Stalking the Phoenix

by Karen Woods

  We walked out of the engineering sciences building into the parking lot. Al stopped dead in her tracks as she scanned the parking lot in disbelief. “Oh! This is all that I need! Absolutely all that I need!”

  Both Geoff and I looked at her questioningly.

  “My car’s gone,” Al said in a pained voice. “My car is gone.”

  “Gone?” Geoff asked.

  “Are you sure that you parked it here?” I asked.

  She fixed me with a look of pure exasperation. “I’m not quite in my dotage yet, Philip. I do remember parking my car in my assigned parking space, thank you very much.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I need some information. I’ll file the stolen vehicle report.”

  Geoff looked at his wristwatch. “Can we do this later? Father Douglass is waiting for us.”

  I sighed. “Barebones details. Do you remember the license number?”

  Al’s mouth compressed into a thin line. “Of course, I remember the tag. I should remember it. I paid dearly enough for the privilege of vanity plates. They read Als 55. The car is an antique. I restored it with vintage parts. It’s worth a fortune to a collector. I need to call my insurance broker, excuse me.”

  “Father Douglass is waiting for us,” Geoff said, taking her arm as she would have gone back into the building.

  “You can file an insurance claim after you have a copy of the police report. You’ll need that for the claim anyway,” Geoff offered.

  Al sighed. She closed her eyes for a moment. “Of course. We shouldn’t keep Father Douglass waiting,” she said.

  “When did you last see the car?” I asked her.

  “About one o’clock when I walked back from lunch.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me, Philip. I know my own car.”

  “Okay. I’ll file the report. I’ll drop off a copy at your house later this evening.”

  “Thanks, Phil,” she replied with a sigh. “When is this nightmare going to end?”

  “We don’t know that all of this is connected.”

  “Don’t we? Don’t we really? Hernandez is out there waiting for me, stalking me. I know that you don’t believe that. But, it’s true. And there isn’t a thing that I can do about it. I haven’t slept well since the calls began and suddenly ended two weeks ago. Every time that I fall asleep, either the phone rings, or I wake up with a nightmare. I don’t know how much longer I can continue like this . . .”

  “You will continue just as long as you have to, Al. You are many things, but a loser isn’t one of them. You are a survivor. You will survive this.”

  “Thanks, Phil. But, I wish that I had as much confidence as you do.”

  Geoff drew Al closer to him. “Come on, sweetheart. Father Douglass is waiting for us.”

  “Heavens,” Al said, “we wouldn’t want to keep Padre waiting over a matter as insignificant as a stolen vintage automobile, now would we?”

  Geoff looked at Al. “The wedding is in five weeks. Unless you want to postpone it, there are things that we have to do, whether we want to do them or not.”

  Al sighed. “I know. And I know that I’m being a grade A certified witch just now. I’m sorry.”

  Geoff lightly kissed her temple. “It’s fine, ‘Licia. You are under a tremendous strain, just now. Do you want to postpone the wedding?”

  “No,” Al said, her bottom lip trembling more than slightly. “But, if you do, I would understand.”

  “Not a chance, sweetheart. Not a chance,” Geoff said.

  “Then, we had better get going,” Al answered.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Geoff said.

  I filed the reports about both the hand-delivered threat and the theft of Al’s car. The box of roses had been sent to the crime lab for forensic analysis. Maybe, just maybe, there might be some sort of physical evidence there to give a definite line on the perp. But, personally, he doubted it. So far, there was no good evidence pointing to any given person. Alicia was convinced, I knew, that Hernandez was behind this. But, that was all too neat. I mistrusted anything that was that simple and straight-forward. Life was seldom that simple.

  The disappearance of Sarah Quinn bothered me. What I hadn’t told Al was that there was a substantial amount of blood found in Sarah’s apartment. The splatters were consistent with the opening of an artery. The blood was type O negative. Sarah Quinn was O negative. So, while no body had been found, it was likely that Sarah had fallen victim of foul play. Of course, equally likely was that someone had wanted everyone to think that Sarah had become a victim of foul play.

  At this point, I didn’t want to rule out any possibility.

  One a scale of one to ten, my liking of this whole situation ranked as a negative one billion and was steadily decreasing.

  Chapter 10

  ALICIA

  Geoff and I sat at a corner table of a small local restaurant. The decor was strictly Nineteenth Century Victoriana. The servers were all dressed in period costumes. The menu and elaborate table service were both strictly Nineteenth Century. In fact, the only thing not in keeping with the Nineteenth Century theme was the price of a meal. Since it was still relatively early, the restaurant was mostly empty.

  “Are you sure that you shouldn’t see a doctor?” Geoff asked in concern. “You can’t go on like this, forever, ‘Licia . You need to get some rest.”

  “Chemically induced rest?”

  “It’s just a tool, ‘Licia, a crutch. Something to get you through this. Not being rested is just playing into Hernandez’s hands.”

  I sighed before I sipped the white wine. “You may be right.”

  “Then you’ll see Ed Roby soon?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Just think about it?”

  “Lay off, Geoff. I told you that I would think about it. That is all that I am promising. I’m not at all certain that I want to sedate myself, especially now. I’m not at all certain that would be wise. I can’t afford to lower my guard that way.”

  “I can see your point, ‘Licia. Still, if you don’t start getting some rest, you are going to collapse.”

  “I know. But, sedating myself could make me so vulnerable. If I was totally out of it, I couldn’t defend myself. I don’t know that I want to do that.”

  “Proposition: Suppose that I come over and sleep at your place. That way you could rest easier.”

  “An indecent proposition?”

  “Not unless that is what you want, ‘Licia. I guarantee you that I am a light sleeper. If there was to be the slightest amount of danger, I would be there to protect you.”

  “I can’t put you in that kind of danger, Geoff.”

  He sighed almost angrily, but when he spoke it was in a reasonable tone, “Look, sweetheart, unless we catch that Hernandez bastard before the wedding, I’m going to be in danger.”

  Then he added in a tone that chilled me to the bone, “Personally, I would take a great deal of pleasure in taking down Hernandez, after all he put your through. A great deal of pleasure.”

  “Geoff, promise me that you won’t do anything illegal.”

  Geoff smiled at me and took my hand. “Of course not, he’s not worth sacrificing our future over.”

  “Are we doing the right thing, Geoff?”

  He stroked my hand. “Cold feet?”

  “Can we talk about this someplace more private?” I asked as I looked around uneasily for eavesdroppers.

  “Sure, coffee at my house?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Geoff’s house was a big Victorian built on what had once been the edge of town. Now, the area was Fieldsburg’s Historic District. Almost every house in a two-block radius of Geoff’s house was on some sort of historically significant list or other.

  The neighborhood had fallen on hard times a couple of decades earlier, but thanks to the Historical Preservation Commission’s intense work, most of the houses in the area had been rehabilitated without major changes to the facades. This was now becoming the trend
y area of town. I hated to see that happen. Big, old houses like this one needed to be loved, not just acquired by people who saw them as status symbols. There was too much work involved in keeping an old house, that if there wasn’t a real love involved either the maintenance would be left undone or it would be done grudgingly, in a slipshod manner, with just enough done to get by.

  I settled in on the long sofa in the front parlor while Geoff made coffee. This was the sort of house, the sort of life, I had dreamed of from time to time since childhood. Soon, I would have everything that I had always wanted. Soon, I would be secure. Soon, I would have roots again.

  This level of roots was in direct contrast to most of my own background. Being orphaned as an infant, then shuttled about from foster home to foster home after my adoptive parents had died in a car crash when I had been six, had left me with a deep need for roots, for stability. There are times that I strongly believe that was why I entered the convent so many years ago: because the

  Church had always been my source of stability, because it had always been there for me regardless of the other changes in my life.

  Geoff could give me the stability I craved, and more. So, why did I feel trapped? Why was I feeling less and less sure of the wisdom of this forthcoming marriage? Was it simply because I was uncomfortable with the idea of opening myself up to that level of intimacy, not just physical intimacy—although that frightened me—but real intimacy with a capital I, the kind of sharing of one’s self which made a marriage truly sacramental.

  Bridal jitters, it is, I told myself. But, I wished that I could be certain of that.

  Geoff brought in a tray with the silver coffee service which had belonged to his grandmother, then to his mother, and now to him. His mother’s bone china cups were on the tray, as well.

  “Would you pour?”

  I poured the coffee and added two lumps of sugar to Geoff’s before I poured in a generous amount of cream. Geoff took the coffee cup from me.

  We sat in silence for a few moments as we both drank the coffee.

  Geoff placed his cup on the table. “Now, what is on your mind?”

  “It took you long enough to ask.”

  “I thought that you needed some time. Was I wrong?” Geoff asked firmly.

  “No . . .” I admitted as I placed my own empty cup upon the table.

  “Cold feet?”

  “I’d be insane if I didn’t have doubts.”

  Geoff lightly touched my face. “I know that you are nervous.”

  “You are so good to me, Geoff. Why do you put up with me?”

  “I love you, ‘Licia.”

  “Maybe it’s time that we . . . that we . . .”

  Geoff stroked my face. His hand slid down my neck and rested on my shoulder. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together. I told you before, I’m not going to rush you into bed before you are ready. I know that you need time.”

  “What if I am never ready? What kind of wife would that make me?”

  “The arrangements have been made. All you have to do is to show up at the optimal time at the doctor’s office in St. Louis. That’s far enough away that no one around here will know the difference. This marriage is happening because we both want children, while we still are young enough to enjoy them. If you can never be intimate with me without flashbacks sending you into cold sweats, then you never can. It’s that simple.”

  “It’s not simple at all!”

  “You are still seeing Dr. Kelly three times a week. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Geoff, for all the good that it’s doing, I’m still seeing my Jungian Mother Confessor.”

  “Don’t get discouraged, ‘Licia. You’re doing all that you can do. I’m not going to worry about it. I want you, very much. But, sex is only a part of marriage. We have a strong friendship, and an abiding respect for one another. Those things are more important than sex, ‘Licia. Much more important in the long run.”

  “Geoff . . .”

  “We’ll work through it, ‘Licia. Trust me. We’ll work through it.”

  I looked away from him for a moment.

  “‘Licia?”

  “Would you mind if I moved in a few weeks early?”

  Geoff smiled broadly. “Absolutely not. Why have you changed your mind?”

  “You and Phil are right. I’m just making myself more vulnerable than I need to be. And I am so near my breaking point, Geoff. If I don’t get some rest soon, I’m not going to be any good to anyone, let alone myself.”

  “Let’s go back to your house. You can pack a bag or two. I promise you, ‘Licia, I will not let anyone hurt you while you are under my roof. That’s my solemn word.”

  “I’m so tired, Geoff.”

  “I know, baby, I know,” he said. “Let’s go. We’ll work on moving the rest of your things later.”

  Chapter 11

  THE DIARY, April 22

  The answering machine at her house was beeping when they arrived, that much I heard through the headphones that were picking up the sounds of the house. I picked up the binoculars when I heard the sound of a door closing. Through the window of the van, I could see into her house through the open curtains on the large living room window.

  “Seester, did you like the flowers?”

  After a long moment of silence, Sister Mary Alice looked over at that attorney of hers. “I want him out of my life. I’m so tired of this.”

  “I know, baby. I know. Get a move on, lady. Pack some things. Do you want to get a mover in here? Or do you want to put this house on the market furnished?”

  “I thought that I would lease it out furnished. I’ve had several people express interest in the house. Renting to any of them would be a fairly safe venture.”

  “I know that you don’t want to give up the house.”

  “It’s the first real home that I’ve had in almost thirty years. This little house may not be much to most people, but it means a lot to me.”

  Geoff smiled at her broadly. That smile made me sick. “Would you rather that I moved here?”

  She laughed. She laughed! Damn her to Hell and Back. She will pay, she will pay. I’ve waited far too long for this revenge. But, now, she will pay for all that she took from me.

  “No, thank you, Geoff,” Sister said. “This house is not big enough for us. It’s fine for me. But, for us? I don’t think so.”

  “Go pack a few things.”

  I watched the pair of them leave the house. He carried a single suitcase that he stashed in the trunk of the car.

  Things were proceeding smoothly. Sister was frightened out of her wits. In the past two weeks, the woman had lost weight and was appearing considerably more on edge.

  I’ve got her just where I want her. Just where I want her. Now, it’s time to turn up the heat and watch her squirm and sweat. I’m going to enjoy this.

  Once it is done, it will be over. There will be no chance of bringing her back from the dead. I intend to enjoy even moment of this, to draw it out and to savor every moment of my long awaited revenge.

  Then I’ll just disappear. They tell me that the Grand Caymans are a nice group of islands. Maybe I’ll go to Mexico. On the kind of money that I’ll have to myself soon, I’ll be able to live very well for the rest of my life.

  That’s the only thing that I can thank Sister for. This plan has made me very rich. And it’s going to make her very miserable, then very dead.

  Chapter 12

  ALICIA

  I awoke in a strange room. My heart raced for about a half moment until I remembered that I had been installed in the bedroom that had been Geoff’s mother’s. Geoff’s bedroom, the one that had been his father’s, lay just beyond the shared bathroom.

  The sound of rain falling harshly against the windowpanes must have awakened me, I decided. Thunder rumbled harshly in the distance. I looked over to the digital clock on the night table: 5:45 a.m. on 4-23.

  I lay there for a moment, trying to shake off the sluggishness the legacy of the s
ingle prescription sleeping pill Geoff had urged upon me just before nine o’clock the night before. I did have to admit that I had slept more soundly in the past few hours than I had during the previous two weeks since the calls and harassment had begun. I wondered if that more restful night was due to the sleeping pill, the change of surroundings, or just having someone else around. Perhaps it was a combination of all of those things. Regardless of the cause, I was simply grateful for the sleep. But, I didn’t like the lingering grogginess. I didn’t like that at all.

  I reached for the thermometer, graph paper, and pen I had placed on the night table before I had retired. The small beep as I pressed the button told me that the electronic thermometer was working. I popped it under my tongue and waited the forty seconds until the second beep announced that the reading was ready. Quickly recording the temperature on the chart, I replaced the thermometer in the case before replacing the whole basil metabolism tracking kit on the night table.

  About another week until I ovulate, I thought. Just a few more days. Do I really want to do this?, I asked myself.

  The Church had condemned the action Geoff and I were conspiring to take. Was the Church wrong? Or was I simply justifying my own actions because I wanted a child so badly? I didn’t have any answers.

  Rising from big, antique, brass bed, I pulled on the quilted robe I had left on the foot of the bed. I walked over to the window and looked out on the stormy morning. It had been raining a good part of the night, by the looks of the standing water in the streets. Quite a rain.

  Without a doubt, the dirt track at the college would be a mud bog. The parochial high school’s track would be a bit better since it was asphalt. But, running on wet asphalt could be hazardous. So much for the run I so desperately needed. I wondered if I could get time on the treadmills at either the college or the Y. I hate treadmills, but there seemed to be little choice. I absolutely needed the run.

  I only hoped that the track would dry off in time for this afternoon’s track meet. Otherwise, there would be some very disgruntled high school track team members. That was something I didn’t need to deal with at the moment.