Jodie's Little Secrets

by Joanna Wayne

  “He never says.”

  His hand tightened on her arm possessively. “You need to be more careful, Jodie. Stop jogging alone in isolated areas.”

  “You said yourself, just because he sent flowers doesn’t mean he’ll actually travel from New York to Natchitoches. Besides, I left easy-to-follow clues that I would be in San Francisco. If he goes anywhere, he should go there.”

  “If you believed that you wouldn’t have turned into a shivering mass of nerves when the flowers were delivered. Just do what I say, Jodie. Don’t go out alone, unless you’re going to very public places, at least not until we know if this guy’s in town.”

  “So you think I should let this lunatic keep me prisoner and hope for the best. I certainly can’t afford a bodyguard.”

  “I can.” The words were a hoarse whisper. “And if it comes to that, I’ll hire one. But right now, I’m in town and you can work your schedule of solitary errands around times when Ben or I can go out with you.”

  “You’re not my keeper, Ray. I’m not ready to trade one stalker for another.”

  “Maybe not But at least you know I’m not dangerous.”

  Jodie met his gaze, and her heart settled like lead in her chest. Danger had many faces. So did pain. “I can handle this. It’s not your concern.”

  He ran his fingers the length of her arms and back up again, sliding his arm across her shoulders, riding the strained lines of her neck with his thumb. Her pulse quickened, and she willed it to slow. But still she couldn’t make herself pull away.

  He leaned closer, his lips inches from hers. And then they met, soft and tickling, like the brush of a feather. So quick she had no time to stop him or the impulses that churned inside her. A touch and then he pulled away.

  “Now go in and tell Miss Emily you’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Gloria Bigger is expecting us at the flower shop.”

  “Does she remember something about the man who ordered the flowers?” Her voice rose optimistically.

  “Only that he called in the order, which means my theory about his still being in New York is probably right.”

  “Lots of people order flowers for local delivery.”

  “Not stalkers. When you order by phone, you have to give a credit card number. Mrs. Bigger said she’s sure she checked the number out with Visa. That’s the only way she accepts orders from strangers. If we have his name and the number of his account, we can identify him.”

  Jodie shook her head, doubts hammering away at the sliver of hope Ray offered. “He’s smarter than that.” But a surge of adrenaline rippled through her veins. The cops always said he’d make a mistake sooner or later. Maybe this would be the time. “I’ll tell Grams,” she said, “and meet you at Gloria’s.”

  “We’ll go together.”

  She didn’t argue the point. Maybe it was the effect of the full moon addling her senses, or maybe she just didn’t want to be alone. Whatever the cause, she was suddenly glad they were facing this thing together.

  RAY SPUN THE steering wheel of his red Porsche, rounding the corner onto Front Street. It was eight-fifteen on a Monday night and the main street of town was all but deserted. The only visible sign of life was a couple of hand-clasped young lovers peering into the window of a store already filled with bright colored Christmas ornaments and a waving Santa.

  The window display was a reminder of just how much Natchitoches would change in the next few weeks. When the light extravaganza was turned on along the river, visitors would flood the small town. The number of lights had grown steadily over the years. So had the crowds, especially for the first weekend of the popular Festival of Lights.

  “How much did you tell Gloria?” Jodie asked, finally breaking the silence she’d imposed since climbing into his car.

  He turned to face her. She was chewing on her bottom lip, the way she always did when she was worried. He would love to get his hands on the trash who was causing her this kind of grief. The last time he’d been with her she’d been—

  He shook his head, pushing the memories from his mind once more, the way he had been trying to do ever since his trip to New York. “I told her the truth,” he finally answered. “At least a partial truth. I said you were being harassed by someone and you wanted to verify the name of the person who sent the flowers. We’ll get the credit card information and turn it over to the police.”

  “And I can hear them now. It is not against the law to send flowers, Miss Gahagen. Then they’ll hand me hundreds of yards of bureaucratic tape and no action.”

  “That was New York. This is Natchitoches. There’s not a hundred yards of tape in the whole town.” Ray leaned closer, and the soft scent of gardenias washed over him, weakening his resistance and playing havoc with the promise he’d made himself earlier this evening. He was a friend helping out in an emergency.

  He wouldn’t make the same mistake he’d made in New York again, wouldn’t give Jodie any reason to think of him as a man to hook her dreams of permanence on. They rode in silence until he pulled to the curb in front of the flower shop.

  “Gloria must not be here yet.” Jodie scooted closer to the passenger door but didn’t open it. “The shop is pitch dark.”

  “Yeah, but that looks like her green sedan in front of us, and it looks empty. Wait in the car. I want to look around a minute.”

  “No.” Her fingers dug into his arm, holding him back. “Something’s wrong. I can’t explain how I know. It’s just something I feel, a dread that crawls across my skin when he’s been around.” Fear stole her voice, reducing her words to a whisper.

  Ray wrapped an arm about her trembling body, pulling her close. Too close. His heart constricted and other body parts, ones far more traitorous, came to life. He struggled for control.

  “Okay, Jodie, we’ll go in together. Gloria’s probably in the back of the shop going over the order slips as we speak. There’s no possible reason for your stalker to show up at the flower shop. He couldn’t suspect you were going to rush down here after closing to go over the records.”

  He eased open the driver’s side door, one arm still about her shoulders. “Besides, like I told you before, the chances are slim to none the crackpot’s traveled all the way to Natchitoches to make trouble.”

  Jodie pulled from his arms and swung open her own door. “I hope you’re right,” she said, rounding the comer of the front fender and heading straight for Gloria’s car. “But I wouldn’t make bets on it.”

  Chapter Three

  Ray joined Jodie, peering through the windshield of Gloria’s parked car. “See. The car’s empty, except for a stack of papers and a McDonald’s bag.” He slid his hand over the hood. “And the motor’s still warm. She must have beat us here by no more than a few minutes.”

  A sigh of what he hoped was relief escaped Jodie’s lips in a whoosh. He followed her to the door, his gaze tracing the line of shrubs that bordered the side of the shop. For the first time since he’d arrived in Natchitoches, he felt the pangs of apprehension, the wariness of deserted places he’d learned to accept as commonplace in New Orleans.

  But the shrubs were still and the only noises were Jodie’s footsteps and the eerie rasping of the metal sign above the door as it caught the wind. He was letting Jodie’s faceless fears set him on edge, and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

  He needed a clear head. If the suspicions rolling through his mind were true, Jodie was in real danger. The stalker she described had the earmarks of a serial killer, a man who chose his victims and then tormented them before leading them to their death. He’d have to walk a thin line, make Jodie ever cautious without scaring her to death.

  Ray stepped in front of Jodie and banged his fist against the weathered wood. The door creaked open a few inches, then stopped. He pushed against it, but it didn’t budge.

  “What is it?”

  “I can’t tell exactly.” Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the room. He stepped inside, poking a
t the mass that blocked the door with the toe of his leather moccasin. A soft moan gurgled from the mass.

  He dropped to his knees. Jodie draped over him and reached past him to grab the limp arm that lay across the cold tiles of the entrance way.

  “Is that you, Ray Kostner?”

  Jodie gave him no time to answer. She’d already squeezed her slender body through the partially opened door.

  “Mrs. Bigger, what happened? Are you all right?” Jo-die’s voice rose to an uneven pitch.

  “No, honey. Call an…ambulance and…tell them to hurry.” Gloria Bigger’s breath came in quick gasps, and her body jerked convulsively.

  Ray managed to shove the door open a few more inches and squeeze through. His fingers searched the wall and found the light switch. Jodie dived for the phone, and Ray kneeled beside the suffering woman.

  Illumination did not make the situation better. Gloria was white as a sheet, and her left hand clutched the material of her blouse at a spot over her heart.

  He checked her pulse only to find that it was as weak as he expected. But at least she still had one. “We’re getting help, Mrs. Bigger.”

  She coughed and tried to raise her head. “The flower order.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he assured her, massaging her cold hands. “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll have you to the hospital in no time.”

  “The man…” She stopped in midsentence, whimpering in pain.

  “Don’t try to talk now. Just relax. Everything’s under control.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. After what seemed hours to him, Jodie hung up the phone and dropped to the floor beside them, brushing a tissue she’d found somewhere across Mrs. Bigger’s sweating brow.

  “I’m sorry,” Jodie whispered, her voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

  “Not…your fault”

  Half of Mrs. Bigger’s words were swallowed in a moan. But the expression on Jodie’s face was proof to Ray that Jodie believed all of this was her fault. Hers and the stalker’s.

  Ray relinquished Gloria’s hand to Jodie’s as the cry of approaching sirens attacked the night.

  “You’ll be just fine after Dr. Creighton works his magic,” Jodie whispered, her face close to the florist’s ear.

  Ray hoped the good doc had a double dose of the magic. The woman on the floor would need it.

  JODIE GROUND HER TEETH and stared at Butch Deaton while he scribbled down notes on a pad of paper. It was about time he did something besides walk around the flower shop scratching his head.

  She had known Butch ever since she’d moved to Natchitoches, even dated him a few times during her senior year in high school. Watching him tonight, she couldn’t imagine what she’d seen in him. He was far more arrogant than sympathetic, and his competence, seriously in question.

  “It looks like a routine emergency to me,” he said, tapping his stub of a pencil on the pad. “The woman had a heart attack from natural causes.”

  “Papers and folders are scattered all over her desk,” Jodie protested. “And the top drawer of the file cabinet has obviously been rifled through.”

  He leaned against the counter, one hand propped on the handle of the revolver that peeked from his holster. “I know the place is a mess, Jodie.”

  “Exactly. Because the man who sent me the flowers must have realized too late that he could be traced through his credit card information. He broke in here tonight to get the same records we were looking for. Only he beat us to them. That’s why they’re not here.”

  “Then Mrs. Bigger arrived unexpectedly and caught him in the act. He frightened her into a coronary.” Butch finished her scenario for her, a patronizing smile splitting his lips. “I’m sure your theory sounds reasonable to you, but you don’t understand police work.”

  “The theory sounds plausible to me, too, Butch, and I do understand criminal activity.”

  Butch stared at Ray as if he were a bug he’d like to stamp. “If the man was worried about being tracked down, he would have never called in an order and given a credit card number in the first place. Even a defense attorney should be able to figure that out.”

  “Maybe he didn’t think about the card being used to trace him until after the fact.”

  “Sounds like a pretty stupid stalker to me.”

  “Or one who made a mistake. It happens. Surely even cops make mistakes occasionally.” Ray stared him down.

  “Occasionally.” This time he directed his remarks to Jodie, stepping closer, putting a hand on her arm, invading her space. “We can’t go jumping to any criminal conclusions, Jodie. I know you mean well, but you have to leave the professional decisions to the police department.”

  She backed away from him. “Then you really believe Mrs. Bigger trashed her own office?” Jodie’s patience could stretch no further.

  “It’s not unusual. Fact is, it happens all the time. The family calls us in, sure someone’s heart attack was provoked by a break-in. Later we find out that when the pain hit, the person kind of went wild for a minute or two, all panicky, slinging things everywhere.”

  “But Gloria Bigger wasn’t even in the office when we found her. She was at the front door, as if she’d just arrived.”

  “Or trying to get help.”

  Jodie blew a blast of steam from between pursed lips. Arguing with Butch was useless. She should have known that from the moment she’d told him that she thought Gloria Bigger had been attacked by an unknown stalker who had followed her to Natchitoches from New York City. The way he had rolled his eyes at his partner had told her more than his feeble attempts to humor her. He thought she was a fruitcake.

  “You don’t need to worry, Jodie. I’ll follow up on this. If Mrs. Bigger pulls through, she’ll be able to tell us herself if she encountered somebody in the shop.”

  “If she pulls through.”

  “She has a good chance. In the meantime, you call me direct if you get any more flowers or see anyone suspicious looking hanging around the house.” He pressed his business card into her hand. “You can always reach me if you call the beeper number.”

  “But you will get a team down here to check for fingerprints?” Ray asked, reminding him of his earlier promise.

  “Yeah, Kostner. I always do what I say I will.” His gaze left Ray and sought out Jodie’s. “I can give you a lift to your grandmother’s if you’d like. I’m going that way.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Ray answered for her. “I’ll see that Jodie gets home safely.”

  He took her arm and urged her to the door. Reluctantly, she let herself be escorted out. The only real clue she’d located had been a stack of acknowledgment cards stamped with a border of red hearts, just like the one that had come with her flowers. Valentine leftovers, Jodie suspected.

  But the heart cards had been in the back corner of the supply desk, and a larger stack of cards had been in the front, all decorated with fall leaves and pumpkins. Mrs. Bigger would have surely chosen one of those unless the caller had specifically requested something with a red heart.

  The only thing that didn’t add up in her mind was that the stalker had left red roses on her doorstep before, but never yellow ones. The shift in color probably had some symbolic meaning, but it was lost on her.

  She was sure the stalker had sent the flowers. She had no admirers in Natchitoches. But did tormenting her give him such pleasure he would follow her all the way across the country? Had he been here, in this very office, frightening Gloria Bigger into a heart attack? Or was Jodie just the running-scared neurotic everyone took her to be?

  By the time she reached the curb, her head was pounding. Ray opened the door for her and then climbed in on his side, settling under the steering wheel and firing the ignition. Seconds later, he pulled out of the parking spot, taking the curve at a speed that sent her flying in his direction.

  “You told me earlier that this maniac you’re so afraid of has never touched you. Were you telling me the whole truth?” Ray
held a death grip on the wheel.

  “I’m asking again, Jodie. Has this man ever laid a hand on you?”

  “I’m not on the witness stand, counselor. And I don’t have to tell you anything. This isn’t your problem.” Besides, she’d told him more truth than he’d wanted to believe already. And the rest of the truth…

  Fear surged again, moving through her veins like ice water. The rest of the truth might be so gory even she couldn’t bear to think of it. Only she could think of nothing else. Not since the night she’d been called to identify the body. And still the police hadn’t believed her. So why would anyone else?

  “Hey, wait a minute,” she protested, realizing that Ray was heading in the opposite direction from her house. “I need to check on Grams and the boys, and I want to go home now.”

  “You can call them. Besides, you’ll be home soon enough. I just need to make one quick stop.”

  “I should have ridden home with Officer Unfriendly.”

  “You had your chance.”

  “So, where is this stop you have to make?”

  “My house. I need to pick up a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like underwear. A pair of pajamas, if I can find them. A shaving kit.”

  An unexpected lump gathered in her throat. She spoke past it, determined not to let anything Ray did bother her ever again. “Sounds like a slumber party,” she quipped. “How fun. Too bad you had to keep the party hostess waiting.”

  Her attempt at uncaring sarcasm came out like the farce it was. She sat in silence, curses rolling through her mind like the blackest of Louisiana storm clouds.

  But he was doing her a favor. Knowing he was heartless enough to throw his plans for being with another woman into her face was just the kind of reminder she needed to put him out of her mind for good.

  “Actually the hostess doesn’t know I’m coming.” He picked up his cellular phone and punched in a series of numbers before sticking it in her hands. “Why don’t you tell her she’ll have a houseguest for a few days?”