by Joanna Wayne
Her finger fondled the walkie-talkie. One call and Ben would rush to her side. He’d walk every inch of the house with her, put her fears to rest. But there was no reason to call him. It was just her nerves playing tricks on her.
The room was neat as a pin, nothing bothered, nothing out of place. But the stalker had never left a mess. He’d only rearranged things, moved her intimate belongings around, touched them, stretched them into bizarre shapes.
Her fingers trembled as she cracked open the dresser drawer. Her hand brushed the silky softness of her scarves. They were folded exactly as she had left them. One more drawer. The stalker’s favorite. Her breath caught and held as she eased it open, but the panties and bras were in their places. No one had been here.
Shivering, she hugged her arms across her chest and walked over to close the windows. They were French, the kind that swung out and let in plenty of fresh air. Once in high school, she’d climbed through in the middle of the night, stretching onto an overhanging branch of the pecan tree.
The tree was still there, but trimmed so that the nearest branch was much farther from the house. She got on her knees in the window seat and leaned out. If someone really wanted to, he might be able to climb the tree and swing in through an open window.
She shook her head. No one had, and from now on she’d make sure the window stayed locked tight. She closed the shutters and stepped out of her shoes, unzipping her skirt and letting it slide to the floor. She needed a shower, hot, sudsy. Enough to warm her inside and wash away the stench of fear.
Wriggling out of the rest of her clothes, she pulled back the shower curtain.
And the horror hit home again.
Chapter Nine
Ray pulled into the driveway in front of the Gahagen house and skidded his car to a stop. It had been a long night, most of it spent haggling with his dad over minute details of a case he could have handled in his sleep. In New Orleans, he might be a legend, but at the office of Parker Kostner, he was still the son who never quite made the grade. Bygones were never bygones.
If Jodie hadn’t needed him, Ray would have packed his bags and headed back to New Orleans in a New York second. New York. Just the words piled on another layer of fatigue.
Two years ago New York had been just another city in North America, one he could well do without. But a week in the city, in a tiny apartment that could have fit into the bedroom of his own spacious living quarters in New Orleans, and his satisfying life-style had been turned into so much muck.
All of a sudden the man who had everything he thought he wanted or needed had realized how much he was missing. Now fate had hurled him and Jodie back together in a game of wits with a madman. He banged one fist on the steering wheel. Life just wasn’t fair.
This afternoon’s escapade in his temporary office might be his biggest mistake yet. Making love to Jodie was like an addict’s fix. It satisfied for a short time, only to whet the desire for more and more and more. Even now…He pushed the thought aside. What he needed was sleep.
Grabbing his briefcase, he stepped into the cool night air. He sucked in a huge gulp, hoping it would clear his mind. It didn’t Once thoughts of Jodie invaded his brain, neither mind nor body was easily put to rest.
He glanced at her window and then at his watch. Half past midnight, and her light was still on. His pace quickened, the fatigue that had been weighing him down growing lighter with the seductive prospect of seeing her again.
Fumbling for the newest key on his chain, he fitted it in the hole and turned it, opening the door and stepping into the foyer. The house was quiet. He tiptoed up the stairs, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the creaks of a house that should have finished settling half a century ago.
He stopped at the guest room first, depositing his briefcase and suit jacket and pouring two fingers of whiskey from the crystal decanter Miss Emily had set out for him as soon as she realized he was a semipermanent guest.
She’d made a production of the amenity, placing the decanter and shot glasses on a silver tray atop the mahogany secretary that she’d proudly pointed out dated to Civil War days. She saw him as a prospective grandson-in-law. Ray could all but see the designing wheels turning through her nearly translucent skin.
Of course, that was only because she didn’t know the real Ray Kostner. Perhaps she should talk to the judge, ask him why he gave up the career he loved when it was in full swing.
Ray downed the drink in a single swig and poured another. He should just drop into bed like he’d planned before he’d noticed the light in Jodie’s window. Jodie, forbidden fruit, delectable and luscious, so damned tempting his mouth watered at the thought of her. He slipped out of his shoes and loosened his tie before dropping all pretense of giving up the chance to see her tonight.
A minute later, he tapped lightly on her door.
“Come in, Ray.”
“How did you know it was me?” he said pushing the door open and stepping inside.
“I heard you drive up.”
Jodie’s voice was low, strained, and her skin had turned shades of ghostly white. “What’s wrong?” he asked the question, but he knew the answer. It was written in the fear that glazed her eyes and pulled her lips into thin, trembling lines, the same way it had the night the bouquet of roses had been delivered.
“You heard from him again, didn’t you?”
“A present.” She motioned toward an opened package that sat beside her on the bed. “I found it in the bathroom, behind the shower curtain.”
“That worthless piece of trash.” He walked over to the bed and picked up the box. It rested in a nest of red, shim-mery paper, a shiny red bow as topping. Cradling it in his hand, he lifted the lid.
The soft tinkling sounds of music escaped, the serenade to accompany a pair of lovers who twirled round and round inside a glass gazebo.
“A music box?”
“Right, one that plays ‘New York, New York.’ A perfectly harmless reminder that no matter how many police are watching, he can walk into my house at will.”
“Where did you find it?”
“It was in my bathtub. So thoughtful of him to go to the trouble to hide a present in the spot where he knows I strip to nothing, where he knows I won’t even be able to shower now without fearing he’s just a step away.”
She stood, her hands knotted into fists, her eyes the deep emerald of a tossing sea. “And if that wasn’t enough, he left his calling card.”
“A red heart.”
“Yes, with another message.”
She walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer, taking out a folded construction paper heart. He took it from her and unfolded it.
The message was printed in black crayon.
“Save yourself.” He read it again, this time to himself.
“I don’t know what this lunatic wants from me. I don’t have a clue who he is. Which means I’m exactly where I was when this whole thing started. Except now I’ve given up my job and traveled from one end of the country to the other to escape him.”
“You’re not where you were.” He took her hand in his. She was rigid, torn with frustration. “Butch has turned this into a full-scale investigation.”
“And in spite of that, the man walked into my house and deposited a wrapped package in my bathtub.”
Ray felt the tightening in his jaw, the urge to bury a fist into something, anything. But he had to fake a calm he didn’t feel.
He could all but see Jodie on the next plane to New York, walking the streets like a vigilante patrol. Setting herself up to be the next victim. He wasn’t about to let that happen. So he had better start talking.
“My guess is the man will be identified and arrested within the week.”
“And my guess is Mars will collide with Venus, and the New Orleans Saints will win the Super Bowl.”
Ray switched tactics. “I know you’re upset, Jodie, anyone would be under the circumstances. That’s why this is not the time to make rash decisions.”<
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“It’s past time. I will not play games with a madman under Grams’s roof. I have to protect her. I have to protect Blake and Blair. If anything happened to them…” Her voice dissolved into a shaky whisper.
“Nothing will happen to them. Ben’s here. I’m here. Cops are watching the house.”
“That’s not good enough. Not anymore. I have a plan, Ray, but I’ll need your help. Don’t panic, it doesn’t involve baby-sitting, and I won’t be going to New York, at least not yet.”
“So, why am I not relieved?”
“I want the stalker to contact me.”
“He just did.”
“No, I mean I want a face-to-face confrontation. No strike and disappear. I can’t deal with a phantom.”
“How do you propose to arrange this meeting?”
“Don’t laugh. I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’m going to take out an ad in the personal column. A note to my stalker that I’d like to meet him, thank him in person for all the gifts. I’ll have it framed inside a heart.”
“What makes you think he reads the personals?”
“He writes. Maybe he reads. Do you have any better ideas?”
“The police…”
“The police have taken weeks to find out the man killed Max. Even if I fail miserably, I can’t do much worse.” She walked over to the dresser and picked up a notepad. “This is what I have in mind,” she said, pointing at a lengthy list scribbled in longhand.
Ray read silently, detail by detail, the knots in his stomach pulling tighter with every word. Her plan was dangerous at best, deadly at worst. She wouldn’t listen to reason, not in the mind-set she was in now. Which meant he had to make a few plans of his own.
“You can’t talk me out of this, Ray, so don’t even try,” she announced, when he’d finished reading her bizarre scheme to use herself as bait to trap a murderer.
“Okay.”
Surprise drew her brows into auburn arches.
“You are a very brave woman.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I’m sure you will not put the mother of your sons into unnecessary danger.” A new tactic, probably also useless.
“I’m not trying to be a hero. I just need my life back. I have to know my babies are safe.”
This time the pain inside her broke through her determination, shattering her voice into shaky cries. He held her in his arms rocking her to him, absorbing the sobs that shook her body. He eased her down, placing her head on the pillow, his arms still locked around her.
He held her like that, her hair across his shoulder, the warmth of her breath against his skin until she was fast asleep.
JODIE TWISTED beneath the sheet, curling her knees up to her waist. Slowly, she opened her eyes, rubbing until the moonlit bedroom took form. The last thing she remembered was Ray holding her while torrents of tears finally broke loose.
The room was empty now. Flexing her feet, she pulled them over the side of the bed. Her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow. Sliding into her slippers, she went to the bathroom and filled a paper cup with water from the tap, drinking it down in thirst-quenching gulps.
The baby monitor was quiet. She checked it, overly cautious, just to make sure it was turned on. It was. The boys were obviously sleeping soundly. Still, she felt the need to see them. As she’d done so many nights lately, she grabbed a quilt from the top of the bed and threw it over her shoulders, padding down the hallway to sit in the rocker and watch them sleep. It was far more effective than tranquilizers or aspirin to calm her ragged nerves.
She pushed into their room. The rocking chair swayed, and her heart plunged to her toes before the shadowy form took shape. She leaned against the door frame, her heart still racing. “What are you doing in here?”
“Watching my sons sleep.” Ray’s words sank in slowly, like feet in quicksand.
“What did you say?”
“I’m watching my sons sleep.”
Alarms went off in her head, shaking her from the dregs of sleep into full wakefulness. Ray stood, his frame catching the moonlight that peeked through the window and casting a shadow that engulfed her. Slowly, almost silently, he walked to Blair’s crib and towered over the sleeping child.
“He’s perfect. They both are. Innocent and trusting. They deserve so much. Instead they got a father who denied them.” Ray reached into the crib and touched the back of his fingers to Blair’s cheek.
Jodie’s heart constricted. Father and son. Picture-perfect. Except for the tension that filled the air, suffocating, burning, a stifling blanket of fear and confusion.
Blair squirmed in his bed, waking to the noise of voices invading his dreams.
“This isn’t the place to talk, Ray.” She turned and walked out, his footsteps following behind her. She considered the kitchen and coffee, buying time to think, but Ray caught up with her and took her arm, leading her into her bedroom.
The moment of truth had come, but there were no feelings of exhilaration, just a dull throbbing in her temples and a duller ache in her heart.
Ray closed the door and leaned against it, his dark eyes glazed and unreadable.
Jodie struggled for calm. “What makes you suddenly think the boys are yours?”
“Not think, Jodie. I know they’re mine. What I don’t know is why you didn’t tell me when you first found out you were pregnant.”
“I called you. You didn’t return my calls.”
“You never indicated there was a problem. You merely said you missed me and wanted to hear my voice.”
She met his accusing stare. “Believe me, one part of me longed to tell you the truth from the very beginning. But the other part of me, the sensible part, knew you meant what you said. You wanted no part of commitment. So I did what I thought was best for my sons. I want Blake and Blair to know unconditional love, not rejection.”
He stepped closer, his breath hot on her flesh. “Jodie Gahagen, the perfect mother. It was too bad you were seduced by a man who was never worthy of you.”
“Not seduced, Ray. I made love to a man I loved. Together we created two individuals, so precious I can’t bear to think of life without them.”
“So you went through the pregnancy and the birth all alone. You were always a fighter.” He turned his back on her and paced the room before finally stopping to stare out the window.
Jodie stepped behind him. “You didn’t answer my question, Ray. Why are you suddenly so sure Blair and Blake are your sons?”
He turned, wrapping his fingers about the flesh of her upper arms, his gaze meeting hers. “Because you’re too strong to be reduced to lies even in the face of death.”
“It took you a long time to figure that out.”
“Too damned long.” His voice grew hoarse. “Or maybe I knew it all along. Maybe I’m just not as strong as you are, Jodie. Maybe I ran from the truth the way I’ve run from a lot of things in my life.”
“But now you have it all figured out?”
“No. Not at all. I’m still not sure how it happened. We were careful. We used protection.”
“Nothing is one hundred percent except abstinence. We pushed the odds that week.”
“You know I never meant for this to happen.” Ray walked to the dressing table and picked up a silver-framed picture of Jodie and the boys outside her New York apartment. The images couldn’t have been clear in the muted glow of moonlight, but he studied the snapshot as if he were memorizing every line.
Finally he returned it to its spot of honor. “I should have been there.” The self-accusation in his voice surprised her.
“Why? You told me all along you didn’t want any commitments. You were honest.”
“I told you I wasn’t husband material. I’m still not.”
“Then I guess you don’t have any problems. You’re not a husband.”
His eyes raked over her and he crossed the room, stopping inches away, looking for all the world like a man who had no desire to run away. One hand under her chin, he tilted it upwar
d until their gaze locked. “You’re a remarkable woman. Knowing all you did about me, you still chose to have my babies.”
“I didn’t choose anything. I missed my period and went to the doctor. He confirmed what the drugstore test indicated. I was pregnant.” She backed away.
“You had a choice. A choice that might have been better for you, for your career, for your life-style. People make it every day. But you chose to give our sons life. And I didn’t even have the courage to return your phone calls.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I’m not sure I could have handled things differently if I had. That’s the scary part.” He walked away from her. Dropping to the window seat, he patted the spot beside him. “Sit by me,” he whispered.
She hesitated, then gave in to her own need to be close to him. She could convince herself of anything in the bright light of day, almost believe she didn’t care at all if he chose to have to nothing to do with her or their sons. But this was the middle of the night, and her needs lay naked and exposed.
“It’s so hard to accept that I’m a father,” he whispered, reaching for her hand.
“Is that why you chose not to believe me when I told you they were yours?”
“No. That was pure fear. I’ve let down everyone who ever needed me, everyone who ever mattered to me. I couldn’t handle knowing I was doing it again.” He knotted his hands into fists and then stretched them out again in repetitive motions.
“But I think I always knew they were my sons, at least at some level. When I first found out you had given birth to twins, I tried to picture you with another man, making love the way we made love.”
She swallowed a surge of pain. “And did you get comfort from those thoughts?”
“The same kind of comfort I’d get from a rattlesnake bite.” His hands knotted into fists again.
“I’m a simple woman, Ray, not nearly so complicated as you. If you want me to understand you, you’ll have to spell things out for me, make your feelings crystal clear.”