Dear Maggie

by Brenda Novak

  Amazed, Nick sat at Maggie’s desk, staring at the article she’d written before she left work. It went on to say that Dr. Dan was now writing her at the Trib, but Maggie had already turned the letter over to Mendez, who’d given him a copy. What surprised Nick was the number of letters she claimed Lola had received. How the hell had she come up with this? Nothing in the files from the Seattle Police Department mentioned anything about the Independent’s reporter receiving more than the two letters he’d seen with his own eyes, letters that were as condescending and distinctly combative as the ones received by police. And none of the statements taken from Lola’s friends and associates mentioned an ongoing relationship between the reporter and her killer. Yet Maggie’s article intimated that Lola had cooperated with Dr. Dan, to a degree. Could her “unidentified source” be wrong? If not, how had the Seattle police missed such an important piece of the puzzle?

  Nick snapped his cell phone off his belt and dialed information. He didn’t care how late it was, he intended to track down James Jenson, the detective who’d been working the case in Seattle. Jenson was the one who’d established the connection between the murders out east and the two in Colorado and contacted the FBI. He probably knew more about Dr. Dan and his victims than anyone else; he’d been extremely helpful when Nick first took the case and was trying to orient himself.

  Less than five minutes later, he had a disgruntled Jenson on the line. “Who is this?” the detective asked, for the second time.

  “Special Agent Sorenson. I’m here in Sacramento, and I’ve run across something I’m hoping you can help me with.”

  “Now? Don’t you ever sleep, Sorenson?”

  Nick leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and stared at Maggie’s pictures of Zach. “We lost another one the other day,” he said quietly. “Attractive, mother of two. Only thirty-one years old.”

  Silence. Then, “Damn that bastard.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  “What can I do?”

  Nick explained about Maggie’s article and the missing letters. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “No, and like I told you a few weeks ago, I spoke with Lola Fillmore a number of times. She claimed the first letter didn’t arrive until the end of March, not the beginning. You’ve probably seen it. It’s dated, and it’s in the file. I sent copies of everything to the Ogden office, just as I was instructed to do.”

  Nick sighed. It wasn’t easy coming into the middle of a case. He’d inherited boxes and boxes of reports and statements from each department that had investigated one of Dr. Dan’s murders. He’d read every slip of paper more than once. But he had no guarantee that the detectives who had assembled the information had done all their homework. And he didn’t have the time or manpower to redo it for them. He had to take the quality of their work on faith, and go from there. “I’ve seen the two that are in the file,” he said.

  “Why wouldn’t Lola come forward with any others once he started threatening her?” Jenson asked.

  “Maybe a personal friend or someone at the paper told her not to. Or maybe she realized it would raise some very legitimate questions about her motivation and her delay in contacting the police.”

  “She was certainly driven, I’ll give her that. If she was using Dr. Dan to build her career, though, she paid a high price.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to pay that same price. See what you can do about finding those letters, okay? They may contain something that can help us.”

  “I take it you’re in a hurry for this information.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is there any chance you can tell me where to start? I interviewed everyone even remotely associated with Lola Fillmore when I was working the case and no one said anything about more letters. It’s gonna take a while to contact those people again.”

  Nick pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting the fact that Maggie hadn’t let the police tap her work phone. As a result, she was the only one who knew which sources to contact, and getting that information from her would require more lies, more manipulation. When she found out who he really was, she was going to hate him.

  “This reporter would never knowingly give up her source,” he said, “but in the interests of time, I’ll see what I can do.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE FLOODLIGHTS AT Darla’s apartment complex lit the parking lot brightly enough, but the less powerful pole lights left much of the grounds in shadow.

  Maggie squinted to see between the buildings, which circled a pool and play area, noting the dark nooks, corners, patios, trees and shrubs that were everywhere. If Dr. Dan wanted to attack her, he’d have plenty of places to hide. But unless he was following her, he’d have no way of knowing where she was, and there hadn’t been any cars on the road behind or in front of her for the past ten minutes. She was perfectly safe.

  Finally locating a parking space, Maggie shut off the engine, then craned her neck to see all the way around, wanting to be sure there was no one nearby before she unlocked her doors. Darla’s place was tiny, just a studio really, but she lived in a complex of over three hundred units, and her apartment was on the far side. Maggie didn’t really want to leave the safety of her car to traipse through the dark grounds, but Darla was expecting her.

  Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she gathered the groceries and her cell phone and considered her police scanners. Her arms were full. She’d have to come back for them, she decided reluctantly, and hurried to the sidewalk that circled the complex just as a small blue car entered the lot. Maggie could hear the whine of its engine, see its headlights cutting in and out as it passed the buildings on the far side and came around, but she didn’t wait to discover who the driver was. She was afraid she’d see the face that matched the composite.

  Running the rest of the way, she banged on Darla’s door as soon as she reached it. “Darla, I’m here!” she called, but no one answered.

  Footsteps were scuffing against the pavement somewhere behind her. Maggie didn’t know if they belonged to the car’s driver or someone else, but whoever it was didn’t seem to be in any hurry. He—was it a man?—didn’t move with purpose. He sort of…crept along.

  Darla’s door was on ground level behind a flight of stairs that climbed to the apartments above, which created an alcove of sorts. Maggie could easily imagine Dr. Dan catching up with her and trapping her here, killing her while Darla slept only fifteen feet away. “Darla, wake up!” she cried, banging again.

  Several seconds passed and the footsteps drew nearer, then stopped.

  Still Darla didn’t come.

  Maggie dropped her groceries and began to dig through her purse. She and Darla had given each other house keys, but Darla usually came to Maggie’s place, so Maggie rarely used hers. Would she be able to find it now that she needed it?

  She peered around the stairs to see if she could locate the person who went with the footsteps but couldn’t make out anything besides shadowy buildings, black trees and softly glowing pole lights.

  It was just someone coming home late, she told herself. The complex was a large one. Lots of people worked nights or stayed out with friends—

  Dammit! She couldn’t find the key. Ducking out from beneath the stairs so she could see better, she turned her purse upside down and let everything fall out. Darla’s key pinged against the cement amid the clatter of everything else, and she snatched it up just as someone or something rustled the bushes about ten feet away.

  Maggie felt her knees go weak. She had to get inside!

  Heart pounding, hands shaking, she scooped up the contents of her purse, grabbed her groceries and let herself in. Then she locked the door behind her and leaned against it, taking deep breaths as she waited for…what?

  “Maggie, is that you making all the noise? What’s wrong? You have a key.” Darla yawned and stretched on the couch where she’d plainly been sleeping. The television droned in front of her.

  No one tried the door.
No one approached the apartment.

  “Go back to sleep,” Maggie said. “Everything’s okay.”

  “But what about the food?”

  “We’ll save it for tomorrow.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  Darla turned over and was out again in a matter of seconds.

  Slowly Maggie’s breathing returned to normal. She’d overreacted. She had no proof that whoever was out there meant her any harm. Lola Fillmore’s murder and the whole Dr. Dan case had her in a frenzy. But that didn’t mean she was going to push her luck by returning to her car for her police scanners.

  Darla’s three Siamese cats welcomed her by rubbing against her legs. Maggie gave them a scratch, then propelled herself away from the door to unload the groceries. So much for the party. Not that Maggie wanted to eat a brownie after her recent terror. She was more in favor of piling all the furniture against the door, boarding up the windows and sitting in the middle of the floor with a weapon.

  Maybe she was still a little tense.

  After putting the groceries away in the kitchen, Maggie settled herself in the corner that contained Darla’s computer and signed on to the Internet. She knew she couldn’t sleep. She had no interest in television. And she’d already decided that she wasn’t about to make the trek back to her car until daylight.

  Her mailbox was beginning to fill up. She had messages from her mother and Aunt Rita and tons of spam, along with some legitimate messages from business associates. Those she needed to return, but for now, she was more interested in the message waiting for her from John. She clicked on the envelope icon just as her cell phone rang.

  “Where are you?”

  Nick. “I’m at Darla’s,” she whispered, keeping her voice low so she didn’t wake Darla again.

  “Why didn’t you call me? You said you’d call as soon as you got there.”

  “I just walked through the door.”

  “It’s not that long a drive. Where have you been?”

  “I stopped at the store,” she told him, skipping over her condom purchase and the scarier parts of her experience.

  “When are you coming home?”

  Home? She wished she was home now. Home sounded wonderful and incredibly safe, as long as Nick was there with her. But Mrs. Gruber was keeping Zach until midmorning again; she and Nick would be alone for hours. And she had condoms.

  Not a good combination.

  “Are you there now?” she asked.

  “I will be in ten minutes. I’m getting gas. Want me to come pick you up?”

  “Um…” The condoms in her purse seemed to scream out a resounding yes, but she ignored them and took the safe route. “I think I’ll stay here.”

  “Darla okay?”

  “She’s asleep, but I’ve got her cats to keep me company.”

  “You’re playing with her cats?”

  “I’m online.”

  “You sure you don’t want to come home?”

  “Shut up,” she told the condoms.

  “What?” he asked, obviously surprised.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “So you’re going to stay there?”

  “Yeah, I need to answer John. I haven’t gotten back to him since he stood me up.”

  “Right. John. Hey, I saw the piece you wrote for tomorrow’s paper, by the way.”

  Maggie frowned. “How? Didn’t I leave that on my desk?”

  “Yeah. I walked past to get a drink and happened to see it lying there. I didn’t think you’d mind my taking a look, since it’s going in tomorrow’s paper, anyway.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure she was completely comfortable with Nick helping himself to the things on her desk, but he had a point about the article appearing in tomorrow’s paper. “So what did you think?” she asked.

  “I think it’s a good article. Where did you come up with all that info about Lola?”

  One of Darla’s cats jumped into Maggie’s lap and nudged her hand, and she petted him while she talked. “I just did a little research.”

  “You mean you talked to one of her friends or something?”

  “Or something. I can’t really say.”

  Silence. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “It’s not a matter of trusting you,” she said. “It’s the fact that my source has already trusted me. I promised anonymity.”

  “What if lives are at risk?”

  “You can’t qualify anonymity. You either grant it or you don’t. If journalists revealed their sources because it’s for a ‘good reason,’ everything becomes a judgement call. And who can depend on that?”

  “I see.” He sighed. “Okay, so are you going to call me when you leave Darla’s?”

  “If I leave before the sun comes up.”

  “Do me a favor and call anyway, okay?”

  Evidently Nick was taking the protection part of their arrangement very seriously. “Okay.”

  He hung up, and Maggie scooted Darla’s cat off her lap so she could turn her attention to John’s e-mail, but it wasn’t easy to forget Nick now that she knew he was on his way to her house—and that he’d be alone when he got there.

  She pictured him as he’d looked when she kissed him, wearing only a pair of faded blue jeans. Darla would think she was crazy to miss out on such an incredible opportunity. Heck, Maggie thought she was crazy. But Nick was only temporary and Zach needed a good father. Besides, Nick had put certain boundaries on their relationship, and Maggie didn’t plan to cross them again. She’d felt foolish enough the first time.

  John’s message was another sweet apology. Smiling, Maggie sent him a nice reply, then returned her other messages.

  The sun was coming up when she finished. She was about to sign off when John sent her an instant message.

  Mntnbiker: What are you doing up so early, beautiful?

  Zachman: Returning my mail. Did you get my message?

  Mntnbiker: Yes. Do you really forgive me?

  Zachman: I think so, but it would help if that present you promised me would arrive.

  Mntnbiker: You’ll have it in a day or two.

  Zachman: How? You don’t have my address.

  Mntnbiker: Right. The online store was supposed to handle that through e-mail, but I’ll just take care of it myself. Why don’t I send it to your office?

  Zachman: That would work, but I was just kidding about the present.

  Mntnbiker: No woman kids when it comes to a present.

  Zachman: Okay, you found me out.

  She gave him the paper’s address, then asked what he was sending her.

  Mntnbiker: You’ll see.

  Zachman: I’m excited.

  Mntnbiker: I’m just glad you decided to forgive me. I was afraid I’d lost you.

  Zachman: Truly?

  Mntnbiker: Half the time I can’t sleep for thinking of you.

  Half the time Maggie couldn’t sleep for thinking of Nick, but she wasn’t about to write that.

  Zachman: That’s a nice thing to say. I would’ve written sooner, but I’ve been busy.

  Mntnbiker: Doing what?

  Zachman: Working and taking care of Zach.

  She explained about Lola Fillmore and the missing letters.

  Mntnbiker: Another front-page article?

  Zachman: Ben hasn’t said, but I think so.

  Mntnbiker: That’s great. Where’d you get the details?

  Zachman: I made a few calls and tracked down someone who knew more than she wanted to tell the police.

  Mntnbiker: She didn’t mind telling you?

  Zachman: I’m not the police.

  Mntnbiker: Who was it?

  Zachman: Just someone Lola worked with.

  Mntnbiker: So she told you there’d been more letters. Did she actually see them?

  Zachman: That’s what she claims.

  Mntnbiker: Do the police know about them?

  Zachman: If not, they’ll know tomorrow when the paper hits. The scary thing is that Dr.
Dan is now contacting me.

  John asked her some questions about Dr. Dan and his message and letter; Maggie explained the whole thing.

  Mntnbiker: That worries me. Are you going to be okay, babe?

  Babe? Babe was taking their relationship to a whole new level. It ranked right up there with “I was afraid I’d lost you” and “Half the time I can’t sleep for thinking of you.” Were she and John now involved? If so, this was probably a good time to mention the man who’d just moved in with her. After all, it was only fair to be honest.

  Zachman: I’m being careful. Actually, a friend moved in with me this week so I don’t have to come home to an empty house.

  Mntnbiker: That was nice of her.

  Maggie took a deep breath and plunged on.

  Zachman: Actually, it’s a man.

  His answer came quickly.

  Mntnbiker: A man? What kind of man?

  Maggie stared at her screen, feeling instant remorse. What was she doing? She was risking her whole relationship with John over a temporary roommate. So what if she’d bought condoms? Nick wasn’t husband material. He had no f.p., remember? As long as the condoms stayed in her purse, John need never know how badly she’d been tempted. And neither did Nick…

  She bit her lip, trying to think of a way to retract her words.

  Half a second later, it occurred to her.

  Zachman: Don’t worry about him. I think he’s gay.

  This time there was a long pause.

  Mntnbiker: What makes you think that?

  Zachman: I live with him now, remember? Believe me, I could stroll in front of him naked and he wouldn’t even notice. He’s definitely not interested in women.