by Impulsive
Haggardy was right. There was at least one more bad egg rolling around loose. On Tuesday, he left a message on Jess's E-mail. "I'll get you yet." It was followed by a note with no postmark, left in her regular mailbox on Wednesday. "Your luck can't last forever." Both messages were addressed to her, not Ty, and both sent to her apartment, though she was spending the majority of her time at Ty's condo.
"I don't like this," Ty told her for the thousandth time. "This jerk has been to your place and personally put that last note in your mailbox. Why else would it have no postmark?"
As a matter of course, they turned the threat mail over to Haggardy, who advised the pair of them to exercise extreme caution, and for neither of them to go anywhere alone.
"We might as well be attached at the hip as it is," Jess informed him wryly. "Ty barely lets me out of his sight to use the bathroom."
Haggardy grunted. "Then he should go in there, too."
Thursday was blessedly uneventful, but the fact that it was only made the day all the more unnerving. Like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then, on Friday, Ty and Jess arrived back at her place to find that her apartment had been broken into while they had been at practice.
"Don't touch anything!" Ty warned, as they stared at the shambles that stretched from the front door as far as they could see. "I'll call Haggardy."
"H... How?" Jess asked, her voice trembling—indeed, her whole body beginning to shake. "I d-doubt we can f-find the ph-phone."
On the off chance that the intruder was still inside, they went back outside. While Ty kept watch on the apartment, Jess used a neighbor's phone to call the police. Haggardy arrived within a quarter hour, with a team of back-up officers. Only after they ascertained that no one was inside, did Haggardy allow Jess and Ty to enter.
"Try not to disturb anything. Just look around, Jess, and tell us if you can spot anything missing."
"In this mess?" she exclaimed in disbelief. The vandal or vandals had gone through the apartment with a vengeance. Much worse than the police had done at the Rome household a few weeks prior. There wasn't a piece of furniture that wasn't overturned, the cushions sliced open and the stuffing torn out. The entire contents of her cupboards and refrigerator lay crushed and smeared on the kitchen floor. Her office had been totally demolished, books and research files ripped to shreds and thrown in the center of the room in a jumbled heap of paper. Her fax machine and computer had been smashed beyond repair—and all of her computer discs were gone!
"That's a start," Haggardy noted. "Now all we have to do is determine why they needed them. What was your current project?"
"I was trying to correlate all the data on the problems plaguing the Knights," she told him. "Doing background checks on everyone involved with the team. That sort of thing."
"Did you come across anything interesting?"
"Not that I could tell. Not yet, anyway."
"Who knew you were doing this?"
"Just Ty. I didn't tell anyone else."
"Then someone, knowing your skills as a reporter, must have assumed you'd be working on it. That would account for the threats. They were trying to get you to back off. Now they want to know just how deep you've dug, so they've taken the discs. Did you keep back-up discs anyplace else?"
Jess nodded. "At Ty's. On my laptop, and on a floppy."
"I'll need copies of those, if you don't mind."
Her bedroom hadn't escaped damage either. To Jess's mind, this was the worst. Not only had her clothes been yanked from her closet and drawers, they had literally been cut to tatters. Dresses, sweaters, underwear—not a whole piece among them. Her stomach roiled as she viewed it all. Her intimate belongings, handled and destroyed by some madman. She felt violated to the core of her being. If she'd been physically raped, it could not have affected her more deeply.
Then, among the litter of her life, she spotted the photo. It was lying on the floor, the glass shattered, the paper gouged in several places, as if the vandal had ground his foot into it in a fit of rage. With a cry, she fell to her knees, and despite Haggardy's warning not to touch anything, she scooped it up with trembling hands. Ty knelt beside her, holding her shoulders as she broke into anguished sobs.
"Who are they?" Haggardy asked, not recognizing the people in the picture.
"Her father and brother," Ty related. "They were killed in a boating accident when Jess was young. That photo is her most precious possession. I'd like to get my hands on the guy who did this."
"Stand in line, James. You realize, of course, that this is no ordinary act of vandalism. This maniac is through messing around. It's personal to him now. In my professional opinion, no one carves up a woman's clothes like this, without visualizing doing the same to her."
Jess's body stiffened in Ty's grasp as she let out a strangled whimper.
"Jesus, Haggardy!" Ty exploded. "What are you trying to do? Send her over the edge? Couldn't you have kept that disgusting bit of information between you and me? Do you get your jollies by scaring women witless, or what?"
"I want her scared," Haggardy went on relentlessly. "I want her to be looking over her shoulder at every turn. I want her to second guess everything she sees and hears from here on out—until we catch this deranged squirrel and lock him safely behind bars. I don't want her to trust anyone, not even her pastor or the little old lady down the block. Her life could very well depend on it."
"I'm aware of that," Ty shot back. "That's why she's moving in with me, where the security is tighter. If I have to, I'll hire a bodyguard for her. I intend to do my part, Haggardy. Now, do yours, and get this lunatic off the streets."
The one bright mark on the day was that among the chaos the police did turn up a couple of vital clues. Until now, all of the threats to Jess had been via phone, fax, E-mail, or notes made up of cut-and-pasted newsprint. Never handwritten or typed. He'd gotten reckless this time, however, and scrawled a message on the sink over her bathroom vanity. "Count the days. I am." More importantly, in the process of slicing up her clothes, the man had cut himself as well. They found several droplets of blood on the shredded fabric.
"I know it doesn't look like it to you, but I think we might have gotten our first big break," Haggardy said. "Even with the gloves and no fingerprints, we now have solid evidence against this bastard. He just screwed up."
Ty wasn't thrilled about having to fly to New York that night for their upcoming game against the Jets, but Jess was terrifically relieved to be getting away from the site of so much hatred and violence. "I really do need the change of scene, Ty," she convinced him. "I need the distraction, so I can regroup and be ready to deal with all of this once we get back home."
Another factor, all but overshadowed in the wake of the vandalism and Haggardy's dire warning, was that this Saturday was Ty's birthday, and Jess had something special planned, with Corey's help. She'd be damned if she'd let this faceless monster ruin it, as he'd laid waste to her apartment.
The flight was a late one, and she and Ty were fairly well washed out by the time they checked into their Meadowlands, New Jersey, hotel, just a stone's throw from the stadium. New York could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, all Jess wanted was to curl up in bed in Ty's arms and forget the trials and tribulations of today.
Saturday brought clouds and drizzle, not a great omen by any means, but Jess was determined to go through with her plans and make Ty's birthday a wonderful and memorable event. She hated seeing him so worried, so burdened, so constantly on edge—and now he'd decided that until this whole disaster was resolved it was too dangerous for Josh to continue his weekend visits to Columbus, which dampened his spirits even further. She was going to change that, to lighten his mood, if only for a couple of days.
After the morning practice, Jess was to meet Corey at Rockefeller Center, presumably for lunch and to watch her shoot a commercial, something which held little interest for Ty. Gabe's assignment was to keep Ty occupied elsewhere while the girls conducted their business on the sly. Corey, who
had come to New York in mid-week to do a modeling shoot, had made all the advance arrangements. In fact, when Jess had been trying to decide what to give Ty for his birthday, it was Corey who had come up with the idea.
There were three routes into the city from New Jersey, none of which thrilled Jess—two tunnels and one bridge over the Hudson River. She opted for the bridge, the lesser of the evils in her estimation. Ty tried to convince her otherwise, to no avail.
"Honey, we'll be going out of our way if we take the bridge. The Lincoln tunnel is more of a straight shot. We'll get there a lot sooner, and I'll be there to hold your hand the whole time." He and Gabe were riding into town with her, to see that Jess hooked up with Corey safely. Then the guys planned to take the ferry to Liberty Island, an excursion Jess's fear of boats would not allow her to experience.
"No way," she told him firmly. "I'd be a blithering idiot in that tunnel, imagining all those tons of water surrounding me. The bridge is going to be bad enough, thank you." She scowled. "Why did they have to build the blasted city on a blasted island to start with? You'd think they'd have better sense."
Ty and Gabe shared an amused look. "They've done okay so far," Gabe pointed out.
"What's all that stuff you're lugging with you?" Ty asked, changing the subject. Jess was carrying an oversize tote bag, crammed to the gills.
"Just a few things Corey suggested I bring along. Comfortable walking shoes, my camera, and the like." Actually, the bag held several changes of clothing, though Ty didn't need to know that. It would spoil the surprise if he did.
Corey was waiting for them when their taxi pulled up. "You fellows had better keep the cab while you've got one," she advised. "Jess and I can walk from here—and don't worry, Ty. I'll watch her like she was made of gold."
Ty was going along with this plan very reluctantly. He'd only agreed because Jess had seemed so excited about spending some time with Corey and watching her work. He supposed Jess also needed a little space, away from him for a while, to do her "woman" thing.
Ty consulted his watch. "Okay, we'll meet back here at five o'clock, right?"
"Sure thing." Jess leaned back into the cab to give him a quick kiss. "See you then. Have fun."
CHAPTER 29
The taxi had scarcely pulled away from the curb when Corey grabbed Jess's arm and began tugging her along at a fast pace. "Come on, or we're going to be late. I told Blane I'd have you there by one, and we don't want to tick him off. After all, he doesn't do this for just anyone."
"Is he one of those temperamental artist types?"
Corey rolled her eyes. "Aren't they all? Even if they're not, they pretend to be."
They dashed into a building and caught the elevator just as the doors were about to close. Squeezed in like sardines with a dozen other people, they got off on the fifteenth floor. Upon entering an office halfway down the hall, the receptionist motioned them on. "Better hustle. He's waiting for you—very impatiently."
They burst through another set of doors, and Jess found herself in a cavernous room with no windows and no light, with the exception of a couple of bright lamps at one end.
"Watch your step," Corey cautioned. "There are wires and cords strung every which way." Indeed, the floor was littered with them. They picked their way through them, toward a man fiddling with one of the lights.
"Here she is, Blane," Corey announced. "Meet Jess Myers, latest darling of the sports world."
Blane strode forward and, without so much as a by-your-leave, caught Jess's chin in his fingers. Saying nothing, he twisted her head this way and that, studying her face. He stepped back, motioned for her to remove her coat, and surveyed her body from head to toe. "Nice and thin," he stated finally. "Good bone structure. We'll have to work on the makeup, though. Enhance her eyes more. And for God's sake, have Emma do something..." He fluttered a hand in the air, as if to grab the words from space. "...interesting with her hair. I trust you have your outfits and accessories?"
"Uh, yes." Taken aback, Jess couldn't formulate a more complete response, but it didn't matter. Blane was already waving them away.
"Good. We'll go with the uniform first. Corey will show you where to change, and get Emma started on you. Don't dally."
Inside the dressing room, Jess let out a breath. "Is he always so brusque?"
Corey grinned. "According to him, it's part of his charm. Let me introduce you to the real magician of the group. This is Emma, the lady who does our makeup, styles our hair, and helps keep our clothes in order. Emma, this is Jess."
Emma was a tad more congenial. "Glad to meet you, Jess. Now, strip down to your undies, tie this cape around your neck, and we'll get started."
Twenty minutes later, Jess couldn't believe the change, as she contemplated her reflection in the mirror. "I love what you did with my hair, but are you sure we didn't overdo it on the makeup?"
Corey, who was steaming the wrinkles out of Jess's clothes, laughed. "Emma knows best, Jess. Trust her. You have to apply more cosmetics than you would normally, or you'll end up looking like a ghost."
"I don't want to look like a streetwalker, either," Jess protested weakly. "I don't want Ty to be disappointed."
"He won't be, and neither will you when you see the final results," Corey promised. "Now, shimmy into this top without mussing yourself."
Before Jess could object any further, she found herself back in that big, bare room, standing in front of several blazing hot lights. She wore nothing but her Knights' jersey, which ended at mid-thigh, red satin panties, and a pair of flesh-colored, stick-on supports beneath her bare breasts, designed to push them up and together without benefit of a bra.
Corey was off to one side, in the shadows, and Blane was attempting to arrange Jess's stiff limbs in just the right pose to suit him. "Loosen up," he commanded in exasperation. "That's a camera, not a gun. This is why I rarely work with amateurs. They're so awkward and timid."
By the time he was done contorting her, from her chin to her toes, Jess felt like a department store mannequin with a charley horse—not at all natural or relaxed. "This is ridiculous!" she muttered, trying not to move her mouth, lest Blane come back to readjust it. "I just want some pretty pictures of myself for Ty. This isn't for some magazine, for heaven's sake."
"I don't take pretty pictures," Blane said from behind his camera. "I take great photos, or none at all. Now smile. Show me some teeth. I said a smile, dammit. I'm not a dentist, I'm a photographer. Relax your shoulders. No, not that much. Now, think money. No? All right, how about mink? Diamonds?"
Corey stepped forward. "Let me try, Blane. I know Jess, and what she likes. Fifty dollars says I can get a real smile out of her the first time out."
"I'll pay it, gladly," he muttered.
"Okay, Jess. Think of Josh. You've been teaching him to kick, and he's just landed his first team goal." She pointed toward the camera. "Picture it. There's the ball, sailing into the soccer net, with Josh's footprint all over it, and you're bursting with pride. Show me how much."
Jess, completely pulled in by Corey's soft-touch coaching, reacted automatically. A smile wreathed her face, her eyes going bright and wide as she exclaimed aloud, "Way to go, Josh!" Deserting the pose Blane had chosen, she cocked one knee forward, thrust out her chest, and gave the camera a double thumbs-up.
Blane snapped the shutter. "Now we're onto something," he declared with satisfaction.
After they took a couple more, just for insurance, Jess changed into her caftan, the one she'd been wearing when Ty proposed to her. The nurses had cut it down the front, to bare her chest for defibrillation; but Claudia had carefully stitched it again, and the seam didn't even show. Jess was thankful that the caftan had been at Ty's on the day her apartment had been vandalized, or it would have been irreparable. Likewise, with her smiley-face swimsuit. Her black dress, the one Ty liked so well on her, had been at the dry cleaner's. She'd picked it up just prior to heading home Friday.
Blane could not understand why Jess,
via Corey, had requested a big beanbag chair as one of the props, but he honored her wishes anyway. He shot a picture of Jess sitting in it, surrounded by softly glowing candles, her caftan draped in silky folds as she gazed dreamily at the ring on her left hand. For the photo of Jess in the black dress, Blane had her twirl round and round, as if dancing. He caught her on a turn, half-facing the camera, looking carefree and happy, her skirts flaring out around her long legs.
Next came an outfit Corey had picked up for her, so Ty wouldn't accidentally catch a glimpse of it ahead of time. Feeling more than a little silly, Jess wriggled into it and asked, "What do you think, Corey? Would I pass muster as a biker chick?"
Corey grinned. "If Ty's got a penchant for leather and lace, this is just the ticket, girl. He'll flip out. Are you going to model it for him when you get him all to yourself tonight?"
"I'll never tell. But if you hear things going bump in the dark, pay no attention. It'll be us, doing the bunny hop."
The outfit in question was constructed of black leather accented with silver chains. It consisted of a front-zip, sleeveless vest, combined with a pair of extremely short shorts, knee-high boots, and elbow-length gloves. Under it, Jess was wearing a slinky satin teddy, in a shade called champagne blush, decorated with tiny mauve ribbons and touches of lace.
Blane photographed her first with only the leather ensemble showing. He posed her sidesaddle on a big black-and-chrome Harley he'd borrowed for the shoot. Into the swing of it by now, Jess had no trouble portraying a brazen babe, decked out for her hard-riding guy. All she had to do was follow Corey's very innovative and suggestive promptings, and imagine Ty as that man. To her surprise, she was actually starting to enjoy herself.
There followed shots with the teddy half-exposed—then in the teddy alone. For this last set, Blane posed her amid a pile of satin pillows, with Jess half-reclined on them. "Think sex, Jess," Corey told her. "Hot, steamy sex. You're ready and waiting for him. Ty is fresh out of the shower, naked as a jaybird, and walking toward you. Envision him, Jess. Anticipate what is about to happen between you."
