“You have to go to the police.” Dalton looked at Bill for affirmation. He got it and returned his gaze to Anna’s. “The sooner the better.”
“The police,” she repeated. “And what do I tell them? That someone is sending cryptic notes and copies of my novels to my friends? Come on, I’d be laughed out of the place.”
“No, you go to them with your suspicions. With your past and the recent turn of events, I hardly think they’ll laugh.”
“I agree,” Bill said. “If nothing else, it’ll serve as a kind of heads-up. What do you have to lose?”
Truth was, she didn’t have a lot of confidence in the police—or in the FBI. If not for their bumbling, she believed Timmy would be alive today.
But Anna didn’t tell them that. Instead, she murmured, “I’ll think about it. Okay?”
“Promise me,” Dalton said, tone fierce. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“All right, I’ll think about it. I promise.”
They talked a while more, then after Anna assured them she would be fine alone, they stood to leave.
On his way out the door, Bill stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “How did Jaye take the news?” he asked. “She can be so sensitive.”
Anna froze. Amazingly, until that moment, she hadn’t thought of Jaye. And from the calls she’d received, it seemed all the important people in her life had been contacted. Had Jaye?
She swallowed hard, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Jaye, whose trust had been so hard to win. Jaye, who had been lied to by everyone she had ever loved or trusted. Jaye, who would perceive Anna’s secret as a lie and yet another betrayal in a life filled with them.
Anna said goodbye to her friends and ran for the phone. She checked the answering machine, found her young friend had not called and quickly dialed her number.
Jaye refused to come to the phone.
Devastated, Anna told Jaye’s foster mother that she was coming over. It was imperative that she speak with the girl as soon as possible.
Anna flew to Jaye’s, making it to her mid-city neighborhood in record time. The entire way she gripped the steering wheel tightly and repeated a prayer in her head that it was going to be okay, that she could make Jaye understand why she had kept her past a secret from her.
But she saw right away that she couldn’t make Jaye understand, that she couldn’t make it okay. “I can explain, Jaye.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” Jaye hiked up her chin. “I trusted you and you lied to me.”
“I didn’t.” At the girl’s disgusted snort, Anna reached a hand out. The sun had begun to set and dusk closed around them as they stood on the porch. “Please, listen to me, Jaye. That person, Harlow Grail, that’s not who I am. She doesn’t exist anymore. I left her behind when I moved down here. I told you who I am, Anna North.”
Jaye hugged herself against the cold. “That’s…bullshit! Anna North is only a part of who you are.”
“I changed my name, I moved. I left behind everybody but my parents—”
“Adults always do that, don’t they? Justify what they do even when it’s wrong. Insist that it’s the juvenile who’s not thinking clearly.”
“That’s not what’s going on here. I’m trying to tell you, trying to make you see why—”
“Why you lied to me. I’m only fifteen and I know how screwed up that is.” Her disdain made Anna cringe. “‘You’ve got to face the past to overcome it.’ How many times have I heard that? How many times did I hear you say it?”
“I didn’t lie.” Anna shook her head. “I’m Anna North now. Harlow Grail only exists in people’s memories. I left her—”
“You haven’t left her behind!” Jaye cried. “You can’t. I know because a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about my dad and the things he did.” She tipped her chin up, struggling, Anna saw, not to cry. “If you had really left Harlow Grail behind, you wouldn’t be working so hard to hide from her.”
She was right, dammit. How did someone so young know so much? Even as Anna wondered, she knew. With pain came insight.
“Our situations aren’t the same.”
Jaye stiffened, spots of bright color dotting her cheeks. “Oh, I see. My opinion and feelings don’t matter. Because I’m just a stupid kid.”
“No, they’re different because your dad’s in jail. She held up her mutilated hand. “The man who did this to me was never caught. I’m not hiding from my past. I’m hiding from him. I’m afraid.”
Jaye’s expression softened and for a moment Anna thought she may have convinced her friend. The moment passed and Jaye shook her head. “Real friends are one hundred percent honest with each other. I have been. But you…I don’t even know who you are.”
“I’m sorry, Jaye. Forgive me.” She reached a hand out to the girl. “Please.”
“No.” Jaye’s eyes flooded with tears and she took a step backward. “You lied to me. I can’t be your friend anymore. I won’t.”
She turned and ran inside, slamming the door behind her. The sound reverberated through Anna, final and heartbreaking.
CHAPTER 10
Wednesday, January 17
The French Quarter
For the next four days Anna had called Jaye every day, at least twice. Each time, the girl had refused to take her call.
Anna missed her. Their falling-out had left a big hole in her life and her heart. Bill and Dalton believed Jaye would relent in time, that before long she would call Anna and everything would be all right.
Anna hoped they were right. But she knew Jaye. She understood her. When it came to relationships, if someone hurt Jaye, she cut them out of her life, swiftly and brutally. The girl had developed the tactic as protection against the kind of hurt she had suffered as a youngster.
Anna had never thought Jaye would feel compelled to use the tactic with her.
Sighing, Anna stepped through The Perfect Rose’s front door. Dalton had beat her in this morning. He stood behind the register, counting the cash in the drawer.
“Sorry I’m late,” she called, slipping out of her jacket and heading for the workroom.
He looked up and smiled. “Good morning.”
“What’s good about it?”
“I take it Jaye still refuses to speak to you?”
“You take it right.” She hung her jacket on the hook on the back of the door, then slipped her apron on. “Her foster mother’s starting to get annoyed with my calls. Today she very firmly told me that Jaye would call when she was ready to talk to me. Then she hung up.”
He frowned. “Charming. I take it she’s not your ally in this?”
“Hardly.” Anna made her way to the register. “It seems everyone thinks I’m the enemy.”
“Jaye’ll come around. If you’re missing her this much, think how much she’s missing you.”
Anna thought more about how she had unintentionally hurt her friend. She changed the subject. “My agent called this morning, that’s why I’m a little late.”
“Finally! Are they taking the new book?”
“They want it—” she held up a hand to stop his congratulations “—but only on their terms.”
“Their terms? What does that mean?”
“It means, they want it only if I’ll let them publicize it and me as they see fit. It seems they think Harlow Grail has the ability to sell a lot more books than Anna North.”
“I don’t understand.” He drew his eyebrows together. “Your new story doesn’t have anything to do with your kidnapping experience.”
“Apparently, my past is a hook that’ll get me a mother lode of media coverage.” A bitter edge crept into her voice. “As my agent explained, my book’s just another suspense novel. What makes it special is that Harlow Grail, kidnapped Hollywood princess, wrote it.”
“I’m sorry, Anna. That really sucks.”
“It gets worse. If I won’t go along with their promotion plans, they’re dropping me. I’m not profitable enough fo
r them.”
“They want a home run or nothing.”
“Apparently so.” She began counting the cash in the bank bag, grateful to have something to do with her hands. “My agent wants me to agree. He doesn’t understand my hesitation. Most authors, he said, would kill for the offer of a big push and lots of promotion. Besides, the cat’s out of the bag now and the world hasn’t come to an end.”
“Nice guy. Understanding.”
“I used to think he was on my side. Now I see he’s on whichever side the money’s on.”
Dalton gave her a quick hug. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. I want to take the offer. I worked so hard to get published. You know how hard I worked. You know how much…how much writing means to me.” Tears stung her eyes and she fought them back. “But I can’t imagine going on TV and radio and…talking about what happened to me. I can’t imagine opening my personal life to strangers. I know what kind of people are out there, Dalton. I know.” She pressed her fist to her chest. “And I can’t expose myself that way, I know I can’t.”
“And if you don’t—”
“I lose everything I’ve worked for.” A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed past it. “It’s so unfair.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “I’m here for you if you need me.”
“I know.” She leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “And believe me, I appreciate it.”
The bell above the shop door jingled and Bill strode in. In his navy, double-breasted suit and crisp white shirt he looked like a banker.
“Caught in the act,” he teased. “And to think I trusted you both.”
Anna stepped out of Dalton’s arms and smiled affectionately at her friend. “I’d steal him from you in a heartbeat, if I thought I had a chance.”
Bill brought a hand to his chest in mock heartbreak. “And here I thought you wanted me.”
She laughed and shook her head, grateful for her friends. “What are you doing here so early this morning? And looking so—”
“Boring?” he filled in, glancing down at himself in disgust. “I’m meeting with the group financing our new Art in the Park event. For some reason they’re more comfortable giving money to men wearing blue suits. Go figure.” He crossed to the counter. He shifted his gaze to Dalton. “Did you give her the letter yet?”
Anna looked over her shoulder at Dalton—and caught him signaling Bill to shut up. She frowned. “What letter, Dalton?”
“Don’t be mad. It came yesterday, while you were at lunch.”
“It’s from your little fan,” Bill offered, rubbing his hands together. “The saga continues.”
Dalton sent Bill an annoyed glance, then pulled an envelope out of his front apron pocket. He held it out to her. “I know how her last letter troubled you. And you were so down yesterday…I didn’t want to make your day worse. I was going to give it to you first thing this morning, but—”
“I didn’t give you the chance. It’s okay, Dalton.” She took the letter, feeling both hopeful and apprehensive. She had been thinking a lot about Minnie, she had reread her letters a dozen times. She had come to believe that the girl was an abductee.
Anna had grown so concerned she had called a friend who worked for Social Services. She had explained the situation and read her friend the letters. Although the other woman had thought the situation suspicious and had been sympathetic to Anna’s concern, without something concrete to go on, a witness or even the girl’s written claim of abuse, her hands were tied.
Anna swallowed hard and lowered her gaze to the envelope. She hoped this correspondence proved her wrong. She hoped that after she read it she’d feel like a reactionary idiot. She feared she wouldn’t.
“Are you going to open it?” Bill asked.
She nodded and ripped open the envelope.
The letter began in much the same way as the others had, with a greeting and a sentence or two of chitchat about Tabitha, Anna’s books and small occurrences in Minnie’s days. But this time, it took a frightening turn:
He’s planning something bad. I don’t know what, but I’m afraid. For you. And another one. Another girl. I’ll try to find out more.
Anna reread those few lines, her heart in her throat. “Dear God.” She lifted her gaze to her friend’s. “He’s going to do it again.”
The two men exchanged concerned glances. “Do what, Anna?”
“Another girl.” She handed Dalton the letter, her hand shaking. “I think he’s planning to abduct another girl.”
Bill peered over Dalton’s shoulder so that he, too, could read the letter. He whistled when he finished. “I don’t like the way that sounds.”
“Neither do I.” Dalton frowned. “What are you going to do?”
Anna was silent a moment, considering her options. There were few. She came to a decision, the only one that made any sense. She slipped off her apron and crossed to the workroom to retrieve her jacket. She pulled it on, then met her friends’ concerned gazes. “You’ll have to hold down the fort for a while. I’m going to the police.”
* * *
Forty minutes later, Anna was shaking hands with Detective Quentin Malone. “Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “I apologize for the wait. We’re short-staffed today. Half the force is down with the flu.”
She slipped out of her coat and sat. “So the desk officer explained. He also informed me that you would take my statement but another detective would follow up later.”
“I’m usually assigned to the Seventh.” He sat and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “My partner and I are filling in here today.”
“And you just happened to be the lucky one who got me.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s me.” He slid his gaze over her, then smiled, the curving of his lips slow and suggestive. “Lucky.”
She would just bet he was. Tall, broad-shouldered and strikingly good-looking, she had no doubt that this man was never without willing female companionship. And by the way he was sizing her up, he expected her to jump for the bait as well.
Sorry, stud. Not this century. Men who thought they were God’s gift to the female sex were not her cup of tea. Having grown up around the film industry, she had spent more time with that kind of man than she cared to recall. She found them to be cocky, arrogant and narcissistic, more interested in looking at their own reflection that into their lover’s eyes.
“Considering the lack of available manpower, I’m glad I wasn’t here to report a murder.”
“I’m glad too. Murders are bad. The less of ‘em the better.”
She frowned, slightly off balance. “Are you trying to be funny?”
“And failing. Obviously.” He flashed her another smile, one she was certain was meant to send her pulse racing, and took a small, spiral-bound notebook from his breast pocket. “Why don’t you tell me what brought you in today?”
So she did. Anna explained how she had received a fan letter from Minnie, then about her reply and the two letters she had received from the girl since.
She opened her purse and handed the letters to him. He scanned them while she spoke. “Something’s not right with this child’s situation. At first I was concerned but now, with this last letter, I’m frightened.”
“And that’s why you’re here? Because you’re frightened?”
“For her, yes. And now, for the other girl Minnie referred to in the letter.”
He looked up, waiting, expression giving nothing of his thoughts away. She made a sound of frustration. “I think Minnie is an abductee. I think the man she refers to as ‘He’ is her abductor. And I believe he’s planning to snatch another girl.”
For a heartbeat of time he was silent, then he leaned back in his chair. The springs creaked. “You’re reading a lot into these letters. Ms. North. This Minnie never comes right out and says she’s being held against her will or is in any kind of danger.”
“She doesn’t have
to. Read the letters, read between the lines. It’s all there.”
“You’re a suspense writer, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with—”
“This kind of story is your stock-in-trade.”
Anna felt angry heat flood her cheeks. “You think I’m making this up? What, do you think I’m doing research here?”
“I didn’t say that.” He leaned forward once more, gaze unflinchingly on hers. “I have another theory about these letters. One I wonder if you’ve considered.”
She stiffened. “Go on.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that these letters could be some sort of a scam?”
“A scam?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe an eleven-year-old girl didn’t write these letters. Maybe Minnie is some wacko fan trying to yank your chain. Playing some sort of sick game with you?” He paused for effect. “Or pretending to be Minnie in an attempt to get close to you?”
A chill raced down Anna’s spine. She shook it off. “That’s ludicrous.”
“Is it?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You write dark suspense novels. There are a lot of sick people out there, one of them, for whatever reason, could have fixated on you or your stories. It happens.”
Her hands began to shake, and she folded them in her lap so he wouldn’t see. She tipped up her chin. “I’m not buying any of this.”
“You should.” He leaned toward her. “Considering your personal history, you should not only buy it, but you should take it very seriously.”
She stiffened. “Excuse me, but what do you know about my—”
“Think about it, Ms. North. With your history, the sick game becomes sicker. Your obsession with children in jeopardy makes you an easy mark for—”
“Obsession with children in jeopardy? Excuse me, I don’t think so. And just what do you know about my personal history?”
He sat back. “Sorry, ma’am, but even big dumb cops like me can put two and two together. You’re the novelist Anna North. You write suspense novels for Cheshire House. You’re a green-eyed redhead of approximately thirty-six and you reside in New Orleans.” He motioned her hands, clasped in her lap. “And you’re missing your right pinkie finger.”
Dark and Twisted Reads: All the Pretty GirlsA Perfect EvilBone Cold (A Taylor Jackson Novel) Page 77