by Sharon Dunn
He let out a breath. “Sorry, I’m not the king of diplomacy. That seems to be your gift. Maybe you can help me with that.”
The music swelled, and they turned toward the dance floor as it filled with couples. He grabbed her hand before she had time to protest and whirled her out there.
Trepidation crept in. Dancing meant touching in a sustained way, which always made her nervous. “I’m not much of a dancer,” she said.
He offered her a disarming smile. “It beats networking.” He took her hand.
His touch was disarming.
As the waltz played, his hand warmed the middle of her back. She cupped his shoulder. For the first time in ten years, she was allowing a man other than her father to touch her for any length of time. Dancing was safe. At least that’s what she told herself, but butterflies in her stomach relayed another story.
He circled her around the dance floor with ease. As the song played, she found herself relaxing just a little. He was such a good dancer, she didn’t even have to think about the steps.
She whirled around and then looked at him. His blue, almost gray eyes blazed through her, and she thought she saw just a hint of affection there. The idea made her heart flutter, but she pulled away as the song ended as fear invaded her awareness.
He seemed to instinctually know that he shouldn’t touch her. Instead, he stood close to her. “Sorry, networking made me nervous. I needed to escape.”
She walked toward the food table, grabbing a glass and filling it with punch. “Where did you learn how to dance like that?” Her heart was still racing as she handed him the drink.
“Believe it or not, knowing how to waltz got me a contact I needed for a story years ago.” He took a sip of his drink.
“Oh, really, where was that?”
“Baltimore.” His jawline went taut. Clearly, he didn’t like it when she probed about his past. Her journalist mind just couldn’t let go of the idea that he was hiding something.
She poured herself a drink and then tilted her glass toward a corner of the room. “The mayor is over there. Would you like to take a shot at diplomacy again?”
His back stiffened. “Maybe later. Can you excuse me for just a moment? Point me in the direction of the restroom.”
Elizabeth shook her head as she watched him cross the room. After saying hello to several people, her nerves were on edge. Being in public was harder than she’d been prepared for. She found herself wishing for Zach’s return. Nobody mentioned the abduction directly, but the body language of the people she spoke to suggested a certain level of discomfort.
Neil Thompson’s laughter rose above the murmur as he slapped the back of one of the men he was with. He started to turn in her direction. She panicked. The last person she wanted to talk to was Neil.
She hurried over to an out-of-the-way table by the kitchen and sat down. Her view of the room was slightly obscured, and noise from the kitchen overpowered the party chatter. She took in a deep breath, hoping to stop her racing heart. She really wasn’t ready yet to be out in public. Only Zach’s presence had made it bearable, and without him by her side, she felt overwhelmed.
“Excuse me, miss.” A waiter stood beside her table. “A man asked me to give you this.” He placed a folded piece of paper on the table and walked away.
She picked it up and unfolded it. In bold type the note said I am watching you.
Her breath caught. She jerked to her feet and glanced around at the crowd of people. No one looked in her direction. By the time she stepped outside to catch a breath of fresh air and get away from the crowd, anxiety raged through her.
She crossed her arms over her body. She needed to go home now. Or maybe she needed to talk to the police chief. He was here tonight. In her haste to leave the ballroom, she’d dropped the note. She gazed out on the dark river, allowing the rushing water to calm her. Her phone buzzed, indicating she had a text. The noise startled her.
Her fingers trembled as she unclipped the fastener on her clutch and pulled out her phone. Was the stalker texting her now? She pressed the button that opened up her texts. Zach. She let out the breath she’d been holding and read.
Where R U?
She saw him through the glass wall that separated the balcony from the ballroom. He looked up from his phone, his expression changing. He must have seen something on her face even at this distance.
He stepped outside and moved toward her. “Elizabeth, what is it?”
She could barely get the words out. “He’s...here.”
Zach stepped closer to her. “Who? You mean the man who... How do you know?”
“A waiter brought me a note that said...” She swallowed. “He was watching me.”
“Where is the note?”
She looked at her empty hands. “I must have dropped it.” She’d been so upset, she wasn’t thinking straight.
“Do you remember what the waiter looked like?”
She stared through the glass wall. All the waiters were dressed the same in white shirts and black pants. “I think if I saw him I might.”
He cupped her elbow. “Let’s go back in there.”
She took in a ragged breath. He’s in there watching me.
Zach’s soft tone indicated that he’d picked up on her fear. “I’ll stay with you the whole time. You want this guy put away, don’t you?”
She nodded, took in a breath and steeled herself against the fear.
“We’ll just walk around the room.”
He stepped inside with her. She studied not only the waiters but the other guests, looking for any sign of menace as she skirted the edges the ballroom and then threaded between the tables. She had a vague memory of the waiter’s short dark hair...and glasses. He had glasses. “That’s him.” She pointed to a waiter headed through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.
Zach grabbed her hand, and they hurried across the floor. A cacophony of noise assaulted them as they entered the humid kitchen. Cooks shouting at each other cooks, waiters shouting at cooks, pans banging, food sizzling and water running.
Zach caught the waiter as he picked up a plate. “Did you give this woman a note earlier?”
The waiter studied Elizabeth for a moment and then nodded. “The news lady. I didn’t realize it was you.”
Elizabeth stepped toward him. She purged her voice of any fear and switched on to reporter mode. “Can you describe the man who gave you the note?”
The waiter shrugged. “I look at a thousand faces in a night, taking orders from all of them.” He shook his head.
“Can’t you remember anything?”
“Sorry, I can’t help you.” He made his way toward the swinging door.
Disappointment saturated Zach’s voice. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
“Let’s go back to the table. Maybe the note is still there.” There might be fingerprints on it or something that would help the police track her tormentor.
A quick search revealed that the note was not to be found. She was mad at herself for having dropped it. She didn’t like being rattled like that. Usually, she was pretty levelheaded.
“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Zach led her toward the door.
She scanned the sea of faces one more time before leaving the ballroom. Neil Thompson locked her in his gaze and stalked toward her.
She walked faster. “Let’s get out of here before he has a chance to dive-bomb me.”
As they hurried outside, the sharp heaviness of terror sunk through her skin and permeated to the bone. It was a fear she knew would be her strange companion until the man who had abducted her was behind bars.
* * *
Zach glanced over his shoulder. Just as their feet hit the bottom stair, Neil Thompson came outside. “That guy just never gives up.”
; Elizabeth wrapped her arm through Zach’s. “The last thing I want to do is answer his questions.”
She stood close enough for him to catch a hint of her citrus perfume.
He stared out at the sea of cars, trying to remember where he’d parked. There had been fewer cars out here when they’d pulled up. He headed in the general direction he thought his might be.
She followed him. “Don’t tell me. You don’t remember where you parked.”
“Sorry,” he said.
“I do it all the time,” she said.
Even though she was being very forgiving, he picked up on the nervous tremble in her voice. The note had clearly shaken her. He flirted with the idea that the note was not connected to the abduction, just some sick person having fun with a local celebrity. It was possible...but not very likely.
Elizabeth walked beside him through the dark parking lot, lifting her skirt so it didn’t drag on the concrete. “Weren’t we more toward the seventh hole?” She indicated a section of the golf course that bordered the parking lot.
Dark shadows covered her the farther away they got from the warm glow of the country club. She’d looked so beautiful on the dance floor, the flush of color in her cheeks, eyes sparkling with life. Red-blond hair swept up into a bun. It was the first time he’d seen her happy since all of this had happened. That happy smile was gone now, replaced with a tense, worried frown.
They made their way through the dark lot. “I wonder if I’m ever going to be able to go out in public.”
His heart went out to her. He remembered feeling like a prisoner in his sister’s home because of the press hounding him. If he could catch the guy, he’d throttle him with his bare hands for doing this to her. What was his game anyway? “We’ve got a good police force. They will catch him.”
“I don’t see your car anywhere. Do you have a panic button on your key fob?”
“No, my car is old,” he said.
“It’s so dark out here. How about I do that row, and you walk that way? Shout when you find it,” she said over her shoulder as she trotted away.
She walked in one direction and he in the other. He could kick himself for not paying closer attention to where he’d parked. The truth was he’d been focused on how beautiful Elizabeth had looked and trying not to sound like an idiot when he talked to her. Nothing could come of it. Theirs had been a date of convenience. He reminded himself of his vow to pull himself together before he even considered a relationship. Besides, as soon as she went back to work, they’d be back to knocking each other down to get to a news story again.
Finally, his nondescript, forgettable car came into view. One row over. He lifted his head and turned a half circle. “I found it.” He didn’t see Elizabeth anywhere. Almost no artificial light made it to this part of the parking lot. “Elizabeth?”
His chest squeezed tight as though it were in a vise. He jogged past the cars in the direction she’d been walking. His jog turned into an all out sprint.
Then he heard it, faint and far away, a scream from the golf course green. He took off running as he recognized Elizabeth’s voice.
FIVE
Elizabeth saw only flashes of light and color as the man dragged her across the green. Her pumps had fallen off in the struggle, and her feet brushed over the wet grass. He had her in a neck lock with one arm while the other was wrapped around her waist, pulling her sideways.
She could barely breathe or move. He’d waited until she was close to the edge of the parking lot and then grabbed her. One thought crashed over another. How was she going to get away? If she could scream again, Zach might hear it.
She lifted her hands and scratched at his forearm. The action only made him tighten his grip around her neck. In the night sky, clouds and stars pulsated above her as she tried to twist free of his hold on her.
Her kidnapper descended a small hill and the country club faded from view. His grip loosened, shifted as he hefted her fully into his arms...and then threw her. She sailed through the air and landed in a shallow pool. Water surged around her. He lunged toward her. She angled to get away, but the weight of her wet dress made it hard to move.
He clamped onto her shoulders and pushed her under. She clawed at his hands as she took in water. He jerked her up. She gasped for air.
Though she could not make out any features in the dark, his face was very close to hers. “Are you scared yet?” His words cut her to the core.
Still gripping her at the shoulder, he cranked his head sideways and cursed. Something had alarmed him.
He dumped her in the pond. “I’m not done with you yet. Remember that.” He took off running; his footsteps barely registered on the soft grass.
“Elizabeth!” Zach’s voice sounded so far away.
Air filled her lungs and she tried to pull herself out of the water. “Here, I’m here.” Her words came out as barely a whisper.
He called for her again.
She summoned strength somewhere deep inside and managed to shout. “Zach, I’m over here.”
He was beside her within a few seconds, pulling her to her feet. She fell against him, holding on tight and shaking. No words came. She wrapped her arms around his neck grateful for his strength and silence. He held her close. Her whole body was shaking.
After a long moment, she said, “He got away.”
“I’ve called into the police station. They’ll do a search. And since I didn’t dial 911, we might be able to avoid other reporters picking it up on their police scanners. I’m sure you don’t want to be a news item again.”
“Thank you.” Her cheek rested against his chest as gratitude flowed through her. She touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I got you all wet.”
He waved his hand in the air to indicate it didn’t matter. “Let’s go down to the police station and file a report.”
Anxiety surged up her throat. “Please, I can’t. I just want to go home, where it’s safe.”
“Okay, maybe later,” he said. “They can contact you after they’ve finished their search.”
There was a part of her that didn’t believe the police would do anything helpful. Past experience told her that you didn’t always get justice where the law was concerned. She took a wobbly step out of the water, weighted down by her soaked dress. He wrapped an arm around her waist.
When they got back to the parking lot, a few more people were already leaving. She pressed in close to him, not wanting to be seen or have to explain what had happened. She rested her head against his neck so no one would recognize her.
He seemed to instinctually know what she needed.
She could feel the weight of a few stares as Zach opened the passenger side door for her.
Zach got in and pulled out of the lot and was on the country road back into town in a few short minutes. As fields and fences clipped by, she wondered who her attacker was. His question lingered in her mind.
Are you scared yet?
Very different from the first attack when he insisted that she should know who he was.
He had had opportunity to drown her and instead had dragged the torture out. Who was he? What did he want from her?
* * *
Only his tight grip on the steering wheel gave away how angry Zach was. He was angry at himself for letting his guard down. He never should have let Elizabeth wander the parking lot alone. And he was enraged at the attacker. If he could get his hands on that guy...
Zach took in a breath. Violence never solved anything, and the last thing Elizabeth needed was to see his rage. Though it wasn’t directed at her, she had witnessed enough for one night.
They passed several police cars headed toward the country club on their way back into town. He’d asked the officers to keep it low-key for Elizabeth’s sake.
What he needed to do wa
s direct his angry energy at finding this stalker. “Any idea who this guy might be? Why he’s after you?”
She took a moment to answer and then spoke slowly as though she were processing all that had happened. “Last time, he was angry at me for not knowing who he is and this time, he said he wants me to be scared.” Her voice wavered a little, probably from having to revisit what she’d just been through. “He’s inconsistent.”
She was holding it together pretty well, but he knew he had to be careful with his questions. Everyone had a breaking point, and he didn’t want to find hers. “So maybe it’s connected to a news story you did or a crazed fan,” he said.
She let out a little laugh. “I’m a reporter on a regional station. How many fans do you think I have?”
“To some people, anybody who is on television is famous. You must get fan mail.”
“Nothing scary or obsessive. Not even back when I worked for the larger station in Seattle,” she said.
When he’d researched her, he remembered thinking it was strange to give up a big-city job to come here. “Badger is a step down from Seattle.”
She laced her hands together. “I came back here to take care of my father.” He detected just a hint of defensiveness in her response.
Her father had died only few years ago. Clearly, she wasn’t telling the whole story. He let it go. She’d talk about it when she wanted to...or never. It was her choice. He certainly was in no position to judge when it came to keeping secrets.
She turned slightly in her seat to face him. “I don’t want to talk about Seattle. We both have to quit acting like reporters if we’re going to work on being friends.”
The lights of Badger came into view as he rolled down the two-lane. It was a fragile friendship. They were both a little too good at reading other people, and they both had a hard time shutting off the journalist instincts. Still, he warmed to the idea. Friends he could handle. “Agreed. I’ll try my best.”
He did like the idea of being her friend instead of her competition.