Deadly Exposure

by Linda Turner

  Reaching for another one of the boxes that she’d piled in a corner when she’d moved, Lily told herself she should go to bed. She was tired, her knee was hurting, and she had no one to blame but herself. She should have followed doctor’s orders and rested.

  “Okay,” she muttered, breaking the silence that surrounded her on all sides. “So I unpacked a few boxes. So sue me. I couldn’t stand lying around anymore. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

  But as she unpacked some of her photography books, she had to admit that she’d overdone it. The books were heavy and she ached in every bone in her body.

  Exhausted, she put the books in the built-in bookcase in the short hallway that led to her bedroom, then headed for the bathroom for a hot bath. Maybe a nice long soak would help ease her stiff muscles, which were still feeling the effects from being almost run down yesterday.

  Ten minutes later, the bathroom was filled with steam as she shed her clothes and carefully eased down into the hot water that nearly filled the old-fashioned claw-foot tub to the rim. Drawing in the scent of her favorite bath oil, she sighed with pleasure as the water closed over her shoulders. Maybe she’d just stay here the rest of the night.

  Later, Lily couldn’t say how long she lay there, letting the tension drain out of her. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard a phone ring, but she couldn’t be sure if it was her phone or the neighbor’s. It didn’t matter—if it was hers, the machine would get it. Closing her eyes again, she soaked until the water grew cold.

  When she stepped out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, the phone rang, and this time there was no question that it was hers. Surprised, she frowned. Who could be calling her at this time of night? Her friends never called after nine, and her father…well, he wasn’t calling, period, so it wasn’t him. Unless there was some kind of emergency.

  Her heart jumping into her throat at the thought, she quickly stepped into the bedroom and picked the phone on the nightstand. “Hello?”

  Her only answer was silence, then a quick dial tone.

  “Okay,” she said ruefully, hanging up. Obviously, someone had the wrong number and no manners. At least there was no emergency, thank God. Her father wasn’t dead or hurt or lying in a hospital bed having an attack of his conscience. He just wasn’t talking to her.

  Resigned to the fact that nothing had changed, she turned out the light and crawled into bed…just as the phone rang again. “Not again,” she muttered. Searching in the dark for the phone, she finally found it and snatched it up. “Hello?”

  For a moment, she thought the caller was going to hang up again. Silence echoed in her ear. Irritated—she had no patience for phone games—she was just about to hang up, when a hoarse voice rasped, “Lily? Is that you?”

  Startled, she answered without thinking. “Yes?”

  “Do you know who this is?”

  “No, I’m sorry I don’t.”

  “This is the man who’s going to kill you,” he growled. “You lucked out in the park yesterday. You won’t next time. Understand? Your days are numbered, lady. Make a will. You’re going to need one.”

  The line went dead, but Lily hardly noticed. You lucked out in the park yesterday. The words echoed in her head over and over again, horrifying her. No! she thought, fumbling for the bedside light with fingers that were suddenly shaking like a leaf. She must have misunderstood. That was the only explanation. No one tried to kill her. It was just an accident.

  But even as she tried to convince herself that the phone call was someone’s idea of a sick joke, images from yesterday flashed before her eyes, and all too easily she saw the moment when the driver of the pizza-delivery car had abruptly turned the vehicle right at her. He hadn’t changed direction until she had jumped out of the way and he was in danger of hitting a tree.

  Stricken, she felt the blood drain from her face. For the last twenty-four hours, she’d told herself over and over again that even though it seemed as if the driver had intentionally tried to run her down, she was just being paranoid. She didn’t have any enemies. Why would anyone try to kill her? Her mind was just playing tricks on her.

  Or so she’d wanted to believe.

  Someone really had tried to kill her in the park yesterday, she thought, shaken.

  And he knew where she lived.

  Chapter 7

  Fear hit her right in the stomach, terrorizing her. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she jumped out of bed and started to turn on the light, only to freeze. No! For all she knew, he could have been calling from a cell phone right outside her front door. If he broke in, her only advantage would be the dark. She knew the layout of the apartment—he didn’t

  Swallowing a sob, she quickly stepped over to the closet and blindly grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt and pulled them on. She wouldn’t be caught in her nightgown if he broke in. Shoes! she thought frantically. She needed her tennis shoes so she could run. Dropping to her knees, she felt around for her shoes and hurriedly pulled them on. Her fingers were trembling, but somehow she managed to tie the laces.

  A weapon, she thought, jumping to her feet. She needed something to defend herself with. But what? She didn’t own a gun. Her friends had always told her she should get a pistol—a woman living alone needed something to protect herself with—but she’d never, ever thought that she’d be in this position. Not that it mattered. She hated guns and hadn’t wanted even a pellet gun in the house. She couldn’t regret that now.

  “Think, Lily!” she told herself quietly, fiercely. But she had nothing…except a kitchen knife and an iron skillet. They would have to do. Hurriedly, she silently made her way down the dark hall to the kitchen.

  Panic pulling at her, she sighed quietly in relief when her fingers closed around the handle of her grandmother’s iron skillet. It might not offer much protection against a gun, she thought grimly, but it could do a lot of damage if she was able to surprise an intruder and bean him with it. If she wasn’t able to knock him out, she could at least give him a serious headache. Then she’d have to run like hell because if he caught her, he would, no doubt, make her wish she’d never been born.

  Quaking at the thought, she clutched the skillet to her chest, hugging it. In the tense darkness of her apartment, all she could hear was the wild beating of her heart.

  Call the police, the voice in her head urged. What’s wrong with you? Someone just threatened to kill you!

  Shaken, so scared she couldn’t think straight, she pressed her hand to her mouth, muffling a sob. Idiot! she chided herself. What was wrong with her? Of course she should call the police. But she’d left the phone in the bedroom. Whirling, she’d only taken two steps when there was a sudden hard knock at her front door. Horrified, she froze.

  No! she wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening. This was just a sick dream, and any second now she was going to wake up. But in the silence of the apartment, a second, harder knock sounded like a gunshot. Her heart jumping into her throat, Lily stood with her feet rooted to the floor, unable to move. Oh, God, he was here! He hadn’t just been playing a sick joke. He really was going to kill her!

  Her blood turning to ice, she looked wildly around the darkened apartment for a place to hide, but she couldn’t think. The closets were too obvious. The fire escape! There had to be one—

  “Hey, Lily? Are you home?”

  Through the fear that clouded her brain, it was several long moments before she recognized the voice of her visitor. “Tony?” she called in disbelief. “Is that you? Thank God!” Shaking in relief, she fumbled with the lock. “Hold on. Please…don’t leave!”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said ruefully through the door. “I wanted to thank you for helping Quentin—”

  Lily finally threw the latch and snatched open the door. At the sight of Tony standing there with that familiar crooked grin on his face, tears spilled into her eyes. “Thank God!” she sobbed.

  Tony only had time to notice that her face was totally devoid
of color, her eyes wide with fright, and she wore a strange mismatch of black dress slacks and an old denim shirt that was faded and splattered with paint, before she threw herself into his arms. Stunned, he caught her, his arms instinctively closing around her to hold her close. For a split second, all he could think was how good she felt against him. Then his head cleared and he realized she was shaking like a leaf and clutching a cast-iron skillet to her chest.

  “What is this?” he asked with a frown as he pulled the skillet from between them. “What’s going on? I’d like to think you’re glad to see me, but women don’t usually throw themselves at me with an iron skillet. Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.”

  Her face still buried against his chest, she choked, “I know you think I’ve lost my mind, but just give me a second, okay?”

  “No problem,” he said. “Take all the time you need.”

  When one minute stretched into two, then three, and she made no move to step back, Tony settled his arms firmly around her and decided she needed more than holding to calm the unnamed fear that he’d seen in her eyes. “This is kind of nice,” he said, hoping humor would not only distract her, but himself. Lord, she felt good in his arms. “You know, if I’d known knocking on your door would get this kind of reaction, I would have done it weeks ago. Think of the time we wasted. Do you have any other quirks I should know about? This could be fascinating. What happens if I call you? Will you go out with me then? Because I really, really, really want to go out with you.”

  He felt her shoulders shake and was afraid he’d gone too far. Then he realized she was trying not to laugh. “Stop,” she choked out, chuckling as she punched him in the shoulder.

  He grinned. “Is that a yes?”

  “Can’t you see this isn’t funny?”

  “Obviously, you haven’t looked at that getup you’re wearing,” he teased, glancing down pointedly. “Do you normally paint in your best pants?”

  “Paint? What are you talking about?” Confused, she stepped back to look down at herself, “I dressed in the dark and pulled on the first thing I grabbed from my closet.”

  “And was there a reason you didn’t turn the light on? There are blinds on the windows—”

  “I was afraid,” she said huskily, her smile abruptly falling away. “Someone’s trying to kill me.”

  Whatever he had been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. “Is that what this is all about? You’re still worried about what happened yesterday? Oh, honey, I’m sorry. It’s okay—”

  “No—”

  “I know it looked like the jackass tried to deliberately run you down, but we can’be sure that the car didn’t have some kind of steering problem,” he pointed out reasonably. “So try not to think about it. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it’s over, thankfully. The jerk’s gone. You’re safe.”

  “He called me.”

  Confused, he frowned. “Who called you?”

  “The man who tried to kill me,” she said hoarsely. “He said that I lucked out at the park yesterday, but next time I won’t be so lucky. Tony, he’s going to kill me!”

  Tears flooded her eyes, horrifying Tony. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry,” he said roughly, pulling her back into his arms. “There’s got to be a logical explanation for this. C’mon, honey,” he urged, coaxing her over to the couch. “Sit down and let’s talk about this. Tell me again what the guy said. Are you sure he didn’t have the wrong number?”

  “No! He knew my name and everything that happened in the park yesterday.” Suddenly chilled, she hugged herself and told him the entire conversation, word for word. “There was no mistake,” she said flatly. “He knew who I was and he’s determined to kill me.”

  “And you don’t have a clue why? I need you to rack your brains, Lily. A man doesn’t threaten to kill a woman he doesn’t know just for the hell of it. He’s got some kind of vendetta against you. Why? Who is he?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Think about his voice, sweetheart,” he said, taking her hand in a warm, reassuring grasp. “Did you recognize anything about it? An accent or certain inflection that sounded familiar? Is there a possibility that he was trying to disguise it? Remember, there’s a damn good possibility that this is probably somebody you know.”

  Closing her eyes, she frowned, concentrating on her tormentor’s threats as his words played over and over again in her head. Finally, regretfully, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know this man—I’m sure of it.”

  “Then why do you think he wants to kill you?”

  She would have given just about anything to know the answer to that. “I don’t know why,” she said. “I just know what he told me. Maybe he’s crazy. Maybe he saw me in the park and wanted the place to himself. There’s no telling what’s going through his mind. I just know that he sounded dead serious.”

  “Do you have caller ID? How did he get your number? It is restricted, isn’t it?” When she hesitated, he swore softly. “Dammit, Lily, you’re a woman who lives alone. You should always have a restricted number. It’s just safer.”

  “I’ve never had a problem before. And I wanted my old friends to be able to find me now that I’ve moved. Obviously, that was a mistake.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. Unless you work in the business, you just don’t realize how much crime there is out there. Especially for a woman alone. Any nutcase who heard about your accident yesterday could have asked around and found someone who knew your name. All he had to do then was call information and he had not onlyone number but your address. So you can’t assume that the man who almost ran you over in the park and the caller are one and the same. He could just be some sicko looking for a cheap thrill.”

  “But doesn’t he know he just set himself up to get caught?” she asked. “My phone records will lead the police right to him.”

  “Not necessarily,” he argued. “We’ll check it out, of course, but in all likelihood, the call was made from a pay phone somewhere and he left no fingerprints.”

  “But why would he take such a risk by calling me?”

  “To torment you,” he said simply. “There are a lot of twisted people out there, sweetheart. They get their kicks in weird ways. The bastard who called you knew the risk was minimal. In all likelihood, he stopped at a pay phone in the middle of nowhere, made a quick call and scared you to death without coming anywhere near you.”

  “But his prints will be on the phone. All you have to do is trace it.”

  “Trust me, he didn’t leave any prints behind,” he retorted. “He wiped the phone clean, then probably went home. He’ll get a good night’s sleep tonight, while you’ll lie awake, afraid to even shut your eyes, let alone sleep. And trust me, he knows that. The son of a bitch is reveling in it.”

  Lily felt sick to her stomach. “I want to file a report, Tony. Immediately,” she insisted. “He sounded so angry. If he could have gotten his hands around my throat, I know he would have killed me. I really think he wants me dead.”

  She shuddered, hugging herself, and it was all Tony could do not to take her back into his arms again. Did she have any idea what she did to him when she looked up at him with those big blue eyes? He wanted to carry her off somewhere where no one could hurt her, then spend the rest of the night making love to her. And that was exactly why he wasn’t touching her again. She was far too vulnerable, and lately, he’d been thinking about her a hell of a lot more than he should have.

  Like tonight, he thought, disgusted with himself. He could have called her and thanked her for helping Quentin, but he’d wanted to see her again, so what had he done? Knocked on her door with the first excuse he could think of.

  You’ve got it bad, Giovanni, that irritating little voice in his head drawled in amusement. And she won’t even go out with you! How the mighty have fallen.

  If he’d had any sense, he would have gotten out of there while he still could. But she was truly scared, and he just couldn’t bring himself to le
ave her. “Of course I’ll file a report,” he assured her. “And if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll check the apartment for you and make sure all your locks are in good shape. If they’re not, I’ll talk to Angelo and he’ll have new locks installed tomorrow. Then you call the phone company tomorrow and have your number changed and restricted. I’ll run a check on the old number and see if we come up with anything interesting. Okay?”

  “Okay.” For the first time since he walked through the door, she let down her guard enough to relax. Giving him a rueful smile, she nodded at the skillet, which he’d tossed to the other end of the cou. “I guess you’re wondering what I was doing with that.”

  He shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious you were going to brain someone with it. Thankfully, it wasn’t me.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. After I got that phone call, all I could think was that some maniac was going to kill me tonight and I had nothing to protect myself with. That’s when I grabbed the skillet.”

  “Thank God I said something before you opened the door, or I’d be on my way to the hospital right now with a head injury. You’d have used that thing, wouldn’t you?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “In a heartbeat.”

  Grinning, he growled, “Good. There’s no point in having a weapon if you’re not prepared to use it.” Rising to his feet, he held out his hand to pull her up beside him. “C’mon. I’ll call in a report, then we’ll check the place out.”

  It didn’t take him long to discover that her apartment wasn’t nearly as secure as he would have liked. Several of the window latches were so loose, a child could have popped them free, and the front door to the apartment didn’t have a dead bolt. Still, the place was relatively safe. It was on the second floor, and the windows faced the street. Anyone wanting to gain entrance through the windows would have to be an idiot. They’d have to use a ladder and would be in full view of anyone who chanced to be passing by. And even though the front door didn’t have a dead bolt, the front and back doors at street level that gave access to the stairwell did have dead bolts and were kept locked at all times. A fire escape at the rear of the building was locked unless it was pushed open from the inside. If the bastard tormenting Lily really did come after her, he was in for a rude awakening if he thought he could just walk upstairs as if he owned the place.