by Joanna Wayne
Ray backed to the door. Jodie settled in the rocker and cuddled Blair in her arms. Blake assessed the situation and figured he was the loser. He released a mournful wail.
“Do you think he has a fever, too?” Ray asked, slinking back inside the room.
“No. Probably just brotherly sympathy pains. Of course, he might need his diaper changed.”
The look on Ray’s face was one of pure panic.
“You could change him and see if that calms him,” Jodie said sweetly, knowing she was scaring the wits out of the usually confident attorney and enjoying every second of it. “Staying here was your idea, you know. You might as well be useful.”
Blake increased his volume level considerably when no one moved in his direction. “Okay, boy, quiet down now. You’ll wake your great-grandmother.” Ray stepped closer, his hands still at his side. “I…ah…I don’t know how to change a diaper,” he finally admitted.
“It’s easy. I’ll give you step-by-step instructions.”
He looked doubtful. “What if I stick him with a pin? That would be a lot worse than a wet diaper.”
“Diapers don’t have pins anymore. Get one out of the package on the dressing table. You can change him in the bed. All you have to do is unsnap his jammies and take off the wet diaper. Slip the new one under and over his bottom and attach the tabs. Surely a high-powered lawyer can handle a simple task like that”
“We didn’t cover changing diapers in law school.”
No, she was sure they didn’t. If they had, he would be an expert, like he was at everything else he did. She was the one who was a slow learner.
She watched his awkward movements as he changed the diaper of a son he’d never wanted and didn’t claim, the amusement she’d felt initially dissolving into a lump that settled in her chest, choking her breath away.
In the morning she’d insist he leave the house. Gentle Ben would stay over at night if she asked him. He’d done it before.
“All done.” Ray’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “What do I do with this thing?” He held the wet diaper with two fingers, at arm’s length, as if it contained radioactive material.
Dump it in the plastic container in the corner.”
“Disposable. I like it.” The smile on his face forecast his pride in his dubious achievements. And either the dry diaper or the attention had worked. Blake was lying on his back, sucking his right thumb and kicking his legs contentedly.
“Do you need me to do anything else?” Ray asked.
“No.”
“You still look upset, Jodie. I’ll call the doctor for you if you want.”
“No.” She placed her lips on her son’s head. “He’s cooler now that he’s stopped crying. I’ll rock him until he falls asleep.”
Ray leaned on the door, watching her. She rocked faster, suddenly aware of the thinness of her nightshirt, the warmth in the room. “Go to bed,” she whispered.
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t need me…”
“No, I don’t need you.” She almost choked on the words. She needed him. She couldn’t lie to herself. But it was a need she would bury deep inside her, so deep she would forget it existed.
She closed her eyes, holding Blair so close she could feel the beating of his tiny heart as Ray turned and walked from the room.
THE SOUND OF a lullaby filled Ray’s ears as he made his way back down the narrow hallway to the guest bedroom. What in the hell was he doing here? Two years ago he’d walked away from Jodie Gahagen, knowing he could never let her back in his life.
Tonight he was more convinced than ever he had made the right decision. She was the marrying kind, the type of woman who made love to you like there was no tomorrow and then had you planning a future of…of changing diapers and going to Little League games. The type of life he didn’t want and couldn’t handle.
So why was he here?
Jodie was in danger, that’s why. Pay the ultimate price, like the others did. Even now the words settled like cold lead in his gut If the man who wrote that note wasn’t stopped, Jodie could wind up dead.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Doubts rose inside him bitter as bile. He was nobody’s savior. Ask his mom, his dad, his high school coach. Make demands, and Ray Kostner buckled under like an empty cardboard box.
Only in his professional life was he a man of might. And that’s how he had to keep this. Impersonal. It was the only way.
He dropped to the side of his bed and flicked on the lamp, grabbing a pen and paper. He was wide awake now; he might as well work on the problems at hand. Number one: how to trace the identity of the man who was terrorizing Jodie. Number two: how to keep his hands and lips to himself when Jodie was around.
He closed his eyes as he heard the clock, praying he would get some sleep and not dream of anything that had happened nearly two years ago in New York City. Even he had his limits of endurance.
TENSION THICK AS a bowl of Grams’s grits hovered over the kitchen table. The last thing Jodie had wanted was to pull her grandmother into this. But with the local police already calling the house, it was only a matter of time before she figured it out on her own.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before, Jodie?” Grams fingered her coffee cup, running a bony digit around the edge of the delicate china handle.
Jodie reached a hand across the table and wrapped it around one of Grams’s. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Well, of course, you didn’t want to worry me, child. But I’m family. It’s my duty to worry.” She got up, refilled everyone’s coffee cup and then sat back down at the head of the table. “Now, Mr. Attorney, what are you going to do about this?”
“I’m—”
Jodie cut him off. “It’s not Ray’s problem, Grams. It’s mine, and I can handle it.”
“Pooh. If you could handle it, you would have done it already. Besides, you’ve got mothering to do, and Ray here doesn’t do anything but run around town all day in one of those fancy starched shirts and neck-choking ties bleeding people dry with those confounded lawsuits. A little worthwhile work would do him good.”
Ray’s laughter filled the air. “You do know how to cut to the chase, Miss Emily.” He stirred cream into his coffee and took a slow sip before continuing. “Jodie came to Natchitoches for help and we’re going to be sure that she gets it. In fact, I’m going to get started on it right after you cook that bacon and eggs you’ve been threatening me with.”
“Good.” She pushed her glasses farther back on her nose. “What can I do to help?”
“Just keep everything under your flowered sunbonnet. The fewer people who know about all of this, the easier the hunt will be. I’ll tell Ben, though. I want him to keep an eye on all of you during the day.”
“And Selda. I have to tell Selda. The woman’s been my next-door neighbor for thirty years. And you can’t keep a secret from that nosy woman anyway.” Grams was already up and busy, peeling off thick slices of honey-cured bacon.
“Okay, Grams. You can tell Selda, but no one else. In fact, I’ll go over with you after I’ve fed the boys their breakfast,” Jodie offered.
“No need for that. She’s already called. Said she had something she wanted to bring over for the twins, but I bet she already heard about what happened last night at Gloria’s shop. She’ll be over before the dishes are wiped to get an earful.”
The baby monitor on the counter buzzed with the sounds of wriggling movement and toddler babbling. “The boys are waking up,” Jodie said, grateful for an excuse to leave Grams and Ray at each other’s mercy.
“And I’ve got to eat and get back to those disgusting lawsuits,” Ray said with a conspiratorial wink. “If I don’t see you before I leave, I’ll pick you up at twelve-thirty for lunch, Jodie.”
“I have plans.”
“Change them. I worked up a list of priorities last night, and I want to go over them with you. Also, I’ll need information about everyone you came in contact with in New York
on any regular basis. I’ll need descriptions, when you’ve seen them last, anything unusual about the way they act around you. That type of thing.”
“You’re not my attorney.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Grams said, cracking eggs into a pottery bowl. “I’ll hire him.”
“I accept the assignment.”
Jodie shook her head in exasperation. She’d save her strength for a battle she could win. She’d handle Ray her own way, outside Grams’s earshot. “I’ll see you at lunch, counselor,” she said defiantly before marching out of the kitchen.
LASYONE’S WAS BUSTLING at 12:30, tourists and locals alike crowded at the small wooden tables. Ray pushed through the door and then held it open for Jodie, ushering her into the spot he frequently referred to as aroma heaven.
The potent odors of hot spices drifted in from the kitchen where the miniature meat pies browned in huge pots of hot grease and oysters and shrimp danced on sizzling grills.
A waitress, blond and willowy and no more than twenty, flashed him a smile and wiped her hands on her apron. “Smoking or nonsmoking?” she said, sidling up next to him.
“Nonsmoking, unless there’s a long wait.”
She flashed her eyes flirtatiously. “I got a table just opening up in the back. It won’t take but a minute to get it cleaned and set up.”
“Sounds perfect.”
They followed the sashaying waitress through ill-formed rows of tables, all covered in plastic cloths and most filled with huge helpings of red beans and rice, potato salad and the famous meat pies. A group of young men in jeans and work shirts looked up from their food as they passed. The waitress was prancing, but it was Jodie their eyes were on.
Ray didn’t blame them a bit. Even in loose slacks and a cotton blouse, the figure beneath the mane of bright red hair was enough to make a man turn primal. He should know.
But the figure wasn’t the only thing that drew men’s attention. She wore the look of a challenge, forbidden, too self-satisfied. But Ray knew better than to buy the look. He’d kissed it from her face before, knew that beneath the cool exterior, there was enough heat to seriously threaten the polar ice caps.
Keep it cool. Impersonal. All business. The warnings flooded his brain.
He held a chair for Jodie and then took the one to her right, making sure his hand didn’t brush her shoulder or tangle in her hair.
“Do you have a recommendation?” she asked, burying her head behind the well-worn menu the waitress had left.
“I’ve never had a bad dish here. Of course, I like my food spicy. Save room for dessert, though. The Cane River Cream Pie is the best in town, next to Miss Emily’s, of course. I’ve been known to go for seconds.”
“Everything looks good. Unfortunately, I don’t have much of an appetite these days.”
Ray studied the lines in her face. In most people, the kind of fear and worry she’d been living with would have drawn and drained their features, making them look tired and years older. It obviously didn’t work that way with Jodie.
Her beauty wasn’t at all diminished. If anything, the new seriousness made her more woman, more desirable even than the whirlwind of vivacious energy he remembered.
He smiled thankfully as the waitress returned with two tall glasses of iced tea. He was falling into the trap again. He wasn’t sure who set the trap, Jodie or his own memories, his own needs and fantasies. All he was certain of was that he felt the clamps tightening every time he was around her.
But the traps would never hold. That’s why he had to remember that Jodie was off-limits. Friend in need, and nothing more. He owed that to both of them.
Bending over, he reached into the briefcase at his feet and pulled out a yellow legal pad. No use to put off the inevitable.
“I spent the morning on the phone to the NYPD,” he said, looking over his notes. “It took some persistence, but I finally managed to talk to the detective who’s investigating your complaints.”
“Detective Cappan?
“One and the same. Seems like a sharp guy.”
“Not as sharp as the stalker.”
“Maybe not. But he’s out there trying. He thinks you did the right thing by getting out of New York. For the record, so do I.”
“Right. We may as well make the stalker work a little harder at his tormenting business. Now, he, too, can give up his job and apartment, if he had one, and travel to beautiful downtown Natchitoches. Maybe we should put up a banner welcoming him.”
“I wouldn’t. We have no evidence Deaton wasn’t correct in his initial assessment. Panic and pain caused Gloria to knock the files to the floor. The man isn’t likely to travel this far from his home haunting grounds, not when New York City is overrun with replacement victims.”
“No, and Cappan didn’t think he would move beyond leaving notes. He almost had me convinced until Max Roling turned up dead. And all the poor man did to deserve losing his life was give me a comforting hug. Come to think of it, Ray, you may be treading dangerous ground yourself. I should probably come with a warning label.”
The frustration in her voice tore at his resolve. He battled the urge to take her hands in his, relying on words instead. “According to Cappan, Roling was murdered in a robbery attempt. The murder rate in Manhattan is down, but not extinct.”
“I’ve heard Cappan’s theory. It’s old news. And wrong.”
“You can’t be sure of that.” Ray ran his fingers up and down his glass, tracing a drop of condensation. “Stalking’s a cowardly thing. In almost every case, the perpetrator waits until the victim is alone to act, just like yours has done. If there’s no history of violence, the stalker usually doesn’t escalate to that state.”
“Thank you, counselor. I couldn’t have quoted the police procedural manual better myself. It doesn’t do a damn thing for bringing Max back to life though.” She unclasped the napkin she’d been twisting and picked up her knife, spreading a layer of butter on a wedge of French bread and then wagging the utensil at him. “Besides, I doubt the murderer has a copy of the manual. Perhaps you and Cappan could send him one. It would make his life and mine a lot easier.”
“We could have just left one for him in your apartment.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He came back, evidently the night after you moved out.”
Jodie winced at his words and sucked in her breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh. “How do they know that?”
“Evidently the neighbor who purchased your furniture didn’t get it all the first afternoon. When she came back the next day to pick up the bed and chifforobe, she found the door cracked open and the sheets on the bed wadded into knots, as if someone had slept there, or something. She was sure she’d left the door locked.”
“So it took less than twenty-four hours for the man to realize I’d run out. Fortunately, it took a month for him to track me to Natchitoches. Better than having him do it overnight. This way we know he’s not psychic as well as crazy.”
“All we know is that he made a lucky guess about your destination. He could have talked to almost anyone who knows you and found out you were from here. At any rate, we have to put a stop to the harassment.”
“Not we, Ray. You have a short memory. I will put a stop to it.”
The determination in her voice caught him off guard. He met her gaze, and what he saw worried him even more than the fear he’d seen the night she received the flowers. The fight that burned in the deep recesses of her pupils now was the kind he’d seen in desperate clients, right before they’d ignored his counsel and taken matters into their own hands.
“You’re no match for the likes of this man. Especially if it turns out he really is a killer.”
His words of caution were lost in the clatter of dishes being set in front of them. A huge plate of catfish for him, a shrimp salad for Jodie, and a bowl of fried okra for nibbling. He waited while the waitress gave her “Anything else for you?” spiel before continuing his lecture.
“When we get back to my office, I want descriptions of every man who’s made a pass at you in the last year, even if you think it was totally innocent. I know a man in New Orleans who does unbelievably accurate drawings from verbal descriptions. I want to send them to Cappan and have him look through his mug books. Chances are this man has a record. Breaking and entering can get you time even in New York.”
“I’ve been through the suspect list with Cappan already.” Jodie nibbled on a shrimp, taking her time chewing and swallowing, her eyes everywhere but focused in his direction. “And I don’t have time to go through it again today,” she said finally, nudging a piece of lettuce with her fork. “I have an appointment at three o’clock in Shreve-port. I’m hiring a nanny.”
“That makes sense. Tending to those two would be too much for anyone.”
“No, they’re not too much for me.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, as if gearing up for a battle she hated to fight. “But they’ll be too much for Grams when I go back to New York.”
The bite of catfish stopped midway down Ray’s throat. He coughed it loose, his body suddenly tighter than a spring. “You are not going back to New York. Not until this thing is settled. For God’s sake, Jodie, I just told you, the man was in your apartment the night after you left. If you’d been there…”
“Next time I will be there. It’s the only way to stop him. If he followed me here, and I believe he did, he’ll follow me back to New York. I’ll let him know I want to see him, talk to him, find out who he is and what he wants from me. Then I can go to the police and have at least a chance of stopping him. But I have to do it alone. I have to protect Blake and Blair.”
“So you’ll get their mother killed, or…”
“Or I could bring the nightmare to an end. You and Cappan both said the man is likely harmless. Besides, something has to be done. I can’t just keep running. As it is now, I’ve put the boys and Grams in danger. And even you.”
“I can take care of all of you.”