by Olivia James
The woman named Marcie shook her head. "I haven't found one yet that really helps. I can't breathe and I get rashes."
"That sounds like a deal breaker to me," Shaw replied. Her policy was to always be honest but to temper it with care. "Is he a real cat person? Or did he maybe just end up with them because a roommate moved out and left the cats behind?"
Marcie's lips turned down. "He's a real cat person. He loves them. He even dresses them up in little outfits and takes their picture. He puts the photos up on social media."
How do the cats feel about that?
"If you really think that he's the one, then you owe it to yourself to get a new allergist who might be able to help you. I don't know enough about the subject to tell you if it will do any good, but I think you have to know that deep down you did all you could. As for him, well, if he loves his cats it wouldn't be fair to ask him to give them up. I'm one of those who believes that when you commit to a pet you commit to them all the way, for their whole life."
Nodding, Marcie didn't look happy about the answer, but she wasn't upset either. "That's what I thought you'd say. That's pretty much what all my family and friends have been telling me too. I am going to see another doctor, but I have a feeling that I'll get the same answers. It's just kind of sad. He's a great guy and I could see us having a future together. You know...if not for the cats."
"Do you like cats?" asked one of the other attendees. "I mean, even if you didn't have allergies would you want to live with three cats?"
Marcie shrugged. "I have no idea if I like them or not. I've never been with one long enough to get an opinion."
The conversation veered again to discussing whether dog people should or should not be with cat people and vice versa. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Luke's lips twitch. He found it amusing.
A pretty brunette sitting halfway down the table piped up. "I have a question. Who's the guy sitting in the corner?"
A ripple of laughter ran around the room and the brunette's cheeks turned pink. Several of the others were nodding as if they had wanted to ask the question as well. Luke was sitting in his chair with a grin, his brows raised in question. They'd discussed this earlier, as Shaw had a feeling that someone might ask about his role since he wasn't participating, but ultimately he'd left it up to her to decide what she'd say. If anything.
Honesty was usually the best policy. To a certain extent.
"Luke is a good friend of mine and he's here to help me out today."
"Is he a psychologist too?" the brunette asked.
"No, he's a former law enforcement officer." She took a deep breath and plunged forward. "He's here to make sure that this meet and greet stays friendly and professional."
There were a few frowns and then the meaning of her words seemed to become clearer.
"You mean if a troll came here and harassed you?" Marcie queried. "I've seen some of those people in the comments section on your videos. They hate everything and everyone."
"Does that happen a lot?" another woman asked. "That must be awful."
"It's certainly not the best part of having a channel but it comes with the territory," Shaw explained. "I try to ignore the negative and concentrate on the positive."
Marcie's gaze wandered back to Luke. "Have you ever had to kick anyone out?"
"No, and I'm very grateful for that."
The brunette's attention was all on Luke. "You used to be a cop? That's really cool. Do you have any interesting stories you can tell us?"
This was new...everyone was now paying attention to Luke. Which was fine, but they hadn't quite prepared for this line of questioning.
He shifted in his chair and rubbed at his chin. "I don't want to derail the discussion–"
"I have some questions too," Marcie said. "You hear all the time about how women need to be careful and that we shouldn't be out alone at night. My mother always told me to carry my keys in my hand, but would that really work if I was attacked?"
Actually, this was a good discussion. The room was mostly female except for a few men and her channel was all about helping people. People being safe was good.
"Luke, if you're comfortable answering these questions it's fine. I think this is excellent information and being safety conscious is important."
Stretching out his long legs, he sat up straight in the chair, his gaze intent. Clearly, he took this seriously.
"Okay, then I'll start with the first question. Yes, I have stories, and no, I won't tell you about them." A collective groan went up and Luke chuckled. "The reason I won't is that some of those cases are still pending. It's best to keep my mouth shut about them. Maybe I'll write a book when I retire in forty years or so. Now to get to the second question as to whether keys would help in an attack. That would depend on how you use them. If you try to stab them in the gut or the hand or the leg? Nope. They're not going to care. Now if you use them to gouge his eyes out that just might work."
A few women wrinkled their noses at the image that his words probably created.
"I can see that you don't much like that," he said with a short laugh. "The thing is if you're being attacked, you're going to have to forget all the ladylike crap that's been shoved into your head your whole life and fight like you've never fought before. And when I say fight, I'm saying that you need to play down and dirty because he will, that's for sure. He won't care about rules or being squeamish. Knee him in the balls, use fingernails to scratch at his eyes, use the palm of your hand to break his nose. Yes, there will be blood but if that's what you need to get away then do it. Because the number one rule in being attacked is to never, under any circumstances, let them take you away from where you are."
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his expression sober and serious.
"Attackers might want to take you away somewhere more secluded and quiet where they can take their time. You don't want that. Let me repeat those words because they're important as hell. You don't want that because that's how you die. You want to scream and fight and kick and yell. You want to be their worst nightmare of a target and make their lives hell. You want to not be worth the hassle. You want them to give up and run away."
"Wouldn't the best advice be to not be alone at night in the first place?" the brunette asked. "Then you don't have to worry about it."
"I guess if you only want to go out during the day, that's one way to do it, but not all attacks take place at night. Or with strangers. Just remember to listen to your intuition. If that little voice in the back of your head is telling you that something isn't quite right, listen to it. Whether you're on a date or having a drink or just sitting in a cafe having lunch. If something doesn't feel right, get out of there. Trust yourself. You're right more than you're wrong."
The discussion was lively and there were more questions, but eventually the conversation swung back to Shaw and abusive relationships. They talked about the signs of narcissism in a person and then it was time to end the meet and greet. She took a few more selfies and stood by the door to thank everyone for coming. Luke, as usual, stepped back and left her to it until they were the only two left.
"That wasn't too bad," Shaw said with a sigh of relief. Since she worked from home alone most of the time, she was exhausted at having to be "on" for that long. "They were all really nice. I don't think any one of them are my stalker."
"I agree." He held up his phone. "Ryan has been texting me every now and then and he hasn't seen anything out there either. No one loitering around looking aimless or acting strange. If he's out there, he's blending in perfectly."
"So this was a giant dead end?"
"As far as the case goes, but your fans adore you."
She felt the warmth in her cheeks. "I adore them too. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be able to do this. I feel so lucky."
"How about later I buy this lucky woman some dinner and we can play a game? I'll let you pick which one."
"You know I'm going to pick Trivial Pursuit
."
"Then you're going to be the winner. Probably. You never know. My luck could turn on a dime."
That wouldn't be so bad. It could happen. Perhaps Shaw's stalker would suddenly reveal his identity and then she could get rid of him. Once and for all.
Until then, she had Luke to keep her safe.
Their plans, however, were derailed when Luke received a call from the office. He needed to go as one of their cases was in all hands on deck mode. Nothing dangerous, he assured her, just intensive research that had to be done immediately. Since he didn't want her to be alone, he'd called Melissa and asked her to hang out. He'd even offered to buy the pizza. Both dogs' ears had perked up at one of their most favorite words.
Pizza.
"I love pizza," Melissa hummed as she took another cheesy bite. It all smelled amazing. What was not to like? Garlic, tomatoes, cheese. All good. "It's even better when my brother pays for it."
Shaw and Melissa were curled up on the couch, the pizza box open on the coffee table. Dylan and Murphy were right next to them hoping for a stray piece of sausage or a bite of cheese. They'd get a more appropriate doggie snack later.
"He felt badly about leaving me alone tonight. I would have been fine with the dogs, but I'm glad you came over."
Melissa ruffled the fur behind Dylan's ear. "No one would get near this place with these two around, but I'm glad that we can hang out. I've been dying to ask how it's going with my big brother. Are there wedding bells yet? Should I start saving for a bridesmaid dress? You'll name the first one after me, right?"
Shaw could feel the telltale heat in her cheeks. She wasn't fooling anyone, least of all Melissa.
"It's going great. He's a wonderful man. So thank you for introducing us."
Giggling, Melissa shook her head. "I wasn't looking for a thank you. Just seeing you two together and so happy is good enough for me. You deserve it and my brother deserves it. You've both been alone too long."
"What about you? Don't you deserve to be happy?"
"I most certainly do," Melissa replied with mock indignation. "As a matter of fact, I've met a nice guy online. We're supposed to meet for coffee over the weekend. You never know. He could be the one."
The one thing about Melissa that Shaw loved was her friend's unbridled optimism. She had a lovely sunny personality that always thought the best of people and situations.
I should be more like her.
She'd been loath to bring it up with Melissa before but now that Shaw and Luke were getting closer it brought up more questions.
"Has Luke ever been really serious with a woman? Marriage serious?"
"Not really, although you could say he was serious about his high school girlfriend Celia. I'm sure they talked about the future more than once, but I don't think he was anywhere in the ballpark to propose. Since then he's dated but honestly, I've never been all the fond of his girlfriends. It's okay though because he hates all of the guys I date too."
"I hope you don't come to hate me."
"You? You're one of my favorite people."
Shaw reached for another slice of pizza. "What about Ryan? Is he one of your favorite people too?"
Rolling her eyes, Melissa laughed. "I like Ryan just fine, but it's not going to happen for us. I get more of a brotherly vibe with him. Not that he isn't handsome and sexy, because he totally is. He's just...I don't know. He doesn't do it for me for some reason. Frankly, no one is more puzzled by my reaction to him than I am. But there's zero chemistry there."
"I think Luke was hoping you two might hit it off."
"I think so too. Then he could finally like someone I'm dating but that's not going to happen. He's going to have to eventually deal with the guy when the time comes. I've already told him in no uncertain terms that his opinion doesn't matter."
Shaw didn't believe that for a second.
"At all?"
"Well, maybe a little but don't tell him that. Of course, I want my family to like the man that I eventually marry but if they hate him and I love him then we'll just be Romeo and Juliet."
"They ended up dead at the end of that play. Along with about four other people."
"Like Romeo and Juliet. But not that part."
Those were words to live by. Shaw was determined that she and Luke were going to stay alive as well. All she needed was for her stalker to make one tiny mistake.
Was that too much to ask?
23
The next morning, Luke had dropped Shaw back at home so she could work. Once again he hadn't wanted to leave her, but she'd insisted she'd be fine. He'd tried to talk her into working out of his house but she simply had way too much equipment - lights, backdrop, and camera - to be able to do that. He'd personally walked around the house making sure all the windows and doors were locked before she was able to convince him to go to work.
Shaw was busy editing the new video when she received a call from Oliver. She braced herself for whatever he was going to say, doubtful it was anything positive. He'd only called her a handful of times all these months and it had never been good news. Usually he was passing on a message about how disappointed Julia was regarding Shaw's behavior and if she could just apologize that would be great.
I am not apologizing this time.
"Hi, Oliver. What can I do for you?"
"Thank goodness you're home." There was relief in his tone as if he'd been pacing the floor worrying about her whereabouts. "Your poor mother has been sick all morning. A little feverish and some body aches. Stuffy nose too. I hate to ask you this, but I don't suppose you could run and get that chicken soup Julia loves so much and bring it over? I'd go myself but I hate to leave her when she's not feeling well."
A sick Julia was far worse than a healthy Julia. Poor Oliver.
"Does she need to go to the hospital? How high is her fever?"
"Not that high," her stepfather assured Shaw. "I've been monitoring it. She's just feeling miserable and says that her throat hurts so the steaks we were going to have for dinner are definitely out. I know that you're busy and all, and I hate to ask, but I'm kind of desperate here."
Of all people Shaw understood. Oliver seemed like a nice man, but no one could be prepared for the first time Julia was sick. The second time he would know what to expect.
"It's fine. I'll do it," Shaw replied, already standing to grab a coat and scarf. Where were her keys? Right...on the kitchen counter. "Can I pick up anything else? Cold medicine? Tissues?"
"We're good on all of that. I'm just forever grateful that you'll bring the soup. It's going to mean so much to your mother that you're coming by too. I'll go let her know. Drive carefully."
What Oliver didn't know - and Shaw wasn't going to tell him - was that the soup would only give temporary relief. Once it was gone, Julia was going to demand fluffed pillows, different blankets, and perfectly brewed tea.
"I will. See you soon."
She grabbed her purse and headed to her car, pausing to briefly send off a quick text to Luke, letting him know that she was running to her mother's house.
Mom is sick.
Poor Oliver.
I'm taking soup.
Then I'll be back.
Order in dinner?
His reply was a thumbs up so all was good. She hadn't wanted to disturb him at work, but she didn't use her phone when she was driving. With everything going on, she didn't want him to worry if he sent a text and she didn't reply right away.
Stopping on the way to pick up a to-go order of the chicken soup, it took about forty-five minutes to reach her mother's home. Located on a ten-acre lot, far away from the rush of Seattle but close enough to go into the city for the day without having to spend the night, the house was a mid-century modern design with lots of wood and glass. The lot was mostly trees which were bare this time of year but there were a few outbuildings that had been on the property when Julia and Oliver had bought the place about nine months ago. They'd been enthusiastic when they'd moved in, but the shine had quickly
worn away and they'd found a dozen little things that bothered them.
One of those items was the long winding driveway from the road to the house. In the autumn, Shaw found it breathtaking with the colored leaves creating a canopy over the narrow path, but she had to admit in the winter it looked far more forbidding, almost creepy with the gray skies overhead.
After parking in front of the house, she climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. There was no answer so she pushed open the door a crack and called out to Oliver. He was probably upstairs with her mother.
"Come on in," he yelled from deeper in the home. "I'm in the kitchen making your mother some tea. Do you want one too?"
"I'm good," she called back, shrugging off her coat. "I've got the soup."
Oliver was pouring hot water into a large mug. "Your mother is going to be happy to see that soup and to see you. You made good time. Not much traffic?"
"It wasn't too bad. Where is Mom?"
"She's upstairs asleep. Why don't you sit for a little while? She'll be awake soon."
Shaw held up the styrofoam container. "Should I put this in the refrigerator then?"
"She won't be asleep long. Just leave it there. Sit and relax. She'll wake up soon."
It started as a tingle on the back of Shaw's neck. Nothing major, just a small feeling of unease. Oliver wasn't making eye contact with her which was unusual. Even his tone of voice was slightly off, as if he was forcing himself to sound cheerful and nonchalant.
"Mom's okay, right? It's just a cold?"
Could he be hiding how ill her mother was? Normally Julia was quite vocal when she was sick.
"Why would you think otherwise? She's fine. It's only a common cold. She'll feel better in a few days." He pulled open the door of the refrigerator. "I'll pour you some iced tea."
Shaw really didn't want tea. She wanted answers.
"Is everything okay, Oliver? You seem tense."
