by Craig, Susan
Demarco arched his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Gonna sack out in the cruiser for a bit. They don’t need me in there, but since I came with Billings, I’m stuck for a while.”
This could be my chance. Jim angled his head toward the young officer. “I can take you back to town on my way in to the clinic—drop you wherever you want to go. You’re off duty now, aren’t you?”
Demarco perked up. “Well, I could be. I’d appreciate that. Let me check with Billings and let him know.” He disappeared back into the house. When he came out again, he climbed into the truck with Jim.
“Back to the station?” Jim asked.
“Please.” Demarco slumped down in the seat and leaned his head back.
“You got it. Say, Demarco, can I run something past you?”
“What?”
Jim hesitated. He didn’t want to sound melodramatic. “I’m thinking Daniel Smith might be the one stalking Sally.”
The officer rolled his head left to look at Jim. “Look, Doc, I understand why you don’t like the guy, but don’t you think accusing him of being the stalker is a little extreme?”
Not if he is the stalker. “That’s exactly why I want to run this by you.” Jim slanted a glance towards Demarco. “I don’t like the guy. You don’t have any axes to grind. I want to know what you think. I’m going out of my way to be fair-minded, here.”
Frowning, Demarco fixed Jim with a half-hearted glare, then turned back to face front. “You should know I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you.”
Jim hoped Demarco wasn’t planning to hide behind regulations—he wanted the man’s input. “I’m not asking you to. I’m only asking you to tell me if the way I’m putting what I know together makes sense. I’m not asking you to give me any information. Just your opinion of my logic. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
The officer sighed. “This is why you offered me a ride, isn’t it? Oh, hell, go ahead.”
Jim leaned forward, intent on the arguments that had been forming ever since he saw Smith’s name on that list. “All right. First, the incidents got nastier and increased in frequency after Smith moved to town. And he could have traveled here to leave the first few notes.”
He looked at Demarco for a response, but got barely more than a grunt. “Possible.”
“Second, he’s a loner, antisocial, and wasn’t available Friday at the clinic when he was supposed to be. When I called him on it, we argued and he told me it wasn’t the clinic that brought him here.”
That was significant, not just a cheap shot… a slip on Smith’s part.
“Maybe what brought him here was Sally.”
This time Demarco sat up, nostrils flared and lips curled like he smelled a skunk. “All you’ve got there is a personnel problem and your own story about the argument. For my money that’s the report of a very biased witness. I know you don’t like him making time with Mrs. Johnston—”
“I don’t, but it’s one thing that argues against him being the stalker.”
“How so?”
Jim’s head pulled back in surprise. Wasn’t it obvious? “His reaction to Sally is so normal. Any man in their right mind would at least try to make a play for her. Still, it could be some kind of sick game he’s playing. Or a way to cover his tracks.” Demarco needed to take this seriously. “What about checking what he was up to when the house was broken into the first time?”
“You thinking about the writing on the sheet?”
“Yeah.”
“And when do you figure that was done?” Demarco asked.
“Well, she found it Sunday. That seems like it was done Saturday. But it couldn’t have been. She was gone with Smith part of Saturday, but I watched the house all night. Nobody could have done it then. Besides, if they had, she’d have found it Saturday night. So it must have been done Sunday morning—Sally left early. I was here and so was Billings, over at the turn out, because the bastard left that note on my truck. If anyone came across the field we’d have seen them, but someone might have come in the front of the house, and if they did, they might have been seen by someone at the shelter.”
Demarco leaned his head back and half-closed his eyes.
Jim stifled a rude comment. What was the matter with the cop? If he would only get with the program, they might be able to wrap this case up. But the officer was too tired to see it.
“Demarco, Smith was on call for the clinic Sunday, but that doesn’t lock him into any particular location. He could have broken in Sunday after Sally left.”
Demarco picked his head back up and gave Jim a pitying look. “You want to be logical? Then consider this: if it was done Sunday morning, the stalker must have seen her leave. You were the one watching her house. You were the one hanging around when she was gone. You could easily have put a note on your own truck.”
Jim frowned, taken aback. “Yeah, I could have, but I didn’t.”
“She thinks you’re her friend. You’ve probably had plenty of opportunities to steal or copy a key. You’re interested in her, but she’s not interested in you.”
It sounded even colder coming from Demarco like that. Jim’s frown deepened.
Demarco continued. “Then the stalker stuff starts. It gives you a chance to play the big protector. That makes her grateful to you. But apparently not grateful enough. She starts dating Smith, and now you’re trying to pin the stalker incidents on him.”
This was ridiculous. “Will you stop it, Demarco? You know it isn’t me.”
“Do I? How do I know that, Doc?”
Jim opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. He blinked, finally seeing what Demarco saw. Shit. I’ve stepped right into it this time.
Sally stood by the window in the shelter lobby and looking at the empty space where Jim’s truck had been and wishing she could call him back. But he’d put their relationship firmly back on a friends-only basis yesterday morning. And she feared she might be losing even that.
All he’d said was, ‘We waited a really long time for your mom to wake up.’ But she had heard the implication…
It’s over. She wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. I know now that I love him, and it’s over? I ask him to marry me, and it’s over?
No, she was wrong. Look at how he turned the bed down for me last night. Why would he have done that if he didn’t truly love her?
He was being kind.
No! He loved her. He said so. Desperation wound strangling tentacles around her heart. He had to love her.
Mark Hunter wandered over to stand beside her. “Hey, Sally, what’s going on over at your house? Why are the police there?”
Sally stifled a groan. Mark was not her favorite volunteer, but he put in a lot of hours. She had to be nice to him. “It looked like someone broke in this morning. There were tracks in the snow. The police are just checking to be sure everything is okay.”
“Someone was in your house? Where were you?”
“Tyler and I were away last night.” She knew Mark wanted details, but she wasn’t going to give him any. Not that he was a gossip. It wasn’t that. He was just nosy.
“Maybe you should have stayed home, huh? How does it make you feel to know someone was in there poking around? I’ve heard having an intruder in the home makes a person feel violated. Is that true?”
Sally shot him a questioning glance. A good volunteer, but such a pain. “No, it makes me angry.”
What a creepy imagination Mark had. He’d always been a little different, hard for her to warm up to. He was too friendly, too nosy, popping up at odd times…of course that wasn’t his fault. He worked odd hours, so he couldn’t be on the regular shelter schedule. It was good of him to drop in whenever he could. And he was willing to help with any job that needed doing. She remembered the morning he’d shown up early and startled her. He cleaned the dog runs that day, a job many people tried to avoid. No, even though Mark was a bit of a pain, he was still a valuable volunteer.
He was studyin
g her face. “Well, I only had time to put in an hour this morning. I have to go now. You don’t look too good. If you’re feeling nervous, I suppose I could arrange to stay until Kathy gets here.”
“Thanks, but go ahead and go, Mark. I’ll be fine”.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right? You look a little pale.”
“I’m sure. Really.”
“Well, if you need anything, call me.” He finally began to move—out the door, through the entryway, into his car and gone.
At last. Sally went to the bathroom to check her face. Did she need makeup today? Why had he thought she was pale? She looked fine. Oh, well… Men. What do they know anyhow? Shrugging aside that concern, Sally got down to work.
She’d been at it about an hour, when Officer Billings walked into the shelter lobby. “The dog didn’t find anything, Mrs. Johnston. No explosives, no vandalism, in fact there’s no indication that anything was disturbed at all. I’d like you to come to the house for a few minutes, to look it over. You might notice some things out of place that we wouldn’t.”
“All right. Give me a minute to tell Kathy I’m stepping out.”
Sally walked into the kennel wing where the plump, grandmotherly volunteer was grooming dogs. “Kathy, I’m going over to my house for a few minutes. Keep an ear tuned to the front lobby, will you?”
Kathy was working a slicker brush over the wiry coat of a large, mixed breed male. She looked up and nodded, a stripping knife held between her teeth.
Sally smiled and turned back to the lobby. Sliding on her coat, she tried to calm the crawly feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to check the house. It would be too creepy if her things had been moved. But she grabbed her coat and walked with Billings along the edge of the road to her driveway. As they approached the front door, it opened. A slim young man and a long-legged black Lab stood there. “Hi, I’m Mike. There’s nothing inside to worry about.”
“Thanks. Would she be able to find any notes he left?” asked Sally, gesturing toward the dog.
“I’m sure Sadie knows if he left anything, but she’s not trained to alert to paper, so she’s got no way to tell me.”
Sally liked the way he championed his dog’s abilities, even though she’d been hoping for a different answer.
“We did a room by room sweep,” Mike continued, “and she didn’t alert. So you can be confident there’s no explosives or gun powder residue anywhere around.” He and the dog turned and followed Sally and Billings into the house.
“Does anything look out of place to you?” Billings asked.
Sally looked around carefully as they walked from room to room. “No, it all looks fine.”
“Good,” Billings said. “In that case, I think you’re okay to stay here, once you get those locks changed.”
“Thanks,” said Sally. “Too bad I cancelled the locksmith for this morning and rescheduled him for tomorrow. I didn’t expect you to be so quick, but I surely do appreciate it.” As they left the house, a car pulled up and stopped. Mark Hunter got out. What was he doing back again?
Mark hurried over. “Has something else happened? Are you okay? Is everything all right?” As he came forward, Sadie moved to stand in front of Sally, growling low in her throat at Mark’s approach.
“Sadie, stop that,” said Mike. The dog ignored him and growled again. “Sadie!” Taking the dog with him, Mike returned to the panel van.
Mark watched the retreating dog for a moment, then returned his attention to Sally. “I came back because I thought of something that might be useful. You remember the morning I came in early, when you were working in the kennel wing?”
Sally nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, when I left that day, I saw a red truck parked in your driveway. I didn’t pay much attention, simply thought it was Dr. Donovan’s and went on home.”
He paused, watching her closely, and Sally felt her cheeks grow warm. Had the time she spent with Jim become a matter for speculation among the volunteers? She saw his small nod of satisfaction as she turned away. Damn Mark and his nosy prying. She drew breath to speak, but he beat her to it.
“But today, I got to thinking that it might have been some other truck. Someone who had no business messing around your house. I didn’t pay enough attention to say for sure it was the doctor’s.”
Yeah, sure you didn’t. What a Nosy Parker.
Officer Billings pulled out his notepad. “And your name?”
“Mark Hunter.”
Watching the two men, Sally noted the smirk on Mark’s face. She read it as: Oh boy, I’m important—I’m a witness! Pathetic.
“When did you see this truck?” asked Billings.
“Let’s see, it would have been…last week Tuesday, when I came in early to help Sally with the morning chores.”
Sally swallowed a grimace. Mark was making happenstance and nosiness on his part sound like a virtue.
But I was glad he was here.
She should cut him some slack. He probably couldn’t help being annoying. She turned to face the two men. “I have to get back to the shelter. If that’s all…?”
Billings looked up. “Sure. Thanks for taking a look, Mrs. Johnston.”
Dismissed, she walked back along the road to the shelter. Well, that was over. She heaved a relieved sigh. It was getting close to lunchtime. Half a day gone, half to go.
At her desk in the rear office, Sally got the one highly unpleasant chore that remained out of the way. She picked up the phone and called Jim.
“This is Donovan.”
“Jim, it’s Sally. Officer Billings said the dog cleared the house. He says it’s all right to stay there tonight.” Her stomach flip-flopped around. She paused to steady it.
“How soon will the locks be changed?” Jim asked.
The stomach flipping accelerated into a high frequency vibration that drew her chest inwards. He sounded harsh. For a moment, nervousness morphed into fear. Then anger pushed to the fore. She was an adult woman and feared no one… well, no one normal, anyhow. Her voice was steady and strong. “The locksmith is scheduled to come first thing tomorrow morning. Will you stay with us tonight?” If he said no, she’d call Diana or rent a room at the inn.
“I’ll pick you up at five.”
He disconnected, and she slumped back in her chair, sighing away the tension. Gratitude didn’t blind her to the realities. Jim was not happy about this. But…she was looking forward to having him there with her. She was hoping they could talk and straighten things out between them. She loved him, and he must still love her—he wasn’t the type to change so abruptly, for no reason. Once they talked, everything would work out.
She felt more at ease than she had in days, and she had some free time. Maggie Douglas had arrived and was manning the front desk. Sally pulled out her notes and got to work on Economics.
Jim fisted the cell phone closed and stared at his whitened knuckles. His emotions were in turmoil—had been ever since Smith had moved in on Sally Saturday night.
He was done with pretending nothing had happened.
Sunday he’d been ready to forgive Sally for it, for anything, especially after seeing her in such pain from the stalker’s damn game. But then she claimed to love him. She said she wanted to marry him—less than forty-eight hours after giving herself to Smith. The conclusion was inescapable. Either she simply wanted to buy his protection with her body, or she thought nothing of her interlude with Smith.
He rose from his desk and shook his head. “Stupid sap.” Neither possibility meshed with his views on marriage. He intended to live by the vows he would one day take and he’d always assumed Sally felt that way too, especially given how long she mourned her husband. He plucked his coat from its hook and jammed his arms into the sleeves, fastening it with abrupt, violent movements of his fingers.
He’d been wrong. She told him she wasn’t in the market for love. Apparently that was true. With him, with Smith, she was simply looking for protection… and sex. He yanked
the door open and slammed it behind him. Striding down the hallway, he continued to berate himself.
All his fine noble fantasies had been just that—fantasies. He had deluded himself into seeing a person, falling in love with a person, who didn’t exist. Sally was strong and smart, but she didn’t want love or forever—and that was a deal-breaker for him. He needed both. The frozen air hit him in the face like the slap of a wake-up call.
It was his own damn fault. She hadn’t lied to him—until she claimed to love him. Anger began to trickle into the holes her lie had torn in his heart. But that didn’t free him from his word. He wasn’t a liar. He’d promised to protect her, and he would. Her and Tyler. He grabbed the icy handle of the truck door, welcoming the burn it gave his palm as he jerked the stiff hinges open and climbed into the cab, tromping the gas pedal so that the engine roared.
Dammit, he’d been such a fool. Could he blame her for trying to take advantage of that? Hell, yes, he did. With a vicious twist of the wheel, he backed the four by four up and kicked up gravel in the lot as he hit the road.
He blamed her, but it could still be simple. If she wanted sex and protection that was fine with him, and it wouldn’t take a wedding band to strike the deal. It just wouldn’t be forever. And when the stalker was caught and gone, he’d find a faithful woman to share his life with. Tromping on the brake as he entered a school zone, he pushed aside a sliver of pain at the thought of leaving Tyler behind. He’d have children of his own to love. Tyler would adjust.
Jim turned the truck onto the road to Samuelson’s place. His eyes narrowed as painful visions of Sally with Smith returned. He’d protect her all right, and as for sex he’d give her enough to remember so that she wouldn’t think of Smith for weeks. She’d belong to him, like he used to belong to her. It wouldn’t take long to work her out of his system, and then he’d move on. Jim glanced at the clock in the dashboard. He’d told Hector he’d be there by one-thirty, but sooner would feel better. With a tight-lipped smile, he shoved the accelerator to the floor.