by Lynn Ames
“Luckily, no. I still can’t figure out how it happened, but when I unhooked the feeder and lowered it toward the ground, he slipped out and ran away like a shot.”
“I’d run, too, if Duncan was on my scent.” We laugh together, and I’m starting to feel the slightest bit better. “What else?”
“I made him an appointment with the groomer for next week.”
“Thank God. I don’t know how he’s not walking into walls by now.” His wiry hair grows like a weed and flops over his eyes. It’s adorable, to say the least, but I suspect there comes a point where the poor dog can’t see a damn thing. “What else?” The tension is seeping away from me, like water sliding off my body.
“My dress for the fundraiser came.” The lilt in her voice tosses me a vision of the twinkle that is surely sparkling in her eyes. Despite the thousand times I’ve told her she can absolutely go shopping at any real store she wants, Hayley prefers to shop online. Frankly, I think she likes getting packages in the mail, and she giggles like a little kid when one arrives, so who am I to criticize?
“Which one did you go with?” She showed me her three final choices early last week—a royal blue satin number with puffy shoulders, a black one, sleeveless and sleek, and something in jade green with subtle gold trim. I cross my fingers.
“The black.”
“Yes!” I pump a victorious fist in the air. Go ahead and call me simple. I can’t help it; black is damn sexy. “And? How does it look?”
“Get your ass home and I’ll model it for you. I might even let you take it off me.”
Her flirtatious tone relaxes me more, and a little thrill surges through me when I think about the envious looks that will be thrown my way next month. The fundraiser is for a local children’s hospital, one with a wing named for me. I have donated millions of dollars to them and will continue to do so as long as I draw breath. The gala event happens once a year in the spring, and it’s a who’s who of wealthy New Yorkers. Many of them—most of them, really—will be absurdly rich, older, white men who would pay almost any price to have a woman like Hayley on their arm. The fact that she’ll be on mine will make most of them gnash their teeth and wonder what I have that they don’t. The answer to that question, of course, is her.
“I’m hoping to be home very soon,” I say, snapping back to the conversation. “And I will take it off you. With my teeth.”
“Promises, promises.” We’re quiet for several seconds, just basking in one another’s presence. When Hayley speaks again, her tone changes with the subject. “I know she freaks you out a little bit, but I’m glad Pax will be there tonight. I don’t trust Todd Bennett. He reminds me too much of Brant.” I can almost feel the shudder run through her body.
“He’s definitely got some screws loose. Honestly, Hayley, his apartment gave me the heebie-jeebies. Obsession is definitely not sexy. It’s frightening.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, babe.”
“I know.” If anybody understands what it’s like to be the sole focus of another person—and not in a good way—it’s my Hayley. A glance at the bedside clock tells me it’s going on eight. “I’d better get my ass in gear.”
“Do you need a pep talk?”
“Never hurts.”
“Okay.” She takes a theatrical deep breath, and I laugh, loving her with every fiber of my being in that moment. “Buck up, babe. You’re a tough-ass. You’re way tougher than this guy. He’s a creep. He’s a menace to Rebecca Cassidy, and you need to convince him that it’s in his best interest to back the hell off.”
I admit, it sounds a little corny, but her tone is hard, and the fact that she’s been in Rebecca’s shoes makes her that much more credible. I stand, bolster myself, pull my shoulders back, and puff up. Todd Bennett can’t see how much he scares me, how intimidating it is to know what he does. I have to be strong and tough and a badass. And Pax will be there if I need her.
I clench my fist and will strength to flow through me. I’m always a little surprised when it does.
“The Universe picked you for a reason,” Hayley continues. “Because you can handle it.”
That’s always her parting line, and it never misses. I feel power surge through me, a certainty that what I’m doing is not only right, but necessary.
“Thanks, babe,” I say softly.
“Anytime. Call me later.”
“I will.”
“I love you, Norah. Be careful. That’s an order.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
***
The door opens before I can even raise my hand to knock, though Pax stays out of view as I slip quickly inside. I’m thankful for me, but not for Rebecca, that people around here don’t seem to pay a lot of attention to the comings and goings of their neighbors. When you won’t be sticking around, you tend not to reach out to those nearby. Getting to know who lives next door doesn’t matter because you’re leaving anyway. I’ve never been to this development before in my life, but now I’ve broken into this apartment twice in two days, and nobody seems to have noticed.
I haven’t really bothered with much of a disguise, but I took a little bit of precaution. I’m not famous by any means, but if you were to do a thorough enough Google search, you could find me. I have no idea how Todd will react to me, and the last thing I want is for him to find my real identity…not that he’d have any idea where I’ve come from or how or why, but still. I’ve tucked my blonde hair up into the Seattle Seahawks baseball cap, figuring the least I could do is send him to the wrong coast, and I’ve got on black-rimmed glasses with slightly tinted lenses. Combined with how dark he keeps his apartment, he probably won’t be able to make out a single detail about my face. My clothes are plain and indiscernible, worn jeans and a plain, navy blue sweatshirt with no logo or markings. A glance around the room tells me nothing’s changed from the night before.
“How do you want to play this?” Pax asks me, her standard line, and I jump just a bit, having almost forgotten she’s here with me. It briefly crosses my mind that I need to have her teach me how to move so quietly and be so unobtrusive. Then I remember that I hope never to have to call her again, and that idea zips right out of my head.
I explain my plan to her. Whether she thinks it’s a good one or complete crap on a cracker, I have no idea, as her face remains impassive and her eyes are shaded behind the ever-present sunglasses. How she can see in the darkness of this place, I haven’t a clue. She gives one quick nod of her head and positions herself near the door to wait. For the first time, I notice the small duffel bag she has with her, and she sets it near her feet. I look away, not wanting to know anything about the contents or where they came from, since I’m relatively sure they’re things she wouldn’t have been able to get on the plane. My stomach rebels, and I try to remind myself of what Todd Bennett has put Rebecca Cassidy through over the past years. Taking my position in the bedroom, I open the closet door to help that reminder along. I’m assaulted once again by the insanity of the photos, and I have to tear my eyes away. I lean against a nearby wall and try to mimic Pax’s patient silence.
Thank God I don’t have to wait long or I very well may have pulled out my own hair from the nervous anticipation, but I’m saved when I hear a key in the door. There’s a brief scuffling sound, almost like the shuffling of feet, a thump, and a groan. I hear them approaching the bedroom, and I quickly flash back to my college drama class, when my teacher, Professor Zeigler, taught us to grab from our own experiences in order to get ourselves into the right mood for a scene. My mind unspools a film reel of every wronged, mistreated woman I’ve ever dealt with and shows them all to me in quick succession. I can almost feel myself hardening as my fists clench at my side and my jaw muscles tighten. I snap my head to one side, then the other, and hear cracks come from my vertebrae, a release of tension, and suddenly I feel every bit the tough-ass Hayley said I am, every bit the savior Rebecca needs me to be.
It’s hard for me to describe how this persona comes over
me. I don’t often have to deal face-to-face with the people I handle for my clients. As I’ve explained to you, a lot of what I do consists of strategically placed phone calls, covert B-and-E’s, making sure somebody is in the right place at the right time. It’s not a lot of person-to-person interaction. Only in the extreme cases like Hayley’s or like this one. And when it comes down to it, somehow, I manage to find the power I need to change into somebody that I’m really…not.
Or maybe I’m completely full of shit, in complete denial, and this is exactlywho I am.
Todd Bennett is dropped to his knees at my feet. His bottom lip is bloody, his hands are cuffed behind his back, and Pax has a thin strap around his neck that she’s holding tightly from behind him, like he’s her dog and she’s the abusive owner.
“Good evening, Mr. Bennett,” I say, and my voice is as steady as if Todd and I are two old business associates meeting for drinks.
His eyes dart around the room, seeing the open closet with its light on, and I’m sure he’s trying to put the pieces together. The truth is, though, he has no freaking clue who I am, and I like it that way.
“I’ll get right to the point, Mr. Bennett, because you’re looking a little…peaked. You and I have a common acquaintance.” With that, I give a Vanna-White-like sweep of my arm toward the closet. “Ms. Cassidy.”
His eyes widen ever so slightly before he catches himself. “I…I don’t understand,” he croaks.
“Of course you don’t. That’s because you’re a psychotic prick who can’t get a date without stalking one.”
That hit a nerve, and his eyes narrow at me. His upper lip crinkles just a bit, but it’s enough to give me a glimpse of the real man inside. I can absolutely see that he is psychotic, and there is not a doubt in my mind he will kill Rebecca sooner or later. In this moment, seeing that glimmer, I already know where this is going to go, but I have to make sure to examine all angles.
“You and I both know that you’ve been stalking Ms. Cassidy for years. I know you’ve gone to prison and that it apparently had no effect on you. I’ve seen the police reports. I’ve seen the look on her face when you send her one of your little love notes. And you know what, Mr. Bennett? It’s going to stop. Right here. Right now. Enough. You are not to contact her again. You are not to call her answering machine or her cell phone or her number at work. You are not to mail her anything. You are not to park behind her townhouse and spy on her all night.”
He’s looking a little freaked right now, probably because I’ve listed all his covert ops like I’m telling him what groceries I’m about to buy, and he’s wondering if he saw me and didn’t pay any attention. I bet he’s kicking himself for being so careless. He struggles, and Pax tightens the strap around his neck, sending him into a coughing spasm. I squat down so I’m eye-to-eye with him.
“Let me use little words, so you’ll be sure to understand.” I drop my voice to a menacing whisper and speak very matter-of-factly. “I will be watching. And if I find you anywhere near Ms. Cassidy again, anywhere at all near her, I’m going to skip the slashed tires and the handcuffs and I’m simply going to have you taken out, and that will be the end of that.” I stare into his eyes, looking for the fear of understanding, the realization that I’m not fucking around, that he’d better heed my warnings and hit the road, but it’s not there. I try not to sigh in disappointment, instead maintaining my ominous tone. “Are we clear, Mr. Bennett?”
He manages to nod even as he glares at me, all dagger eyes and anger, and I stand up in order to pull away from his negative energy. He looks up at me, and the hatred he sends my way is almost palpable. With no idea how, I manage notto step back in alarm, in fright. Instead, I arch an eyebrow at him, not letting on for a second that he’s scaring the crap out of me.
“I’m not kidding around here,” I warn him. “Don’t test me.”
I step past him and give Pax an almost indiscernible nod. As I reach the front door, I hear the zzz of her Taser and feel confident that we won’t have to deal with Todd Bennett for the rest of the night.
Tomorrow, however, is another story.
Chapter Eight
When I was a senior in high school, I dated a boy named Nelson. Don’t let the wimpy name fool you, he was beautiful. This, of course, was before I realized how much more beautiful women are. He was lean and muscular and handsome with light hair and smiling blue eyes. We were terrific friends, and I often think about him and wonder where he is now, how his life turned out; my memories are fond. Anyway, we were goofing off one day after school and we got into a friendly wrestling match. Being the sweet guy that he was, he let me have the upper hand for a while before smoothly taking control and pinning me to the floor flat on my back beneath him, my arms stretched over my head. I will never forget that moment. There was a split second where, all at once, it was absolutely crystal clear to me how strong he really was, how much stronger men are than women, inherently. It’s a fact of life. In that instant, I understood that if Nelson wanted to hurt me, if he wanted to have his way with me right then and there, he could and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. He was just too strong for me to fight him off. Luckily, he had those smiling eyes, and I trusted him and everything was fine, but that realization will stick with me for the rest of my life. Men are strong and they can be scary and, if they want something from a woman physically, chances are, they can take it. Not that they would; I don’t mean to generalize. I am well aware of the fact that most men are not creeps and scumbags and psychotic killers and rapists. But it’s in the eyes; there’s a reason people say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Nelson’s eyes allayed my fears; Todd Bennett’s terrified me.
“I don’t like it, Norah.” Hayley was trying hard to be calm and not let the trickle of fear into her voice, but I could hear it.
“I know, sweetie. But you said it, Pax is here. I’ll be fine.”
“He scares me. He sounds so much like Brant.”
I shouldn’t have told her about Todd Bennett in quite as much detail as I did; I know that now. I just made her worry. But I’ve never felt right about sugar-coating the specifics of a case for her. In fact, she asked me early on not to. She believes in what I do, knows it’s necessary, and that most of the time, the women I help have no other options. So she’s never shown any kind of reservation before. I think this case is hitting a little too close to home.
“You keep Pax close. I know she weirds you out a little bit, but she can protect you. This guy is a loose cannon, and it sounds like nothing you said to him today is going to make any difference.” Her tone has moved from concern to certainty. She talks like she knows her shit, which, of course, she does. “He’s gone into if-I-can’t-have-her-nobody-can mode. That’s the next logical step. If Pax didn’t make him soil his tighty-whities, he’s not going to be convinced.”
She’s absolutely right, but I don’t tell her that. I don’t tell her that I’m actually thanking my lucky stars Todd Bennett has no way of knowing who I am, what hotel I’m in, that he couldn’t possibly find me. That’s how much the look on his face scared me, and it makes me angry to admit it. I’m a strong woman, stronger than most I know, both physically and emotionally. I don’t take kindly to being terrified in my own skin, but I can’t seem to shake the creeping willies that crawl along my arms and the back of my neck like tiny insects every time I flash back to earlier.
It’s after ten now and I wonder if Todd Bennett is still unconscious from the zapping he took. I hope so. I try hard never to take anybody’s safety for granted, especially after doing what I do for more than ten years. But I realize that I was a bit too lax in my investigation of Rebecca Cassidy. Not that I could have done much differently. I have no control over the timing. I never know when the names will appear to me or how much time I have before somebody could be in danger, but I’m not pleased with the nonchalant way I searched for Rebecca. Todd Bennett could have killed her that first night, and I’d have been sitting on my ass in the parking lot wo
ndering why he wasn’t showing.
“Stop it.” Hayley’s voice pulls me out of my reverie.
“Stop what?”
“You’re doing it again. You’re getting stuck inside your head. You had no way of knowing what a danger this guy is.”
I feel the corners of my mouth quirk up just a bit, almost against my will. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Know exactly what I’m thinking?”
I hear her release a breath, and I can picture her making herself more comfortable on our bed, sinking into the thick down comforter, her naked body sliding along the cool sheets. “I know you. I know your heart. After that, understanding what you’re thinking isn’t that much of a leap. Besides, you always go there when a case is more difficult than you expected it to be. You always beat yourself up, wondering how you could have done things differently to change the outcome when the truth is, you couldn’t have. So stop it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I say it tenderly, and I hope she can hear all the love I feel for her in that moment. She’s much too good for me.
“Just do what you need to do, finish this up, and come home to me. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
We talk for a few more minutes about silly, trivial things before we say our goodnights. After we’ve hung up, my mind wanders back to thoughts about the Universe my mother spoke of. I honestly don’t know what I believe. The Universe, heaven, hell, reincarnation, nothingness. I haven’t a clue what happens to us when we die, whether we each have a destiny that’s already written, whether we come back to fix mistakes we made the first time around. I don’t get any of it, and I try not to dwell. Given what I do with my days, with my life, I don’t think I want to know if there’s a higher power all set and ready to judge me when my time comes.
Often, these are the thoughts that swirl in my head when I’m submerged in a case. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?