"Anything."
"Can you swing by the house and pick up some clean clothes for Harry? Just jeans and a tee shirt. And clean underwear. If you could take them to her at the hospital, I'd really appreciate it. I'll call her on my way to the fire to let her know what's going on."
"Of course I can do that. Chris, is it the stalker?" She didn't even want to ask the question, not when she knew what he was going to say before his lips moved.
"What else could it be? He's getting serious now. The graffiti, kidnapping Jenna. Now this. Yeah, my guess is that-" He didn't finish the thought, instead pulling the house key off the ring and dropping it on her desk.
"How will you get in?"
"I have an extra one in the glove box. Just lock up when you leave. And make sure you take your guard in the house with you. Someone watches it round the clock now, but I don't want you to take any chances."
"I'll be fine, Chris. Tell Jon to call me later, okay?"
"Will do. You might give Dan a quick call to let them know what's going on. He'll get hold of everyone else."
Hannah followed him to the door, and stepped out into the frigid February wind. Off to the east of the subdivision she could see black smoke billowing over the rooftops. The air smelled like there was a bonfire nearby. A really big bonfire. Something in the recesses of her memory, probably from a long forgotten science lesson, pushed its way forward. Whoever started the fire must have used some sort of oil to get it burning fast and hot.
When Chris, running as fast as he could through the snow, rounded a corner down the street, she stepped back inside and sat down at her desk, picking the phone up and dialing Dan's number. By the time she finished talking to him a few minutes later, it was a little after five. She could hear sirens approaching the site as she slipped the key in her purse, punched out, and put her coat on.
Making her way out to her car, she felt a little shell shocked. The kinds of things she'd seen happening over the past eight months should only happen in movies and television crime dramas. But they were happening to her friends – and whoever was doing it was determined to kill the only father she had left.
Those thoughts haunted her as she packed a small bag with the things Harry needed, and as she walked down the hall toward Scotty's room once she arrived at the hospital – her bodyguard at her side. A stocky man of medium height, he hadn't said so much as a word, and he rarely did. Most days she tried to at least get him to smile. Today she was grateful for the space he gave her.
Having never gone up to visit before, Hannah wasn't sure what to do. The door, and the blinds on the big window, were closed so she couldn't simply wave to get Harry's attention. And she certainly couldn't just walk in because they were keeping the room sterile until Scotty's immune system was stronger. In fact, Chris and Harry would have to keep the house sterile for up to two years, depending on how quickly he recovered.
She decided to track down his nurse, and headed in the direction of the station located just down the hall. She had to wait for the one assigned to Scotty to return from tending to another patient, and when she did, she was surprised when she was instructed to follow her…and then handed surgical garb, including slippers to cover her feet.
"Mrs. Parker asked that you come in to visit."
"But what if I make him sick?" she asked, more afraid than she'd been at the construction site. Houses could be replaced, children could not. And it wasn't all that long ago that he was sick. Really sick.
"You'll be fine. Just put your street clothes in this locker. You can pin the key to your bra. Scrub up, wear the mask, and it will be all right," she assured her with a smile. "Scotty is pretty bored today. A new face will do him good."
When she was ready, the nurse opened the door to his room and Hannah stepped inside.
"Hey," Harry said, looking up from where she cuddled her son in a wooden rocking chair. "Look who's here, Scotty. It's Aunt Hannah."
"Hi, Scotty," Hannah said softly, feeling tears well up in her eyes.
He looked so much smaller than the last time she'd seen him, though she knew it was just an illusion because of the baggy hospital gown and trousers. And because he was in this big room with the big steel crib…and not much else besides the rocker and the two vinyl chairs that would fold out into the most uncomfortable beds in the world. She knew that from experience, having spent more than a few nights in the hospital before her dad died.
"Come on over," Harry invited, nodding at the chair closest to hers. Scotty eyed her suspiciously. "He's not really afraid of you. It's the mask and head cover. He's afraid you might be someone with a needle."
"Nope. Nothing like that on me, kiddo," she said, holding her empty hands up for him to see as she sat down. That seemed to satisfy him, and he laid his head back against his mother's shoulder, but he didn't take his wide blue eyes off her for a second. "The nurse took the bag and put it in the cupboard outside.
"Thanks for bringing it. I guess it's stupid to even worry about it since this is all I can wear in here, but I just hate wearing the same outfit whenever I do leave for a little while."
"I totally understand. And I didn't mind a bit. Especially now that I've gotten to see this little guy." She reached out and stroked Scotty's cheek with her gloved fingertips. "Does anyone else come up to see him?"
"Just Linda so far."
"Then I'm honored to be here. And so relieved to see him. I think I spend more time on Facebook than I do on anything else at work."
"Yeah, I can't tell you how grateful I am for Facebook. And Skype. We need to get you on that, too."
"They allow computers in here?"
"No. But we can set one up on the counter outside the window. They flip the speaker on so we can hear people in here. It's how my family stays in touch. And Dan and everyone else. We don't want Scotty to forget you either."
The boy in question continued to watch her, then took her hand in his tiny ones and looked at it like he expected a syringe to appear out of thin air. Then he glanced back at her and said,
"'anna?"
"Yup, that's me squirt. Aunt Hannah."
"You want to try to hold him?"
"If you think he'll come to me."
"Just hold your arms out. Chris is usually here by now, and believe me, this child of mine gets tired of my company in a hurry."
To her surprise, after the briefest of hesitations, Scotty climbed over onto her lap and Hannah cuddled him close. Tears filled her eyes again as she kissed the top of his head through the mask that could easily make her feel claustrophobic.
"How bad is the fire?" Harry asked, her voice upbeat and cheerful so as not to worry her son.
"The smoke was pretty black, and there was plenty of it. The fire trucks arrived just before I left."
"Whoever set them must have used some sort of oil."
"That's what I was thinking."
"Chris said they were going to try to keep it from Ed, but I expect he'll find out about it one way or another. He made a pretty sizeable investment in it, so I don't see how they can keep it quiet."
"They don't want him to feel guilty?"
"Pretty much. He's not taking any of this well, especially not after Jenna-" She looked at Hannah. "Have you seen her since she was taken?"
"No. But Jon says she's staying with Sam and Holly for a while. That she's having nightmares."
"I'm not surprised. It had to have been terrifying for her. I hope she doesn't break it off with Ed. I wouldn't blame her if she did, but he really cares about her, you know. Still, that's scary stuff. If he'd waited until the next day to act on those coordinates, she might have frozen to death."
"I know. I've thought about that, too. But I don't think you need to worry about Jenna ending anything. I guess Ed is trying to avoid everyone now."
"Clearly it's not enough to satisfy the stalker. Chris says the houses only needed flooring and they'd have been ready to sell."
"This is jus
t nuts. You'd think after all this time, the police would have figured out who he is."
"Obviously he's watched enough crime dramas to know what not to do, hasn't he."
Chapter 8
By the time the fires were under control, the houses were nothing but charred shells. The roofs on two others would have to be replaced, thanks to the brisk wind blowing burning debris everywhere.
The worst part was, they'd only just gotten back on schedule a couple of weeks ago. It seemed like every time they turned around, they were having to spend more and more money. Jon just wanted to go home, take a long shower – and forget this day had ever happened.
Dan and Sam stood on the sidewalk with him and Chris, while most of the crew milled about in the street, watching as the firemen folded hoses and loaded them back on the trucks.
The chief and arson investigator were sifting through the rubble in the first house, and they could have all gone home, but so far no one made a move to go. It was like the aftermath of a disaster, and they were all in shock. They'd all had a part in building both of the houses, and he understood how they were feeling. Kind of like he felt when he'd found his living room spray painted, but on a much larger scale.
"How long do you think it will take to rebuild?" Dan asked, sounding tired.
"They won't be ready before spring," Chris said. "We'll have them bulldozed as soon as we get clearance to do so, but we think we should finish the others before we start rebuilding these two."
"Your insurance policy is paid up, right?" Sam wanted to know.
"Absolutely," Jon told him. "With everything that's going on, we wouldn't dare to let it lapse." Just the thought of everyone having to bite astronomical costs like this was enough to make him shudder. "I have to say when the stalker is finally caught, I hope someone shoots him in the head. Because if a cop doesn't do it, I might."
"No you wouldn't," Dan said, squeezing his shoulder. "It sounds good now, but if push came to shove, you couldn't do it."
"You might be surprised what I could do. He was in my house, Dan. He could have killed Jenna. He shot Ed. Much more of this and I might be ready to cross that line."
"What you'll do is let the police handle this."
"They've been handling it for almost two years, and it all goes from bad to worse."
"He'll make a mistake. He has to. No one is that good."
Jon had to bite his tongue to stop the sarcastic retort that wanted to spill out of his mouth. How many times had one or the other of them said almost exactly the same thing. No one is that good. Well they couldn't prove it by him. This guy was exactly that good.
"Hey, Chris?" Kevin Thompson said, approaching the small group with a few of his co-workers. "We're – uh- We're going to head home now. There's nothing else we can do here."
"Yeah." Chris nodded, sighing. "Thanks for hanging around so long."
"No problem. We'll uh – be in first thing in the morning. Sorry about what happened."
"Thanks."
Jon watched as half a dozen of their crew turned away and started toward the parking lot a couple of blocks to the east. Kevin stopped short and glanced back at them.
"I'll be up for any overtime. Just so you know." He seemed to hesitate, then asked, "Do you think they'll find anything? I mean, so maybe they can identify who did it?"
"We hope so," Chris said. "And we'll probably be working all of you overtime again. Some of the new home owners are set to move in next month, and we sure don't want them to see this mess."
"Okay. Just let me know."
Watching him walk away, Jon recalled some whispers he'd heard a while back. That Kevin and a few of the other guys would sneak out on their breaks to smoke a joint. He'd kept a close eye on them for a few weeks, but never noticed any signs that it was true, so he'd dismissed the talk. Now he wondered about it, and he swore if he found out that any of their employees, Kevin in particular, had started this fire because of an illegal drug, they would live to regret it. The only problem was, as fast as everything had burned, he didn't think the cause could be something that simple.
~~~~~
"Oh you have got to be kidding me," Ed shouted, drawing the attention of a few other shoppers in the parking lot, but he didn't care. He was so furious he wanted to fling the three bags of groceries in his hands as hard as he could.
Someone had managed to get past the guards again, and this time it looked like they'd spray-painted his car with acid. Not only that, from where he stood, he could see that two of the windows had been smashed out, and the seats, both front and back, along with the inside of each door, had been cut to shreds. To top it all off, the glass on the dash had been smashed out.
His classy, low-key sedan now looked like it had been sitting in the back lot of a salvage yard – for years.
"How do they keep getting past us?" Rick muttered, as he and Harvey hurried to the car. They'd been parked a couple of spaces down, keeping an eye on things from there. Apparently it wasn't close enough. "We were watching."
But Ed knew what it was like on a stakeout. You couldn't watch your mark every second. Sometimes you looked away when you grabbed your coffee mug. Or to dial your cell phone. Or even to watch a beautiful woman walk by. And most times brief distractions wouldn't make a bit of difference. But then, sometimes, there were people like his stalker, someone who was patient enough to wait for perfect opportunities to present themselves.
"I'm going to go see the manager and tell him to get us the security camera films," Harvey said, clearly irritated. "One of you phone this in. I doubt they'll get any fingerprints, but you never know. We might get lucky one of these times."
In the beginning, Ed had figured the same thing. They guy would screw up, or they'd get lucky. But so far, neither thing had happened, and he supposed he was going to have to accept the fact that nothing they did was going to stop this guy. Not until he'd achieved his goal at any rate. Ed just wished his death weren't the ultimate goal.
~~~~~
There was a first time for everything, Jon guessed, wishing he could reach up and loosen his tie. Problem was, Jess and Holly were still in his kitchen going over the 'rules.' It would almost be funny – if it weren't sad on so many levels.
At the top of the list was that Hannah wasn't his real girlfriend. Just a step below that was the fact that he'd never been on a formal date in his life. Not even the high school prom. Next was the whole gift thing. He'd never given a gift to a woman who wasn't married to one of his best friends, and only then because he considered them honorary sisters-in-law. And finally…he'd forgotten to make reservations at the restaurant they'd strongly recommended. He kept that bit of information to himself though. If they found out he'd made such a bonehead mistake, he'd never hear the end of it.
"Give her the flowers when you get to her door," Holly told him, brushing the shoulders of his suit jacket off with a lint roller. "It's too cold and they'll be ruined if you don't. And tuck the candy under your seat. You'll give that to her when you walk her back to her door after supper."
"I've never heard of that rule. Why can't I just give her both when I pick her up?"
"You've never heard of it because we're women, and we can make up the rules as we go along," Jess said with a grin. "And we think it will be more romantic this way. Spread the gift-giving out throughout the evening."
"All right. Got it. Anything else I should know?"
"You know to open the truck door for her. And to pull out her chair at the restaurant."
"And don't forget to stand up if she needs to visit the restroom," Holly added. "Coming and going."
"Yeah. I'm not stupid you know."
"We know you're not. But how long has it been since you've been on a real date? And how long before that?"
"Do you want me to take Hannah out, or do you want me to cancel because I got a headache from trying to remember something that hasn't happened since the dark ages?" Because that's exactly what would hap
pen if he tried to remember when his last date was.
Both girls laughed, and Holly held up his trench coat. As he held out his arms, he wished he had more than one set of dressy clothes. The last time he'd worn these had been for Renee's funeral.
~~~~~
"It's not a real date," Hannah told herself for the hundredth time, smoothing the skirt of her fuchsia, calf-length dress. "It's just supper with a friend."
On Valentine's Day. When everyone in the restaurant would think they were a real couple. When they would be taking up table space that an honest to goodness couple could have used while they carried on with their charade.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she wondered what it would be like if this weren't just make believe. Knowing Jon, it wouldn't be something they'd need to dress up for, but she had no doubt she'd enjoy it. The more she got to know her boss, the more she liked him as a person. He was a wonderful friend, thoughtful in ways she'd never have suspected. And he had a dry sense of humor, making her laugh and smile more than she ever had before.
Most of all, she trusted him. He knew things about her that before now, she'd only shared with her sister. She supposed it was because he was so easy to talk to. He never judged her for the course she'd chosen to follow regarding Ed, just jumped in to help where he could, no questions asked. Well, not many anyway.
She'd never really had a friend like him before. Maybe she always knew she was different. Sensed deep inside that her life was a lie, but she'd never had any close girlfriends. Sure she'd been part of a group throughout school, but there were never any lifelong, secret-sharing relationships. Until now. It almost made her laugh to think that it was with a man who thought she was stalking her father five short weeks ago.
"Hey," she said, opening the door at his knock. Her breath hitched when she saw how handsome he looked. "Wow. You clean up really nice."
Her Best Friend Jon Page 10