Tool Belt Defender

by Carla Cassidy

  Larry was dead and she knew he could never hurt her again, but somebody was playing with her and she didn’t know the rules of the game. What’s more, nobody else apparently knew or believed that a game was being played with her.

  And if it was a game, then what was the object? She shook her head and swiped her tears from her cheeks. Maybe she was making too much of everything. The balloon could have been from a birthday party on the street and the man staring into her kitchen window might have been nothing more than a Peeping Tom.

  Every town had a Peeping Tom. Bored teenagers sneaking around in the night, a pervert trying to catch a glimpse of a woman in a state of undress. Generally speaking, Peeping Toms were harmless.

  She certainly could live with the fact that she’d overreacted, but the idea that she was somehow losing her mind was terrifying.

  Knowing that sleep would be impossible for some time to come, she got up from the sofa, went to the front window and peered out just in time to see a patrol car slowly passing her house. A brilliant light shone on the bushes by her porch, then across the front of the house itself. Caleb was taking his job seriously.

  Tom had been as good as his word and a new feeling of safety swept through her. Besides, it wasn’t as if the masked man had tried to break the window. He’d simply been looking at her—like some perverted peeper.

  With each moment that passed, the terror she’d felt began to ebb away, leaving her with only a weary exhaustion. It was after eleven and even though an hour ago she hadn’t thought she’d ever be able to sleep again, she now stifled a yawn.

  Maybe a nice hot cup of tea would finish relaxing her enough that she could sleep without nightmares of what had been, without worries about what might be. She didn’t want to go to sleep believing that she was slowly but surely losing her mind or that some faceless, nameless evil was after her once again.

  She filled up a teakettle, preferring the traditional way to make tea to the microwave. With the water on the stove, she sank back down at the table, her gaze going to the window above the sink.

  Had there been somebody there? She’d been so certain, but now doubts were slowly creeping in. There was no question that she’d been on edge lately.

  She loved being back in her own space, back in the home that she’d dreamed of while being held captive. She’d bought the house two years before and each stick of furniture, every dish towel and knickknack had been chosen with care to create her own comfortable nest.

  She hated the fact that the face at the window had momentarily shaken the safety, the security she’d always felt here.

  The whistle of the teakettle pulled her from her thoughts. She moved it off the burner and then grabbed a teacup from the cabinet.

  With her raspberry tea made she sat at the table and thought about the events of the night. It had definitely been a roller-coaster ride. She’d been surprised to find that she’d enjoyed her time with Emily. The little girl was easy to be around, delightful in a natural way.

  But was it right for Brittany to get any closer to her when she might be losing her mind? She took a sip of her tea, muttering a curse beneath her breath as she burned her bottom lip on the hot, fragrant brew.

  Certainly Alex and Emily had been through enough heartache in their lives. The last thing they needed around them was a woman afraid that a serial killer was somehow stalking her from his grave.

  Perhaps the light from the moon had made some weird reflection in the window. Maybe she’d been stressing more than she’d realized and the stress had made her momentarily snap and see a phantom.

  She finished her tea and with a sigh got up from the table. A good night’s sleep would put everything into perspective. Still, as she carried her cup to the sink her heart tap-danced a slightly faster rhythm than normal.

  But as she approached the back window, there was nothing there except a faint cast of moonlight illuminating the partially finished deck. No masked man, no killer from the dead—just a backyard shrouded with the shadows of night.

  As she rinsed her cup and placed it in the dishwasher her heart continued the accelerated beat. What if she had hallucinated the face in the window? What if her mind was slipping?

  In the four months that she had been a prisoner in a small cell in a shed, that had been one of her fears, that she would slowly go out of her mind.

  It would definitely be ironic if she had survived everything that The Professional had put her through only to lose herself to madness now. That’s not happening, she told herself firmly as she turned away from the dishwasher.

  That’s when she saw it. A folded piece of paper stuck beneath her back door. Thinking that it was probably something Alex had dropped while working on the deck, she walked over and picked it up.

  She opened it and as she saw the writing in bold red letters she gasped and dropped it on the floor as if it were a poisonous snake.

  IT’S PARTY TIME.

  Even from where she stood she could see the letters that formed the words. Her heart beat like a pounding drum in her ears, but this time it wasn’t terror that shot adrenaline through her. It was a strange form of excitement.

  Proof. The note was horrible, but it was definitely proof that the man at the window had been there. He’d been real! It was proof that she wasn’t losing her mind after all. He’d been real and the note that he’d delivered was also real.

  With trembling fingers she bent down and picked up the note once again. It was impossible to figure out if it was a warning, a promise or somebody’s idea of a terrible joke. But it definitely was meant to unnerve her.

  Her initial instinct was to call Tom again, but a glance at the clock let her know it was almost midnight. He’d already been here once on what he’d considered a wild-goose chase. She wasn’t going to call him away from home for a second time tonight.

  She’d contact him first thing in the morning and give him the note. That way he’d know she wasn’t going crazy but rather that somebody was messing with her head.

  She looked at the note carefully, but there was nothing on it to identify who might be the author. The letters were written in bold by a red marker that could have been bought anywhere and the paper was the ordinary plain white kind sold practically everywhere in town.

  She sensed that whatever danger had been here had passed. Apparently the masked man had wanted to deliver his sick promise and with that accomplished he was done…for now.

  All she had to do was somehow anticipate what might come next and pray that all of this was just somebody’s idea of a sick joke.

  Placing the note on the kitchen countertop where she would see it first thing in the morning, she left the kitchen and went into her bedroom.

  There was no way she thought sleep would be possible but when she next opened her eyes it was to the sound of hammering in the backyard.

  She shot straight up and looked at her clock. After nine. Jeez, she’d slept like the dead. Moments later as she stood beneath a hot shower, she thought of the note and her intention to call Tom.

  Funny how a threatening note could make her feel so good, but it was proof positive that she hadn’t imagined the man at the window. It was also possible the night that she thought she’d seen a shadow dance across the window it had been the same person peering in at her. Bottom line, it would appear she had some kind of a stalker.

  It could be nothing more than a teenager trying to get a peek at her in her underwear. Not all stalkers were dangerous lunatics. It remained to be seen what kind of animal had her in his sights.

  Whoever he was, he was a living, breathing human being, and between herself and her brothers they would figure out who he was and why he was doing these things to her. And there would be consequences for his actions.

  A smile curved her lips as she walked into the kitchen and saw the men working outside. Although she was still concerned about the note and the vague feeling of threat that had accompanied everything that had happened, she also felt optimistic that the perp wo
uld be caught and she could truly get on with her life.

  She waved at Alex through the window, her heart beating just a little faster at the sight of him. She’d make coffee and then call Tom.

  She glanced at the countertop where she’d put the note the night before—and froze.

  It was gone.

  Alex wasn’t sure when he realized something was wrong with Brittany. She’d waved and smiled at him through the window and then the next time he glanced inside the house she was pulling drawers from the cabinets and dumping them on the floor.

  Something was definitely wrong. “Hey, Buck, Gary, go ahead and knock off for the day,” he said to his two helpers. “We’ll start again first thing in the morning. And don’t worry, I’ll pay you for the day anyway.”

  “Cool,” Gary said.

  As the two young men disappeared around the side of the house, Alex knocked on Brittany’s back door. Her brown eyes were wide, glazed with panic as she hurried to the door and unlocked it. She didn’t wait to greet him but instead went to another drawer in the cabinet, pulled it out and dumped it on the floor.

  “Brittany, what’s going on?” he asked.

  She fell to her knees and began to sift through the items that now littered the beige tiles. “It’s got to be here. I know it’s here someplace. I didn’t make it up. I swear I didn’t dream it.” She spoke more to herself than to him as she dug through silverware and hand towels, a sick, frantic energy wafting from her.

  “Brittany, what are you looking for?” Alex felt scared, not of her but for her. Her eyes were far too wild and her movements painfully jerky. He got down on the floor next to her.

  “It’s got to be here. It’s got to be here.” She didn’t look at him as she repeated the words again and again. “It was here last night. It’s got to be here now.”

  He grabbed her hands and her gaze flew up to meet his. Her fingers were cold and trembled as he held them tight. “Talk to me, Brittany. For God’s sake what are you doing? What’s going on?”

  Tears appeared and clung to her long dark lashes while her lips trembled with emotion. “It was a note. A note from him…the man at the window…the man from last night.” The words came from her with a jerky rhythm that spoke of her intense stress.

  “What are you talking about? Where did you find the note?” Alex asked.

  “It was under the back door. I found it after you and Tom left. I thought it was something you’d dropped, but it wasn’t. It was a note from him.”

  “Why didn’t you call Tom immediately?”

  A flash of annoyance swept over her features. “He’d just been here and he thinks I’m crazy. It was after midnight and I didn’t want to call him out again. I put the note on top of the counter and figured I’d call him first thing this morning.” A hollow despair filled her eyes. “And now it’s gone. It’s gone, Alex!”

  Once again Alex wasn’t sure what he believed, but there was no question that she believed there had been a note and it should be someplace in the kitchen. He looked at the mess she’d made on the floor. There was no note anywhere among the items.

  “It isn’t here. Let’s get everything put back.” He began picking up silverware and setting it back in the drawer from where it had come.

  For several minutes they worked side by side, neither of them speaking. He could feel the taut tension that rolled off her, but had no way to ease it.

  When the drawers were put back in place he led her to the table where she sank down with a weary sigh. Her eyes still held the hollow emptiness of a woman on the edge.

  “Don’t you see? It was proof. It was proof that I’m not losing my mind, that I’m not suffering some sort of post-traumatic stress that makes me see phantom figures at my window.”

  “What did the note say?” he asked.

  “‘It’s party time.’” The words trembled from her lips. “I put it right there on the counter before I went to bed.” She pointed across the kitchen. “And when I looked for it a little while ago it was gone.”

  “Is it possible you put the note someplace else and only thought you left it on the counter?” He still didn’t know what to believe, but he could tell that she definitely believed what she was telling him.

  She leaned back in the chair. “That’s why I was checking the drawers. I thought maybe without thinking I’d shoved it in one of them before I went to bed. But it’s gone. I know I didn’t carry it out of the kitchen. I put it on the counter and now it’s gone.”

  “If that’s the case then what do you think might have happened to it?” He kept his voice even and calm in an effort to calm her down.

  She leaned forward and her eyes suddenly blazed with life. “I think somebody came in here in the middle of the night and took it.” A small burst of laughter escaped her. “God, I really do sound insane, don’t I?”

  “Maybe a little,” he admitted.

  She ran a hand across her forehead, as if easing the bang of a headache. “No matter what you think, no matter what Tom and my other brothers believe, I’m not crazy. Somebody is playing games with me.” She balled her hands into fists on the top of the table. “This isn’t making me crazy, it’s starting to really make me mad.”

  “Did you check the doors and windows to see if anyone broke in?” he asked. He had no idea if he was playing into some sort of delusion of hers or not, but he desperately wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  “I know the back door was still locked this morning. I had to unlock it to let you in.”

  “What about the front door? The windows?”

  “I haven’t checked them.”

  He scooted back his chair. “Then let’s do that now.”

  They went from room to room, checking to see that the house was still locked up tight. The front door was locked and there was no sign of tampering, but in the bathroom in the hallway they found the window unlocked.

  “I just can’t be sure if it was locked before last night or not,” she admitted. “But the screen is still in place.”

  “The screen could have easily been taken out and put back in again,” he replied. “I’m going to go outside and check around the window.” As he started out of the bathroom she grabbed his arm.

  “You do believe me, don’t you, Alex?” Her voice radiated with need.

  He hesitated. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know what to believe at this point.”

  She nodded slowly and released her hold on him. “That’s fair,” she agreed.

  As he went out the front door Alex’s head was filled with a thousand thoughts, a hundred emotions. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe her because as crazy as it sounded he was already emotionally involved with her.

  Emily adored her and Alex was drawn to her like he hadn’t been drawn to a woman in a very long time. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t bring an unstable woman into his life, into Emily’s life.

  He’d already been there, done that and had sworn he would never go there again. But he also didn’t want to act hastily. He didn’t want to distance himself from Brittany if there were any possibility that she might be telling the truth. He’d never thought of himself as a knight in shining armor, but he also didn’t want to be a total jerk and just walk away because things weren’t going smoothly for her.

  He saw nothing around the window to indicate that it might have been tampered with. The grass wasn’t trampled down and the dirt didn’t hold any footprints. Of course, that didn’t mean nobody had been there; it simply meant if somebody had been there they had been extremely careful.

  When he returned into the house Brittany was still seated at the table where she’d been when he’d left. His heart squeezed at the sight of her. She had her face in her hands, her shoulders slumped forward in defeat.

  She didn’t feel as if she could go to her brothers. She’d told him she’d lost her friends after the crime. She was virtually alone with her fears.

  She sat up straighter and removed her hands from her face as
she heard him come back into the kitchen. “Let me guess, you didn’t find anything suspicious.”

  He sat down next to her. “But that doesn’t mean that somebody didn’t get inside. Who might have a key to your house?”

  She frowned. “All of my brothers have keys.”

  “But we know none of them would be behind all this. Is there anyone else? An old friend? Somebody you used to date?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Luke Mathis. I was sort of seeing him before I was kidnapped.”

  “And afterward?” Alex asked, surprised at a small nudge of jealousy that made itself known.

  “Luke is a part-time bartender down at Harley’s, a bar on the edge of town. He’s a good-time kind of guy and after the ordeal I definitely wasn’t a good-time kind of woman. We talked a few times on the phone after I was rescued, but that was it.”

  “Did he have a key?”

  “He did, but I can’t imagine Luke having anything to do with this,” she protested, and then added, “although he does have a wicked sense of humor.”

  “Can you think of anyone in your life who would do something like this?” he countered. “Maybe somebody you had a run-in with when you were working as a deputy?”

  She frowned thoughtfully and once again rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Nobody specific comes to mind. I’ll have to think about it.”

  Once again her shoulders slumped slightly forward. “I can’t make sense of any of this.” She closed her eyes for a long moment and when she opened them again that steely strength radiated there once again. “All I can tell you is that I know what happened last night. I’m not suffering from delusions. I’m not making things up. I held that note in my hand. I saw the red lettering on the white paper and I saw that man at my window.”

  There was such a ring of truth in her voice, a certainty shining from her eyes that Alex found it difficult to believe she was a woman suffering some sort of delusional state. “Are you sure you don’t want to call your brother and tell him about the note?”