"Is there a back way we can get into the studio?" Jack asked.
"Yes, but it's in the opposite direction. If we get out of the car here, they're bound to see us, so we might as well go in the front door. I don't mind talking to my fans."
The minute she grasped the door handle, Jack grabbed her arm. "Stay put." When she glanced at him in puzzlement, he continued, "Your stalker just might be in that crowd of devoted fans."
"But they're all women, except that one—" Peggy Jo studied the lone male in the group. "Oh, that's Harry Vaughan. He's a reporter for the Chattanooga Times Free Press."
"It'll make my job a lot easier, if you don't greet your fans today." Jack tugged on her arm. "Can I drive around to the back entrance?"
"Not from here." She released the door handle. "We'll have to go out of the parking lot and back onto the street." Just as Jack put the car in reverse, Peggy Jo said, "Too late. They've seen us and are heading this way. I'll have to get out and talk to them. I'm sorry."
Jack cursed softly. It was damn near impossible for one agent to protect a client in a crowd. But he'd do it, by God, even if it meant picking up Miss Peggy Jo and carrying her to safety.
"Let me get out first. I'll open the door for you, then you stay right at my side and don't even think about pulling away from me. I'll have one hand on you and the other free for my weapon."
"I hardly think—"
"In this case let me do the thinking." He held up his hand in a stop gesture. "And before you blast me for being a male chauvinist pig, all I meant was that in this situation I have more experience, thus making me the expert. Okay?"
She exhaled a long, agitated huff. "Okay."
He got out of the car and made his way around the hood only moments before the swarm of cheering women reached them. He opened the door and assisted Peggy Jo, who made no protest when he slipped his left arm around her waist. With a warm smile, she turned to greet her fans. While they continued cheering, she shook hands with those closest to her, all the while letting Jack lead her toward the front door. The ladies moved with them, but no one became unruly or caused a problem. When they reached the front door, Harry Vaughan stood beside Ted Wilkes, WLOK's security chief. The crowd didn't try to move inside, probably due to Wilkes's six-four, 270-pound body blocking the entrance.
Watson Stutts followed them inside, still taping. Peggy Jo addressed him first. "What's going on?" Then she turned to the newspaper reporter. "And what are you doing here, Harry?"
"You're big news now, Peggy Jo," Watson said. "The station's going to want an interview for tonight's six-o'clock newscast."
Harry Vaughan managed to get right in her face when he said, "And I'm here to ask you questions about what it feels like to have a stalker invade your privacy and frighten you so much that you hire a bodyguard to be with you twenty-four hours a day."
"How did you know?" Peggy Jo all but gasped the question, then groaned as if she'd figured out the answer on her own.
Jack leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Want me to put an end to this right now?"
"No," she said softly. "Let me handle things."
"Your call," he replied, but kept his arm around her waist and his right hand free.
The women outside continued their chanting praise. Peggy Jo shoved open the door that led into the reception area. Jack stuck to her like glue. When she stopped abruptly, he pivoted with her, their bodies moving as one. She pointed her finger at Watson.
"Turn that camera off."
He hesitated, then did as she had requested.
"Harry, if you print anything about my being stalked, you could well be giving this person what he … or she … wants. Publicity. I've tried to keep this under wraps for that very reason. So, would you mind telling me where you got your information?"
"Can't reveal my sources." With a sly grin on his face, Harry shrugged. "But I hear some of the letters you've been sent are really threatening and downright sleazy in sexual content. Is that right?"
"No comment," she said.
Jack felt, as much as saw, the tension in Peggy Jo. Her back stiffened suddenly and her jaw tightened.
"Ah, come on," Harry said, following her as Jack led her down the hall. "Everybody in Chattanooga will be fascinated by this story. I want to follow it through to the end. Until y'all catch this guy or…"
Jack growled. Harry skidded to a halt, then swallowed hard.
"I'm taking Ms. Riley to her office." Jack didn't bother making eye contact with Harry or Watson. "And if anybody follows us, I'll see to it personally that he'll be talking funny the rest of his life."
With that pronouncement, Jack escorted Peggy Jo through the maze of hallways within the WLOK building and straight to her office. Kayla jumped up from behind her desk the moment they entered.
"You have more mail," Kayla said. "I've already opened it and sorted it. There's no message from the stalker."
Peggy Jo sighed. "Anything else I need to take care of right now?"
"No, just this—" Kayla lifted a small package off her desk and held it out to Peggy Jo. "It's from Donel Elmore."
Peggy Jo reached for the box, but Jack grabbed it. She glared at him and said, "What are you doing?"
"My job. You don't open anything yourself. Especially not any packages."
"But this is from Donel, the president of my fan club. She sends me stuff all the time. Pot holders, refrigerator magnets, hand knitted hats and scarves. You name it, she's sent it to me."
"Humor me. Let me open this package."
"You better watch him, Peggy Jo," Kayla said, amusement in her voice. "He'll be wanting to open all your Christmas presents, too."
Jack set the box on Kayla's desk, pulled a pocket knife from his pants pocket and flipped open the blade. "Ladies, would y'all stand back, please."
"Good grief, do you think it might be a bomb?" Kayla asked. "Surely not from sweet Mrs. Elmore."
After adeptly using the knife to slice through the sealing tape, Jack parted the cardboard flaps, then looked inside and gradually removed the thick bubble wrap from around a ceramic turkey-shaped serving platter.
Peggy Jo blew out a sigh, then giggled. "You almost had me believing Donel had sent me something deadly."
Jack grinned sheepishly. "Better safe than sorry."
He handed the plate to Peggy Jo, who hoisted it under her arm and headed toward her desk.
She sat down, then said, "Kayla, get me Jill Lennard on the phone immediately. I have a feeling my agent knows something about who leaked the story of my being stalked and hiring a bodyguard."
Jack crossed the room and braced his hip on the edge of Peggy Jo's desk. "You think your agent was Harry Vaughan's secret source?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so." Peggy Jo laid the turkey platter down on her desk. "Months ago, after I'd received a bunch of letters and a few phone calls, she mentioned to me what great publicity this thing would be for my career. But when Detective Gifford all but accused Jill of inventing the stalker for that very purpose, she let the matter drop."
"Got Ms. Lennard on line one," Kayla said.
Peggy Jo lifted the receiver. "Jill, did you phone anyone at the Chattanooga Times Free Press?"
Jack could tell by the expression on her face that Peggy Jo was mighty unhappy. He suspected that her agent had just confirmed Peggy Jo's worst fears.
"Damn it, Jill, you've just made my life more complicated. For two cents, I'd fire you right now."
Jack stuck his hand into his pants pocket, pulled out a handful of change, picked out two coins and laid the pennies on Peggy Jo's desk. She looked at the two cents, then glanced up at him and smiled.
"If you ever again do anything that is contrary to my wishes—friend or no friend—I'll be looking for a new agent. Do I make myself clear?"
Peggy Jo hung up the phone. "She's the one who contacted Harry. And she apologized profusely. She defended herself by saying that she thought getting publicity for me would not only be great for my career, but would ma
ke the stalker aware that everyone in Chattanooga was concerned about me and that might make him back off."
"Yeah, sure," Jack said. "Once we get a profile on this person, my guess is that Ms. Lennard's theory will be shot to hell and back."
"Look, I have work to do this morning, so—"
"Excuse me, Peggy Jo," a man said.
The voice came from the person who had just opened the door to the office. Jack recognized him as the security chief.
"Yes, what is it, Ted?" she asked.
"Well, there's a person—a sort of delivery person—here to see you. He's legit. Showed me his driver's license and his work ID, too. His name is Van," Ted said. "So, should I let him in?"
"What sort of delivery does he have?" Jack stood and crossed the room in two seconds flat.
Ted opened the door all the way. There in the hallway stood a guy dressed like a cowboy. His outfit was cartoonish, with plastic chaps and an enormous white Stetson made of molded plastic. He sported a couple of six-shooters on his hips. Jack stepped out into the hall, lifted both guns from their plastic holsters and saw immediately that his guess was right. Toys.
"I work for Balloons, Ballads and Baskets," Van said. "You can call the store and ask them to vouch for me. I'm just here to deliver a singing message to Ms. Riley."
"Oh, for goodness sakes, let the man sing his song and leave." Peggy Jo crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her swivel chair, awaiting the performance.
The singer looked to Jack for approval. Jack nodded. The guy sang a brief rendition of "You Are My Sunshine." Actually, his voice wasn't half bad. Kayla even applauded.
"There's a message, too," Van said and once again looked at Jack. "It's sort of personal."
"Go ahead," Peggy Jo said.
"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you." Van cleared his throat. "'If I'd known you wanted a cowboy in your life, I could have been your cowboy. You're my sunshine, and I don't want to share you with anybody. So, why don't you tell him to ride off into the sunset without you.'"
"Is that it?" Jack asked.
"Yes, sir, that's it."
"Escort Van outside," Jack told Ted. "And give him a nice tip, then contact his boss. See if they can ID the guy who paid for this performance."
"I'll get right on it," Ted said, then led Van down the hall.
The minute the two men exited the office, Jack glanced at Peggy Jo. She uncrossed her arms, shoved back her chair and stood.
"Kayla, go get us some coffee," Jack said.
"Yes, sir. Sure thing."
The minute Kayla left, Jack closed the door. Peggy Jo paced the floor in front of her desk.
"He knows about you," Peggy Jo said.
"Yeah, it seems he does, but that shouldn't come as a surprise to you."
"No, it doesn't. But sending a singing messenger here to make the announcement does surprise me. For six months all he did was write letters and make phone calls. Then two days ago he somehow got into the studio and ransacked my dressing room. Then last night he left a box on my back porch. And today… He's suddenly getting closer."
"He's escalating his attacks," Jack said. "He's getting braver. Taking more chances."
"Sometimes I wish he would try to attack me. At least that way I'd know who he is."
"Mmm-hmm. I can understand." Jack paused a moment, then said, "What significance does the word sunshine have for you?"
"Oh, you're wondering if there's a connection between my security code word being sunshine and the song that guy sang to me being 'You Are My Sunshine.'"
"Was it only a coincidence?"
"Maybe, but … well, sunshine was my mother's pet name for me."
"And how many people know that?" Jack asked.
"Anyone who's read one of my books."
"You need to change your code word for your security system."
The phone rang. Peggy Jo jumped.
Jack picked up the receiver. "Ms. Riley's office."
The dial tone hummed.
"It was him, wasn't it, checking on me after his latest stunt." She balled her hands into fists and shut her eyes. "Damn him!"
Jack eased over and gently placed his arm around her shoulders. She shivered. He rubbed his cheek against hers.
"While you're doing whatever you need to do here, I want to take a look at those letters this guy sent you," Jack said. "Then I'll contact Dundee and the FBI. I want a profile on this guy as soon as possible."
"I'll get the letters," Peggy Jo said. "The police returned them to me when they didn't get any fingerprints or DNA samples off them."
Jack sat down behind Kayla's desk. "Just put them on the desk here."
Peggy Jo opened the door to the storage closet and removed a large box, then set it on the desk. "Here they are. He's written over fifty letters in the past six months."
Jack whistled. "The FBI should have been called in on this sooner."
"I told you the local police thought Jill was pulling a publicity stunt."
"Do you think there's even the remotest possibility that they were right?" Jack lifted a handful of letters from the box.
"No. Jill would use the situation to get me publicity, but she'd never pull a hoax."
"Yeah, I agree. Besides, things are becoming a little too complicated for a simple publicity stunt."
Peggy Jo came around to stand at his side, her gaze resting on the letters he held. "After the first few I quit reading them. They were so … so filled with sex and violence."
Jack dropped the letters onto the desk, reached up and grasped her hand. "We'll get this guy. He's going to make a mistake, and we'll nab him. But until then I'm going to keep you safe. I want you to trust me, Miss Peggy Jo."
She squeezed his hand. "I … I trust you, Jack."
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Peggy Jo put on a pair of old jeans and an oversize orange and white UT sweatshirt. At work she dressed for success. At home she dressed to please herself. Her natural style was casual and comfortable. She didn't bother with any makeup except a little blush on her cheeks and some clear gloss on her lips. She pulled her long hair back into a ponytail and slipped a pair of small gold hoops through the holes in her ears. If she were more the femme fatale type, she would take more time with her appearance this morning. After all, there was a man around the house now. An incredibly attractive man. And unless she missed her guess, that man found her equally attractive. Some men found her plumpness a turnoff. More men found her aggressive personality a threat. But there were men who actually liked their women with some meat on their bones, and most guys who were confident in their masculinity weren't threatened by a strong woman. She figured if ever a guy was confident about being a he-man, that guy was Jack Parker. He all but swaggered with self-confidence and sex appeal.
Ever since yesterday morning in her office, when Jack had asked her to trust him, and she had, somewhat to her surprise, told him that she did, Peggy Jo had been berating herself for being such a pushover. And that was something she hadn't been in a long time, something she had thought she'd never be again. She shouldn't have told him that she trusted him, even if she did. At least, she shouldn't have told him so soon. He should have had to work a little harder to gain her trust. But darn it all, there was something about Jack that made her instinctively know she could trust him, at least on a professional level. Trusting him on a personal level was a different matter altogether. Of course, Hetty and Wendy didn't seem to have any problems trusting Jack on every level. Both her housekeeper and her daughter had taken to Jack instantly, and despite her having talked to Wendy again last night about Jack being only a temporary fixture in their lives, Wendy continued being fascinated by the big, tall Texan.
Peggy Jo left the sanctuary of her bedroom and bounded downstairs. The moment she reached the open hallway, she heard giggles and male laughter coming from the den and the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Making a quick decision, she opted for kitchen duty w
ith Hetty rather than joining the gaiety in the den.
She swung open the kitchen door. "Morning. What can I do to help?"
Hetty rose from where she'd been bent over the open oven door. "I've got everything under control in here. Why don't you go watch the parade on TV with Wendy and Jack?" Hetty closed the oven door, wiped her hands off on her white apron and instantly went to the sink and began peeling the potatoes waiting there in a large steel bowl.
"I'd prefer making myself useful in here," Peggy Jo said.
"Why?" Hetty asked. "You usually let me take care of meal preparations. You hate to cook. What's different about today? Has Jack Parker got you running scared?"
"What!" Peggy Jo rushed toward Hetty. "Will you please keep your voice down. He's right over there in the other room."
The kitchen opened up into the den area, with a couple of wooden columns at each end of a wide ceramic tile bar that served as a divider for the two rooms. Years ago the kitchen had been larger, but a former owner in the Sixties had divided the room into two spaces, forming a separate den.
Hetty continued peeling potatoes with the expert ease of an experienced cook. "Why don't you just admit that you find Jack attractive and that you feel a lot safer with him around."
"Of course I feel safer with him around. He's a trained bodyguard. That's his job—to keep me safe." Peggy Jo kept her voice low.
"He's a mighty fine looking man." Hetty rinsed the peeled potatoes, then began slicing them and dropping the slices into a pot of water. "And he's a nice man, too."
"All right, I agree, he's good-looking. But we hardly know him. How can you be so sure he's nice?"
"Take a look in yonder at him with Wendy." Hetty nodded toward the den. "That man's a born daddy if ever there was one. He likes kids, that's plain to see. He's good with Wendy. They've been inseparable since breakfast, watching TV, playing games, telling stories."
"Hetty, you've got to stop this, right now." Peggy Jo glanced into the den to make sure the twosome on the sofa was still engrossed in the Thanksgiving day parade on TV. "Jack Parker is my bodyguard. Nothing more. Once the stalker is arrested, Jack will leave and we'll never see him again. Beginning and end of story."
JACK'S CHRISTMAS MISSION Page 7
