by Fiona Brand
And the attraction wasn’t all one way. The kiss, at least, had proved that.
Which was a relief because this time he wasn’t prepared to cut his losses and step back.
* * *
Jenna drove to her local cinema to watch her usual five o’clock movie, but she could barely concentrate on traffic.
The kiss with O’Halloran replayed itself, making her toes curl and almost making her miss her turn.
The acute awareness that had held her in a vice-like grip as the elevator door had closed gripped her again, along with a dose of sheer, feminine panic. She had dreamed about making love with O’Halloran. She’d had trouble not thinking about him for most of the day, but in the space of a few seconds, the kiss had changed everything. It had been a statement of intent and a claim.
O’Halloran hadn’t wanted to guard her because he had wanted to keep work and his personal life separate.
The thought that O’Halloran now considered her to be part of his personal life sent another wave of heat through her.
Whether she was ready or not, it was too late: they were involved.
She parked in the gloomy underground parking area at the mall, locked the car and remembered to make a note of anyone around her. She found her phone, which had a very good camera, and carried it in her hand as she walked into the building. If anything untoward happened, she was determined to at least take a photo of whoever she thought might be following her.
She bought her ticket then spent a few minutes sitting in the cinema lobby, observing people coming and going. Five minutes before her movie was scheduled to start, she walked into the now dim cinema and headed for her seat.
She liked to sit near the front, because the seats were less popular, so she usually always got the middle seat, and often no one else occupied the row. The front row also gave the illusion of almost being in the movie, which added to the experience.
As she walked toward her favourite seat, something white attracted her attention. At first she thought it was a piece of rubbish on the seat that the cinema staff had failed to clear away.
But the scent of roses hit her and suddenly her skin was crawling.
A single white rose was placed neatly on the seat that she usually occupied, if no one else had claimed it.
The scene could have been cut from Deadly Valentine.
A single white rose had been the calling card of the villain who had stalked Sara.
Chapter 7
Spine tingling, because whoever was stalking her had been here just minutes ago, and could still be in the theatre, watching her, Jenna walked quickly to the side aisle and forced herself to skim the ranks of seats and study faces.
The theatre wasn’t packed. The movie was part of an arts festival program, so had limited appeal. Something about a balding head and the glint of spectacles sparked a memory. She lifted her camera to take a picture. At that moment the lights went out and sound thundered from the stereo system. Startled, she inadvertently pressed the shutter as the phone slipped from her fingers. The flash temporarily blinded her.
Someone uttered a short, uncomplimentary phrase. By the time she had found the phone and located where the balding man had been sitting, he was gone.
Her mouth was dry, her heart hammering. Tension zinged through her. She didn’t know why she had singled him out, some detail had alerted her. She could have been wrong, but if so, why had he left?
Ignoring the incensed glances being sent her way, and the fact that a member of the cinema staff, with flashlight in hand, was heading straight for her, she walked quickly back to the seat that had the rose neatly placed on it. Crouching down, she took another photo. As she did so she noticed that the rose had a piece of clear cellophane wrapped around it at the base and a white ribbon.
Rising to her feet, she apologised to the teenage boy with the flashlight and agreed that she was leaving. Repressing a shudder, she picked the rose up by the flower head so that she wouldn’t touch either the stem, cellophane or the ribbon.
As far as Jenna was concerned the rose was evidence. It was a long shot, but it was possible that a verifiable fingerprint might be found on the wrapping. In terms of getting a conviction, there would probably be no gain, but if she could identify the perpetrator then that would most likely stop him from stalking her.
Minutes later, she walked back out into daylight. Unlocking her car, she placed the rose carefully on the passenger seat. Reaching into her purse, she found the business card O’Halloran had given her.
Fingers a little unsteady, she pressed in his number and waited for him to pick up.
The calm timbre of his voice was reassuring. Taking a deep breath, she made an effort to speak slowly and deliberately. “He was here, at the movies. He left a rose on my seat.”
The tension in her voice must have alerted him, because he didn’t ask any questions about the rose. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She drew an impeded breath. “I saw him.”
There was a brief silence, although in no way did Jenna get the sense that O’Halloran was either still or contemplative. She got the impression that he was moving, fast. “Does he know that you saw him?”
“I think so, since my camera flash went off in his eyes.”
There was another silence punctuated by a muffled thud as if a car door had just been pulled shut. “Where are you now?”
Jenna gave him directions to the mall. Satisfaction took the edge off the adrenaline rush as she heard the sound of O’Halloran’s vehicle accelerating.
“Get in your car, lock the doors. I’ll be there in ten minutes. If you see him again, get out of there and call me.”
“I haven’t seen him since I left the cinema.”
“Good. Ten minutes.”
Feeling shaky, mostly from the adrenaline that had been shooting through her system ever since she had spotted the rose, Jenna hung up and locked herself in her car.
As tempted as she was to watch the entrances to the parking lot for O’Halloran’s arrival, she forced herself to watch the mall entrance. There were four entrances, so the chances that her stalker would come out of this one—if he was still in the mall—would be small. But if a bald man came out there was a possibility she could get another picture, maybe even a car registration.
That thought reminded her about the photos she had taken in the cinema. Thumbing through the menu of her phone she brought up the two photos.
There was a clear shot of the white rose. The other, ruined by the odd angle caused by her losing her grip on the phone, showed a man with his hand up, as if he didn’t want his photo taken.
The faint, sweet scent of the rose filled the interior of the car as she stared at the indistinct image. A creepy, tingling sensation swept the length of her spine.
It was him, she was certain of it. Although, who he was she had no idea, because his facial features were almost entirely obscured. All she had was an indication of age, somewhere in his thirties or forties, the fact that he was bald and wore glasses.
It wasn’t a lot to go on, but it was something, even if the police wouldn’t recognise it as concrete evidence.
A sleek, dark truck slid into the space next to her.
O’Halloran levered himself out from behind the wheel. Emotion, impulsive and almost overwhelming, swept through Jenna as she unlocked her car and climbed out. The irritations and disappointments of their earlier meeting—the searing moment when he had kissed her—dissolved in a rush. O’Halloran had turned up and he was forgiven.
Crazily, she felt like throwing herself into his arms. Her jaw clenched against the desire. After what had happened in the elevator that would be the equivalent of giving O’Halloran a green light and she hadn’t had time to think that far ahead yet.
O’Halloran strode around the side of
her car and gripped her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, I managed to get the ro—”
The sentence was smothered against O’Halloran’s muscled shoulder as he pulled her close for a dizzying few seconds. Palms flattened against the hard wall of his chest, she registered the heat of his body, the clean, male scent of him, the faint resinous scent of cologne.
O’Halloran’s gaze locked with hers, for a breathless moment she thought he was going to kiss her again, then she was free.
He dragged his fingers through his hair and avoided her gaze, as if he needed a few seconds. “Let’s see the photo you took.”
“He was sitting in the cinema. It was dark, so the shot is not great.” She reached back into the car, found her phone and brought up the last two shots.
As O’Halloran studied both photos, it fleetingly registered once again that he hadn’t questioned her panic over the rose, which struck Jenna as odd. After all, there were a number of innocent reasons for a rose to be left behind. The most obvious was that it had been a dating gift left behind by mistake. Although, Jenna was certain that if she was ever offered a rose on a date she wouldn’t forget it.
O’Halloran frowned as he studied the indistinct shot of the man with his hand up, covering his face. “What makes you so sure it’s him?”
She rubbed her arms. “I’m not sure. I just thought that the guy who left the rose might still be in the cinema, waiting to catch my reaction. When I looked up, he was watching me.”
“Did he approach you?”
The remote quality of O’Halloran’s gaze, the terse, incisive questions, made her stiffen. If she hadn’t known that he had once been a cop, she would know now. “No. I was asked to leave by one of the cinema staff. The next time I checked back in his direction he was gone. But I got the rose.”
She opened her car door, and indicated the white rose nestled on the passenger seat. O’Halloran’s expression didn’t change, but she felt like the temperature had just dropped by a couple of degrees.
“Have you touched the cellophane?”
“I picked it up by the flower head.”
“Good girl. Was there a card?”
“No. Nothing.” An automatic shudder went through her. The villain hadn’t attached a card in Deadly Valentine, either, because the rose itself had been both message and threat, signalling that the villain had never forgotten Sara’s rejection of him.
“Wait in the car. I’ll be a few minutes.”
“If you think I’m following that order you can forget it.” Jenna grabbed her handbag and locked her car. She didn’t want to stay behind in the car being creeped out by the rose for one more second. “I’m coming with you.”
O’Halloran looked impatient. “There’s no point. I’m just going to talk to mall security and see if I can’t find this guy on one of their cameras.”
“In that case, I’m definitely coming with you. I saw a whole lot more than the camera caught so there’s a good chance I can make a positive ID.”
O’Halloran looked like he wanted to argue, but Jenna didn’t give him the chance. Tucking the strap of her handbag over her shoulder, she made a beeline for the mall entrance.
* * *
The security office was cramped, and the duty officer, a tall, impressively built Polynesian woman, wasn’t happy about letting them in.
O’Halloran flashed his business card and ID.
Jenna started to explain that she had an upcoming book signing in the mall, when the security guard interrupted her with a grin. She knew exactly who Jenna was, because she was halfway through her latest book.
She pulled the book out of her desk drawer and introduced herself as Selene. After a short, animated conversation, Jenna obligingly signed the book.
Selene eyed O’Halloran curiously. “You look familiar, too.”
Jenna felt her face warm. She quickly passed the book, front cover down, back to Selene. Now was not a great time for O’Halloran to know that by some weird coincidence, the male model her publisher had used looked uncannily like him.
O’Halloran closed the door on the small office. “You’ve probably seen me around. I used to be a detective down at Auckland Central.”
Selene looked mildly interested. “That’s probably it.”
Relieved, Jenna let out a breath as Selene sat down at her computer and found the cinema complex cameras.
All six came up on the screen at once. “How far back do you want me to run them?”
O’Halloran checked his watch. “Try an hour, and fast-forward the disks. The guy is balding with glasses and could be carrying a white rose. If we spot him, or anyone carrying a white rose, we can always rewind and go frame by frame—”
“A white rose? Like the one in Deadly Valentine?” Selene gave Jenna an outraged look.
Jenna could have hugged her for making the instant connection. It made her own reaction to the rose seem low-key and utterly normal. It was also a warming feeling that someone else could instantly see what the stalker was doing.
O’Halloran’s hand landed briefly on the small of Jenna’s back, the warmth from his palm burning through the fabric of her suit jacket and distracting her from the conversation, as he moved her closer to the computer screen. He indicated which videos each of them would watch and Jenna tried to concentrate as her two screens began to replay, but her mind was still stubbornly focused on the electrifying moment when O’Halloran had touched her.
The hint had been distinctly possessive and laced with a touch of impatience, because this was all taking a lot longer than he had probably planned, but that didn’t change what she had felt.
She recognized what it was, although she hadn’t felt it in years—the same riveting, tingling awareness she’d experienced when O’Halloran had stepped into the elevator and said he would be guarding her.
The kind of heart-stopping, searing attraction that had once come close to ruining her life.
As dangerous as this stalker could be, O’Halloran was potentially even more dangerous on a whole other level because she now knew it had taken her years to get over him. In point of fact, she had never gotten over him, because if she had she would have been in another relationship by now.
O’Halloran glanced at her for a heart-pounding moment, making her aware that he had picked up on her restlessness. Mouth suddenly dry, Jenna was more than happy to concentrate on the screen.
Selene frowned as the videos flickered. “If this guy is using details from your book, then he’s got to be a reader, a fan.”
Still acutely aware of O’Halloran, she kept her gaze glued to the screen. “Men do read my books. I have one male fan who reads every book then emails me.”
“Maybe it’s him.”
“Different email address—”
Selene rolled her eyes. “Don’t be fooled by that. He probably has one address to romance you, the other to scare you, know what I mean? You should take this to the police.”
Jenna blinked at the connection Selene had made. A connection she hadn’t considered, but now realized she should. Although it made her feel faintly sick to think that her favourite fan could be just one side of a psychotic personality. “I’ve already spoken to the police.”
“Huh. In that case I bet they weren’t helpful.”
O’Halloran’s expression was impatient. “Police have to follow procedure. Cyber bullying and internet offences are rife. They can’t commit man hours on the strength of an email that contains no specific threat.”
Jenna peered at a man who appeared to be skulking behind a group of Japanese tourists. “Apparently you have to be hurt before they take that kind of thing seriously.”
“Sounds like exactly what happened with my ex.” Selene cast a dark look at the banks of monitors. “That’s why I took this job. Thi
s way I get to sit and watch the entrances all day. If I see anyone even remotely resembling Dean I call ground security. Honey, you should get the cops to run a check on your—” she sketched quotation marks in the air “—good fan. Sounds to me like a definite case of Jekyll and Hyde.”
She stopped one of the videos, hit a series of keys to zoom in on a bald man, then abandoned the inspection when the zoom revealed that the man was elderly with a moustache. “What’s this fan’s name?”
“He just calls himself Lydell88.”
“That settles it. If he genuinely likes your books, why doesn’t he use his full name? Or, for that matter,” she muttered darkly, “his real name. You don’t seriously think anyone today is called Lydell?”
O’Halloran indicated the screen closest to him. “There’s our man.”
Selene froze the image and zoomed in on a man wearing a brown jacket and a ball cap. Jenna’s stomach tightened. The ball cap, aside from hiding any sign of baldness, obscured most of the man’s face. He wasn’t carrying a rose, but he did have a shopping bag.
Selene started the video playing again. While she and O’Halloran watched the man progress through the mall, she worked with two other screens. The result was that they were able to watch Ball Cap practically until he stepped into the movie theatre.
Selene played the last video through again. All the hairs at Jenna’s nape lifted as she watched the calm, methodical progress of the figure, the occasional glint of glasses as his face always angled away from the cameras.
If she hadn’t been sure before, she was now. The glasses fit, as did his size and the brown jacket. He seemed younger than she had expected, but maybe that had more to do with her perception that bald men were older, which absolutely was not the case. The clincher was that he had gone to the same movie she had, and arrived there early. It was him.
O’Halloran’s expression was remote. “Whoever he is, he seems to know exactly where the cameras are.”
Selene nodded. “He keeps his head down, his face away from the camera. I’d say he’s done his homework.”