“Your place is nice,” Jack commented when they returned to the living room. “You should be fine. Remember to lock this door after me and”—he glanced more closely at her lock— “you need to get a locksmith to put on a better deadbolt. Yours is too short.” He nodded at her and left, clicking the door shut behind him. Janice heard him waiting to hear her fasten the lock. After she did, he took long strides along her walkway and climbed into the car. She watched until his taillights went out of sight. A slight chill ran along her spine at the realization she was alone.
Silly, he checked everything. She walked into her bedroom and began to undress. After slipping on her nightgown, she crawled into bed and lay alert to all the noises outside her window. A car horn honked in the far distance. Wind ruffled the limbs of the tall oak right outside her room. She’d never felt so alone. She waited for the phone call.
When she blinked her eyes and saw ten o’clock and the sun shining, she couldn’t believe she’d slept so sound. Of course, she hadn’t gotten home until after two. With two emergencies in one night and all the emotion flowing between her and Drake, she’d been exhausted. She glanced at her phone. No phone calls, either. Maybe her tormenter had given up and was pestering someone else. Not that she’d wish him on another person.
She took a shower to get more fully awake, and then brewed a cup of coffee. She’d just taken her first sip when the phone rang.
“Janice, Drake here.”
“Hi. How is the house after the fire? Are you going to be able to rebuild, or have to raze it?”
“I’m going to be meeting with a man I know about rebuilding the portion that burned. He has his own company, and I trust him. Sorry to say, but I’m going to be busy all day. The police and fire marshal have both checked the house, and later tonight, I have to fly to Washington. I’ll be in touch. Wish I had time to see you. Stay safe, love.”
“Don’t worry about me. You’re the one who has had terrible luck. They say it comes in threes, so you should be all right after this.”
“Still, watch yourself. I should be back by Wednesday or Thursday. I’m thinking we might fly to Jackson’s for a visit. What do you think?”
“I’d love it. I haven’t seen Samantha in months.”
“Good. Plan on taking a few extra days, plus the weekend. I have several things I want to show you.”
“How deliciously mysterious. Have a good trip.”
He laughed. “I love your quirky humor. It’s much needed today.”
She hung the receiver back in place and put her coffee in the microwave for a warm-up. Well, she had the whole day to rest. She’d always enjoyed having a quiet day to catch up on reading, gardening, and various chores around the house. But today unease had settled on her like a heavy cloak she couldn’t remove.
* * * *
Janice put her purse in the desk drawer and sank into her comfortable office chair. She’d come in early. Yesterday seemed to go on forever, but she’d slept well last night and hadn’t received any more calls.
Several files had been placed on her desk. She started to open the first one when she realized a newspaper was underneath the files. It was unusual for her to get a paper. The delivery boy must have left it on her desk by mistake.
She opened the folded paper and the front page picture jumped out at her. Drake’s house burned in the background. Drake held her in his arms. Thank goodness the only thing showing was the top of her head. She recalled him moving her around. She’d thought he’d been protecting her from being exposed to the firemen and policemen. But he must have seen the reporter. The caption read, Who is the mystery woman with billionaire Drake Terrell? He protected her identity from the bystanders and hustled her off in his private limo.
Thank goodness they hadn’t identified her. She definitely didn’t want the notoriety. After giving the picture a last glance, she noted a small sticky note to the right of the article. Shaky, faint lines of words had her squinting to read the message.
“Do you like having your picture in the news? Too bad they didn’t show your whoring face.”
Janice dropped the picture and looked around her room. He’d been in her office. She buzzed her secretary. “Come in, please.”
Her secretary, an older woman with gray hair and a motherly smile, entered the office with her notepad in hand. Janice held up the paper.
“Did you see who delivered this?”
“No.” The woman glanced at her desk. “I left those three files for you on Friday. I’m sorry about running late today, but I just got in about five minutes before you.” She wrinkled her forehead. “You don’t usually get a paper. Did you order it?”
Janice shook her head no. “Thank you, that’s all I needed. I’ll check around and see if anyone missed getting their morning edition.”
“I can do that for you,” her secretary offered.
“No. I’d prefer to follow up on this myself.”
After giving her a puzzled look, her secretary went out. How did he get in here? She had no doubt the man who’d been calling her either brought this in or paid someone to do it. A creepy sensation ran across her shoulders.
Was her stalker working at this firm? She took the paper and began a tour of the other offices. No one she met had any idea how she got the paper. Several gave her strange looks. They must think I’m crazy to worry about a paper. Finally, she gave up and went back to her work. She’d go by the police station this afternoon. The paper and note would show the phone calls had progressed to stalking.
By five o’clock she’d only gotten through two of the files on her desk. Her unease didn’t go away. With a sense of relief, she cleaned the top of her desk off, got out her purse, and started to walk out. Her phone rang at the moment her hand wrapped around the doorknob. Did she want to deal with any problems this late? Her boss had a habit of finding work for her to do at the very last minute. She opened the door and saw her secretary had left. Good. Ignoring the phone, she closed her door behind her and took long strides to the nearest elevator.
Once she was out of the revolving door on the ground floor, she took a deep breath. She walked across the street to the parking garage, got her car, and drove to the police station. It was time she demanded more action on her case. She had the newspaper in her briefcase.
Waiting had never been her favorite activity, and she’d never learned to be patient. Apparently a number of people wanted to be seen today. The station bustled with uniformed officers, other staff in suits, and numerous residents of the city who had a request or complaint. After forty-five interminable minutes, Janice gave up and left the newspaper and note in an envelope for the detective on her case.
Restless, she didn’t want to go home yet. Some of the staff went to a nearby bar after work for drinks and socializing. She seldom joined them, but tonight she decided she needed the company. She’d drive back to the parking garage by the office and walk from there. They’d think she’d worked late.
Darkness greeted her when she stepped into the Cat and Mouse Club. She blinked to help her eyes adjust to the dim lights. People crowded around the bar and most of the tables were full. She stood to the side, hoping to see a familiar face.
Two hands waved from a back, corner table. One was a fellow attorney, the other a secretary from the second floor. Janice wove her way around the tables to greet them and the others sitting in a table meant for five, but holding seven.
“Join us,” one of the women said. Stuart, an attorney who had started at the firm shortly after her, got up and gave Janice his seat.
“I’ll get a chair.” He rushed off toward a table with three people and four chairs.
“Wow, we almost never see you in here,” one of the younger secretaries said.
“I stopped on impulse. Some Mondays are harder than others.”
“You can say that again. I’ll drink to taking Mondays off the calendar.” The woman, sitting squeezed between two of the more handsome attorneys, appeared to be well on her way in her dri
nking.
When a harried-looking waitress stopped by the table, Janice ordered white wine and several appetizers. She needed to eat when she drank, and the others looked like they might enjoy some food. Several of them cheered when she ordered nachos and a variety platter.
Janice studied the group while she waited for her drink. Most were younger than her, and new to the office. She was seldom included when they went in groups to lunch or planned outings such as dinner. Her father, having been one of the original partners and now a judge, put her in a different position in their minds.
Even their conversation dated her. She’d spent the years since graduation solidifying her position at the firm. Her promotions had come from hard work, not from her name. But she doubted they believed that. A band had started to play and the volume of noise between people talking and the music pounded against her eardrums.
“How’s your firm to work for?” one of the junior associates asked the man sitting next to the woman on Janice’s right. Janice hadn’t gotten a good look at him. She bent forward to see him and hear his answer. She knew him. He’d worked at her firm when she first came out of school. He’d left about six months later. What was his name? She listened as he described his benefits and said he was much happier where he’d gone.
Clyde. The name jumped into her mind. He’d asked her out once, but she’d just become engaged.
He conversed with the ones on the other side of the table. When he turned his head and his eyes met hers, she realized she’d been staring at him. Did he frown at her? If so, he covered it quickly with a smile.
“Janice, do you remember me?” he asked.
“I do, Clyde. It’s been a long time. I’m glad to hear you’re happy at your job.”
He shrugged. “There didn’t seem to be much chance of promotion in your firm. They went to the favored few.”
Someone gasped. He smiled, but it was more a sneer. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m sure all your promotions were well deserved.”
Their waitress arrived with the drinks and food. Janice decided to let his remark go unchallenged. She raised her glass to him. “No offense taken. Good luck in your career.”
“Hear, hear,” someone shouted, and they all raised their glasses. Soon laughter flowed around the group again.
Janice drank her drink, ate a few of the appetizers, and pretended to enjoy herself. Clyde finished his drink and asked the woman beside him and her to move so he could go.
“Time to get home. I’ll see you guys around.”
The group shouted good-bye. Janice watched him on his way out. At the door, he looked back and caught her staring again. He laughed, waved, and disappeared out the door.
She waited for another twenty minutes and finally managed to break loose from the ones who wanted to continue on to another place. “Not me,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow in the office. It’s been fun.” Liar, she couldn’t wait to get out of the noise and fake laughter. Two of the women at the table had much too much to drink, and things appeared to be heading downhill.
Cool night air greeted her when she got through the crowd and outside. Few people were around and her uneasiness came back on the way to her car. Walking back in the dark, alone, wasn’t such a great idea. She reached in her purse for her small pepper spray bottle. Her hand searched and finally connected with the vial. Feeling more confident with it snug in her hand, she stepped into the garage. Lights were lit at intervals, but still left corners full of shadows. She shivered.
When the elevator door opened it was empty. She hurried on and pushed the button for level three. Her heart began to beat faster. Silly, I’m scaring myself. The button dinged and the door slid open. She’d parked in the third row about halfway down. Her heels clicked loud on the concrete floor. She saw no one and heard no cars coming or going. There was her car, at last.
She moved faster toward the driver’s door, put in her key, jumped into her seat, and locked all the doors at once. She’d made—what the hell was written on her windshield? Leaning forward she read the large red letters. Die, Whore, Die.
Janice put in her key and prayed whoever had written the note hadn’t tampered with her car. She turned her key and the engine started. Relief washed over her. Her hands trembled and tears poured down her face. She considered wiping the paint off, but feared whoever wrote the message might be lurking behind a car. At least the letters didn’t block her view completely. She’d wait until she got to the toll booth before getting out of her car. She backed up and drove too fast around the curves to the bottom floor. When she stopped at the gate, the guard frowned.
“I heard your tires squealing. Slow down, lady before you have an accident,” he snapped at her.
“Look at my windshield. Did you see anybody sneaking around?”
The man frowned. “No one. Very few people have come for their cars. Most of them are still in the bars and restaurants nearby.”
Janice put her car in park and got out. “Do you have anything I can use to clean my windshield?” He grumbled, but handed her a bottle of water and a paper towel. She poured the water across the glass and the red flowed like blood over her hood. The frowning man shoved the full roll of paper towels at her. Thank goodness no one else came along wanting to pay and get out of the garage. It took her a good twenty minutes, two bottles of water, and almost the whole roll of towels before the windshield was clean enough for her to drive the car.
“Thanks,” she told the man inside the booth. “I’ll replace your water and paper towels.” She handed him the money for her toll and turned toward home. She’d had a long, stressful day. Once she was safe inside her house, she’d call the police and report the latest incident. Not that they’d find any clues. Whoever it was must be a ghost. Never seen or heard from except in the dead of night.
When she’d parked in her garage and lowered the door, she gave a sigh of relief. She looked around to make sure no one was hiding behind a box or the other clutter. Once out of the car she sprinted to the back door and let herself in. She doubled-checked all the locks and didn’t remember until she went to the front door that she’d forgotten to have her lock changed.
Sinking into the soft cushions of her sofa, she covered her face with her hands. Her life had become a nightmare in a short period of time. Samantha would never believe her logical, always calm and prepared friend was falling apart.
* * * *
“Drake, there’s something going on here I don’t think you know about,” Brent said.
“Concerning Janice?”
“Yeah. She went to the police station after work then went back and parked across from her office. My guy followed her to a bar and grill. He stayed by the bar and then covered her as she walked alone to her car. It was after dark. He said she appeared anxious, dug in her purse, and pulled out a container that looked like pepper spray.”
“Did someone bother her?” Drake interrupted.
“No. She got in the car all right. Our guy had to stay a good distance from her, or she’d have seen him and panicked. He said she drove out of there like a maniac. He ran down the steps and saw her at the gate...”
“Was another car following behind her?” Drake interrupted and asked.
“No, but someone had written, ‘Die, Whore, Die,’ in big red letters on her windshield. She stopped at the gate to clean off the words, and my guy was able to get to his car and trail her home.”
“And he saw no one that appeared suspicious anywhere around?”
“Nothing obvious, but there was a good deal of traffic until they got on the outskirts of town. The guard at the house reported her turning on all the lights, and he’s pretty sure she was checking the front door locks.”
“Jack told her to get that one changed, but she probably hasn’t had time to do it.”
“Any idea who’s she afraid of?” Brent asked.
“None. She hasn’t indicated any problems.”
“Well, I have a bit of other bad new
s. Your car brakes were tampered with. I talked to the owner of the shop. He swears he was the only one to work on your car, and says all his staff has been with him several years, except one. I checked the new guy out. He transferred from another job in town to be closer to his home. Story appears to be solid, but we’re doing more researching on all of them.”
“And my house?”
“You knew the fire was caused by an unknown person. I know you thought you were the main target, and you didn’t want it to spill over to your lady. I think you’re wrong. She’s the target. Why the person or persons wants to hit at you, too, I’m not sure. How serious is this relationship?”
“This might be the one.”
“Ah, then my guess is someone else wants her for their own. And if he can’t have her, he’s going to make sure you both pay.”
“You can’t be right. I got the impression she’s been all work and no play for a long time.”
Brent didn’t comment except to add, “I suppose you want us to stay on this?”
“Right. I’ll try and clear out my business here in Washington quickly. Meanwhile don’t let her take a step alone. In fact, I think I’ll let her know about the guards. If I call her now, how soon can you be at her place?”
“I’m standing outside now with my man.”
“I’ll ring you back when it’s time to go to her door.” Drake clicked off and rang Janice.
“Hello?” Janice said.
Drake noted the caution in her voice. “How are things going, honey?”
“Drake, I’m relieved to hear your voice.”
“You don’t sound good. Is something wrong?”
“I’ve had a stressful Monday.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Not really. I’m trying to forget.”
“Janice, you know you can tell me anything. I’ll help you with any problem.” Drake glanced at the phone. Frustration seeped into every pore. He wanted and needed to be with her. Her tone told him she wasn’t all right. After what his brother had relayed, his concern for her safety had spiked.
Cameron, Paige - The Billionaire Rancher Buys a Wife [Wives for the Western Billionaires 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 5