by Dori Lavelle
“You must be Miss Parker.” He extended a hand and shook mine warmly. “I'm Lester Reading. Please come in.”
“Yes, I am. Thank you, Mr. Reading.” I entered, still carrying my shopping bag on my arm. I would have left it in the cab since it was waiting for me outside, but I had spent too much money to risk it. What if the cab driver decided to take a peek and then drove off with it?
“Call me Lester. Do you want me to put that somewhere for you while we talk?”
“That's okay. It's not heavy at all.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“A glass of water would be great.” My throat felt dry, and the champagne in my system was making me dizzy.
While he went to a bar in the living room, I stood next to a black grand piano, feeling nervous. I didn't know this man. I’d found his email address online and decided to give him a call. Now here I was, inside a stranger's home. I would have been more comfortable if it had been an office setting. What if he was dangerous? I shook my head. His business had been advertised on a reputable website, one I sometimes used in my job.
I would have hired one of the regular detectives I usually used to investigate a target for an article, but I wanted what I was doing to be as far removed from my current life as possible. And when it came down to it, I needed to know the truth.
“Let's head to the office.” Lester handed me the water and walked ahead.
I took the ice-cold water, condensation forming on the glass.
He led me to a large office flooded with natural light thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Late morning sunshine spilled in to every corner. The room was sparsely furnished: a big desk with a large computer on it, a couple of chairs, and a couch covered with all kinds of surveillance equipment. A classic black umbrella stood by the door.
He waved to a chair and went around the desk to take a seat. Leaning forward, he picked up a single die from the table, and turned it around and around in his hand.
I placed my shopping bag at my feet and met his gaze. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“That's okay. You mentioned you have an assignment for us?” His gray eyes warmed. “This is a family business, but I will be the one handling your case.”
“That's great.” I didn't care who handled my case, as long as it was handled discreetly. “I have a stalker, and I think he's dangerous.”
“Did you alert the cops?”
“I can't do that for reasons I'll tell you about in a bit. I just want to know one thing. All of this will be kept confidential, am I right?”
“Strictly.” He made a pyramid with his fingers. “What's said in here stays here. Why don't you tell me how it all started? How long has this person been stalking you?”
I took a long sip of water. “It all started when someone sent me these.” I reached into my purse and removed the cards I had gotten so far. “Unfortunately, I destroyed the first two.”
Lester opened one of the envelopes, his eyes glued to me. What was he searching for on my face? When he pulled out the card, the lace fell to the desk and he picked it up with a frown.
“Is this what I think it is?”
I nodded. “Yes, it's blood. I tested it, but I'm not sure whether it's human or animal.”
Lester observed the lace and card for a while and then put them down. “A person who brings blood into the game is usually someone who would stop at nothing to hurt his victim. You're right, Miss Parker; there’s a high possibility you’re in danger.” He cleared his throat. “I'm going to tell you the same thing I tell every client of mine before getting started on any job. I want to encourage you to go to the cops first, to see if they can help protect you.”
“Mr. Reading, my situation is such that I will not be able to go to the cops. Not yet, at least.” To make him understand, I told him my story—all of it, the way I had told it to my mom. I started with my past, and ended with my present.
When I was done, Lester picked up a notepad and pen and asked me to repeat the story while he asked me specific questions. When we’d finished, he put down the pen.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “How do you think I can help you?”
“Please find out if my suspicions are correct, if the stalker is someone from my childhood. I also need to know what happened to my friend, Stacy Prammer… who killed her. Two days ago, I was sent a photo of a murdered woman in her wedding dress. It was Stacy.” I blinked, trying to erase the gruesome details from my mind. “I can forward you the email. Maybe you can try to find out who sent it to me. I want to know if the person who killed her is the one following me.”
“That's not a problem. I'll start looking into it today. I'll get back to you as soon as I find any news that could help you.”
“I'd appreciate that.” I leaned back in my chair. “In two days I'll be going out of town, but I should be back within three days. If you can't reach me by phone, please send me an email or leave a message on my phone.”
“I'll do that.”
“Can you tell me your rates?” Money wasn't an issue at this point; I was desperate enough to pay him well. I couldn’t put a price on peace of mind.
“We take half the money before starting a job, and the rest at completion. Will that be all right?” He pulled a page from his notepad and jotted down a figure. It was huge, but I didn't flinch. First, it gave me a kind of confidence in his services. Plus, the amount was justified, as he would need to travel to Misty Cove and New Jersey.
“That's fine. I'll wire you the money by the end of the day.” I stood up and picked up my shopping. “Thank you for your help, Lester. I look forward to hearing from you.”
The next stop I made was the Coffee Star Café, where I was meeting Kirsten for a drink.
It would be hard not to tell her about the elopement, even if it was her idea in the first place. But I had to keep it a secret. If one person knew, they might tell someone else. The last thing we wanted was for it to end up in the papers. Good news, just like bad news, was hard to keep hidden. Even Miles agreed not to say a thing to Owen, whom he told pretty much everything.
Kirsten was already waiting when the taxi dropped me off at the café. She eyed the taxi as it pulled away.
“What happened to your car?”
“It's at the mechanic. I thought it would be nice to use a cab again; reminds me of college when my crappy car used to let me down.”
“You should have used a bike. I loved mine so much in college. Come on, let's go in.” Kirsten hooked her hand in the crook of my arm and led us inside.
The café was populated with people who seemed to have all the time in the world. Most of them were reading newspapers, or gazing down at phones as they drank their coffees and ate muffins or cake. The smell of ground coffee beans was heavenly.
Kirsten and I had discovered the little café on Canyon Street two months ago and we found every excuse to meet here. Since I had so many morning meetings, we often planned to meet at lunch. They served delicious sandwiches. Now that I had time off, I was able to do something out of my regular schedule.
I loved the slow-paced atmosphere at Coffee Star. We could sit and chat for a while without feeling as though we were being rushed to drink our coffee and leave. We sat at our usual booth in the back and ordered vanilla lattes, then talked about Kirsten’s business until they arrived.
“Thanks again for the party. It meant so much to me.” I sipped my latte. “By the way, why did you choose to have it on a Wednesday? I was surprised so many people showed up in the middle of the week.”
“Many of your friends had plans for the weekend. So I thought, why not do it during the week? I figured only people who really cared would come.”
“Good point.” I propped my chin on my hand. “Enough about me and my wedding. How are you? How are things with Patrick? “
“Okay, I guess, when he's in town. But I have to admit the distance is getting to me.”
Kirsten and Patrick met
five months ago online. He was a doctor in Washington, and she liked him so much she decided to give a long-distance relationship a shot.
“If distance wasn’t an issue, would you think he’s the one?”
She shrugged. “I thought so, but now I’m not sure. He asked me something, but I still haven’t given him an answer.”
“What happened? What did he ask you?”
“He suggested we also see other people.”
“Like an open relationship? You're kidding me.” I pushed the latte aside. For some reason, it didn’t taste as good as it normally did.
“I'm serious. I don't even know why I didn't just tell him straight up that I had a problem with it. I don't really want to see other people.”
“Wait, you were considering it?” That in itself was shocking to me.
“I don't know.” Kirsten gave me a look that reminded me of a puppy that wanted to be cuddled. “Maybe.”
“You know what that would mean, right? You'd be sharing him with other women. He’d be having sex with them, and you.”
“I know. It hit me hard last night and I sent him an email. I told him I can’t do it.”
“What did he say?” I looked past Kirsten’s shoulder and for a moment I froze—a familiar-looking man entered the café and our eyes met. He was tall, with dark looks, and wore a black three-piece suit. Our gazes held for a heartbeat, and then he went to an empty table. I was so paranoid these days, fearing everyone was out to get me.
“He hasn't responded yet. It sucks. For the first time in my life I really like someone... I feel like I'm in love. And now this.”
“I'm so sorry, sweetie.” I placed a hand on hers. “You will meet someone worthy of you. He's out there. If it's not Patrick, it will be someone even better.”
“You're so right.” Kirsten sat up straight. “If Patrick insists on having an open relationship, I'll break up with him. I deserve better. And for now I can celebrate true love… yours. I cannot wait for your wedding. You and Miles make such an amazing couple.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
When I got home, Owen's car was parked in the driveway, next to Miles’s Mercedes. My heart sank as I walked into the house.
Mary met me at the door and told me Mr. Firmin was inside. Not that I needed to be told.
“Thanks, Mary.” I sighed and went to find him.
I found Owen in the dining room, having a brunch of eggs, bacon, sausages—and pizza. A beaten-up brown leather jacket hung from the back of one of the dining chairs.
“Good afternoon, Chloe. How are you today?”
“I'm fine.” I made it clear with my tone that I wasn't pleased to see him. Asking our cook to make him breakfast was going too far. It would be a different story if we had all been home, having breakfast together. “I see you’re enjoying your food.”
“Your chef prepares the best food. I might just steal him for myself.” He waved me over. “Come and eat with me. I can't finish all this on my own.”
Was he really inviting me to my own table? “No, I'm fine, thanks. I have a few things I need to do.”
Owen lowered his fork. “Watching your weight before the wedding, are you? You don't need it.”
“Did you just give me a compliment?” I found myself smiling. “What are you doing here, anyway? Miles is in meetings all day.”
“I didn't come to see Miles. I wanted to talk to you.”
I raised an eyebrow. It felt like the two of us had never had a proper conversation before. “You want to talk about… what exactly?”
“I'm being a good best man. I thought since you're marrying my best friend, it's my duty to exchange a few kind words.”
“Are you sure you know the meaning of kindness?” I met his deep blue gaze. “I don't even think kind words are in your vocabulary.”
“Okay. I'm trying to reach out here. I'm trying to create a relationship with you. Why do you have to fight it?”
“Fine, let's talk. I'll go up and change. I'll be down in a bit. Enjoy your food.”
I shook my head as I left the dining room and went upstairs to the bedroom, changing into jeans and a t-shirt, annoyed that Owen had showed up unannounced. Wasn't it a little too late for him to start acting as though he liked me? But he was right. He was my future husband's best friend, and he would be around for a long time. I had to make an effort to be at least cordial. And I did owe him an olive branch after accusing him of being my stalker.
I hoped he was innocent. Being stuck in the house with a man who wanted to hurt me was not my idea of fun. But then again, Mary and Cory—the chef—were in the house as well. Owen couldn’t do anything to me.
By the time I came downstairs, he was in one of the living rooms, sitting properly on the couch instead of sprawling across it. The TV was off as well. That was a first.
“I'm glad you came down. I thought you’d changed your mind about having a chat with me and had climbed out of a window.”
“What kind of host would that make me?” I considered sitting on the couch furthest from him, but it would be rude. So I sat down on the same couch, but at a safe distance. Thank God it was big enough for at least five people. I twisted my body to face him. “So what do you want to talk about, Owen?”
“Chloe, I know we didn't start things off on the right foot. In the beginning, when Miles introduced you to me, I just didn't trust you. I have an excuse for that. Most of the women Miles dated in the past weren’t trustworthy. They were more interested in his money.”
“You thought I was the same. How can you judge a person before even getting to know them? I have my own money, I don’t need Miles’s.”
“I was being careful. Miles is often distracted with work. When it comes to his personal relationships, he’s never taken the time to do proper due diligence.”
“So you were just looking out for him, is that it?”
“That's what a good friend does. And I consider myself to be one.” He gave me a lopsided smile. “What I'm trying to say is: I was wrong about you. You really do love him. And he seems to feel the same way. ”
“You're only realizing that a year later?”
“I'm sorry it took me a little while. I'm slow with some things.”
“Owen, you disliked me so much that the first day we met, you left before the food arrived.”
“There's no excuse for what I did. I was a total jerk.” He shrugged. “I'm trying to make up for that. From now on, I want us to have a normal relationship. If you’re open to it.”
I laughed, and I wasn't being sarcastic this time. I never thought Owen would ever make me laugh. The only thing he'd managed to do before was get on my nerves.
“I'd like that, Owen. I appreciate that you're part of Miles’s life and that you're looking out for him. I assure you I love him for the man he is and nothing else.”
“You know what's funny? Miles was the one who looked out for me first, back in college.”
“Really? How?”
“Well, I used to be that guy… the one people referred to as a geek, the one who was picked on in high school and even college. When Miles came to UF, he changed that in a punch… literally.”
“Get out of here. You, a geek?” As if for the first time, I noticed just how handsome Owen was. His looks were clearer now that his attitude didn't stand in the way. His eyes were piercing, and without the beard, I could observe his strong jaw. He even had a nice smile. If I had to be honest, he was even more handsome than Miles.
“You wouldn't think it, looking at me now. It took a lot of work and exercise to get me here, believe me.” He laughed out loud and pointed two thumbs at himself. “But before this Owen, there was a little boy and then a teenager who everybody loved to walk all over.”
“I'm so sorry to hear that.” My heart clenched.
“Well, as you know, Miles is a hero. He hates anybody being treated badly. The first week he arrived, I got in a fight... a one-sided fight, actually, since the punches I threw didn't even graze the other
guy. I was on the ground bleeding when Miles showed up and beat the crap out of the guy.”
“Miles, in a fight?” I laughed out loud. “I can't even imagine that.”
“You better believe it. He had one hell of a punch. From the moment he threw that punch and knocked over the son of a bitch, people found respect for him, and me. Even though he never fought again, he became a force to be reckoned with. Let's just say he gained his respect from the get-go. I like to think I helped him get it.”
“So you two became good friends?”
“Yeah. The next year we rented an apartment together and became roommates as well. We had so many good times. Developing the app just brought us closer. He’s like a brother to me.”
“It must be hard now that you're no longer working for the company.”
“It is, but it's my own damn fault. The money and the alcohol went to my head. But no more alcohol for me. I'm done with that shit.”
“Do you want to try and go back? To the company, I mean? I'm sure Miles would rehire you if you showed interest.”
“Thing is, I’m kind of enjoying my freedom right now. At the time I was kicked out of Torp, I had a lot of shit going on in my life... personal problems, you know. I still do.”
“Does it have anything to do with a woman? You've never introduced us to anyone. Are you seeing someone? I'd love to meet her.”
“At the moment, the girls I'm seeing are not worthy of introducing. They don't stay long enough in my life.”
“Well, once you meet the one, invite her over here for dinner.” I ran my palms over my thighs. “Owen, you're not the only one who should be apologizing today. I'm also to blame for our relationship. I knew from the start that you didn't like me, so I went on the defensive. I didn't try very hard to be friends.”
“Fuck yesterday. We have the future to look forward to.”
“I agree.”
He looked at me for a long time, as though he wanted to ask me something uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, then asked, “did you find out who was sending you the cards, the person you thought was me?”