by Curry, Edna
“Hello?” She listened a bit, then growled, “Leave me alone, do you hear? Just stay away from me.” She slammed down the phone.
Matt’s gut clenched in dismay. Not again. Not here. How did the bastard do it?
Uncle Pete watched her through narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong, Loni?”
She bit her lip, came back to the table and took a big gulp of tea. She managed a little smile. “Just some nut, Uncle Pete. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“I don’t think I like the sound of this,” Uncle Pete said. “You look a bit sick, girl.”
“I’ll be fine, Uncle Pete,” she assured him. She gave Matt an imploring look. “We’d better be heading home.”
Matt nodded and rose. Hank again. He should have listened to his gut’s warning.
“It was great seeing you again, Uncle Pete. Keep in touch, now.” She gave him a hug and hurried out to the car.
Pete grabbed Matt’s arm. “Look after her, you hear?”
Matt nodded. “I’ll do my very best, Sir. Goodbye.”
When they were safely out of earshot, Matt said, “It was Hank, wasn’t it?”
She nodded, crossing her arms to hug herself as though she were cold.
He turned back onto the main road, keeping one eye out for anyone following them. “What did he say?”
“He said it wasn’t nice of me to stand him up for our dinner date last night. He said I’d have to pay for doing that.”
“The man is nuts.”
Her voice raw with pain, she said, “I’m never going to be free of him, Matt. How did he know where I was? And get Uncle Pete’s phone number? Was someone following us all weekend?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone follow us. But we’ll find out, Loni.”
Loni didn’t answer. She lay back against the head rest and closed her eyes. She didn’t speak for the whole hour’s drive home.
Traffic was heavy on the interstate highway as weekenders returned to Minneapolis in preparation for their new work week. As he drove, Matt’s mind went over and over their weekend, looking for any clue as to how Hank had found them. Nothing came to mind. He still wasn’t sure the disguised messages were from Hank. Was the guy doing both those and the nice, chatty calls with invitations? Or was there more than one caller? He wished he could be sure.
As they turned onto Main Street of Canton, Loni sat up and said, “I need to go home, Matt.”
“No way, Loni. I want you to stay with me until this guy is behind bars.”
“I agree. But I meant I need to check the house, to be sure everything is okay. And I need more clean clothes.”
“All right,” Matt conceded. He turned around to take the road out to Dee’s house. All appeared fine as he parked and they went inside.
“No weird messages on your answering machine.”
“I’ll get my clothes.” Loni moved down the hall to her bedroom.
Matt checked to make sure the refrigerator and air conditioner were working properly. When Loni screamed, he raced down the hall to her. She stumbled into his arms and hid her face against his chest.
She was shaking. He stroked her hair and cuddled her, making soothing sounds while he looked into the bedroom over her head.
“He was here, in this room!” she told him through sobs.
“What makes you think he was here?” His gaze swept the pretty room, looking for clues to what had frightened her so much.
Sunlight flickered off a clear crystal figurine on her nightstand. Her bedroom looked feminine and inviting. He couldn’t help remembering making love to her for the first time in that room. Everything seemed neat except the blue floral bedspread looked a little mussed.
“The rose on the dresser,” she said against his shirt. “This time, he left a note under it.”
His gaze swung around and landed on it—another yellow rose. Hank’s calling card. No wonder she was upset. “Yes, I see it now. What does it say?”
She shivered and clung to him. “I don’t want to know.”
“May I read it, then? It’s better to know what he’s up to than to wonder.”
Loni nodded. He eased her down to the chair in front of her vanity and went to read the note. With one finger, he moved the rose aside, but didn’t pick up the note. He read it and swore.
“What does it say?” she asked, turning pale. She reached out a hand for the note.
He hesitated. “Don’t touch it. I think we should preserve any fingerprints that might be on it. Come here and read it.”
She read it, then said, “Oh, no. I’m going to be sick.” With a hand over her mouth, she turned and ran to her bathroom.
Matt waited a moment to give her some privacy. He used his cell phone to call the sheriff.
“Ben,” he said. “Hank got into Loni’s house while we were gone.”
“How do you know?”
“He left another yellow rose and a sick note.”
“Don’t touch anything, okay? I’ll be right out.”
“Thanks.”
Matt hung up and went to Loni. He wet a washcloth, handed it to her, then filled a glass with water and gave it to her.
She wiped her face, rinsed her mouth and drank gratefully. “My bed is messed up. He actually lay on my bed and fantasized about making love to me,” she said, groaning. “I hate him.”
“You weren’t here,” Matt reminded her. “You’re safe. Nothing happened except in his imagination.”
“Don’t you understand?” she said. “I’ll never be able to sleep in that bed again without remembering what he said about lying there and thinking about touching me all over.”
“Loni, don’t you see? He wants you to be afraid and to think of him,” Matt said grimly. “You can’t let him win.”
She stared at him, and then said slowly, “You’re right. He wants me to think of him like that. So I won’t let myself. If I can.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“How did he get in?” she asked. “The doors and windows were locked.”
Matt shrugged. “Maybe he can pick locks. I called Ben. He’s on his way.”
An hour later, the sheriff and his deputy had dusted for prints and taken the note and rose, saying, “Every little bit of evidence will help sway a judge to issue a restraining order against Hank.”
Loni had curled up in a soft chair in the living room while they worked. “Thanks, Ben,” she said as he left. “Sorry to bother you again.”
“No bother, Loni. Catching scoundrels like him is my job. Keep a sharp eye out. No telling what he’ll pull next.”
Matt accompanied Ben to the door and returned. “Come on, get your clothes and let’s go.”
They locked up the house. Not that it would do any good, Matt thought. Hank seemed to be able to come and go as he pleased.
Matt drove them back to his house. So much for Ben keeping an eye out for the man. Hank was evidently clever enough to elude them. Perhaps he’d driven to Loni’s house from another direction and not driven through Canton at all.
They needed to stay alert. He couldn’t let Hank or whoever it was, win.
* * * *
Late that night, Hank drove back out to Canton. He parked up the road a quarter mile from Loni’s house and walked the rest of the way. He didn’t want her hearing him arrive and calling the police. The house was dark, but she might be asleep. His heart pounded faster at the thought of seeing her in a nightgown like that filmy white one he’d found in her hamper. He’d bet it hid very little.
He couldn’t help thinking about her all the time. They made a great couple. How could she not come back to him? Running this little gift shop was just a passing whim. She’d soon lose interest. He’d told her more than once she didn’t need to work. He made plenty of money building corporate websites for both of them. But if she wouldn’t listen—well, that was her choice.
Her car still sat in the garage, but it had been there yesterday when she wasn’t there, too. She obviously hadn’t driven it
yet, so didn’t know about his little surprise.
He quickly picked the lock and then went inside, checking all the rooms. Everything was quiet. She wasn’t here, damn her. What was the bitch up to? Was she staying with friends somewhere else?
He went into her bedroom and smiled when he saw the rose and note were gone from her dresser.
So, she had been here. At least she’d gotten his message. Good. He’d give her a couple of days to think it over, worry about his promise to make her pay. Then maybe she’d be nicer to him when he called again.
Slipping back outside, he walked to his car and drove home in a better mood.
* * * *
The next morning Matt stopped to talk to Sheriff Ben.
“We’ll try to get some fingerprints from the note,” Ben said. “But that won’t help if his prints aren’t on file.”
“I want to get this guy. He’s keeping Loni scared to death,” Matt said.
Ben nodded. “Guys like him make me sick. Too bad they often know how to avoid getting caught.”
“Yeah. He evidently got to Loni’s house without anyone seeing him.”
“He might have come in from the north instead of through town. Or if he was driving a different vehicle and drove straight through, we wouldn’t have noticed. This is tourist season, you know, and the highway goes right through town. Thousands of cars and trucks use this road every day.”
Matt sighed. “I get the picture, Ben. And you do have other, higher priority things to do.”
“Yes. Worse, I can’t find any connection between him and Don’s car accident, so I don’t have anything to hold him on if I do see him.”
“Breaking and entering Loni’s house doesn’t count?”
“Well, yeah, if we can prove he did that. So far, we don’t have much. Leaving an invitation to dinner on her answering machine and a love note and rose for her aren’t exactly crimes,” Ben said dryly.
“I know. But you saw Loni’s reaction to those things. He’s terrorizing her with them,” Matt said.
“True. I’ll do what I can.”
Matt stood and took his leave. Yes, Ben would do what he could, but Matt had the feeling it wasn’t going to be enough.
They were on their own against this psycho.
* * * *
In Chicago, Detective Joe Jennings sat at his desk, file folders in front of him. FBI Agent Charles Monroe had the chair on the opposite side of Joe’s desk and he didn’t look happy. He read through one of the folders Joe had put together. “Charley” as he’d said he preferred being called, was a seasoned pro and looked the part. Although middle-aged, wiry and gray-haired, Charley’s brown eyes missed nothing.
Charley said, “So what you’ve connected so far are three dead women from three different jurisdictions, but the same MO?”
Joe shifted in his chair. “Basically, yes. All young blondes, all sexually assaulted, all strangled, all missing an obvious lock of hair.”
“Hm. And, probably because the murders occurred in different cities, nobody tied them together until now?”
“Right. I started searching for similar murders on a hunch.”
“Oh?” Charley pulled off his glasses and began cleaning them on the tail of his shirt.
Frowning, Joe eyed him. Was the agent making fun of him? Fighting to keep his temper under control, he replied. “Yes, a hunch. Haven’t you ever gone with one?”
Charley’s lined face creased into a grin. “Lots of times. Didn’t always get me where I needed to go, but—”
“Yeah. But we didn’t have much to go on with Catherine’s death. Too clean. It smelled of experience to me. So I started going through databases and found Sandra Bellows in Milwaukee and Colleen Elling in Des Moines. If they weren’t killed by the same guy, I’ll be surprised. And there may be others I missed.”
Charley nodded, read through the folder and put it aside, then picked up another one. “So why did you include this other stalking case with the murders?”
Joe shrugged. “I’m not sure. It might not be connected at all. Loni’s complaints sound like the ones Sandra filed with the Milwaukee police before she was killed. I put copies in her folder.”
“Yes, I see. The other women weren’t stalked?”
“Not as far as we know.”
Charley nodded. “True. They might not have reported it. Not much forensic evidence here either. A careful killer.”
“Yeah. Not even a hair, much less a used condom left behind.”
“So forensics is working on what little they have. They’re tracing the lubricant from the condom, but if it’s a common brand, that may not be much help. In the meantime, let’s check out everybody connected with any of the women.”
“A lot of that’s already been done.”
“Then we’ll double-check. We need a little break somewhere. Let’s start with the ones Loni suspected were her stalkers.”
“We’re still looking for those jewelry store robbers. There was another similar robbery last week, also in a mall. This one was in a Minneapolis suburb, but with a similar MO, so it could be our guys. Our robbery department is looking for any connection to the one here.”
“Okay. What about this Hank?”
“He showed up after the jewelry robbery, wanting to play hero. Loni screamed at him to leave her alone, says he’s stalking her. We went to his apartment later and talked to him. Seemed harmless enough. A computer geek.”
“How’d she meet him?”
“Apparently the jewelry store owner had hired him to do their website.”
“Ah. Should be a paper trail. Did you get the bill from the store owner?”
“Yes.” Joe paged through the folder and pointed out an invoice.
Charley copied the info into his phone and sent it to his office. “Our computer experts can trace him through the jewelry store website. We’d better talk to him again.”
“I figured you’d want to and checked. He’s no longer doing their website and has left town. His apartment is empty now.”
Charley put down the folder. “Let’s go. Maybe we still get some fingerprints. Or a forwarding address or something left behind.”
An hour later, they’d found a few fingerprints to run, but little else. Charley’s phone rang. He answered, listened a moment and swore.
“What?”
“Hank Jones doesn’t exist. Fake ID.”
“That figures.”
* * * *
Loni left Hannah in charge of the gift shop the next morning and kept her doctor’s appointment. She sat in the paper gown on the clinic examination table. Why did they always make you wait so long wearing next to nothing? She hated check-ups of any kind, especially embarrassing ones, although her female doctor was always nice. She’d seen the same one back in high school.
When she finally came in, Loni hesitantly explained her problem. “I…I have this odd lump down here in my pubic area,” she said. “It itches and feels hard.”
The doctor examined it. “I can’t imagine what it is, but it feels like metal, maybe shrapnel,” she said. “Were you in any kind of accident, where something could have struck you and become embedded?”
Loni shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
“When did you first notice it?”
Loni shrugged. “A while ago, but I thought it was just a boil or cyst or something and would soon go away. But it hasn’t. I fell on the ice last winter and remember being bruised and sore in various places.”
“Hmm. Shall I remove it, whatever it is?”
“Please. Will it hurt?”
“It looks like it’s just under the skin. A local anesthetic should do it, but I’ll have to shave some hair away to get at it.”
The doctor had her nurse bring in a tray of sterile instruments. A few minutes later they stared at what she’d taken out.
“What is it?” Loni asked in a tight voice.
“I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s shrapnel. It looks like a device of some kind. Co
uld someone have put it there on purpose?”
“It’s a bug,” Loni said, feeling the color drain from her face.
“Bug?”
“You know, an electronic tracking device, or a listening device. I don’t know what exactly, but it’s something like that.”
The doctor looked amazed. “You’d better report this to the police. I’ve heard of putting that sort of thing in bracelets to track people who might get lost, or in dogs to tell who their owner is, but I’ve never heard of one embedded in a person.”
You just don’t know weird electronic geniuses like I do—and wish I didn’t. “I need to take the device to give to the Sheriff for evidence,” Loni said. “Okay?”
“Sure.” She sounded relieved.
The doctor dropped it into a plastic bag and handed it to Loni. She applied antiseptic to the small wound and stuck on a bandage.
“Thanks,” Loni said to the doctor as she left.
Loni squelched the urge to smash the little device under her heel. Instead, she stepped down off the table and stuffed the bug in her purse, then started getting dressed.
Was the thing still active? Was it telling Hank her location right this minute? No wonder he’d been able to follow her so easily from town to town. Maybe that’s how he’d known she was at Uncle Pete’s house.
With shaking fingers, she buttoned her blouse. When had the SOB implanted it on her? It had to have been the night she supposedly fell on the ice and “passed out,” and he’d put her to bed. It was the only time she could think of that he might have had the opportunity to do it without her knowledge.
But how could she prove any of it? She was only guessing. No one would believe it if she told them.
She left the clinic and walked on wooden legs to her car.
She decided to put the device in Aunt Dee’s house. Hank would expect her to be there, so if it was still sending out signals, it would only give him that location. It might be awhile before he noticed her location never changed. Unless it was a listening device and not only a tracking device. She didn’t know anything about such things. How could she tell?
Loni remembered Aunt Dee had a small fireproof wall safe. If this was a listening device, the metal should prevent any transmission of data. Inside the safe, it shouldn’t be able to pick up anything said in the house. She’d hide it there for now.
