by Kaylea Cross
“All right you little bugger,” she muttered, and positioned herself for another go. Planting her scarred boots squarely beside the hole, she gave the whole works a mighty heave backward, straining every muscle in her back and shoulders and legs until the last taproot gave with a pop, sending her sprawling flat on her back.
She lay there a moment, taking inventory of each sore muscle and ligament, then hurled the stump into her wheelbarrow with a thud and finished smoothing the new topsoil. At least her job kept her in great shape, sparing her from working out at a gym except during the winter. It also allowed her the flexibility to shuffle her jobs around her softball schedule. And it gave her contacts for once her landscape design business was up and running, something she could do from home while raising a family. Assuming she ever found someone willing to be her husband, that is.
Inside she hopped into a cool shower, letting the water soothe her aches and wash the dirt from her hair and face. She toweled off and drew her hair into a ponytail, pulling on a breezy top and shorts before heading down to the kitchen for a cold drink. Teryl was sitting on the couch in the family room.
“I just finished hauling out that stump for you, so Rayne and Drew can start on the new deck.”
Teryl barely turned her head. “Yeah, thanks.”
Christa frowned. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” Her voice was about as animated as a stick man.
O-kay. Maybe something to eat would cheer her up. Christa went to the fridge and dug out some veggies, chopped them and served them with dip. “You sick, or what?”
Teryl chewed on a carrot. “Yeah, well, I’ve felt better.”
Actually, she didn’t look so good. She’d lost a little weight over the past few weeks, and the shadows under her eyes made her seem even paler under the dusting of freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. Probably from her manic work schedule. “You’ll get sick if you don’t start taking better care of yourself.”
“Too late. I’ve been puking my guts out all day yesterday and most of this morning.”
Christa placed a hand on her forehead. Cool and clammy. “You should have said something. I could have brought you some ginger ale or something.”
Teryl gazed up at her with bloodshot eyes. “Want to make it up to me by bundling me up and fussing over me?”
Fussing was Christa’s specialty. “Sure. You get comfy and I’ll bring you some tea. Do you have peppermint tea? It’ll help settle your stomach. And I’ll try and find you some crackers.” She bustled around the kitchen while Teryl ensconced herself on the sofa. “Okay, princess. Start with these crackers, and if they stay down I’ll make you some soup.”
“It won’t stay down.”
“Oh, come on. Just one bite.” She waved a cracker in front of Teryl’s nose. “Open up the tunnel,” she sang, as if feeding a fussy toddler.
Teryl’s face crumpled and she burst into noisy tears. Christa dropped the cracker and set a hand on Teryl’s shoulder. “Whoa, hon—I’m sorry. Forget the cracker.”
“I’m p-pregnant,” Teryl wailed, burying her face in her hands.
“What? Are you sure?”
She nodded, tears dripping off her chin and onto the throw she’d bundled around her curled up legs. “I peed on the stick yesterday. It turned b-blue. We hadn’t officially been t-trying yet, but...”
“Honey, this is amazing!” Christa threw her arms in the air. “You’re going to have a baby.”
Teryl gave her a watery smile, wiped her face. “Yeah. But God, what if I’m not ready for this? ”
“You will be. How far along are you?”
“About six weeks, I think. So it can’t be the night of your birthday party. That’s the only other time we’ve...done it recently. Our work schedules have been clashing a lot.”
Christa mopped up some of Teryl’s tears with her sleeve. “Does Drew know?”
Teryl fished a wad of Kleenex from the arm of her sweatshirt and wiped her nose. “Yeah. I told him last night.”
“And?”
“He...he said he was happy.”
Christa raised her eyebrows. “So help me out here. You’re pregnant and your husband is happy about it, but you’re crying.”
Teryl shrugged helplessly, as if she didn’t understand it herself. “I know. I should be happy, but I feel so sad. I feel like everything’s out of control.” She cried some more into her handful of tissues. “What’s wrong with m-me?”
Christa had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Her friend had always been more emotional than most, but this was over the top, even for her. “Sweetie, nothing’s wrong with you.”
Teryl eyed her. “You mean, you think this is n-normal?”
“I think so. You just found out you’re going to be a mother when you weren’t expecting it, you’re not feeling well, and you’re a little scared, maybe a little fragile, and you miss your mom, right?” Teryl’s mother had passed away from cancer a couple years back, and the fact that she wouldn’t be around to meet her grandchild had to be weighing on her friend’s mind.
Teryl’s pretty face scrunched up as fresh tears began. “Yeah, I wish my mom knew.”
“She knows, honey, I know she does.” Christa put an arm around her quaking shoulders. “And you know what else? You’ll be an amazing mother, and this is the luckiest baby in the whole world.”
“Really?” There was such hope in Teryl’s face, it hurt.
“Of course. You guys are going to be awesome parents. I think the biggest problem is that you’re overworked and exhausted, and you need a good long nap.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” She allowed Christa to help her up and settle her in the master bedroom.
“Congratulations, mommy,” Christa whispered, bringing a smile of wonder to her friend’s face. “Now get some sleep.”
“Okay.” Teryl smoothed her hand over her flat abdomen in an instinctively maternal gesture. “I can’t believe something’s growing inside me. Sorry I had a meltdown back there.”
Christa waved her concern away. “It’ll be like when we used to travel for ball: What happens on the road stays on the road. Drew won’t ever know.”
“Thanks, babe. Love you.”
“Love you too.” She shut the door behind her.
So Teryl was going to be a mother. Who would have guessed Teryl would have been first to have a baby? Christa shoved the pang of envy away, berating herself for it. She was happy for Teryl and Drew, and she wasn’t anywhere near ready to start a family anyhow. Having kids required finding a man to have them with, and for her that meant marriage. Since she wasn’t even dating anyone, that was sometime off in the misty future. Plus, her ball career only had a few good years left. She’d have plenty of time afterward to settle down and have children. She allowed herself a wistful sigh to ease the ache in her chest, and headed back to the kitchen.
In the middle of cleaning up Rayne called her cell.
“Hi, darlin’. We’re kinda busy here but I wanted to let you know they found the blue pickup parked at an apartment complex downtown.”
Hope spurted inside her. “Did they get him?”
“Nope. Pickup was stripped clean. The good news is one of the forensics guys thinks he might have a partial print. I’ve asked Nate to rush putting it through the database. He’ll let us know if anything shows up.”
She withheld a strangled sound of frustration. Yet again her mystery fan had managed to stay one step ahead of the police. “So what’s next? Do they have a clue if his name really is Seth, or where he lives?”
“They’re still working on it, and once Nate checks it out we’ll know more. Even with me pulling in favors these things can take time, so you still need to be careful.”
She rubbed her hand across her forehead. For some reason she’d thought that after the pickup incident and the note when she’d gotten home, the cops would have turned up the heat and found Seth already. “I know.”
“I gotta fly now but
I’ll keep you posted if anything new develops.”
She thanked him and hung up, wishing he could be there. The way she saw it she had two choices, either scream in frustration or have a private pity party.
Since it required the consumption of chocolate, the pity party won. What the hell. What was a pound or two of chocolate going to hurt at this point? With a sigh, she went to the pantry and fished out a half-empty bag of chocolate chips, then sat down to polish it off.
****
Seth sat on a bench along Marine Drive in White Rock, enjoying the warm weather and the young women flitting in and out of the boutiques. Couples lunched on restaurant patios in the sunshine while mothers pushed toddlers in strollers, the older ones toting bags filled with shovels and pails for building sandcastles on the beach beyond the railroad tracks.
The air smelled of deep-fried fish and chips and pungent malt vinegar. Bursts of petunias, pansies and nasturtiums spilled from window boxes and pots in riots of orange, purple and yellow. Christa would love them. He was as familiar with her routine as she was, and knew she’d be by later that afternoon to bring the old lady her groceries. She’d unpack them for her, then tend her balcony garden before sitting in the wicker chairs for tea and cookies.
Such a charming picture they made, he mused. At first he’d assumed she was visiting her grandmother, but when he’d checked he’d learned she had no surviving grandparents. It wasn’t often you came across someone as caring as she was to the old lady. Yet another quality he admired in her.
He hummed a tune to himself, twirling the long- stemmed red rose between his fingers, waiting for the old lady to return from her aqua class at the local pool. She always stepped off the Handy DART bus at exactly the same time.
On the bench beside him a mother handed her little daughter an ice cream cone, instructing her not to move until she came back, then left her there. Seth fought his rising anger. So like something his own mother would have done. Didn’t she realize there were perverts out there who would love nothing better than to get their hands on that sweet little girl?
When she licked her ice cream the scoop toppled to the ground with a splat and she bit her lip, fighting back tears as she searched for her absent mother. Unable to find her, the girl hurried to the ice cream counter to grab some paper napkins, then cleaned up the mess. She tossed it into the garbage can and sat back down on the bench to await her mother’s return, pink Crocs-clad feet swinging back and forth, her adorable face a study in misery. Seth couldn’t stand it. He went and bought her another one.
“Thank you,” she said shyly, smiling up at him with big brown eyes. Such pretty manners. Her selfish mother didn’t deserve such a precious child.
He mussed her hair and returned to his seat, keeping a careful eye on her until her neglectful mother came back to herd her away. The girl waved at him and he waved back.
He began whistling, pondering the card in his pocket, relishing his own wit, the irony. He prided himself on his skills. Being organized not only made him feel centered, it was the only way to keep a step ahead of the cops. Control was equally important to him, but it was hard won.
Clinically, his personality had obsessive-compulsive tendencies, and he was borderline schizophrenic. He understood the ramifications of the diagnoses, knew the risks they posed. Despite these limitations, he was smart. His IQ was close to genius level. That, and his belief in fate, had to be why he was still free.
How could they not know about him yet? Stupid cops were always a step or two behind him. A step or two was all he needed in this game. Strange, how things seemed to fall into place for him.
The bus pulled up at the old lady’s building and she hobbled down the steps with the help of her cane. She looked especially stiff today. Anticipation bubbled through his veins.
He waited until she was halfway to the front door, then approached her, his sunglasses shielding his eyes. “Good afternoon,” he said in a friendly voice, and she turned.
“Good afternoon,” she replied with a regal nod.
“I was hoping you could do me a small favor,” he said. She cocked an eyebrow and he poured on the charm. “I was walking past recently and happened to see you sitting on your deck with a young lady, and—” he placed a hand over his heart, “since then I haven’t been able to get her out of my head.”
Her white eyebrows climbed higher. “Is that a fact?”
“So I wondered if you might be willing to give her this for me the next time you see her.” He held out the rose and the card.
The ancient face broke into a wide smile. “How charming. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“Thank you so much.” She shuffled past him to the door. “Let me get that for you. It’s the least I can do.”
She chuckled as she entered the building. “I think my young friend is in big trouble if she ever meets you.”
Seth merely smiled. Lady, you have no idea.
****
When Christa arrived around four Margaret Boone was leaning over her balcony railing, smiling down at her. She was glad she hadn’t canceled their get-together, even though she’d had to ask one of her employees to drive her down here and wait until she was inside. Besides, plenty of people were enjoying an early supper in the restaurants lining the beach, so she figured she was safe enough.
“Hi, Mrs. Boone,” she called up, hefting two armfuls of grocery bags and some gardening tools. “How are you?”
“Fine dear, just fine. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“I’ll be right up, okay? I got you some local strawberries, they looked really good.”
“That’s wonderful, we can have some with our cookies.”
Mrs. Boone buzzed her in. As she entered the secure apartment complex she waved to her employee, signaling she was okay. He’d come back to pick her up her when she called him. At the third-floor condo Margaret was waiting in the open doorway and Christa bent to peck a kiss on her friend’s papery cheek. Doing some light chores and having tea with the lady who’d given her a ridiculous steal on her dream home never seemed like a burden. Christa had insisted on repaying her any way she could, knowing the few things she helped out with could never compensate for the money the elderly woman had refused to take when she’d sold Christa her beloved house.
She set the bags on the kitchen counter and started putting everything away while Margaret boiled the kettle. While the tea brewed Christa went outside to prune the wisteria tendrils winding their way onto the rooftop, deadheaded some pansies and gave the roses a spray with fungicide, noting with satisfaction all the buds about to burst open. Their cream and strawberry and peach petals would bloom throughout the summer, their spicy-sweet fragrance carrying on the breeze blown in off the water. Along with the sweet alyssum and cherry-pie scented heliotrope stuffed into the planters, it would smell like heaven up here for the next couple of months.
“Here we are,” Margaret announced, placing the china teapot and cups onto the wicker table.
Christa tucked her gardening gloves into her hip pocket and sank into one of the chairs, admiring the view of the bay. With the tide out almost to the end of the pier, children were busy digging in the sand and splashing through the sun-warmed tidal pools. The sky glowed sapphire blue, puffy white clouds drifting across it. A cool breeze wafted off the water, bringing the saltiness of drying seaweed to mingle with the heady fragrance of the flowers.
“I always look forward to this,” she told her hostess as she sipped at her tea, savoring the comforting taste of bergamot. They always drank Earl Grey. “It makes my whole week.”
“Lovely of you to say so.” Margaret set her own cup into its saucer with a delicate clink and leaned forward. “I have some news for you,” she said, eyes sparkling.
“Oh?” Maggie always had juicy gossip to share.
“A handsome young man stopped me on the street today—”
“You got hit on by a younger man?” she teased, mouth open and eyes wide. “Way to go, Maggie!”
Really? Someone thought she was unforgettable? Maybe her luck with men was finally going to change for the better.
“He asked me to give you this.” From beneath the table Margaret retrieved a rose and a small envelope.
Christa stared at the piece of paper with the number nineteen on it, at the blood-red flower, and her skin turned cold. Just like the dozen that had been delivered to her house a few days ago. Not again. The tea turned bitter and acidic in her stomach. Heart careening in her chest, she scanned the streets, the parking lots, the esplanade, the beach. He was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching her right that second. “What did he look like?” She already knew it was him, but she needed to know if Seth had handed Margaret the note personally, or if he’d had someone else deliver it.
Margaret pursed her lips. “Well, he was a little taller than you, light brown hair I think, though he was wearing a ball cap. Why?”
Christa set the rose on the table, feeling cold all over. Then in a burst she picked it up, tore off the bloom and tossed the pieces over the balcony. Hopefully he saw her do it, the deranged bastard.
Ignoring Margaret’s gasp, she stared at the note, wishing she didn’t have to open it but she had to know what kind of cryptic message he’d left her this time, then report it to the police. Her eyes skipped over the spidery handwriting.
She recognized the song lyrics from Every Breath You Take, and the implicit threat chilled her blood. Wherever she went, whatever she did, he’d be watching her.
Chapter Eight
You’ve got to be freaking kidding me, she thought for the hundredth time as she slid out of her employee’s truck at Drew and Teryl’s place. What was she supposed to do now? Not go anywhere at all, become a hermit? All the way home she’d been peering over her shoulder, searching for his face, a vehicle sticking too close. This was driving her nuts and she couldn’t take it anymore.