by Curry, Edna
Loni nodded. “I used to think my stalker was those jewelry store thieves. But now, I think it’s a man I dated a short time back in Chicago, Hank Jones.”
Ben lifted a dark brow. “Earlier you thought it was the jewelry store robbers? Why do you think it’s Hank? Do you recognize his voice? It sounds disguised.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t sound like his voice at all, but it must be him. Maybe he’s covering the phone with something, you know, like they always do on television. I’ve moved several times and he always finds me again, even though I used unlisted phone numbers.”
“How does he do that?” Ben asked.
“I don’t know. But he does. Wherever I go, he follows me and sends me these weird-voice messages saying I belong to him and nobody else. Don’t you see? He must have seen me with Don and gotten rid of him. And now he says it’s my fault for going out with Don.” She huddled closer in the afghan.
Ben and Matt exchanged incredulous looks.
“It’s not your fault,” Ben barked. “Perps like to blame the victims. That doesn’t make it true.”
“I’ve heard of weirdoes stalking women like that,” Matt said slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Ben looked at him and shook his head. Matt understood his meaning—not now. Loni was upset enough. His stomach churned. They’d made love, but she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about this.
“I need some proof of who is doing it before I can do anything to stop it,” Ben said.
Loni nodded wearily and gave a rueful little smile. “I know. That’s what the police in Chicago said, too.”
Matt frowned. “You’ve reported something like this before?”
“Yes. In Chicago.”
“And what did they say?”
She shrugged. “The same thing you did. They need proof and I don’t have any except the disguised messages on my answering machine. And for the times I answered the phone myself, it wasn’t taped, so there wasn’t even that. There’s only my word for what he said.”
Ben nodded. “Hear-say. That’s not enough.”
She glanced at Mark and explained, “One officer said it might have something to do with a robbery in a jewelry store in Chicago where I worked. Two men came in with guns during store hours and held us up. The police said maybe the robbers thought I could identify them, and wanted to scare me away. But that doesn’t make sense. They wouldn’t say stuff like this phone message, would they?”
“No, I don’t think they would,” Ben agreed.
“Did they catch the guys who did that robbery?” Matt asked.
She shook her head. “Not that I ever heard.”
“Not yet,” Ben put in. “I talked to Detective Joe Jennings a few days ago.”
“But you were there during the robbery? Could you identify them?” Matt asked. Yikes, if she could identify them, maybe it was the robbers trying to eliminate a witness.
“Yes, I was there, and so was another clerk. I can’t identify them, though. They wore nylon stocking masks and plastic gloves. We described them to the police at the time. We couldn’t tell them much, just a general description.”
Ben asked, “Would those robbers have any way of identifying you?”
“I don’t know.” She swallowed and widened her eyes at the sheriff. “You think I’m wrong to think it’s Hank? Am I blaming the wrong person?”
“I don’t know yet, Loni. It’s possible.”
She let out a long breath. “One of them took my business card at the jewelry store, but it only had the store’s address. I suppose they could have asked someone my address if they called the store or something. But that wouldn’t tell them I’d moved here. I purposely didn’t tell anyone there where I was moving or leave a forwarding address.”
Ben rubbed the side of his crooked nose. “You really don’t think whoever did that robbery is the person harassing you now?”
She squirmed uncomfortably on the soft sofa. “No, Sheriff, I don’t. The messages sound more personal, especially the stuff like I shouldn’t date other men. I think it’s Hank. I suppose some of the things the caller said could be interpreted in more than one way.”
Matt said, “So you panicked at the dead raccoon on your doorstep because you thought it was a message from Hank?”
A tear slipped down her cheek and Loni angrily rubbed it away. “Yes. I think he put it there to show me he knew where I was living.”
“You mean he might have been here in town?” Ben asked, looking up from his clipboard.
“The lousy SOB,” Matt muttered, clenching his fists. “And you think he sent you the yellow rose you threw away, too?”
“Yes. The rose was probably meant to tell me he knew where I worked. Hank sent me a yellow rose at the jewelry store after the hold-up. I’d told him once they were my favorite flowers.” She shivered. “Now I can’t stand the sight of them.”
Ben frowned. “He’s obviously trying to upset you and keep you on edge. I think we have enough to know we want to check up on this Hank.”
He pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket and taped the message from Loni’s answering machine. After checking to make sure it had recorded, he deleted it from her answering machine. Glancing at Matt, he shrugged and explained his action, “She doesn’t need the reminder of him.” Matt nodded agreement.
Ben turned to Loni. “Would you come into town and tell me as much as you can about this Hank? Then I can start looking into what this guy’s been up to.”
“All right. But we’ll be late for work,” she said to Matt.
“So what?” Matt growled. “This is more important.”
They drove into town, left their cars in their usual spot in the parking lot and walked down the street to the sheriff’s office. They sat in wooden chairs across from Ben as he typed everything into his computer.
“Tell me everything you can about this guy,” Ben said. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed the side of his prominent, bony nose. He straightened his glasses. “Hank’s full name, address, age, height?” he prompted when she didn’t answer.
“Oh,” Loni said, flushing. “Hank, or rather Henry Jones.”
“Jones? Sounds like a fake name to me,” Matt said.
“I suppose it could be. But that’s the name he gave me. He’s around thirty, I think, maybe an inch under six feet tall. I don’t have his address anymore, because my phone was stolen in Minneapolis the night before I moved out here. And I threw away the only picture I had of him when we broke up.”
“Besides, if he was the person who left the raccoon, the rose and, as the phone call suggests, caused Don’s accident, he probably lives closer to here than Chicago now. Those things happened on different days,” Ben mused, frowning.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Loni said. “If he’s the one calling, he’s figured out where I am.”
“Right. Did you ever tell him where you grew up? So he’d be able to find this town?”
Loni shook her head. “No, we never talked about our past. I only dated him a few weeks. But Hank is a computer expert. He always bragged how he could find out anything about anybody with his computer.”
“I see. Then we need to find him and put a stop to it. Can you give me his hair and eye color?”
“He’s good looking with blond hair and blue eyes.”
“His coloring was like Don’s,” Matt said thoughtfully.
Loni stared at him. “I suppose it was, yes. Does that mean anything?”
“Only that you’re attracted to blond men,” Ben said wryly as he typed the info into his computer. “Weight?”
She shrugged. “I’m not very good at guessing weight.” Her gaze slid over Matt. “I suppose he’s a few pounds heavier than Matt.”
“What kind of vehicle does he drive?”
“He drove a black Ford SUV when we dated. But he traded every year, he said, to always have the latest model, so he might be driving something else, now.”
“Do you know his so
cial security number or driver’s license or license plate number?”
Loni narrowed her eyes at Ben. “How would I know things like that? I only dated the man, I wasn’t his secretary.”
Ben shrugged. “I thought it was possible. Some people print those things on their checks. Or find their cars in a parking lot by the license numbers.”
“He’s never given me a check for anything, so I have no idea what he has printed on them. I never pay attention to license plate numbers.”
“Anything you can tell us would help. Like, what does he do, where does he work?”
Loni lifted a hand and ran her fingers through her hair. “He always seemed to have plenty of money. He’s self-employed and designs web pages for lots of different individuals and companies. He likes to brag that as long as he has internet access, he can work anywhere.”
Matt frowned. “I surf the internet quite a bit. Can you name any web pages he’s done? Do you know if he works under a business name?”
“No,” Loni said. “I’ve listened to him talk about HTML codes and background colors and stuff, of course, but I never paid much attention. It all sounds like Greek to me.”
Ben threw Matt a questioning glance. “Can you give me a hand with that? You’re better at computers than I am.”
“I’ll see what I can dig up on the internet,” Matt agreed. “But with a common name and no address other than a big city, it’s often hard to tell what info belongs to which person.” He’d helped Ben out more than once with similar searches. Ben was a great sheriff, but a little handicapped in that regard. Matt’s military background had brought the two together over the past year.
“I’ll see if I can dig up some driver’s license pictures with just his name,” Ben said.
“No,” Loni said, shaking her head. “He doesn’t have a picture on his driver’s license.”
“How do you know that?” Ben looked at her in surprise.
Loni flushed and shifted in her chair, then admitted, “We were in a restaurant one night and ordered drinks. The waitress carded me, and Hank laughed at my picture. I said all license pictures are lousy and asked to see his. He said he was lucky because he didn’t have to have a picture on his.”
Matt frowned. “Why not? Doesn’t everybody?”
Ben shook his head. “Some states don’t require pictures on licenses, just a description like height, weight and color of hair and eyes. I wish they all required pictures. It would make my work easier, that’s for sure.”
Matt said, “I know you already have, Ben, but I’d like to check on that Chicago robbery while I’m at it. Maybe I’ll notice something you missed.”
“Go to it,” Ben said.
Matt turned to Loni. “Can you give me the date of the robbery and name of the store?”
“It was last May second, a few minutes before five o’clock. Just before closing time,” she said, her lips twisting. “You don’t easily forget it when someone sticks a gun in your face.”
“I’m sure,” Ben said kindly. “What was the name of the store?”
“It was Adam’s Jewelry Store in a little mall on Lakefront Avenue. Lakefront Avenue is in Chicago near Lake Michigan.” She frowned, trying to picture it, then lifted a shoulder and shook her head. “I don’t remember the address.”
“That should be enough look it up, with the date and time,” Matt said. “I’m sure there were newspaper reports.”
Ben nodded and said, “Thanks for coming in, Loni. I’ll let you know what I come up with. And we’ll keep an eye out for black SUVs just in case that’s what he’s still driving.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. I’d better go open my shop.” Loni stood and put out her hand to Ben.
Ben rose and shook her hand. “Be careful, Loni.”
Loni nodded and allowed Matt to take her arm as they headed back to the mall together. The sun was shining brightly and the temperature was already in the eighties.
“It’s going to be hot,” Matt said, looking up at the blue sky. “The tourists will be out in droves.”
“Let’s hope they’re in a spending mood,” Loni said automatically, her mind still on the sheriff’s questions.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think Ben can do anything?” she asked as they moved down the sidewalk. Several people said hello as they passed and glanced at her strangely when she didn’t even look at them. Matt had to nudge her before she answered.
“I’m sure Ben will do everything he can,” Matt assured her. “He’s very good at his job.”
“I hope so,” she said. “But Hank is a very smart and devious man.” If only she’d known that before she started dating him.
“Don’t be so sure it’s Hank,” Matt cautioned. “Those hold-up men aren’t too dumb either, if they’ve eluded capture this long.”
“True.” Still, she couldn’t help doubting the abilities of Canton’s small town sheriff. The big city police departments, with all their resources, had accomplished nothing. Why would it be different here?
Would anything really come of reporting something to the police this time? Or would Ben file this report and forget it like she feared all the other officers had done?
* * * *
Matt opened his shop, then left the customers in Kerry’s capable hands and went back to his office.
He tried half a dozen variations of Hank/Henry Jones and got hundreds of thousands of possibilities. But few seemed to fit Loni’s description or have anything to do with computers or website design.
Getting up to stretch, Matt moved to the window and stared out over the rooftops. The sun was high and heat shimmered off the flat tar roof of the grocery store in the next block.
Suddenly instead of the shimmering light, he saw a vision of a tall blond man lifting a woman out of a black SUV and carrying her up the steps into an apartment building. The woman was limp in his arms, her body slim and her short blonde curls lay against his chest.
The door to the apartment closed and the vision faded. He hadn’t seen the woman’s face, but he knew it was Loni and the man meant her harm. The man’s face had been tight with anger, his eyes narrowed under a deep frown. Matt’s gut churned. He was sure the man in his vision was her stalker.
Sweat ran down his neck and tickled his back. Was this another prediction? Did it mean the man would find Loni and kidnap her and carry her off? When would it happen? What could he do about it? He turned to his desk and grabbed the phone to tell Ben, and then put it back down. What could he say? Ben would think he was a nut.
He hadn’t even been able to tell where it was happening, though it was nighttime and he didn’t recognize the building as any he’d seen before. Did that mean the kidnapping would happen somewhere else? He’d have to keep close tabs on where Loni was planning to travel and when.
Damn, why couldn’t these confounded visions be more useful? Why couldn’t he call them up on demand and tell them to show him what he needed to know?
With a sigh, he went back to work. Long ago he’d learned he couldn’t control this weird gift. It seemed to have a mind of its own and he hated it with a passion. Why couldn’t it show him good things once in a while?
* * * *
Loni looked up from her computer to see Cindy and her little girl come into her shop.
“Hi, Cindy. Who do we have here?”
“This is Teri. Say hi to Loni, Sweetheart.” Cindy lifted the little girl and sat her on the counter in front of Loni.
“Hi.” Teri grinned at Loni, then immediately turned to pick up the violet crystal paperweight from the counter.
“Oh, no, mustn’t touch!” Cindy said, trying to rescue the paperweight. She succeeded in freeing it from Teri and put it out of her reach.
Teri broke out into shrill screams of protest. “Mine! Pretty!”
“It’s okay, Cindy. Let her keep it,” Loni said, handing the sparkly crystal octagon back to Teri, who quieted as soon as she had her hands on it again. “See, here it is, Sweetheart. It’s all yours
.”
“Oh, I couldn’t, Loni. It looks expensive.”
Loni laughed. “I’m sure it isn’t. It was a freebie from a card salesman. No biggie.”
“All right, then. If you’re sure. I need a present for my mother’s birthday,” Cindy said. She browsed a while, bought the gift and walked out, with Teri admiring the paperweight in the sunlight.
* * * *
An hour later in Minneapolis, the man closed out the website he’d been working on and stretched. His shoulders ached from hours in front of his computer, but his new client would be happy with the results. The bright, colorful and snappy site would draw lots of hits.
He walked over to a recorder and played the tape he’d been making of the channel tuned in to the paperweight. Most of what he’d been getting so far had been social chatter—Loni talking to old friends who dropped into her shop to get reacquainted. Boring women’s stuff.
After listening to Loni giving the crystal to Teri, he swore, then, just in case, listened to a few minutes of Cindy talking baby talk to the kid and the girl’s barely understandable chatter in the car on the way home. It was gone. Another information pipeline was gone.
He swore again. The damn bitch just gave the bug away. Now I’ll have to figure something else out. She’s as slippery as an eel. And it was one of the nicest pieces in my collection, too. I should have used something else.
He walked to the glass-fronted cabinet along one wall of his office and stared at his collection of crystal pieces. Every shape and size of crystal figurine glittered in the overhead light. He’d spent a long time finding them all, buying just the nicest ones he saw in only the best stores. He had little animals, sweet angels, heart shapes, tear drops and many more. He’d used a favorite one to hide the bug, sure its beauty would tempt her to keep it nearby. And she’d given it away to a kid, saying it had little value.
Maybe he should try the sweet talk again. It had worked pretty well the first time, hadn’t it? Had he said anything on the phone that would have told her who he was? He couldn’t remember. His head throbbed painfully. God, he needed some sleep.
