by Kaylea Cross
Rayne fished out one that glowed in the dark and let out a low whistle. “Wow. Wonder if it actually works?”
Her face burned as she glared at him. “Teryl. Dies,” she muttered under her breath. Murder in her eyes, she swept a glance around the room, but couldn’t find Teryl anywhere.
Someone was getting some all right, maybe at this very moment, but it sure as hell wasn’t her.
****
Sitting in the dugout at South Hill Park in Vancouver the next evening, Christa couldn’t get Seth’s last words out of her head. The officer who’d checked her cell phone records had traced yesterday’s call to a prepaid cell phone. Another dead end.
When her coach had called her back to say the national team coaches would be here again tonight, she’d had to come, even if her injuries were keeping her temporarily sidelined. Besides, she’d driven in with a teammate and was perfectly safe with all the people around her. It wasn’t like Seth could show up and try anything in sight of everyone, even if he was crazy enough to try.
She still had a life to live, even if a mentally unstable person was obsessed with her. In the reassuring light of day, she even wondered if she might not be blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Look how terrified she’d been the other night, when she’d thought Seth was prowling around her house preparing to make his move, and it turned out to be a raccoon.
One of her teammates hit a ball into the gap and ran to second for a stand-up double. Christa’s frustration ratcheted up another notch, the pressure in her chest increasing painfully. She wanted to be out there. To be given the chance to score the winning run, to make the critical plays.
Being selected for the national team would be the culmination of years of hard work. Of countless hours in the gym hitting the weights and working with the pitching staff to keep in shape during the off-season, and remaining late after every practice to work just a little more. She thrived on the challenge, on pushing herself. Her skills and talent were the product of years of discipline, of playing through all sorts of adversity— tyrannical coaches, heat exhaustion, bruises, sprains, strains, broken fingers and toes. Making the final cut would prove she’d done something important with her life, something she could look back on with pride. She’d come so close the past four seasons. This was the year, she could feel it. Her dream was finally within reach.
Her spine tingled.
She could feel the weight of the stare boring into her back. Whipping her head around, she froze. There he was, in the stands behind home plate. Cold gray eyes stared back at her, and then he winked, licked his lips.
Jesus. She tore her gaze away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of rattling her, and tried to stem the flow of adrenaline flooding her system. She couldn’t believe his audacity. How long had he been sitting there? She had to call Rayne. He hadn’t been able to come with her to tonight’s game because of a briefing, but maybe he’d answer his cell.
She dug in her bag for her phone and dialed his number, moving to the end of the dugout to keep a low profile. She closed her eyes in relief when he answered.
“It’s me,” she whispered, casting a sidelong look to the bleachers. “I’m at—” He was going to blast her when he found out, but, “—at a game downtown—”
“What? You’d better friggin’ not be.”
She winced. “He’s here.”
Tension crackled across the line. “He’s at the park?”
“Yes, right behind the plate. He’s watching me.”
She could hear his chair scrape back as he spoke to her, his voice anxious. “I’m going to call this in and get you help. Where are you right now? Are you safe?”
“I’m in the dugout with the team. Nobody knows what’s going on.”
“Stay right there, Chris. Promise me you won’t move until help gets there.”
His worried tone left her cold all over. She shivered. “I won’t move.” Now she felt stupid for coming here.
“I’ll come meet you as soon as I can get outta here.”
“Okay.” She swallowed. “Thanks.”
“Chris.”
“Yeah?”
“Babe, be careful.”
“I will.” Hanging up, she exhaled a slow breath. Every cell in her body screamed at her to do something. She took one last glance into the stands but this time the seat behind home plate was empty. Her heart rate doubled. She scanned the crowd but he was gone. That scared her more than him sitting there staring at her. At least then she’d known where he was. Now, he could be anywhere. She quietly told her coaches.
The police arrived within minutes, and she gave the two officers Seth’s description and relayed the events of the past week or so. They completed a thorough check of the park and reported that someone matching his description had driven off in a dark blue pickup. By now it was almost eight-thirty; Rayne should be off duty any time. The police advised her to leave and escorted her back to her truck to make sure she was okay. She left Rayne a voicemail asking him to call and that she was headed back from the city. Man, she hated being scared, but she wasn’t staying here a minute longer, and definitely wouldn’t go to her place alone right now.
Not long after leaving the park, she noticed a dark blue pickup in her rearview mirror. Her muscles tightened. Was it Seth?
The vehicle came to within a few car lengths behind her, changing lanes when she did, passing when she did, always remaining the same distance away. Every detail came into sharp relief.
Don’t panic. Stay focused on the road and lose him any way you can. When she braked to make the pickup pass her, it slowed almost to a halt. Now what?
She forced herself to calm down and think. Rayne would call her as soon as he checked his messages. She couldn’t drive around for hours to avoid her pursuer, and what if he got desperate and tried to ram her or something? Who knew how nuts he was? What she needed was a safe place to go before things got any worse. Maybe she’d pass a police cruiser and could flag it down.
She picked up her cell phone and called 911, placing the call on speaker, then explained her near-certainty that the guy the cops had reported leaving the ballpark in a dark blue pickup was following her. The dispatcher gave her directions to the nearest police station and advised her to stay on the line while she drove there immediately. She made the first turn, checking her mirrors. Sure enough, there was the blue pickup a few cars behind her.
She stepped on the gas, racing through a yellow light. Her shadow ran the red light, swerving to miss the oncoming traffic, racing to catch her. When he pulled in behind her, she relayed the license plate and the few identification details she could see in the glare of headlights to the dispatcher. She clutched the steering wheel with shaky, clammy hands, heart slamming in her chest, and hit the accelerator, dodging slower traffic left and right. Dispatch informed her that the closest available units were still miles away. She couldn’t wait, couldn’t make it to the police station in time to neutralize the threat—she needed help now.
When the pickup was still with her at the next light she cut into a gas station, took a deep breath, grabbed her phone, and jumped out, making a run for it inside. He wouldn’t be insane enough to chase after her in front of everyone, would he?
After telling the dispatcher she was safely inside the building Christa disconnected. She didn’t want to wait on the line until an officer arrived, she needed to call Rayne. Now. She hit speed dial praying he would pick up this time. He answered after two rings.
“Hey, I just got your message—”
“He’s following me.”
“What? Where the hell are you?”
“At a gas station. I’ve called the cops. They cleared the park and took me to my truck, but when I left, Seth tailed me.” She hated saying his name.
“I’m coming to get you,” he said, his voice taut. “Just stay where you are. Can he see you?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know you’re onto him?”
She forced herself to turn ar
ound and the second her eyes lit on the pickup, it peeled out of the lot. “He took off,” she said, hand pressed over her pounding heart.
“Did you get a license plate?” She gave him the details she had already relayed to dispatch, and her location. “Good girl. I’ll be there ASAP.”
She waited anxiously inside until the cops arrived and felt like an idiot when she had to admit that her stalker had vanished, although the attendant was able to confirm seeing a dark blue pickup entering the gas station immediately after her. The patrol officer had just finished questioning her when Rayne pulled up and she ran outside to meet him.
He raked a concerned gaze over her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. Shook me up a bit though.”
His jaw tightened. “No doubt.” He gathered her to him, held her tight against his chest. She leaned into him, closed her eyes as she absorbed the feeling of safety.
A strong finger tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You scared me,” he told her. He cupped her face in his hands, stared into her eyes. “Do you realize how lucky you were? You could be in the hospital right now, if you’d been in an accident because you ran one too many lights, or rolled your truck trying to lose him. Don’t you understand how dangerous this is? Making that team is not worth putting your life at risk, Chris. Who the hell knows what this guy is after, so until he’s caught you’re putting your life in danger every time you go anywhere without protection. Do you get that finally? Promise me you won’t take a chance like this again.”
Tears of frustration welled. He could never understand what the team meant to her, how hard she’d worked to get this far. But it wasn’t just that. She wanted her freedom, wanted to live her life like any other person. It wasn’t her fault some deranged maniac had fixated on her. She would have defended herself but the worry on his face took the fight out of her. “I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to scare you, and I’ll be more careful from now on.” Seeing how much he cared about her formed an even bigger lump in her throat.
He let out a deep breath and pulled away, making eye contact with the patrol officer. “I called radio, they ran the license plate. The pickup’s stolen, and they’re looking for it right now.” The patrol officer nodded in confirmation, handed Christa his business card with the case number written on the back, and left to help look for the vehicle.
“I can’t go home then?”
“Not on your life, darlin’.” Absolute steel rang in his voice.
She forced down the spurt of panic at the prospect of being banned from her home. Her life was being stripped away from her; first softball, now her house. What would be next? She hated Seth for it. “Okay,” She dug way down for the control to stay calm. No point blasting Rayne for her predicament. It wasn’t his fault, and it wouldn’t solve anything. “So what now?”
“You could stay at my place.”
Oh yeah, like she would move in with him and make it that much harder to keep her feelings to herself. She’d be an idiot to put herself through that kind of torture. Live in his space, seeing him day in and day out and be nothing more than friends. Not happening. “Thanks, but no.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a killer headache, then glared at her. “Where else would you suggest, then?” he asked with tried patience.
“Maybe I could go and stay with Michael, but I’d rather not leave town entirely. Besides, this creep could follow me anywhere, so how does it matter where I am?”
“At least if you’re not alone, he probably can’t hurt you, can he?” His voice rose. “If you won’t stay with me, pack your stuff and get over to Drew and Teryl’s. This isn’t something you can handle on your own anymore, Chris, do you understand me?”
She did, and she didn’t like it one bit. She hated that some creep could turn her life upside down and scare her to the point where she actually had to leave her own home to find some security. “I don’t know if staying with them is such a good idea. I’d feel awful if I put them at risk.”
“They’ll be at less risk with you there than you would be on your own. And if Teryl could hear you right now she’d kick your ass.”
Whoa, he was so mad his drawl had almost disappeared. His eyes were like twin lasers burning holes through her. “Yeah, okay,” she relented. “I’ll call and see if I can move in with them for a while.”
“You do that. I want this stopped before it goes any further, Chris.” He was still pissed at her, but at least he wasn’t yelling anymore. “I’m worried about you.”
Under different circumstances his words would have made her feel all warm and fuzzy. “I’ll need to go home to pack some things and pick up Jake.”
“We can stop by there right now. I’ll follow you.”
She didn’t dare argue, and felt much safer seeing his license plate in her rearview mirror all the way home. On the way into her house she gathered up her mail, leafing through it as they followed Jake into the kitchen. Between her bills and the newspaper was a small envelope with her uniform number on the front. Her stomach dropped.
“Rayne.”
“What?” He came over immediately.
Immobilized, her brain refusing to acknowledge her fears, she pushed aside the dread and opened it.
Do you like nursery rhymes? This one’s my favorite: Run, run, as fast as you can. Do you remember how it ends, Christa?
Her vision blurred, icy panic skidding through her. Oh, she knew how it ended.
You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man.
Chapter Seven
A cop. Her boyfriend was a fucking cop.
The irony of it ate at his gut like acid. Yesterday he’d hacked into the Motor Vehicles database and looked up the boyfriend’s license plate. More background checking revealed that the man Christa was screwing worked on some kind of SWAT team.
Seth shook his head. How could he love her and despise her at the same time?
Earlier today he’d visited his esthetician. He’d admired the sway of her hips as she sauntered ahead of him in her little black sandals. Around twenty, with curly blonde hair and almond-shaped brown eyes, she had an innocent air about her, but he knew better than to believe it was anything more than an act. Eyeing her from behind his dark glasses in the dimly lit treatment room, he pulled off first his shirt, then his pants, his pulse rate increasing.
“So we’re doing your chest, arms and legs today?”
He climbed onto the table and lay face down. Part of the planning was making sure he had good explanations ready. “Yes. I’m a competitive swimmer, and I’ve got an important meet this weekend.”
She made a murmuring sound and wiped down his legs, sprinkled talcum powder and applied the first sweeps of hot wax over his skin. He sighed at the warmth of it, anticipated her pressing the adhesive strip down, yanking it upward.
He embraced the sting. It centered him. Rip...rip...rip...
He was no stranger to pain, had learned how to control the rage it triggered. He’d made a point to learn from his mistakes, studying the system from within, learning early never to trust cops. Of course he’d already learned that lesson at home.
He exhaled deeply as the hatred rose in a red haze, threatening to choke him. Whenever the memories surfaced he locked them in a vault in the back of his mind. His temper was harder to tame, despite his efforts to curb it. It was all his mother’s fault. Her pathetic excuses, always turning a blind eye when he stumbled downstairs covered in bloody welts, seeking protection and comfort from the woman who should have rearranged the universe to keep him safe. At eleven, Seth had been no match for Henry’s meaty fists.
When he’d run away and gone to the police for help, they’d done nothing. None of Henry’s DUI charges seemed to make it to court, and his mother’s allegations of domestic abuse by her second husband were never investigated. The cops had closed rank around their fellow officer, leaving Seth and his mother to suffer through their private hell. The abused adolescent boy he’d bee
n had learned that women were spineless, deceitful creatures and the so-called upholders of the law were deserving of nothing but his contempt.
“Okay, sir, you can turn over now.”
Seth rolled onto his back, considered the pretty young woman applying warm wax over his thighs. Her eyes darted away from his growing erection, porcelain cheeks pinking. Charming, that she would blush over something as simple as basic physiology. He pondered the idea of playing with her. She didn’t fit with his others, so nothing could link her with the rest. The idea interested him. He still had some time before Christa.
Christa. The thought of her regenerated his bad mood.
Tomorrow he had one more delivery to make. Afterward he’d go home and shave his head and remaining body hair, minimizing the risk of leaving DNA evidence behind. His fingerprints were on file somewhere from when he’d been hauled in for questioning a couple years ago, and unless the cops were totally incompetent they had to have at least one other set of his prints by now. But even if they put all the clues together in time, they still had to catch him. He was continually surprised they hadn’t figured it out yet, but it wouldn’t do to make it too easy for them. This close to his goal, he wouldn’t let anything jeopardize the outcome.
Christa would pay for her betrayal.
****
The morning after moving into Teryl and Drew’s, Christa was knee deep in a hole she’d dug in their garden. Since Rayne had said she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere on her own, not even to work if she could avoid it, she had delegated the most important jobs to her two part-time employees and prayed the cops would pull Seth in before she started losing business. She couldn’t afford to turn away any landscaping contracts and besides, she was going crazy being locked down like this. She figured the least she could do was be helpful while she was staying at her friends’ place.
Except that being helpful was going to herniate a disc in her lower back, she feared, wrenching at the last remnant of a stubborn stump. It was only little as far as stumps went, but it had taken her nearly all morning to dig around the base.
