Phish NET Stalkings

by Denise Robbins

  The rest of the meal was companionable and whine free. Thank goodness. After the server cleared their dinner dishes, Jane checked her watch and frowned. She never made it to the boutique as she had planned and still needed to go by there before she went home.

  “Have a date?” Amy questioned with a raised brow and a sardonic smile.

  “No. I wanted to go by the boutique on my way home, but before I do let’s talk a little business.”

  Jane straightened in her seat and when the waitress came by to check on them she ordered two cappuccinos. She wanted the caffeine and knew her friend needed it.

  “We’re planning a party. A Hollywood style costume party. It will be a combination Halloween and new contract celebration. We want Bouchercon Group to cater and organize. And I want you,” she reached out and laid a hand over her friend’s, “to attend as a guest. It’s going to be a party for business associates as well as employees and friends.” She pulled her hand back and sat up in her chair when their server brought their cappuccinos.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think, of course. I would love to be there, and the business will make me look like a goddess in my tyrant father’s eyes. Who will I be working with to coordinate the effort, you?” Amy asked as she emptied a packet of sweetener into her coffee.

  “Tony.”

  “Tony? Your assistant?” The incredulity in Amy’s voice almost made Jane laugh.

  “Yeah. It was his idea. I’m going to let him run with it. Besides, the debut and release of the Glossy Gal lip-gloss has me running ragged.”

  “Good for Tony.”

  They discussed a few details of the party and once Jane finished her coffee, she said, “I’ve really got to go. I promised I would have the product to the Not-so-plain-Jane’s original boutique by opening time tomorrow, which means I’ve got to deliver it tonight.”

  Jane reached for her purse and started to pull out her wallet.

  “Put your money away. I’ve got it. I’ll write it off to business since we did discuss a project.”

  She smiled at her friend and rose. “Thank you. You’ll be safe?”

  Amy rolled her eyes and groaned. “Yes, Mom,” she grumbled, and grinned. “I’m going to have dessert, and I may just comp a room to myself.” She pointed a finger up indicating the hotel that was above Fratello’s Restaurant. “Don’t worry.”

  Jane bobbed her head once, turned, and waved a hand as she walked away. At the front desk, the Maître’d helped her on with her coat and Jane asked him to be sure that Amy not drive.

  “No problem, Miss East. We’ll be sure she gets home or to a room safely.”

  “Thank you, Jonathon.”

  Outside the restaurant, the biting cold slammed into Jane and she hurried to her car, which she had chosen to park on the side street rather than go through Valet. When she reached the car a chill of awareness rushed up her spine. It was as if she could feel eyes boring into her back. After pressing the button on the key fob to unlock the door, she glanced over her shoulder and looked around. She didn’t see anyone. A shudder went through her, racking her shoulders. She jerked the door open and jumped into the car behind the wheel. With swift motions, she slid the key into the ignition and started the motor then immediately hit the switch to lock the car doors.

  She looked through all the windows, checked her rearview mirror and still did not see anything that would give her the heebie-jeebies, but something most definitely had. Putting the car into Drive, she pulled out into the street and headed toward Not-so-plain Jane’s, scanning the streets and her rearview mirror the entire drive. It was probably just her imagination. Running into Bob twice when she normally never saw the man, would never have met the man if not for the online dating service. Now it was as if he was everywhere.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded. “It’s just your imagination.” He had probably been to those same places a thousand times and she had just not noticed him.

  She pulled into the area at the back of the boutique and parked. As she did every time, Jane sat there and stared reverently at her store. She remembered how her life had changed in the blink of an eye.

  The day David gave her the anatomically correct ceramic frogs changed everything for her. She went from being a poor college student struggling to get by with no real plan for a future, hiding her identity, to a very wealthy college student. She changed her major from just chemistry to a double major in chemistry and business and a strategy of achieving her lifelong dream, along with a new friend. A friend she trusted with her deepest, darkest secret.

  From that day forward, Jane’s sole focus had been starting her own business. And she did it. In three years, she finished school Magna Cum Laude and opened the doors to Not-so-plain-Jane’s, her first boutique. With David Conrad by her side or, more accurately stated, with David behind the glittery doorway beads to the backroom mixing up the herbs and oils, she launched her organic cosmetics business.

  The original boutique, which she still owned today, along with four others across the country, began her lifelong dream of belonging. She loved visiting Not-so-plain-Jane’s. Jane stepped out of the car with her purse over her shoulder and punched the lock mechanism on the key as she walked to the back of the car. She hefted two large boxes from the trunk and jostling them managed to hit the button again and the trunk closed.

  She strolled to the back door of the shop, shifted the boxes in her arms, and unlocked the steel door. Yanking it open, she quickly stepped inside. She had thirty seconds to disarm the alarm before the contraption would sound off. Jane crossed the threshold and moved into the backroom. The music of Pretty Woman sing-songed throughout the space. She rushed to the keypad and, juggling the boxes, punched in the first two digits of her code then stopped with her finger poised over the next number.

  She didn’t hear the rhythmic beeping of the alarm, nor did she see the green lights indicating the alarm was set. The alarm wasn’t set? Frowning, Jane looked around the backroom for Marion’s signature rainbow-colored tote, but did not see it.

  “Maybe one of the sales girls?” she wondered aloud, as she set her own bag on the floor and the boxes on the herb bench, the area where the staff crushed dried herbs and packaged them for such things as dryer sachets, drawer sachets, and potpourri. She glanced beneath the bench. No backpacks or pocketbooks hid behind the lace that curtained off a storage space employees used to keep their personal belongings secure from anyone who would mistakenly wander into the room.

  “Hmm.” Jane spun on her narrow high heels and hollered. “Anyone here? Marion?”

  As she shoved a handful of jade and lavender beads out of the doorway, she snaked her hand around in front of her and flicked the light switch. She froze, her wide-eyed gaze skimming the room.

  “What the hell!” Jane slapped a hand over her mouth at the sight that greeted her. Not-so-plain-Jane’s products littered the bamboo floor of the boutique. Bile rose up in the back of her throat and threatened to join the shampoo oozing out of its bottle onto the floor.

  She took a step in retreat and whirled, her hand hitting the wall. A large hand clamped over her mouth, stifled the scream that threatened to escape her lips—and then pain.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Cooper had broken Janette’s code between her address book and her appointment book and created a list of Janette’s latest clients. He had to do the research on the client names and verify he had the right Mr. John Jones before approaching him for questioning. Locating the client was the most tedious and lengthy process when there were sometimes three people with the same name in the town or a nearby town. The good part is that Janette managed to annotate the town or the actual address for a client. The bad news was, the only ones she had the specific address for were single men. For married men, she did her best guess as to the town.

  After working his way through the last week of her appointment book, he had a list of ten men that he wanted to interview.

  He and Jack were on their
way back to the office after interviewing four of Janette’s regular customers, yielding no new information other than that Mr. Doug Elder preferred to be dominated and tied up.

  “That man was way too talkative and forthcoming with his experiences,” he said.

  Jack burst out in a fit of laughter and swerved the car.

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry, Coop.” He straightened the vehicle and chuckled some more. “I’ve never seen a John so proud to have been using a hooker and to want to give the details of his, uh, explorations.”

  “The man is a freak. I’m just glad he doesn’t prefer children.”

  “Oh, come on, Coop. What man wouldn’t be proud to be put in a dog collar and made to bark or be whipped before he got to take a woman doggie-style?”

  He tried to cover up the laugh with a cough, but it didn’t work. “Shit!” he said between laughs. “What the fuck kind of guy lets a woman drag him around by a chain attached to his balls? Can you believe he showed the….the tools and expected us to touch them?”

  “No shit. I mean who knows if he actually cleans those ball clamps or not.”

  They both burst out in a fit of laughter.

  Out of the corner of Cooper’s eye he saw Jack swipe at tears. “Sissy.”

  “Hey! Admit it. That was frickin’ ass hilarious. I mean most dudes deny everything, want to slam the door in your face as soon as they discover that you want to discuss their sexual habits and forays with a hooker. Not Doug Elder, nope. He invites us in, offers us coffee, and even volunteers to show videos. How many times can you say that happens?”

  Coop shook his head. “Never. It’s the damnedest thing.”

  Just then, the dispatcher came in over the car radio. Cooper listened intently, praying it wasn’t another woman beaten or dead. Relief swept through him as it was a code 459S, meaning silent burglar alarm.

  Jack looked at him. “I know that address. We’re less than five miles from Not-so-plain-Jane’s. Should we take it?”

  “I’ll call it in,” Coop said through the knot of fear in his throat, reaching for the radio as Jack took a right hand turn, hit the gas and the lights.

  She couldn’t be there. He had looked up the address for Not-so-plain-Jane’s corporate headquarters, driven by the place just to check it out, and knew that was Jane’s office. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. Something was wrong. He felt it in the prickly sensation that ran up his arms.

  * * * *

  “Ow.” Jane rubbed the back of her head. Intense pain pulsed in her head as she came to on the floor and moved. The floor? On her stomach, she glanced around and remembered where she was.

  “Oh, shit!” she muttered. What if the burglar was still around?

  Holding her breath, she listened for breathing, movement, anything that would give the intruder’s presence away. When she heard no sound, she let out her breath in a rush. Slowly and with caution, Jane inched her way on hands and knees toward the storeroom where her purse lay. When she reached the room, she debated her actions. The beads would make noise. Damn! Did she dare go for it? Fuck it! Better to make noise and get to her purse than sit like a waiting, unarmed duck.

  She slid the beads aside so she could slip into the room then scooted across the cold cement floor. The sound of blood rushing through her ears made her dizzy, but it did not deter her from shoving her hand in her bag, and pulling out her CZ 9-millimeter. She reached back in and grabbed her cell phone. Unlocking the safety on the gun, she slid back on her butt under the workbench, her back to the wall. Then she flipped open her phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  With the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, she held the weapon aimed at the beaded entry. She bobbled it only for a second when the 9-1-1 operator came on the line.

  Taking a deep breath, Jane slowly and clearly gave the address of her location and explained the situation.

  “The cars have already been dispatched to that location and should be there in just another minute or two.”

  “They are?” she asked in surprise.

  “Yes, ma’am. Are you safe?”

  Jane stared down the sight of her 9-millimeter, saw that her hand held steady in spite of her heart racing with fear. “Yes, I’m safe.”

  Just let some jackass try to attack me now. She would show him how her training with ex-Marine Gunnery Sergeant, Mike Stevens had paid off. She knew a 9-millimeter round traveled about one thousand feet per second at around six hundred and eighty miles per hour. No matter what, whomever she aimed and fired her CZ at, she would hit and at that velocity and the close range, the jackass who attacked her would go down and give her time to get away.

  She set her phone on the floor, but left it open. Maybe she should try to leave. Would that be the smart thing to do? What if he was outside loading his truck or something? She hadn’t seen a truck when she pulled up. That didn’t mean anything, she told herself. It could be in the front or on a side street. What if the jackass had a partner or partners?

  “Shit!” she muttered and slid further beneath the bench, pressing her back so tight against the wall that her spine felt as if it was rubbing her bladder.

  Oh, great. Now she had to pee. Fuck! Why had her mind even gone there? She drew her knees up and squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment and instantly she was eight years old again and back in her mother’s closet hiding amongst her mother’s coats and dresses. “Please, please, make the bad men go away,” the chant played in her mind. “Please.” Her palms started to sweat and Jane gripped the gun tighter.

  “Not this time,” she whispered. This time she was prepared. No one would take her life or a loved one’s again. With determination, Jane shoved out the images playing in her head and concentrated all of her attention on the doorway.

  She heard the creak before she saw the door start to inch open. The barrel of a pistol poked through the opening. Her heart slammed against her ribs as her stomach nosedived. “Please, please, make the bad men go away.”

  Against the low light of a street lamp, something shiny glinted. A lump of fear clogged her throat. It was them! They were back for her!

  Sucking in air through her nose, she swallowed the heavy lump, shoved back her fear and did as Gunny taught her. She extended her weapon arm, set her pedestal hand under her weapon hand and cupped it. Her head slightly tilted, she looked down her arm and eyed the sight. The first pad of her finger rested against the trigger. She inhaled and exhaled, breathed slow and even, and focused on her target.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  As they approached the address, Jack killed the roof lights and slowed, making a trek around the building before pulling up and parking in the back. Dread had Coop extricating himself from the car in a hurry and approaching the parked car before Jack even got the keys out of the ignition. One glance at the license plate and he knew the warning signals had been right.

  “Jane,” he said in a reverent whisper.

  Taking out a mini flashlight, he shone the light into the interior of the car. Nothing looked disturbed. Had Jane interrupted a burglary in progress? His heart plummeted as he pivoted and moved toward the back door to the building.

  “What is it?” Jack asked in a low whisper before he reached the door.

  “Jane’s car.” He nodded toward the black BMW.

  “How do you know?”

  “License plate, the pink scarf on the front passenger seat, and the selection of lipsticks and other cosmetic stuff in a box marked Not-so-plain-Jane’s on the back seat.”

  “You think she’s inside?”

  Coop nodded. Had Jack suddenly gone daft? Of course Jane was inside.

  “You think she tripped the alarm by accident?”

  He shook his head twice. “Hell, no.” He may not know Jane as well as he wanted to but one thing he knew about her was that she was too regimented to accidentally trip an alarm. If it had been tripped, either some burglar did it or she tripped it because she walked in on the burglar.

  Jack nodded, accept
ing his take on the situation and on Jane. “You go left. I’ll go right.”

  Cooper turned the doorknob in slow motion to the left so as not to make any noise. When the latch was free from the frame, he eased the door open just a hair and held his weapon through the crack in front of him. He inched the door open some more and moved over the threshold and to the right, sweeping the area with his gun hand out in front of him.

  Jack followed suit and checked the left. “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  On soft-soled shoes, Cooper walked farther into the building. Soft light came from the front of the store. He pointed it out to Jack who nodded and with his left hand indicated he was going left around to the front. Coop did a wiggly thing with his fingers signifying the doorway of beads. He was going to check there first. Jack bobbed his head.

  Once again the two would go in, Coop to the left and Jack to the right. Adrenalin pumped through his veins as he reached out an arm and swept the beads aside. Before stepping fully into the room, he swept the room high then low. Then he froze.

  “Holy—” His heart thudded against his chest as he faced the barrel of a gun aimed at his torso.

  Panic seized Jane and pressed in on her chest as if it were a man’s foot holding her to the ground. “Bad men,” she breathed out. Bad men, echoed in her mind at a fuzzy distance. Badges! Guns! They were here. They found her. How? Her breathing turned shallow. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she get out. Alive.

  Inhaling, she steadied her weapon. She exhaled slow and steady and eased the trigger. Breathe and squeeze. Gunny’s words rang in her head. Breathe and Squeeze. The pad of her finger felt the first breakpoint in the trigger. She could do this. She could shoot an intruder, someone who attacked her, someone who threatened her life and killed her mother, her grandmother.

  “Jane? Jane. It’s me, Cooper.”

  Cooper? Cooper? No. She gave a mental headshake. It couldn’t be Cooper. The bad man was trying to trick her.