by Joanna Wayne
“My feelings? They change by the minute. Elated? Confused? Nervous? Petrified?”
“That runs the gamut Throw in morning sickness and the awkwardness of carrying around a twenty-pound stomach and you pretty much have the same symptoms I had during the pregnancy.” She wasn’t being vindictive, just honest.
His muscles were taut, a man geared for a fight, but it was his own demons he was battling. The skirmish was far from over, and she had no idea who’d come out the winner. Still, she needed a few questions answered, now while Ray was dealing with the truth and with his own feelings of inadequacy.
“Why didn’t you return my calls, Ray? We’d been acquaintances forever and good friends since the night of my senior prom. Earlier, if you count the kiss on. the cheek at my fourteenth birthday party as a sign of friendship.”
“Do you still remember that?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Of course, I didn’t wash my face for days. You were my first case of serious puppy love.”
“Before you found out I was really a dog.”
“I’ve never thought that. I just thought you had a twisted sense of values. Money and fame at any cost, and get as far away from family as you could. That’s why I avoided contact in Baton Rouge when I was in college and you were in law school at LSU. No matter how I felt about you, I knew it wouldn’t work.”
“You were wise for your years.”
“I thought so at the time. But you seemed so different that week in New York. You were fun, romantic, thoughtful. The new Ray Kostner. I had high hopes for you.”
“And you were a sex-crazed goddess.” He trailed a finger down her arm.
“I was not sex-crazed. Intimately uninhibited, maybe. And I don’t remember your complaining.”
“You were sex-crazed, and I loved it. But you made me feel and that scared the wits out of me.”
“You find me so tempting, you avoid me. I’m missing something here.”
He leaned against the side of the window, watching her. “It’s pretty simple. When I’m with you, I forget who and what I am, start thinking that we’re right together, start thinking I could be the husband and father you’d expect me to be. The truth is, it’s not going to happen.”
“Men have careers and families all the time, and do both well. Look at your dad.”
His mood changed instantly. Tension stormed between them, so heavy she could feel the weight of it crushing against her chest.
“Sure,” he said. “Parker Kostner. The Judge. Everything to everybody. Well, to almost everybody.”
She shuddered, chilled by the bitterness that dripped from every word. “Is there trouble between you and your father?”
“Trouble? How could there be? The Judge is the perfect father. Too bad he got royally shortchanged on sons.”
A shiver skidded her spine. This was a scene from a bad movie, the story of someone else’s life. Not Ray Kostner’s. He had it all. “You’re obviously upset about something, but you’re not making sense. Your dad is proud of you. He’s always been.”
“Is that what the world sees? Good. He’d like that” Ray gestured a sign of surrender. “Can we just drop this, Jodie? I’m not here to blackball my father. He is what he is. I am what I am.”
“And what is it that you think you are?”
“A tough lawyer who’s damn good at what I do, because I do what I’m good at. I don’t cut the mustard as a son, and I don’t have a chance of making it as a husband or a father. So, it looks like you and the boys drew a bad deal, the same as my dad. The truth is I can’t be counted on.” He stood up and paced the room.
This was incredulous. Ray was calling on the most feeble excuses she’d ever heard. If he tried this in court, the prosecuting attorney would bury him. “Let me see if I have this straight. Just because you don’t think your dad appreciates you, you’re willing to give up the chance to have a family of your own.”
“Drop it, Jodie. This isn’t about an argument. It’s about me and what I am and am not capable of.”
“Don’t talk in riddles, not to me. I’ve been through too much these past few months. If you prefer a life void of commitments, I can buy that. I have no intention of trapping you. But if you think you can walk out of my life with some cock-and-bull story about caring about me too much to hurt me, about not having what it takes to be a father when you’ve never even tried, you have another thing coming.”
“Don’t read anything into a few nice deeds, Jodie. It’s the week in New York that’s the lie, a pretense that I was someone else. I’ll do right by you and the boys. You’ll never want for anything, but I can’t become someone I’m not.”
“So why are you here, Ray, pushing your way back into my life, making demands, risking your life to protect mine?”
“To trap a stalker. I’m not the man to hang your hopes on, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let some murderous lunatic threaten you and walk the streets to do it again. I told you I won’t stop until this man is behind bars.”
“But just don’t depend on you to be there when I need you, right?”
“Right.”
He started to walk away. She grabbed both of his arms and stopped him. Rising to the tips of her toes, she placed her lips on his. The kiss was wet and sweet, and so exciting she felt it tumble along every nerve ending.
“And don’t expect me to be here all warm and eager waiting for you when you decide you need me too much to walk away,” she said, pushing him toward the door. He looked at her for long painful seconds before he disappeared down the hallway.
Jodie watched him go. The man might be a brilliant attorney, but he didn’t have a clue when it came to his own virtues. When this was over, she’d gladly hang her hopes and her dreams on him. That is, if she was still alive to do so.
JODIE SPENT the next morning perfecting the ad. It would start its run on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, three days away. The details were fine-tuned, ready to run like a well-geared car.
The ad was simple: “To my secret admirer, The flowers were beautiful, the music box was delightful. I’m saving myself, for you.”
The rest was in small print. If he wanted to meet her in private, he was to call her. The telephone company was connecting the line today. Grams had bought the explanation that the line was for business purposes, although Jodie had no idea what she thought her business was.
The only activity she’d involved herself with that remotely resembled employment was the journal she was keeping on the life of the stalked. Hopefully, she’d live to see her experiences published in an article that would help other women in the same predicament.
Even if the stalker saw the ad, he might not call. The man was smart, and this smelled of a trap. But the man was also mentally off balance, and she saw his attempts as a sick way of reaching out to her. This might be the type of opening he was looking for to reveal himself.
The danger would be minimal. All the calls would be taped. In essence, she was bugging herself. If he called, she would meet him. It was up to the police to figure out how they would keep her safe and make the arrest. That was the one weakness of her plan, the one element she couldn’t control.
Ray was furious. Butch claimed she was crazy. But it was not their lives that were being split into a thousand splintered parts.
She was meeting with Butch this afternoon to set up the finer points of their strategy.
JODIE SAT IN Butch Deaton’s cramped office, listening to one side of a long-winded phone conversation. The woman on the other end of the line was obviously complaining about her neighbor’s barking dog.
Bored and restless, Jodie’s gaze took in the room. A spiderweb in the far comer of the ceiling, a shamrock-shaped stain on the carpet, a silver-framed photograph of a young blond woman with smiling eyes and heavy makeup on the top of a chipped file cabinet.
Finally, Butch dropped the receiver into the cradle and looked her way. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, rummaging through the clutter o
n his desk to recover a manila file folder.
“You said something important had come up and for me to rush right over. What is it?”
“The nurse at the hospital called. Apparently Gloria Bigger’s memory is returning. She asked to speak to you.”
“Then why did the nurse call you?”
“Because this is police business, Jodie. No one wants to see you hurt, least of all me.”
“When did the nurse call?”
“This morning, about ten.”
“And we’re waiting until two in the afternoon to talk to her?”
“I had things to take care of. Besides, we’ve waited days for this description. A few hours won’t change anything.”
“Can we go now?”
“Absolutely. You can ride with me if you don’t mind a squad car.”
“As long as we leave the flashing blues turned off.”
“I thought you were in a hurry.”
“The hospital is only five minutes away. The barking dog has already taken twenty.”
“It’s a small town. We keep our taxpayers happy when we can. Besides, Gloria’s not going anywhere.”
Ten minutes later they pushed through the door of Gloria’s hospital room. The sheets were pulled up over an empty bed. The nurse stopped in the door, sympathy written all over her face as she told them the patient had died a little over an hour ago.
Chapter Ten
The drive back to the police station was cloaked in silence. The nurse had said Gloria Bigger died from a heart attack. It had come on suddenly, and it had been massive. The only good thing was she hadn’t lived long enough to suffer much.
This time even Jodie couldn’t blame the stalker.
Butch led her back into his office. “We can talk about your plans later, Jodie. I know Gloria’s death has you upset. I’m a little shaky myself.”
“I’d rather get this over with, Butch.” She tapped the cover of a spiral-bound notebook. “My plans are outlined in here. They’re pretty much the same as when we talked on the phone.”
“Mind if I have a look before we talk?”
She stood and walked over, opening the notebook and placing it in front of him. “Like I told you, the ad starts Saturday. I plan to meet the stalker if he calls. I’d like for you or one of your officers to tail me.”
“If the man’s got any brain cells at all, he won’t fall for this. He’s wanted for murder.”
“He doesn’t know that. He broke into the florist shop and stole the incriminating record.”
“In a state of panic. I’m sure after he calmed down he realized how easy it would be to trace the credit card information from the company.”
“So we know he makes mistakes.” She took her seat again. “I think he’ll come, Butch. I can’t explain it, but I feel this man is desperate and he’s calling out to me. What’s the point of following me, of leaving me notes and gifts, of letting me know he’s obsessed with me if he thinks it’s going nowhere?”
“Oh, he’ll come to you, Jodie. But it will be when you least expect it, when he can’t stand keeping his identity a secret another second.”
“Maybe he’s to that point now.”
“I hope not. I plan to stop him before he reaches that stage. I could do it more effectively if you’d let me handle the investigation without interference.”
“I appreciate your concern, Butch, but I have to do this.”
“Then it’s my job to protect you. You’re a citizen, misguided, but still a citizen. Besides, you and I go back a long way.”
“This is not about friendship, Butch. I need your help as a police officer.”
“And you’ll have it. One hundred percent, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”
“But you do think you can protect me?”
“In theory it should be easy. In reality, anything can happen.”
“What do you think of my choice of meeting places?”
“The old Coxlin place. Great choice. For the stalker. It’s isolated, large and rambling and in ruins, surrounded by acres of woods.”
“Which means there’s also hiding places for you or one of your officers. I could wear a wired microphone, maybe even get a taped confession that he murdered Max.”
“You read too many detective books. Even if the man reads the ad and falls for the trap, this type of setup doesn’t come with guarantees.”
“I trust you.”
“You could be making a fatal mistake.”
“Let’s hope it’s the stalker who makes the mistake.”
“And I definitely wouldn’t count on that.” He closed her notebook and scooted it to the back of his desk. “I’ll take a ride out to the Coxlin place later and see what I think. Do you want to go with me?” Pushing his chair back, he stood up, raking his hair back with his hands.
“Yes. What about tomorrow? That way we can decide exactly how to handle the situation, where your man will be hiding and how I can signal him.”
“I’d like to talk you out of this, Jodie.”
“I wish it wasn’t necessary. But the man has to be stopped before he loses all control and someone else ends up dead, the way Max did.”
He walked her to the door. “I just don’t want that someone to be you.”
“Neither do I, Butch. Neither do I.”
JODIE LEFT the police station at half past three. Gloria Bigger was on her mind as she pulled to a stop at the traffic light on Front Street Tears moistened her eyes. Another death. There was no way of knowing if her stalker was behind it. But somehow, she was sure he was.
On impulse, Jodie pulled into the semicircle of parking that followed the paths and grassy areas along the river—the peaceful oasis in the middle of the oldest part of town.
The sun peeked over the tops of oak and cottonwood trees, shaking a tail of glimmery gold over the river. A fishing boat motored past, the man at the bow tipping his hat to a tall, slender woman who was being walked by a prancing Pomeranian on a jeweled leash. Two preschoolers played chase around the circular pavilion that was already strung with bright colored lights for the upcoming festival.
Life as usual. For everyone but her. Opening the car door, she slid from beneath the wheel, and stepped out. She grabbed her handbag in lieu of locking the door. The fall nip in the air made a cup of coffee at The Bakery seem too good to pass up.
She was sorry for the decision the minute she walked through the door. Sara Kostner was at the counter, paying for a bag of pastries. Not that she had anything against Sara, but today was not the time she wanted to make small talk with Ray’s mother. Not the time to pile on guilt either, but seeing Sara did just that.
In the end, Ray might be willing to walk away from his sons, but Jodie doubted Sara would be as easily deterred from knowing her grandsons. Another complication, another knot in the spidery web that had entangled Jodie’s life with Ray’s. Sara turned, and a smile curved her lips and lit up her face.
“Jodie Gahagen, what a nice surprise.” She picked up her bag of pastries and hurried in Jodie’s direction.
“Hello, Sara.” She extended her hand. Sara ignored it and went for a hug.
“We’ve been so worried about you. Ray said you had some lunatic bothering you in New York and that’s why you came down here to stay for a while. Have they caught the man yet?”
“Not that I know of.” Funny, she hadn’t even considered that Ray had told his parents about her situation, but then he had to come up with some explanation for sleeping over every night. Left to her own conclusions, Sara would have been hard-pressed not to expect the worst. And a loose woman would not meet with Sara Kostner’s approval.
“Then it’s a good thing you came back home. I know your grandmother would love it if you decided to stay permanently. We feel the same about Ray, but he won’t even talk about moving back.”
“His work is in New Orleans.”
“It could be here. Parker would love for him to take over the firm.” The smile vanished from her face. �
�Not that he’d ever ask him. And not that Ray would consider it if he did.”
“No, your son seems to like his life as it is.”
“But I don’t have a clue why. Working day and night. Living alone. It’s time he settled down and had a family.”
Jodie remained silent. The responses that flitted through her head were much better left unsaid.
“I’d love to stay and chat a bit,” Sara said, glancing at her watch. “But I don’t like to leave Parker long. He’s mending nicely, but I worry about him. He complains when I fuss over him, but I can’t help it.”
“Perhaps I can stop by one day for a visit.”
“Parker would be delighted. And bring the boys. We’d love to see them. I live for the day Ray decides on one woman and gives me some grandchildren.”
Jodie nodded past the lump that had settled in her throat without warning. Denial cast a long shadow. She said a quick goodbye and watched Sara walk out the door. A minute later Jodie followed behind her. Her taste for coffee was lost. Now the only craving she had was to go home and hug her boys.
The parking area was nearly empty by the time she returned to her car. A pickup truck parked near the water, a blue Ford parked under the biggest oak.
She fished the car keys from her pocket and slid into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. The silence was ominous, an instant dread that ground in her stomach. She turned the key again. No reassuring hum. Not even an angry growl or sputter.
This had happened once before, right before she left New York. The car had been working fine when she’d parked it. When she’d returned, the engine hadn’t started. A chill stole her breath. She lowered the window and sucked in a gulp of air.
This was Natchitoches, not New York City. She was surrounded by family friends, business owners who knew her grandmother, who had gone to school with her dad, who knew her name and where she lived. Today she’d go home to Grams and the boys.
That day she’d gone home to a gift, a pair of gloves to warm her hands after being stranded in the dark, in a cold car whose engine wouldn’t respond.