by Leger, Lori
“Mom, did you see this?”
She walked around to the back of the car, where Grant and a grim-faced Sam stood, staring at the rear windshield. As her gaze fell in line with theirs, her sharp intake of breath made her wince as icy air filled her lungs. In the layer of thick frost, coating the rear windshield, someone had drawn a heart with the word ‘CARRIE’ in it. Below that, and infinitely more disturbing to her, was the word SAM with a circle and a slash drawn through it, a universal sign for NO.
Carrie’s knees grew weak as she took a step back from the windshield and groaned. “Oh, God.”
Sam caught her and pulled her close. “This is really starting to piss me off now.” He scanned the deserted streets. “I sure wish he’d show himself.”
The twins walked up to check out the commotion. Gretchen’s jaw slacked. “That’s too freaky.”
Lauren approached. “That is not dad’s handwriting.”
“She’s right,” Grant said. “I should know, I write like him.”
Carrie stood there shaking her head. “They’re right.” She turned toward Sam. “What the hell’s going on, here?”
“Uh, Mom,” Gretchen lifted her face to her. “Do you have a secret admirer?”
Lauren’s response was coupled with a derisive snort. “Whoever he is doesn’t like Mr. Sam very much.”
Carrie was afraid to say anything about what she’d felt earlier. She didn’t want to scare her children unnecessarily, but she knew better than to take any situation too lightly. She shook off a chill and stared into the darkness. “I don’t think ‘Secret Admirer’ is quite the phrase I’d use.”
“Okay, then. You have a stalker.”
Moments later, Doug Courville and his family pulled into their driveway on the opposite corner. Sam called him over. He joined the group gathered around the car, and seconds later Nick joined them too.
Sam made introductions and went on to the problem at hand. “We have a situation here, Doug.” Sam had Carrie explain how she’d seen someone in the backyard and felt like she was being watched. “This could only have happened in the last two hours. I walked past that car earlier and there was nothing written on it. Somebody was watching her on that back porch, and whoever he was hung around quite a while, until the temp dropped enough to do this.”
Doug gave a low whistle. “He obviously doesn’t appreciate you being in the picture, Sam. Think it’s your ex, Carrie?”
“I thought so at first, but Dave couldn’t write that neatly if his life depended on it.”
“Do you mind if I call someone over here to get a picture?”
“Go ahead.” She lifted her hands helplessly. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Try not to worry, we’ll take care of this,” Doug told her. “Let me check the house and yard, and I’ll make that call.”
Carrie locked tight onto Sam’s arm. “I want to go in, Sam. I don’t feel comfortable out here,” she whispered.
Sam nodded, and began herding the kids toward the door. “Let’s all go inside.”
They walked in as a group, turning on every light in the house. Sam and Doug checked out every room, every closet, and every space that anyone could possibly fit. When Doug left to put a call in to the station, Sam checked to make sure they’d locked every window.
Carrie stood in the middle of the living room, her gaze following Sam’s movements around the house. She fought back tears, wondering how a place could go from cozy to foreboding so quickly. She placed a hand on her stomach, fighting off queasiness. “Grant, would you pick Toto up for me tomorrow if I give you gas money?”
“Sure will, Mom. Toto may not be much for hunting, but he’s a good watch dog.”
When Doug knocked on the door a few minutes later, Sam opened up for him along with two on duty officers for the Kenton PD. One officer asked questions to verify everyone’s whereabouts over the last two hours, while a second took pictures of the windshield. Sam, Carrie and the kids had all been together during the only time it could have occurred, and none of them had heard or seen anything.
“We’ll send patrols by at least once every hour.”
“Thank you.” Carrie stood with Sam on the front porch to see them off. Enveloped by the quiet of the deserted street, Carrie frowned into the darkness.
Sam placed his hand on her arm. “What is it? Do you see something?”
She shook her head. “I don’t see anything. It’s just this feeling I have—and there’s a smell.” She scanned the area in all directions and settled her gaze on the house just north of hers. She pointed toward the house. “Someone’s there.”
“Stay here, while I—” The look Carrie gave Sam as she gripped his arm stopped him mid-sentence. “We’ll both go. I know the family is out of town for the week.”
Carrie loosened her grip and walked to the back corner of the house. “Can you smell that?” She sniffed the air.
Sam did the same. “I don’t smell anything.”
“I smell cigarette smoke,” she explained. “Marlboro Reds, just like before.”
“Sorry, babe, I don’t smell it,” he told her again.
“It’s here,” she insisted. “He stood right here and smoked. You have a flashlight?”
He took out his penlight key chain, a Christmas gift from Nick, and used it to light the area where they stood.
“There!” Carrie said, after a few moments of searching. She bent down to pick up a butt that was still smoldering. She straightened up and held the butt under the light for a closer look. “I told you. It’s the only kind my dad ever smoked. I’d recognize that smell anywhere.”
Sam uttered a low curse. “I’ll never doubt you again, babe. I can’t believe you could smell that. In this cold, I can barely smell anything.”
“It’s just the opposite for me. Smells get sharper when it’s cold. But he’s gone now,” Carrie said, pulling on Sam’s arm. “Come on, the kids will be worried.”
As soon as they hit the porch, the door opened.
“Did you see anything?” Grant and Nick asked.
Sam held up the cigarette butt and related the story of Carrie’s expert sense of smell.
Nick stood up. “Someone really was out there?”
“Yep, we just don’t know who or why.” Sam adjusted the blind in the living room window and pulled Carrie into her room to speak in private. “Are you all right?”
She walked over to the bed and tugged nervously on the blanket to smooth it. “I’m exhausted, Sam. I’d love to take a long soak in the tub and hit the sack.” She picked up the radio he’d given her and walked back over to the door. Pausing, she heard her kids talking in low tones, and motioned Sam over to listen.
“It’s true,” Grant said. “Nobody else could tell if I’d been smoking, but Mom always knew, even hours later. She’s got an unbelievable sense of smell.”
“Yeah,” Gretchen agreed. “We can’t get away with anything. She always catches us.”
“I swear, it’s like she has eyes in the back of her head, or something,” Lauren added.
Carrie tapped the side of her head and grinned. “Secret Parental Superpowers,” she whispered.
Sam gave a low chuckle. “All teenagers think they invented sneaking around behind their parents’ backs. If only they knew we did it first.”
“That’s why we know what to watch for,” she added.
He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want to leave you alone. Nick and I could bunk down here. Your couch looks comfortable enough.”
“Nope, we’ll be fine. Go on now. Take Nick home.”
Sam groaned on his way out to the living area. “Come on Nick, it’s time to go.”
Gretchen’s eyes grew wide with panic as she turned to Sam. “You’re leaving us here alone? With no phone? What if that stalker comes back when you aren’t around?”
Sam raised his hands. “I offered for Nick and me to stay. I could sleep on the—”
“We are not inconveniencing you boys tonight. Besides, we
’ve got Sam’s two way radios,” Carrie cut in.
“There you go, that’s as good as a telephone,” Grant said, sounding impressed.
Carrie followed Sam and Nick out to the porch. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for us today.”
“It makes me feel good that I could help.”
She managed a tired smile as she perused the area. “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight. Don’t ask me how I know, it’s just a feeling.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t turn that radio off until morning. As soon as I get home, I’ll switch mine on.”
Carrie placed one hand on Sam’s chest then took hold of his coat and drew him closer. She gave him a feather-light kiss on the lips, held it for a few seconds, before placing her hand gently on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. And call me later.” She held up the radio.
“Yes, ma’am, I will.” Sam backed slowly off the porch and waited until she closed and locked the door. He met Nick in her driveway, slinging his arm loosely around his son’s shoulder as they began the walk home. “It’s been a strange day, Nick. Good, but strange.”
“Things are about to change for us, huh, Dad?”
“It’s possible. We’ll see how it all turns out. What do you think of Carrie and her bunch?”
“They’re okay,” he said. “They’re fun to be around. Except they talk funny.”
Sam grinned, knowing that was a brilliant review for a seventeen-year-old kid who didn’t volunteer much information. “Yeah, well, if you ask them, they’ll say it’s us that talk funny. Carrie’s always calling me a big Redneck. Did they talk about their dad or the divorce? Are they mad at their mom?”
“Grant says she should have done it years ago. They’re all real proud of Carrie. And the twins—” He shrugged. “They just don’t want to move.”
“She feels guilty for asking them to, but this is much closer to her work.” He saw his son’s grin. “Okay, I’ll admit it’s convenient as hell for me.” He gave his son a playful shove. “Give your old man a break, will you kid?”
Nick laughed. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”
“Merry Christmas, Son.” The two walked into their home and closed the door against the chill of the cold, winter night.
The truck’s beefed-up engine started on the first crank. He waited a few seconds before throwing it into drive and hitting the highway. Damn, but that was close. He’d high-tailed it to his truck, parked two streets over, to avoid getting caught. How the hell did she know he was there? How was she able to pinpoint the exact spot he’d been standing?
He stared at the dimly lit roadway, allowing himself to latch on to what he wanted to believe. We’re connected. We’re bound by some invisible tether shared by two people who are meant to be together. For a little while, anyway.
His truck hit an icy patch on the road and he fought to keep from skidding off into the ditch. Once he’d cleared the danger, he stared soberly at his image in the rearview.
“Pay attention, buddy. All you need is to get caught in Kenton, three parishes and sixty miles from where you’re supposed to be tonight.”
Carrie soaked in the tub long enough to let the tension ease from her body. Later, she emerged from her bathroom, dressed in her warmest pajamas, thick robe, and terry cloth slippers. She roamed the house and checked first on Grant sleeping on his futon.
The second bedroom remained empty, the sheets and blankets still neatly spread over the mattress. Gretchen’s room, everything placed just so, not a speck of dust anywhere on the bedroom set from the McAllister family. She definitely owed them a visit.
The third bedroom, Lauren’s room, looked like a closet had exploded. Both twins sound asleep, sprawled out on the second McAllister donation. Carrie smiled to herself, knowing she’d hear complaining in the morning. Lauren would be stuck picking up her room with no help from her sister. Gretchen was good at making messes for everyone else to clean. Throughout their entire oh-so-dramatic lives, they’d fussed about having to share everything. Yet, here they were, sharing a space when they didn’t have to.
Carrie walked into her bedroom and closed the door before crawling under the covers. She picked up the two-way radio, pressed the call button once as Sam showed her. Within seconds, she heard Sam’s voice coming through the transmitter.
“Everything okay over there? Over.”
She smiled, knowing he must have been waiting for her call. “Everything’s fine. My kids are with me, and that makes all the difference in the world. Over.”
“I know it does, Babe, and I’m praying they make Kenton their home. It was a good day, wasn’t it? Over.”
“It was,” she agreed, and waited. “Oh. I forgot. Over.”
“Are they asleep? Over.”
“Yeah, we worked them pretty hard today. Over.”
“Yeah, Nick went right to bed too. I hurried up with my shower, and I’ve been waiting for your call. I swear you’ve got me walking around here like I’m a teenager again. Over.”
Carrie smiled to herself. “Yeah, but I bet you weren’t the one waiting on phone calls back then. Guys never waited on calls.” She waited. “Oh. Over, dammit!” She heard Sam lose it on the other end and had to laugh too. “This takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”
“Over?” Sam added, with a distinct chuckle.
“Yeah. Bite me, Langley. Over.”
“It does at that,” he said, laughing even harder. “Over.”
“Hey, if you’re gonna make fun of my radio skills maybe I won’t invite you to come shopping with me tomorrow…over,” she added.
“Love to. And I’d never make fun of the woman I love…over.”
She paused, wondering if what she felt for this man was love. Possibly. Even if it was, she sure as hell wouldn’t proclaim it for the first time over a friggin walkie-talkie. She jumped as Sam’s voice cut in on her thoughts.
“You there…over?”
“I’m here. Just thinking how sweet you are…over.”
“Thanks, Babe. Get some sleep. Over.”
“I will. Come meet me for breakfast at eight? Over.”
“I’ll be there. Good night, Baby. Because this ole redneck knows how much you love it when I call you that.”
She paused. “I do. I definitely do…and, uh, how do we end this? Over.”
“Love you a lot…Over and out.”
“Over and out.”
Carrie placed the radio on her nightstand and stared at it until her vision blurred. She sniffed several times, trying to hold back what she couldn’t. She finally gave in and cried, letting the tears cleanse her of the emotional stress of the day. Letting it ease the tightness caused by fear and anxiousness of so many unknowns.
Had she really expected her children to pull up roots and relocate to a place where they knew a handful of people? Yes, she had. Should she expect that after tonight? Gretchen had come out and said the word: stalker.
“Oh, God,” she groaned. “What the hell is going on, here?” Women like her didn’t have stalkers. Actresses, models, beautiful people had stalkers, not below-poverty-level divorcees with three kids.
She cried some more, knowing this would be so much less complicated if it had been Dave, instead of some mysterious Marlboro smoking man with good handwriting. Dave, she could handle. She never could count on the son of a bitch to come through when she needed him. Why should now be any different?
Ten minutes later, she dried her tears, telling herself to quit being a big baby. She’d handle this. If she could put up with ‘Crazy Dave’ for nearly two decades, she could handle anything.
Carrie picked up the radio, longing for the comfort of strong arms, a big barrel chest, and that oh-so-enticing smell he wore so well. “Sam,” she groaned, wishing she could hear just one word from that resonating base. She wanted so badly to feel even one touch from his gentle hands. “Sam,” Carrie repeated, in a whisper this time. She pressed the ‘push to talk’ button ever so softly. “I think I love yo
u,” she whispered, and released it—while Sam slept soundly.
It was two a.m. before he trusted the situation enough to enter the house. He did it quietly, so quietly that no one noticed. One day soon, she’d realize that no locks could keep him out. He’d started to go home, but once he’d realized he wasn’t being followed, he’d talked himself into going back. Now was the time to watch and learn about her likes and dislikes by checking around the house and going through her personal things.
He’d learned to move stealthily and with deadly precision as a soldier. He was trained for night patrols during the Gulf War. Compared to that, this was nothing—and everything. He watched Carrie sleeping, dreaming about who knew what. If only he could get her to dream about him. He got near enough to feel her breath on his skin and fought the urge to touch her. Not tonight. “Soon, Carrie.” The words, spoken a decibel below a whisper as he watched her in her sleep. “I’ll have you soon.” As an after-thought he reached for the wireless radio on the night stand, depressed the talk button. “She’s mine, Sam,” he whispered into the microphone.
Carrie rose at six-thirty, made her morning preparations, and was ready to hit the local grocery store by seven o’clock. Her three teens still slept, but Carrie woke Grant gently to let him know she was headed to the store. She grabbed her purse and keys and quietly slipped out of the house, locking the door behind her. The offensive message had been scraped from her car’s rear windshield. Sam? She didn’t doubt it for a minute.
She was inside the toasty warm Market Basket three blocks away in two minutes. “I could get used to this,” she said, thinking of the ten-minute drive to a grocery store from her old house. Her mouth watered from the smell of freshly brewed coffee. She followed her nose to the bakery section, knowing that’s where she’d find the complimentary coffee. After helping herself to a large cup, she took her first sip and closed her eyes in pure bliss.
“Is it that good?”
She opened her eyes, and stared at her and Sam’s policeman neighbor. “Good morning, Doug.” She lifted her cup. “I usually try not to talk to anyone before the first cup, but I’ll make an exception.” She glanced at his basket and grinned. “I always wondered if the cops and donuts thing was true.”