by Joanna Wayne
“I wasn’t running from an ex-husband or lover, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I didn’t have one. I came up here with a group of five friends, all women, all of us wanting a taste of big-city life. I’m the only one who lasted.”
“But say someone, like Ray here, was so obsessed with you that he couldn’t get you out of his mind.” Cappan twirled a yellow pencil around his fingers, his gaze moving from first one then to the other of them. “He comes up here to see you and wham!” Cappan popped a fist into his palm to emphasize his point. “The man becomes a fullblown basket case, out of his head crazy for you. He doesn’t want to live here, so he tries to frighten you into returning to Louisiana.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Not really.” Ray leaned closer, nodding his head in agreement. “Actually, I’d already thought of that, only I can’t imagine anyone going so far as to kill a man just to get you to return home. But if the person were from Natchitoches originally or Baton Rouge or anywhere else around there, it would explain how he knew where to find you.”
“On the other hand,” Cappan said, “in five years you must have broken a few hearts in New York. Your sons’ father, for example.”
“I told you he isn’t a suspect,” Jodie answered. “We can leave him out of this.”
“Under the circumstances, I can’t do that.”
“I’m the father, Cappan.” Ray glared across the table.
“Sorry, I didn’t know. Miss Gahagen refused to divulge that information before she left New York.”
“Now you know. So let’s get back to finding the killer before he loses it and strikes again. The way I see it, all we really know is that the stalker is obviously obsessed with Jodie.”
“And crazy enough to kill because of it.”
“But like I told you on the phone,” Ray said, “I’m worried about the stalker’s reference to ‘the others.’ In my mind that strengthens the possibility that this man doesn’t know Jodie. A serial killer who chooses his victims at random.”
“I’ve been thinking along those same lines. Only not necessarily at random. Maybe the man has criteria. The color of her hair, her southern accent, the way she walks.”
“You sound like you might have found something.” Ray drew his body to full attention, the muscles in his arms straining against his long-sleeved shirt.
“No, unfortunately. The Serial Killer Task Force has checked the pattern of Jodie’s stalker with every open case we have. Only one is close. A couple of women down in the Village, not too far from where Miss Gahagen lived. They complained to neighbors and the police that they were being watched and that someone had been in their houses, going through their things when they weren’t home. They turned up dead, about a year apart.”
“When was that?” Ray asked, picking up a yellow legal pad.
“In the late eighties. No arrests were ever made. But the pattern was different There were no notes, no gifts, no contact at all.”
“And there’s been nothing since then?”
“Not around here. Not that matches the intensity Jodie’s dealt with, except, of course when the women knew the suspect. Jilted boyfriends and husbands. That sort of thing.”
Cappan tapped the eraser end of the pencil against his chin. “I have heard of something similar recently, but I don’t give the tale much credence. The man stalked women he was in love with without letting them know who he was. Eventually, he killed them. He had a foolproof plan that kept the police from catching him. That’s all I remember about it.”
“Can’t you track it down in the police computer or through the FBI?”
“I tried. Couldn’t find a thing. That’s what makes me think it might have been a made-up scenario. If it was fact, it didn’t happen anywhere around here. I can guarantee that.”
“How much danger do you think Jodie is in?” Ray asked, “Based on past stalker cases that you can verify.”
“A fair amount. I’d say right now you’re in more.” He pointed his pencil toward Ray. “The man’s killed at least once before. According to Jodie, he stabbed Max Roling to death just because he saw him hugging her. You said you’re living in her house. I’d say that makes you a prime target.”
“And our sons?”
“The way I see it, the risk goes way down there. The man is obsessed with Jodie. He’s probably trying to get up the courage to make a bigger move, let her know who he is, maybe abduct her. If he fails, he may lose control and become violent with her, but I don’t think he’d touch the kids. The fact that she’s a mother may even be a part of what attracts him to her.”
“But he has touched them.” Jodie insisted. “He moved Blake from one crib to another when we were still in New York. This week he gave both of them suckers.”
“He’s touched them. He hasn’t hurt them. He had the opportunity to if that was what he wanted. But nothing is certain with a nut like this.” Cappan walked over and stopped in front of her chair. “Promise me something, Ms. Gahagen.”
“What?”
“This man is dangerous. Let the police handle this case. Promise you won’t do anything foolish, that you won’t go through with the personal ad scheme.”
“How do you know about that? I didn’t mention it to you.”
“Ray mentioned it on the phone. I agree with him that it’s suicide to play games with a sicko. So for all your sakes, give up playing undercover cop.”
“I’m afraid I can’t make that promise.”
Jodie only half listened to the next few minutes of discussion. They were only rehashing anyway, a confirmation that the trip to New York was a waste of time, energy and money. The money, of course, had been Ray’s. He seemed to have an endless supply.
By the time they left the office, even the cold November rain was a welcome change from the bombardment of disappointments and foreshadowings of doom the day had brought.
Afternoon traffic was snarled beyond belief, and after five minutes of sitting in one spot, serenaded by blasting car horns, Ray and Jodie gave up the dry taxi in favor of walking the remaining eight blocks back to the hotel.
They shrugged into rain gear and took off at a steady pace, water dancing about their feet as it pooled in the cracks and splashed from the onslaught of an army of homebound workers. A million people, all in a hurry to get somewhere else.
And here in the masses, a killer had picked Jodie out and attached his life to hers. Why? Ray had asked himself that question a hundred times before. If they knew that they might begin to find answers to the question of who.
He took Jodie’s arm, guiding her around a major puddle. “We can duck in somewhere for a drink if you like.”
“No, thanks. I’d just like to get back to the hotel and into something dry. And I want to call Grams, just to make sure everything’s all right.”
“How can it not be? Selda’s staying over to help with Blair and Blake, and I hired enough off-duty cops to provide round-the-clock protection inside the house.”
“I appreciate that.”
“They’re my sons, too. Besides, I knew you’d never leave them to make this trip if I didn’t, not after the lollipop episode at Brookshires.”
“I still wish we could have flown back tonight.”
“The late flight was booked solid. Besides, the boys are fine, Grams is fine, and you need a night to be wined and dined in style. The stress level in your life is off the charts.”
Conversation stopped as they rounded the corner and hurried toward the door of the Waldorf. Ray’s thoughts continued. He had more than wining and dining in mind. Hopefully he’d also be able to drill some sense into Jodie. Isolated meetings with someone who could well be a serial killer. The possibility was driving him out of his mind.
But then everything about Jodie Gahagen was driving him out of his mind. Without Jodie his life had been planned, predictable, prosperous. He hadn’t had to deal with personal shortcomings. Hadn’t had to look inside himself and see the man who lived beneath the trapping
s of success.
At thirty-one he’d already made a name for himself as a leading defense attorney in Louisiana. After his last case, his stock had climbed even higher. Big-bucks clients from all over the U.S. would be ringing his phone. They’d already started. The work was piling up, and his partners were yelling for his return.
Everything he’d ever thought he’d wanted was falling into his hands.
What Jodie had to offer was marriage, commitment, children. All of the things he’d been sure he never wanted. Even more sure he could never handle.
He could still walk away when this was over. Send a check every month, have the boys visit during the Christmas holidays, a couple of weeks in the summer. Jodie would never cling or beg. She’d be the perfect mother. He’d be the louse of a father.
Nobody would be surprised, least of all dear old grandpa Parker. He’d predicted it years ago.
“You let me down, son. You let your mother down. You let everyone down who loves you. You always do.”
Ray pushed the hotel door open, the weight of the past and the worries of the present balanced precariously on his shoulders.
Jodie needed dry clothes. He needed a stiff drink.
“THIS IS THE perfect nightcap.” Jodie snuggled beside Ray in the carriage, the hoofs of the horses providing the sound effects, Central Park providing the scenery.
The rain had stopped while they were at dinner, and when they’d exited the restaurant, the air sported a fresh, just-washed feel, too tempting to forsake for the hotel room. Hand in hand, they’d walked down Fifth Avenue.
Jodie had pointed out the sights and Ray had admired them appropriately. Saint Patrick’s Cathedral had been his favorite, but he was also duly impressed with a few gems in the window of Tiffany’s.
“No wonder you love this city,” he said, tucking the blanket around her. “You must miss it terribly.”
“I do.” She paused, taking a reading on her own feelings. “And I don’t.”
“I can see how you wouldn’t miss some things, like the traffic and lack of sunlight. But you must miss nights like this.”
“I didn’t have a lot of nights like this. Usually it was work all day, pick up the boys, go home and spend precious little time with them.”
“Sounds tough.”
“Oh, no. I’m not complaining. I loved my life, at least I did until it was stolen from me. But being with Grams these past few weeks has made me face the fact that she’s getting older.”
“She’s a remarkable woman, feisty as a mother lion.”
“Nothing gets by her.” Jodie laughed and snuggled closer. “I’m thankful she and the boys have had a chance to get to know each other. I guess I’m not sure I want to leave her again. Or even return to a job that takes so much of my time and energy from Blair and Blake.”
“Family.” Ray ran his fingers through her hair, his fingers entangling in the curls. “You fit in yours so well.”
“You seem to fit in yours just as well.”
“Appearances. They’re like a good witness. They say the right things, leave the rest unsaid. The jury has to dig beneath the surface to find the truth.”
“Like the powerful undercurrent between you and your dad?”
“See, you’d make a good juror.”
“Not really. I do better when someone just tells me the truth.”
“The truth has two versions.”
“I’d like to hear yours.”
“I doubt it, but you deserve to know, especially since it affects you as well now. But not right this minute.” He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “A carriage ride through Central Park is no time to pull skeletons out and rattle their bones.”
“No, it’s the time for romance.” She caught his lips with hers, nibbling and feathering his mouth with kisses until she felt his muscles relax. Her fingers walked the front of his shirt, down to his belt, and lower still.
“No way, lady.” He took her hands in his and pulled them out from under the blanket. “First a desk in a law office and then a hammock,” he whispered, his tongue caressing her ear. “But not in a carriage.”
“Of course not. I’d never dream of such a thing.”
“Yeah, sure, says the insatiable sex goddess.”
She poked him in the ribs. “You’ll be begging when we get back to the hotel.”
“Darn right, I will. Unless you beat me to it.”
She snuggled closer, burrowing under his arm and close to his heart and wished the night would never end.
JODIE BRUSHED HER TEETH and washed away the evening’s makeup before slipping out of her dress and into a teal teddie with scallops that rode the curves of her breasts. The lacy scrap of satin was a far cry from the oversize nightshirts or simple cotton gowns she usually slept in.
She’d slipped it into her luggage at the last minute, then taken it out, then tucked it back under her underwear and zipped the case shut. Ray had shown up to pick her up just as she was unzipping the suitcase to remove it again. Now she was glad she’d brought it along.
She was in love with Ray Kostner. If she’d ever had any doubts, they had disappeared over the last few days. He was always there, putting her first, never making light of her fears, but doing everything in his power to protect her and the boys.
All the signs were there that he loved her as much as she loved him. Everything except a verbal declaration. He admitted the boys were his, although until he’d mentioned it to Cappan today, it had been their secret. And there had not been a word about what would happen between them when he returned to New Orleans.
Life for her and Ray existed only in the here and now. The future was hazy, a smoky cloud that cast a tint of gray over even their best moments. That was the part of the relationship that worried her, the indication that even if she outsmarted the stalker, their love story was not guaranteed a happy ending.
If she was reading all the signs wrong, if he didn’t love her, she could accept that. It would tear the heart right out of her, but she would live with it. If he wanted nothing to do with his sons, she’d grant him that, too. Not so much for him, but for them.
Her position had never waffled. Blake and Blair would be surrounded by love and protected from the type of rejection that could whittle away their self-confidence and destroy their spirit. She’d seen it happen to some of her friends. She wouldn’t let it happen to her sons.
Their future as a family lay in Ray’s hands. She would fight to the death in a battle she could win, but she would never settle for crumbs. If he wanted to be a father, she expected him to be there for them, dependable, nurturing and loving. If he wanted her, it would be all or nothing. Marriage, commitment and passion ever after.
With steady hands, she raked back the mass of tangled curls that fell over her forehead and dotted a splash of flowery fragrance behind each ear. Satisfied that she looked as good as she could on a minimum of maintenance, she slipped her blue terry robe over everything.
First the terry robe and talk. Then the teal nightie and…whatever the night brought
RAY STOOD AT the window, staring out at the New York skyline. He wondered how many women out there were suffering the way Jodie had been, alone in a city of teeming millions, stalked by a man who took his pleasure from torment.
Jodie stepped into the room, and his heart took the familiar lurch. He had so little of value to offer to a woman like Jodie, but he would give her what he could. He’d protect her from a killer, with his life if it came to that. Too bad he hadn’t protected her from getting involved with himself.
“You look devastating,” he said.
“If old terry robes turn you on, you are easy.”
“You turn me on. In or out of the robe. Preferably out.” He tugged at the tie that circled her waist, pulling her toward him. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
“Who said anything about talking?”
“Actually, you did.” She pulled away. “Earlier tonight, in the carriage.”
Ray felt his gut twist painfully. “That talk can wait. It will spoil a perfect night.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“Hearing it won’t change anything.”
“It will help me know you better.”
His hands fisted at his side. “It will do that all right, let you know just what kind of man fathered your sons. That will make your day.”
“It’s night, not day and too late to worry. You’ve already made several of my days and nights. Besides, you should know what I’m made of by now. I can handle disappointments.”
“Then maybe I am the man for you. I can dish them out. But then you know what I’m made of by now, too. You were pregnant with my sons. I ignored your phone calls. You were being followed by a madman, I was in New Orleans defending one of our illustrious senators.”
“You were doing your job.” She took his arm and led him to the love seat. “And you didn’t know about your sons then.”
“You can make excuses all you want, Jodie. But you’ll get tired of them eventually. There will finally be one disappointment too many. Ask my dad.”
“No. I’m asking you. What happened between you and Parker?”
Ray got up from the love seat and walked to the stocked bar in the corner of the room. “Can I get you something?”
“No, I’m fine.” Her voice was soft, reassuring. He wondered if it would be that way after she heard the disgusting truths.
He took out a small bottle of whiskey and poured a shot into a glass, swishing the amber liquid around, buying time. Pulling the memories from the dark crevices of his mind was taking its toll.
“I don’t know how well you knew me during my high school years.”
“I knew about you. You were Mr. Cool, the town bad boy.”
“That was me, all right. Charm the girls, skip class, get kicked off the football team when we were headed for state. The team lost the championship game miserably, and my friends hated me for the loss.”
“All of that was a long time ago. Surely you aren’t still concerned about what happened when you were a teenager.”
“No. It just establishes the pattern my life has taken. My dad wanted a perfect son. I heard it for as long as I can remember. ‘You are the son of a judge. People expect you to be better than the others. I expect you to be better.’”