"May I see them?" Marshall asked.
She'd wanted to throw them away, but thought they might be evidence if things escalated. She went to the file cabinet in her office and returned with the letters, and the box.
Marshall frowned when he opened it and saw the dildo, the flavored lube creams. "Can I take these?"
"Please." And go. Say no more.
He looked at Greer and Darius. "Did either of you know who was harassing her?"
Darius snorted. "No, but I'm glad the sick fu--the guy is dead. It's wrong to harass a woman like that."
Greer shook his head, but his gaze was on her.
Marshall turned to her again. "Callahan worked at the phone company. That's probably how he found you. You haven't heard from him at all in the six years since you filed charges against him and the other two men?"
"No, nothing," she said quickly. "I'd rather not--"
"I'm sure the detective you spoke to talked you out of going forward with the charges. I read the file and agree that it was a long shot to prosecute the case successfully. Still, I wish we had. One of those other men raped a teenaged girl a couple of years back. He's in prison now. The other's been jailed a few times on battery charges."
She felt Greer's questioning stare on her. "I'm sorry to hear that." Her words sounded shaky. Leave, dammit.
Marshall glanced in the box, then her. "But Callahan hasn't had another brush with the law. We did find some rather disturbing items in his home, including sex toys I presume he intended to send to you. One was a pair of handcuffs, and they weren't the fuzzy kind. It's the sort of thing that makes me uncomfortable about where he was going with this. So if you"--he looked at her friends--"or anyone had something to do with his death, it may have saved your life. But still, we have to investigate. It's a crime to tear a man apart, no matter how much of a scumbag he is."
"Son of a bitch," Greer said. His hands tightened on her as she slumped against the couch, and then he pulled her against his body, his arms like a shield over her collarbone.
Oh, God. Had Frankie been planning to rape her again? That overshadowed anything else in her mind at the moment.
Marshall seemed to be giving them time to fess up.
"We didn't know who the guy sending that stuff was," Shea said. "You can see from the letters that he never signed them." They'd been crude letters, detailing what he wanted to do to her body, and she'd forced herself to read them because she needed to know how much he knew about her. Or if they contained an explicit threat.
"Was it because of your earlier experience that you didn't report the stalking?" Marshall asked.
She shrugged, though it felt as though she wore an armored suit that smelled of a citrus cologne. "I didn't see it as threatening. Only gross and annoying."
Wrapped in Greer's embrace, she felt safe in a sea of chaos.
Marshall gave her his business card. "If there's anything else you know or remember, please give me a call." He took a step toward the door but turned back to her. "Ms. Baker, if anyone ever hurts you like that again, call me."
As soon as he left, Darius wheeled in front of her. "The guy's dead, Shea. You don't have to worry about him anymore. Isn't that great?"
Thank God Darius hadn't asked for more information. If only Greer would let it go.
He turned her to face him. "What happened? What was he talking about, if you're hurt 'again'?" His concern turned her to mush, and then his expression changed. He cradled her face, and as much as she wanted to push away, she couldn't. "Oh, Shea."
She heard it all in his voice--that he'd figured it out from the detective's words. Raped "another" woman. She felt her expression crumple even though she tried to hold strong.
He pulled her against him, stroking her back. Her cap's brim bumped against him and it fell to the floor.
No, she had to push away. She would fall apart right here, and he would continue to hold her and soothe her, and it felt so good because no one had done that afterward. Not even her mother, who had the same opinion the cops did: that she deserved it.
She managed to move out of his embrace by reaching for her cap. She shoved it onto her head, pulling down the brim. "I'm fine. It was a long time ago."
"What are you two talking about?" Darius asked. At least he hadn't gotten it.
That was the difference between them, one of many. She wondered if Darius just had no emotions, nothing to squash or tuck away.
"You'd better go," she said to Greer, her voice thick. "You don't want to be late for your shift."
He was looking at her, probably giving her the same look he'd been giving her since the bathroom incident. The Why are you shutting me out? one. She couldn't tell, thankfully, because the brim of her cap blocked his eyes from view. At least he'd also pushed back after the bathroom incident and gone on, continued dating. He'd been cool to her afterward. That's what she wanted. Even if it stuck a knife in her chest.
"I do have to go. Walk me out." He took her hand, giving her no choice but to be dragged along with him.
The air was even more chilling now that the sun was setting. He paused by his Jeep, turning her to face him. "Shea, that's why you hide yourself, isn't it? Why you freaked when I accidentally saw you naked." He pulled off her cap. "Three of them?" His agony at the thought wracked his face.
"I don't want to discuss this. I freaked because I don't want people to see me naked."
"Because you've got curves--"
She pressed her hand over his mouth, feeling the full softness of it. "I am not interested in discussing my curves or my past."
"You're hurting, Shea. It's why you shut down on me. I lost a friend once, because he was hurting, too. Holding in a painful secret. I left for a while, doing construction out of town, and when I came back, he'd taken his life. He couldn't take the pain anymore."
"I'm not going to take my life. I've survived, gotten over it--"
"You haven't gotten over it." He tugged at her oversized shirt. "You hide your body. All those years you lived with us, you hid yourself. Did you think we'd hurt you? Attack you?"
He had no idea. "Of course not."
"That's why you were so pissed about me seeing you. Your secret was out."
That he had right. "That's ridiculous." She took the opportunity to look down at her attire, to escape those assessing eyes. "This is just how I like to dress."
He took his finger and lifted her chin. "I suddenly saw you as a woman and not just the girl who's lived with us for the past few years. Seeing you as a woman changed everything."
She smacked his arm, which probably hurt her more than him. "Then change it back. I don't want you like that."
He slowly blinked at her statement. "Is it because of what happened to you? We can work through that."
"Is he bothering you?" Darius called from the front step.
Greer muttered something very impolite under his breath, and then said, louder, "Go back in the house. We're talking."
Darius started to wheel down the ramp. "Whatever concerns Shea concerns me, too."
"I'm going in now," she said, dashing off before Darius could get close. As she suspected, he turned around and followed her back to the front step. Greer stayed by his vehicle, giving Darius a pissed look. She was glad Darius had stopped that conversation. Way too close for comfort on many levels.
"I'm fine, Greer," she called to him. "Thanks for caring. Get to work."
"Did I interrupt a tense moment?" Darius asked once he'd caught up to her, watching Greer's yellow Jeep back out. "Looked like he was harassing you. It had to do with whatever he did to you, didn't it? Tell me, and I'll make sure--"
"It's none of your business." She stalked into the house to find something for dinner, anything to get her mind off what just transpired.
It was hard to think about spaghetti or leftover steak when one question dominated her mind: how could it be a coincidence that the man who had been mauled was her rapist?
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from The Forbidden Lady copyright (c) 2002, 2012 by Kerrelyn Sparks.
Excerpt from Turn to Darkness copyright (c) 2012 by Tina Wainscott.
"Of Monsters and Men." Copyright (c) 2012 by Jocelynn Drake.
"The Ghoul Next Door." Copyright (c) 2012 by Terri Garey.
"Trick or Treathen." Copyright (c) 2012 by Caris Roane.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition NOVEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062238870
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062238887
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