Got Game?

by Stephanie Doyle

  “Did you get a good look at him?” Odie asked.

  “No. He wasn’t tall. He was in black. I was too scared to see straight, but he was wearing something over his face. Some kind of goggles.”

  “Night vision goggles?” Kenny wondered. “If that’s the case this is no ordinary stalker.”

  “I don’t know what they were. Other than creepy.”

  “We should call the police,” Odie suggested. “Let them do their thing.”

  Kenny nodded, but Reilly hesitated. “Do we have to?”

  “Hell, yes we have to,” Kenny barked. “This has gone beyond letters and a fish. He broke in. Whether it was to paint something on your wall or worse. He broke in!”

  “I know that!” she shouted back. “But Kenny if you call the police it will be all over the news. There were will be press and reporters. They’ll camp out around the community and the story won’t be about me playing, it will be about this. I’ll be the victim of this crazed stalker and the story will be so dramatic no one will give a damn about golf. I’m here to play golf.”

  “Then we pack up and leave.”

  She shook her head. “He found us here. He’s obviously got … resources. I don’t know. Let’s just sleep on it and we’ll discuss it in the morning. Luke sent one of the letters to his friend at the FBI. Maybe he’ll have something to say about it.”

  Kenny opened his mouth, then shut it. His expression let her know he wasn’t happy but she also knew he wouldn’t fight her. Not if he understood it was what she wanted.

  “I’ll go set the alarm,” Odie volunteered. “Sorry, Reilly. I didn’t think…”

  “It’s okay, Odie. I didn’t, either.”

  Kenny stared at the mark on the wall and shook his head. “Luke is going to be pissed.”

  “He can paint over it.”

  “Not about the wall.”

  Reilly nodded. “I know.”

  “Should we call him?”

  Reilly shook her head. “We’ll deal with him tomorrow.”

  “You’ll sleep in his room and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  She started to protest but then realized the idea of having her brother sleeping next to her on the floor didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

  “Just like when we were kids.”

  “Yeah, just like when we were kids. You always got the bed and I always got the floor.”

  Reilly heard the grousing in his voice, but smiled. “That’s what big brothers are for.”

  “I suppose.”

  She led the way to Luke’s room and crawled underneath the comforter as Kenny arranged some pillows and blankets at the foot of the bed. She did it as quietly as she could so Kenny wouldn’t hear, but she couldn’t resist inhaling Luke’s scent from the pillows. She’d never admit it to him but smelling him, feeling like he was close, helped.

  At first she doubted she would sleep, but the effect of having the two men in her life, one at her feet, and one - if not present at least close in spirit - under her nose worked as a drug to lull her into a sense of safety. Her body relaxed and her mind drifted into unconsciousness where she couldn’t see the three dots on the wall anymore.

  The last thought she had before sleep claimed her… she was going to have to change her ball mark.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Okay, I get maybe you two miss me when I’m on the road. But this is a little ridiculous.”

  Reilly opened her eyes and startled at the blurry image above her. Quickly, Luke’s face came into focus and she eased back into the bed.

  “Don’t be mad.”

  “Not the best way to start a conversation. Why shouldn’t I be mad and why is Kenny asleep on the floor?”

  “I’m up. I’m up,” he grumbled as he sat up, cracking his back in the same motion. “Something happened last night. We didn’t call because there was nothing you could do. But you’ll need to see this.”

  She rolled out of bed and followed her brother down the hall back to her room with Luke behind them.

  He said nothing as he walked into the room and saw the ball mark on the wall. It seemed starker in the morning light.

  “When?”

  “I woke up and he was spray painting it. He realized I was awake and dropped the can of black paint and took off. By the time I got Kenny, he was gone.”

  “The alarm?”

  “It wasn’t set. It was an accident,” she explained. “It doesn’t matter. He didn’t hurt me.”

  Luke whirled around to face her, his expression fierce like she rarely saw. “He broke in. He was in this room with you alone while you slept.”

  “To paint a picture. Not to hurt me. Look, no one is more creeped out by this than me. But pointing fingers isn’t going to help.”

  “You didn’t call the police?”

  “I let her get away with that,” Kenny offered. “She’s right. If we call the police this will become a huge media circus. We won’t be able to keep her location under wraps and she sure as hell is not going to be able to concentrate on her game. More important, I think that’s what this guy wants. The letters, the fish, this. It’s all about getting her attention. Why should we feed into that?”

  “I’m calling my friend again. He’s coming down here. Now.”

  Luke charged out of the room and Reilly and Kenny looked at each other.

  “We did the right thing,” she said.

  “I knew he would be pissed.”

  ***

  Downstairs Pierce was making his apologies to a stern-looking Luke, and Odie was hiding behind the paper. Reilly came upon the scene freshly showered and rather proud her hands were steady.

  The key was perspective. Yes, this man was a threat. Yes, he was dangerous, but sometimes the mark of a person’s character was how they handled danger. Reilly admitted to being a scaredy-cat at first, but she was giving herself bonus points for handling the aftermath well.

  One thing, however, was going to become a necessity. “The ball mark freaks me out. Pierce would you mind if we swapped rooms?”

  “No problem. Look, you have to know I never would have told Odie…”

  “Forget it.” She smiled. “If you had asked me I would have done the same. At least tell me you had a good date.”

  “Doug is… in a word… hot.”

  “Nice.”

  “Reilly,” Luke interjected as she reached for the coffee mug Pierce was offering. “Can we talk privately for a second?”

  The question was more of a statement since he was pulling her out of the kitchen and through the great room outside onto the patio.

  “Watch, I’m spilling my coffee.” She lifted the mug to her lips and slurped, knowing caffeine was an imperative for the upcoming conversation.

  “You’re not swapping rooms with Pierce. You’re moving into my room.”

  She tried to be somewhat sympathetic. He’d been away. It was his house. He was feeling guilty. She’d start with reason.

  “I’m not moving into your room. First, what would Kenny think? Second, I’m not a five-year-old. Wait. Scratch that. Move second into first and first to second.”

  “Kenny is eventually going to have to learn we’re lovers.”

  “No, he’s not since technically, we’re ex-lovers. While I’ve been happy to oblige the occasional hookup between your marriages, don’t get the impression that I’ll be waiting in the wings when this new relationship ends.”

  Luke scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’ve been happy to oblige? I can assume you’re confusing the words obligation and orgasm. Happy to oblige,” he spat. “If I didn’t know you were trying to be brave I would spank you right now.”

  She wished she could refute what he said, but he was right. Her stand for independence was a front, but the front was something she needed to hang on to. She was pretty sure it was the only thing making her believe she would be ready to play in the American in a few weeks.

  “You do know me. You know I want to be brave. Have to be brave. And as much as havi
ng you or Kenny stand guard every night over my bed while I sleep sounds appealing, it’s not something I’m going to let happen.”

  “Luke!” Pierce called out from the greatroom. “You’ve got company. I think your friend from the FBI is here.”

  Luke nodded. “This isn’t over.”

  He trotted into the foyer expecting to find Bob, but instead found a stranger.

  “You’re not Bob.”

  He was a tall man dressed in a dark blue suit. “No, I’m Agent Mark Leonard with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He removed a billfold from inside his suit coat and opened it to reveal a badge on one side and identification on the other. “I’m looking for a Luke Nolan. You him?”

  “I am,” he said. “How did you get through the gate?”

  “That gate isn’t so secure. I followed behind a car coming in. Bob Simms says hello.”

  Instantly, Luke released his breath. “You know Bob. I was just about to call him again.”

  “You won’t be able to reach him. He’s on assignment. But he sent me the package you sent him. He said to tell you… it’s hanging…same as always. Not really sure what that means.”

  “It means Bob got my letter.”

  Agent Leonard offered his hand and Luke shook it. He figured there had to be something about the FBI hiring good-looking men. Like Bob, Leonard had the all-American good looks of a guy who played quarterback in high school and dated the head cheerleader. He was taller than Luke and a bit broader. His brown hair was short, but not buzzed and his brown eyes gleamed with intelligence.

  “Bob and I go back a ways. I’m headquartered out of the Atlanta office. He knew he was leaving on a job and asked me since I was closer, if I could look into it.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, Agent Leonard,” Luke assured him.

  “Call me, Mark. And why? Did something else happen? Another letter?”

  “Not a letter,” Reilly said, coming up behind him. “You should see it.”

  They all led the agent up the stairs to the bedroom with the painted mark. Despite her previous attempt at bravery, she chose to stay out of the room.

  Mark let out a low whistle as he studied the paint.

  “It happened last night,” Kenny said. “He came in while she was sleeping. When she woke up, he bolted.”

  “He didn’t make an aggressive move or try to attack you in any way?”

  “No. Just the mark and then gone.”

  “After reviewing the letter, there is an implied intent within the text for this person to want to get close to you or to kidnap you, although it’s not stated directly. The fish sounded like a stunt to get your attention. The breakin is a concern. Another cry for attention.”

  “A cry with a ladder and a getaway boat,” Luke enumerated.

  “Granted, it’s elaborate, but it wasn’t a kidnapping attempt. Did you call the police?”

  Kenny and Reilly exchanged glances.

  “No,” Luke said for them. “They didn’t want the attention an investigation would bring. Was that a mistake?”

  Mark seemed to be thinking of a way to hedge his answer. “It’s your call. Given the circumstances, I understand your reticence to bring in the police because with them comes the press. What has me concerned, however, is the letter referenced seeing you from a distance, but it felt like he was in the same space as you.”

  “Shit,” Kenny muttered, now leaning against the doorframe. “I didn’t even think of that. He must have been in Little Creek when we were.”

  “That would be my guess. Now, he could have been a resident…”

  “Not possible,” Reilly interjected, shaking her head. “I know everyone in Little Creek. I’ve never had any heavy breathers calling the house when I was home.”

  “It is possible for someone who harbors a minor fascination for that fascination to turn into obsession when circumstances propel the person of interest into the spotlight.”

  Luke’s brow furrowed. “In English.”

  Mark paused for a moment. “Some guy back home had a thing for her and it got out of hand when she exploded onto the national scene. I don’t know if you’re aware of this Ms. Carr, but you’re in the news daily. The debate about whether you should or shouldn’t play has gone beyond the world of golf and has become the nation’s newest topic of choice.”

  “I’ve been trying to avoid television.”

  “If this was someone from your hometown who got a little crazy, the chances aren’t high he would have the determination to follow you down here. But that’s clearly not the case.”

  “How the hell did he know where she was going!” Luke shouted. “There were a handful of people who knew.”

  “A handful can turn into many more very quickly. Anyone who might have deliberately let it leak… your agent, a jealous rival…”

  Reilly shook her head.

  “Okay,” Mark continued. “Well, before I came I Googled Luke’s name. It was obscure, but it was there. A small article welcoming him to the Savannah community right after he bought this house. Someone who saw you at the farm visiting, might have put two and two together. So now we have to be talking about someone who has a high level of intelligence with both the drive and the means to follow you. Yet doesn’t appear to be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous yet,” Kenny protested.

  Mark nodded. “I’m not going to lie. Fascination can lead to obsession, which can lead to something more threatening. I don’t have to remind you of the Hollywood elite who have suffered attacks or…”

  “Or Monica Seles who took a knife in the back on the damn tennis court.” Kenny began to pace the space in front of the doorway.

  Mark tilted his head in agreement. “However, you’re not there yet with this person. He or she is just trying to get your attention. It may never come to anything else.”

  “I don’t want to sit around and hope that’s the case,” Luke stated.

  “I’ve already done some checking. The person doesn’t identify himself in the letters. Paper is tough to get prints off of, but we did get a partial on the note that came with the fish. I ran it through AFIS, our finger print database, but there were no hits, which could be seen as another good sign.”

  “Not knowing who it is, is a good thing?” Luke questioned.

  “Knowing this person hasn’t been previously arrested is another indication he’s not a professional stalker. You have to understand these people. Their delusions control them. They will fixate on a person of interest, someone famous, and then they’ll pursue them with single-minded focus until it escalates to a breakin at the person’s home or a direct attack. They’re not thinking clearly enough to premeditate these events or to cover their tracks, so they’re often caught by the police. This person left a can of paint, a ladder. And I noticed an alarm system.”

  “It wasn’t set last night.”

  “Okay. A lucky coincidence for the perp. If he tries to get inside again, he might not be as lucky.”

  “So the fact this person’s prints aren’t on file and he left this stuff means he’s an amateur,” Reilly concluded.

  “I would say it’s a good bet.”

  Luke ran a hand over his chin as he considered the information. “What are our options now?”

  Mark shrugged. “If we can identify this person you can get a restraining order. Unfortunately, telling someone who is crazy he has to stay at least fifty feet away from the one person he wants to get close to isn’t typically successful. He’s gotten in once, but I imagine you’ll make sure there are no more problems with the alarm system.”

  “Forget him coming back here. What’s to prevent him from following me ? He knows where I’m going to be and when,” Reilly said.

  Mark flashed a smile. “Do you know how hard it is to get tickets to the American?”

  “Does this mean you’re not worried,” Kenny wanted to know.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Mark hedged. “I think what we’ve got is a first-time stalker, who has the wher
ewithal to follow you around. And is fearless enough to go as far as leaving this mark on the wall to get your attention. Anything like this happens again and you should report it to the police. I understand your reluctance, but you have to play it safe.”

  “What about the FBI?” Luke asked.

  Mark winced. “Officially, there isn’t anything for the FBI to do. As ironic as it sounds we’d only show up if you did get kidnapped.”

  “I hate irony,” Reilly muttered.

  “But here’s the thing. I’m a big fan. I’ve watched you play for years. When Bob called me I jumped on the chance to meet you. It’s why I drove over here to talk to you in person. I’ve got a ridiculous amount of vacation time coming up and nowhere to go. I thought I could hang around, maybe shadow you for a couple of weeks and make sure if there is a lunatic out there looking to get close to you, he’ll have to go through me.”

  “Like a bodyguard?”

  “Like another member of your staff. It seems you’ve got a group of people here looking to help you out.”

  “Kenny is my caddy. Pierce is my physical trainer.” Pierce gave a little wave over Reilly’s head. “And Odie is my swing coach.”

  “What does Luke do?” Mark asked.

  Reilly looked to Luke. “That’s a good question. What do you do?”

  Luke’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me? Who has been helping you study the greens? Who has been your rock of support? Who the hell’s house are you living in?”

  “That’s right. Luke owns the place,” Reilly said.

  “Ungrateful witch.”

  “I didn’t mean to start anything, I promise,” Mark said holding up his hands. “I’m just offering my services.”

  “I don’t know if I like the idea of having someone following me around wherever I go. I mean, I’ve got Kenny with me out on the course.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t carry a gun,” Kenny pointed out. “All I can do is swing a club if some nutso tries to jump you.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Here’s my cell phone number.” Mark extracted a card from his wallet and handed it to her. “If there are no other incidents it might mean your guy has given up. If something happens, you know you can call me and I’ll come. I’m staying in the old section of Savannah so I’ll be close.”