sauntered over and threw an arm around her shoulders.
Shit—she’d forgotten that he was even here.
She couldn’t forget now—not with the way he was pulling her against him, his garlic and beer-scented breath in her face.
“I’m off tomorrow too so we’ve got all night to catch up on old times.” He grinned down at her, offering her a lecherous wink as he slid his hand past her waist to cup her butt.
“Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m still with Jack.” She tried to wiggle free of his grasp, but the guy was strong, his arms thick and meaty.
“That nerd?” he scoffed, still not letting her go. “Why are you wasting your time on him? Besides, if he thought you were still together, why would he send me over here to keep you company?”
Twisting her body, she finally broke free of him and grabbed her keys. “He was just busy earlier. I think he had an important meeting. But he’s free now.” She held up her phone. “He just texted me and wants me to meet him for dinner.”
“Dinner? But I brought pizza.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” She grabbed the box and balanced the remaining beer cans on top of it as she passed it to him. If his hands were full, he wouldn’t be able to make a grab for her again. “Maybe we can all get together another time--when Jack’s around. And Owen—we could get the whole gang from the neighborhood.” She walked behind him, guiding him toward the door.
He stopped on the front porch, gazing around in confusion as if he didn’t quite know how he got there. “Look, I can’t just leave you. Not with that creep out there.”
She grabbed her small purse and pulled the door shut behind her. “You’re not. I’m the one that’s leaving. And I’m just driving a few minutes away to meet Jack for dinner. I promise I’ll be fine.”
Jack stepped out of the shower and towel dried his hair.
Kali had finally left, but the scent of her—an odd mix of green apple and patchouli—still lingered in the bathroom. He made a mental note to buy more bleach.
He’d had a thought in the shower and quickly got dressed then sat back down at Murphy’s computer and logged on.
Blaming himself for thinking too broadly, he realized the stalker might not be a sophisticated hacker. He might just have a few skills that could get him access to Murphy’s information.
He’d found tons of information easily enough, and all he’d done was search the social media accounts of the men she’d suspected. It didn’t take a hacker to do that.
Maybe it just took someone who had access to her computer, or her email, someone she trusted.
He could have kicked himself for not thinking of it before. Although he also wouldn’t have thought that Murphy would have fallen for such a simple scam.
Tapping through the screens, he scrolled through her emails and found the evidence he was looking for.
An email from someone she trusted, with the simple subject line of “Check out this funny picture of the two of us.” He probably even included an actual picture of them, but along with the picture attachment, he installed a program of spyware that monitored her activity.
With an effortless search on the internet for script kiddies, he could have easily found a spyware program that allowed him to monitor activity going in and out of this laptop.
Then Carl Cummings, Mr. Messy-Monday-Movie-Night-Creep, would be able to see her emails, her search history, appointments she made or restaurants she searched for. It would be easy to track where she would be.
Now all he had to do was find out if Carl could have been in Denver anytime in the past few weeks.
He wanted to fist pump the air as he clicked back to her Facebook account to look up this guy’s profile, like he was finally in control of something. He was now the hunter, pursuing the one that had caused Murphy so much fear and pain.
Scrolling through his post, he looked for anything to shed some light on why Carl had targeted Murphy—any kind of motive for his actions.
The whole thing seemed off. Why would this guy Carl even be interested in terrorizing or stalking Murphy? Especially if he was gay. If he was, and they really were friends like he’d pretended to be, then it shouldn’t have bothered him that she had found someone else. It didn’t make sense.
He stopped on a picture of Carl standing in the cabin of an airplane. And he was wearing a uniform. The caption read, “Just another day flying through the sunny skies”.
Carl was a flight attendant? Is that why Murphy thought he was gay? Or had it been something else? Because the more Jack scanned through his history, the more worried he became.
Switching to just the pictures, Jack quickly went through, ignoring the single shots but stopping on every picture that had showed Carl in a selfie with a woman. Going all the way to his high school girlfriend, the one who apparently, if the posts were correct, shattered Carl’s heart into a million pieces.
And they all had one thing in common.
Every woman that he casually had an arm around or that he was making duck faces with or was out on a date was tall, athletic, had long blond hair—just like Murphy.
He cringed when he saw the selfie that included Murphy. It was taken in her apartment, and Carl had his arm casually draped around her shoulders.
Going back through, he figured out which airline Carl worked for. It was a popular company, and Jack he knew it frequently had flights in and out of Denver. Switching to the airlines website, he found several flights that, depending on if Carl had worked them, could have easily put him in Denver during the times that Murphy had been victimized.
He jumped up, knocking his chair over in his haste and startling the dog. She ran around his legs as he stuffed his feet into a pair of tennis shoes.
He needed to tell Murphy—to warn her.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack grabbed his keys and flung open his front door.
And almost ran over his mom. She was standing at the door, her fingers curled around the hangers of several plastic-wrapped shirts.
She let out a shriek when he opened the door then clutched her chest with her free hand. “Dear Lord, you scared the heck out of me. What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean? I live here. What are you doing here?”
She held up the stack of shirts, then stepped inside and hung them on the back of his kitchen chair. “I dropped by the cleaners to get your dad’s suit pants and picked up your shirts while I was there. I was just dropping them off.” She searched his face, a concerned expression in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah, why?” Had she already heard about the troubles he was having with Murphy?
“Well, I saw that awful girl getting in the car with Rich a little bit ago, and I was worried that she’d been
up here causing trouble.”
“What awful woman?” Rich was supposed to be with Murphy. Maybe his mom had heard about their break-up. But surely she hadn’t turned on Murph already.
“That horrible Kali.” She looked around his apartment. “I’ll admit, I may have also just wanted to check on your place to make sure she didn’t steal anything.”
“Wait. Kali was getting into a car with Rich? That doesn’t make sense. Rich is supposed to be with Murphy. He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on her.”
A sinking feeling of dread filled him as his mom explained, “That’s what I was trying to tell you before. That’s why I thought you weren’t home—because Rich told me that Murphy was with you.”
“She’s not with me. Why would he think that?”
“He said that he’d brought over a pizza or something but that Murphy had got a text from you and had just left to go meet you for dinner.”
Shit. His heart beat frantically against his chest as he ran a hand roughly across the back of his neck. “Where? Did he say where?”
“No. I’m sorry, honey. I was so distracted with seeing Kali and trying to figure out how the two of them had managed to end up together that I wasn’t paying attention.”
He didn’t give a crap about Rich or Kali or what their connection was—they could have each other for all he cared. His only thought was on Murphy.
“Mom, I didn’t text her.”
Barb’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh no. What should we do? Should I call the police?”
“Not yet.” He ran back to his desk and flipped open her laptop. “We don’t even know where they are, so there’s nothing to tell them.”
He scanned through Murphy’s apps and found the one he was looking for. Clicking on My Messages, he scrolled through the texts—stopping on the most recent ones—the ones that claimed to be from him.
“I know where they are,” he said, as he ran for the door. “I gotta go.”
“Do you want me to call the police? Or your father?”
“No. I’ll call Rich on my way,” he said as he ran down the stairs toward his car. He hated to do it, hated to hear that asshole’s voice. Why the hell would he leave Murphy alone?
But Rich still lived in the neighborhood—he was close by, and he could probably get to Murphy the fastest.
He sped out of the driveway, placing the call through his Bluetooth as he drove, tamping back his anger as the sound of the phone ringing filled his car. He needed to keep it under control, keep his cool. As much as he couldn’t stand the guy, he needed him, needed the police on his side. And he knew Rich would show up. He was an asshole, but the guy was still a pretty good cop.
He gritted his teeth, grimacing as Rich answered the phone. “Richie, you douche. Why did you leave Murphy alone?” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as calm and collected as he thought he was.
“I didn’t leave her. She left me—totally cock-blocked me—just like before.”
What the hell was he talking about? “What do you mean like before?”
“Just like that last summer she was here. I finally had her alone in a closet, and she wouldn’t let me touch her.”
“But you told us that she was all over you.”
Rich let out a laugh. “That was all a bunch of crap. I was a stupid teenager, and I liked fucking with you. You were the only one that believed all that bullshit. She actually told me that she liked you. I didn’t believe her, but hey, I guess it must have been true, because look at you guys now.”
He couldn’t wrap his head around what he was hearing. Nothing had happened in the closet with Rich and Murphy?
His tires squealed as he turned the corner, now within a few blocks of the restaurant. “Listen, I don’t have time to get into all of that now. Murphy’s in danger. I didn’t send her that text. The stalker did. But I know where they are. And I know who he is. She’s meeting him at the Chinese Dragon restaurant. Can you meet me there, and we can finally get this asshole?”
“Hell, yeah. I know the place. I’ll be there in five. Don’t mess with the guy ‘til I get there.”
Jack disconnected the call.
He wasn’t going to argue, but he did plan to mess with the guy. He planned to mess with him right upside his stupid head.
He didn’t care if the guy was bigger or stronger or could punch harder.
He had fury on his side. And this time, he didn’t care if he got hurt.
Jack had been fighting with his brothers his whole life. It’s not like he couldn’t take a punch. And he’d already taken more than one for Murphy.
That didn’t seem to matter now. He had been an idiot before. Getting hit in the face hurt a hell of a lot less than the way his shattered heart had felt all afternoon.
He didn’t care what happened to him. He would do anything to protect her.
It suddenly struck him that he hadn’t thought twice about himself when he’d argued with Kali. And she was a vindictive fighter. But she hadn’t even thrown him. He’d claimed Maggie as his dog and kicked the malicious redhead to the curb.
He hadn’t realized until just now that he’d fought harder to save his dog than he had fought to save his relationship with Murphy.
And why? Because he didn’t think he was physically strong enough? But it didn’t take physical strength to figure out who was stalking Murphy, it took intelligence and cunning and some savvy computer skills.
He didn’t have to have huge muscles to protect her, or even a healthy lung capacity. He could save her using his brain, not his brawn.
His brain, and his stealthy Prius hybrid.
Slowing the car, he could see Murphy standing in the parking lot across from a guy in a hooded jacket.
Assessing the situation, he made a quick turn and approached the parking lot from the darkened alley, the hum of his electric engine practically silent as he pulled to a stop at the side of the restaurant.
He frantically searched the car for a weapon—anything he could use against Carl.
Murphy’s equipment was still in the back of his car. As he grabbed her hockey stick, it seemed fitting that the weapon that he could use to bring them back together also symbolized one of their biggest differences.
The hair on the back of Murphy’s hair stood on end as she stared across the parking lot at the guy in the dark sweatshirt.
On the drive over to the restaurant, her thoughts had been a jumbled mess of replaying the last few days and imagining what she was going to say to Jack when she saw him.
It wasn’t until she got out of the car and started across the deserted parking lot that she realized something wasn’t right.
Then it was too late.
She noticed the neon “Closed” sign in the window of the restaurant just as a man stepped menacingly out of the shadows.
Her flight instinct kicked in, and she wanted to run.
But more than the urgent need to escape, her desire to find out who was stalking her overwhelmed her.
If she just knew who she was fighting against, she might be able to make sense of this and figure out how to stop it.
Her breath caught in her throat as the man stood perfectly still, one hand in his pocket and the other hanging loosely at his side, silently staring at her, taunting her with his anonymity. Then he slowly reached up with his free hand, fumbling with the strings to loosen the hood that had been pulled over his head and tightened around his face.
A tremor ran through her, and her lower lip trembled as he took another step closer to her.
She stood her ground, planting her feet, as if she were squaring off against an opponent in a face-off. But this wasn’t a game, and it wasn’t happening in the safety of the ice arena.
This was the man who had been terrorizing her, following her, and making her life miserable for the past several months. The one who had left her a note claiming that if he couldn’t have her, no one would.
And she had no idea how dangerous he was or how far he would go to make that statement a
reality.
But at least she’d know who he was.
At least she’d finally have a name to put to the faceless taunts and threats he’d made.
And that had to be worth something. Right?
But was it worth her life? Worth risking her personal safety to face him down in a dark parking lot alone instead of waiting for the police to figure out who he was?
“Who are you? What do you want from me?” she cried, her voice shrill against the cool night air.
“I want you to get in the trunk,” he answered, his words slow, each one distinct, as the back end of the black sedan next to her popped open. He must have had the key fob in his pocket and activated the trunk.
There was something about his voice—something familiar. But she couldn’t put her finger on it, couldn’t think as she glanced over at the car.
“You’re c-c-crazy,” she stammered, her eyes going wide as she imagined being enclosed in the dark space and taken to who knew where. “There’s no way in hell I’m getting in that trunk.”
He took another step closer, now less than a foot away. “Oh, I think there is a way.” He drew his hand from his pocket at the same time that he pulled the hood of his jacket down.
She gasped, both at his identity and at the gray metal gun that he held in his hand. “Carl?”
He sneered down at her. “Hello, Murphy. Long time no see.” He grabbed her roughly by the arm, pulling her close and pinning her to his side as he pressed the gun into her ribs.
“But…why? I don’t understand. I thought we were friends.”
“We were. But I wanted to be more than friends. You were the perfect girl for me—just my type.”
“What are you talking about?” She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t comprehend that the man who’d been terrorizing her was the same one she’d spent lazy winter nights curled up on the sofa with, eating popcorn while he rubbed her tired feet.
But she had to think, had to figure out a way to get herself out of this, and to not get into that trunk. She needed to try to distract him, to keep him talking while she tried to figure out a plan.