Present Danger

by Susan Andersen

  “They also pull,” Aunie observed.

  “Yeah, they do do that.” James grinned and plucked one of the coated rubber bands from the box. He swore mildly as a hank of hair escaped his grasp and he looked down to meet her eyes. “Got a comb?”

  Mama’s edict on never sharing one’s personal grooming items flickered through Aunie’s mind, but she shrugged it aside and reached for her purse, digging through it until she located her brush. She extended it to James. “This okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” He dragged it roughly through his hair, tossed it back to Aunie, then whipped the new rubber band around his hair twice. He grinned at the snug fit. “This is great. Thanks, Magnolia.” He leaned down to give her a brief, friendly peck on the lips, then straightened up smartly before he forgot himself and did something incredibly stupid.

  He’d better get the hell out of here.

  “Well, hey,” he said. “I hate to unwrap and run, but I’ve got some stuff that’s gotta get accomplished tonight. Thanks again for your help last week and for these.” He hefted the little box as he edged toward the door. “I’ll, uh, see you around, huh?”

  “Yes, see you around,” Aunie said softly. She was confused and disappointed by both the brevity and the brotherliness of his kiss and by his abrupt departure. She stared at his back as he strode down the hallway and then closed the door with a soft click. Leaning back against it, she pushed out her lower lip and blew in frustration, making her bangs flutter.

  God, he was an enigma. One minute he made her mad enough to spit—then the next he made her laugh. And always, it seemed, he could make her feel so incredibly carnal.

  She sighed and pushed away from the door. No two ways about it. What James Ryder truly did best was make her crazy.

  CHAPTER 11

  The new year started out uneventfully, which in Aunie’s opinion was exactly as it should be. Uneventful, to her way of thinking, equated with safe.

  She kept herself busy. Classes resumed shortly after the new year and the little time not expended in class or studying was usually spent socializing with either Lola or Mary … or occasionally both.

  She acquired a fascination for the various steps in the adoption proceedings Lola and Otis were required to go through in order to qualify them eligible as adoptive parents. Lola kept her apprised of all the latest developments, dispensing frequent updates made colorful by her personal observations and feelings. After agonizing for hours over her recommendation to the adoption agency, Aunie eventually completed a draft that satisfied her and she sent it off.

  She hardly ever saw James. She didn’t know if it was a deliberate evasion on his part, but she acknowledged that for her own peace of mind she was doing her utmost to avoid him. She had once again shelved her one paltry erotic memory and her unrealistic fantasies. She was supposed to be striving for adulthood, which meant it was time to get on with it and quit dreaming of never-never land.

  She called Otis’s brother Leon and joined the gym where he was a trainer. Four afternoons a week, she taxied to the health club and undertook a vigorous workout. Leon proved to be a relentless taskmaster, always pushing her a little bit further than she thought it was possible to go. At first, as her body screamed its protest, she was convinced he was a closet sadist trying his best to cripple her. Eventually, however, as her muscles acclimated to the vigorous sets and repetitions, she began grudgingly to appreciate his efforts. After about a month, she turned into an outright fan. In addition to strengthening her body, the workouts helped clear her mind. Studying seemed to come easier on the days she visited the gym. Enthused about the benefits, she tried to convince Mary to join also, but the only response she elicited was a sarcastic, “Yeah, right.”

  During the last weekend in January, she accepted her first date with a man named Tim Dwyer, whom she had met at the gym. He was a nice man and he showed her a very good time, but unfortunately they lacked chemistry. When he kissed her good night outside her door, it was merely pleasant. She wasn’t even vaguely tempted to invite him in … and somewhat to her own surprise that was all right. She didn’t feel desperate to commence her much-talked-about affair. The important thing was that she’d taken the first step; she was making a well-rounded life for herself in Seattle.

  The tension she’d learned to live with for so long was finally beginning to ebb, and she even felt cautiously optimistic about her chances of avoiding future contact with Wesley. She went days, sometimes weeks now, without giving him a single thought. Neither did she often think of Mama or Daddy or any of her other relatives. Her life was growing in directions which they’d never understand, let alone approve of, but she was very happy with the changes she had wrought. She had found something in Seattle that she’d never had in Georgia: a feeling of purpose and belonging, a sense of competency. She was growing up fast—if belatedly—and she was proud of the strides she had made. It was nice to feel she no longer had to look over her shoulder, nicer yet to be filled with confidence that life was finally getting back on course.

  Then the telephone calls began.

  At first, they were easy to ignore. The phone would ring, but the caller would hang up without bothering to identify himself. It was an intrusion and irritation, but they came with such sporadic irregularity that Aunie assumed it was merely a mannerless person reaching the wrong number but too rushed or rude to say so before disconnecting. By the middle of March, however, the calls had started to become a habitual nuisance.

  It never occurred to her to be frightened by them; they were simply an annoyance. Then the occasional call turned into a daily bombardment, but it happened with such gradualness that by the time she felt there was cause for concern, she couldn’t even begin to guess whether they were being placed by the same person.

  The method, at any rate, was the same one. The phone would ring; she’d pick it up and say hello; they’d disconnect. If it were the work of the same person who had sporadically called in the past, it had grown to the point where unlike those occasional intrusions, which had had a gap of several days between them, the caller would now immediately redial—only to once again hang up the instant she answered the phone. It made her seethe with impotent frustration.

  After putting up with it for more than a week, she called the tele-abuse line only to be informed she needed a police case number before they would take a report. Not quite ready for such a drastic step, she went shopping for an answering machine instead.

  She hadn’t mentioned the calls to anyone, hoping the anonymous caller would grow weary of his game and give up. It was rapidly becoming apparent, however, that that had been wishful thinking on her part. Such being the case, upon returning home with her newly purchased machine, she stopped off at the Jacksons’ apartment to have a talk with Otis and Lola.

  Mary sat on the edge of her bed with the phone receiver cradled between her shoulder and ear. Hunched over one updrawn knee, her heel on the the mattress and her foot flexed, she applied a second coat of Iced Rosewood nail polish to her toenails as she waited for Aunie to answer her phone.

  The line on the other end was suddenly connected and Mary sat a little straighter. She reached up and steadied the receiver with two fingers, prepared to launch into a long conversation the moment Aunie said hello. But it wasn’t Aunie’s expected voice that came down the line.

  “You have reached 323-0194,” a deep and menacing masculine voice snapped. There was a beat of silence, then the demanding voice barked, “WHY?” Beep.

  Mary couldn’t have said why she slammed down the phone; it was simply an instinctive reaction. Her heel slid off the bed; toes that were spread apart by cotton stuffing still flexed toward her leg. Slowly she replaced the brush applicator in the bottle and twisted the cap tightly.

  “323-0194,” she whispered to herself. That was Aunie’s number. But her friend hadn’t mentioned getting an answering machine and who the hell had recorded that message? The man had sounded huge, impatient … and not someone with whom a sane person would
care to tangle.

  Otis, most likely. But why?

  Mary used her blow-dryer to speed the drying process on her nails. Then, yanking the stuffing from between her toes, she tossed it in the general direction of the wastebasket and pulled on socks, jeans and boots. She grabbed her jacket and purse and slammed out the front door.

  “I vote for filing a police report,” Mary said decisively the instant Aunie had finished explaining about the calls. “I’m surprised you haven’t done so already.” She looked to Otis and Lola for support and found Lola nodding in agreement. The Jacksons had still been at Aunie’s when she’d arrived, visiting after having helped set up her new answering machine. “Have either of you heard about the man who’s been making calls to some of the women students on our campus?”

  Otis slowly straightened. “That’s your campus?” he asked. “I’ve read about it in the papers, but the exact location was never mentioned. It’s always been referred to as a local college.” He turned questioning eyes on Aunie.

  “It never even occurred to me,” she admitted. “But now that you mention it,” she added with slow consideration, “I really doubt that it is the same person.”

  “Based on what, exactly?” Mary demanded. “Aunie, you can’t make that kinda judgment without a few facts to support it!” She paced irritably in front of the fireplace.

  “Think about it, Mary,” Aunie retorted tightly. “From everything you’ve told me about this college guy, he talks to the women he calls. He knows details about their lives.” She ran tension-stiffened fingers through her hair. She’d already caught hell from Lola this afternoon. Mary’s added belligerence and the new possibility she had raised had the effect of winding her nerves tighter and tighter. “My caller doesn’t say a word. He hangs up as soon as I pick up the phone.”

  “Well, yeah, that is different,” Mary agreed reluctantly. “But still … I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t like it either, woo-mon,” Lola injected, reiterating an opinion she had already emphatically stated before Mary’s arrival.

  Aunie’s emotions snapped like an overwound spring. “Do you think I do?” she demanded angrily. She confronted her friends combatively, hands fisted on her hips. “I’m not exactly ovahjoyed, myself, to be harassed on a daily basis by some idiot with a touch-tone. But I’d like to exercise a few preliminary options before Ah go runnin’ to the police—is that all right with the two of you?” Chest heaving, she glared at them. “Do Ah have your permission?”

  Otis patted her on the shoulder. “Easy girl, easy,” he murmured. “They’re on your side. They’re just concerned about your safety, Aunie. We all are.”

  Aunie expelled a harsh breath and slowly regained control. “I know,” she said softly. “And I’m bein’ a bitch.” She looked at her two friends. “I’m sorry, y’all.” She rubbed her temples where an incipient headache was threatening. “This’s got me all shook up. It’s just … I thought I was finally leavin’ the shit behind me, y’know?” She laughed without amusement. “Where do I get these absurd notions?”

  “You don’t think it could be Wesley, do you?” Mary asked hesitantly.

  “Oh Gawd.” Aunie collapsed onto an overstuffed chair. She propped her elbows on her knees and buried her head in her hands. After sitting thus for a few silent moments, she sighed unhappily and plowed all ten fingers through her hair as she slowly straightened. She was suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue and her head lolled against the chair’s headrest as her hands dropped limply to her lap. “I don’t know, Mary,” she eventually replied. “I didn’t think of him, either.” She blew a disgusted breath. “Pretty stupid, huh? I guess I just sorta automatically assumed it was some clown randomly punchin’ up my number.”

  “And now?” Otis asked.

  Aunie gave the idea several moments’ silent consideration. Finally, she admitted, “I just don’t know. My past experiences with Wesley lead me to believe he wouldn’t call and then hang up without sayin’ anything. Always before, he’s been extremely vocal.”

  “If it’s not a random caller,” Otis said slowly, “who would you choose to be more likely, Wesley or the campus guy?”

  “I’m a math major, Otis,” Aunie replied with a grim smile, “so I know a little somethin’ about probabilities. The odds against one person receivin’ telephone calls, at an unlisted number, from two separate, unrelated psychotics, must be about a million to one. Attendin’ the college from which one of the crazies is currently operating would naturally alter the probabilities a great deal, but still … I guess if those are my only choices and knowin’ how obsessed Wesley is, then I’d have to say it was him.” The mere thought was enough to make all the natural color drain from her face and an involuntary shudder wrack her small frame.

  Otis patted her hand. “Listen, Aunie, chances are you were correct in your first supposition. It probably is someone who randomly punched up your numbers. That sorta thing happens more frequently than we think, I imagine. Why don’t you stick with your original decision to give the answering machine a few days, and then if the calls persist, you can file a police report.”

  “Otis,” Lola protested.

  “Shut up, babe,” he requested in a genial tone. “A couple of days aren’t gonna make that big a difference. We’re going to keep an eye on her, so there’s no need for you to go aggravating the situation. As it is, we’ve probably seen to it that she’s not gonna be sleeping any too well tonight.” “I could stay with you, Aunie,” Mary offered.

  “Would you?” Aunie jumped at the offer. It was a measure of how far she’d progressed since her move to Seattle, she imagined, that Wesley hadn’t automatically popped to mind at the very first phone call. In truth, she hadn’t even thought to be frightened by the calls until her friends had raised all these horrific possibilities. But now that they had … “It’s silly, probably, but suddenly I’m a wreck. I really would appreciate the company.”

  “No problem. I’ll just run home to pack a few things and grab my books. I can be back in an hour.”

  “Could I ride along with you?” Aunie had a sudden desire to get out of her apartment. “I didn’t get anything out for dinner, but if you don’t mind stoppin’ at a restaurant along the way, I’ll buy you a meal.”

  “Sounds like a deal to me.”

  Lola and Otis rose to go. Lola came up to Aunie and stood staring down at her solemnly. “Are you angry wid me, woo-mon?”

  “Of course not.” Aunie rose up on tiptoe to give her a hug. “I love you to pieces for caring so much. Only … I need to try this my way for a day or two, okay?”

  “All right,” Lola agreed. “You keep us informed, though, huh?”

  “I will.” Aunie turned to Otis. “Thank you,” she said. “Thanks for hookin’ up my machine and for the message and … well, everything.” Thanks for considering my point of view when no one else would.

  He reached out and touched the tip of her nose with a large, dark finger. “It was nothing … but you’re welcome anyway. Try not to worry too much. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  But everything wasn’t. Aunie very badly wanted to believe that her anonymous caller was some stranger who had haphazardly picked her number, and for a while it appeared that might be the case. The answering machine cut down dramatically on the nuisance calls and she started to relax. Then, six days after her machine was installed, she received a call from her lawyer in Atlanta and she knew she could no longer afford to leave her situation to chance.

  As usual, she had allowed the machine to vet the call. But it wasn’t a disconnect this time. Jordan’s voice spoke through the recorder.

  “Aunie?” it said uncertainly after the beep. Recognizing the voice, she rose from her studies at the dining room table. “Uh … have I reached the correct number? This is Jordan Saint …”

  Aunie picked up the receiver. “Hi, Jordan, it’s me.”

  “Aunie! That’s some recording. Where on earth did you get it?”

  “My downstairs ne
ighbor recorded it for me.”

  “Very effective,” he said. “Is your downstairs neighbor quite large by any chance?”

  “Extremely.”

  “African-American?”

  “Yes.”

  “As mean as he sounds?”

  “No,” she replied. “He’s a pussycat, actually; although if you didn’t know him, you most likely wouldn’t think so.”

  Jordan laughed. He hesitated a moment, then said, “I’m not quite sure how to tell you the reason I’m calling, dear. I don’t want to frighten you unnecessarily, because it’s probably nothing, but my office was broken into a couple weeks ago.”

  Aunie tensed all over. “Oh Gawd,” she whispered. “Wesley?”

  “It’s very unlikely, Aunie,” Jordan replied. “But your phone number was in my personal Rolodex, so I felt you had the right to know. It didn’t include the area code, though, and without that there’s no way to know in what state it originates. The only record of your address, of course, is in your file, which was under lock and key.”

  “I’ve been receivin’ nuisance calls, Jordan.”

  He swore. “Does it sound like Wesley?”

  “I don’t know; the caller never speaks. He hangs up as soon as I answer. That’s why Otis recorded the message on my machine.”

  “Wesley has never been the type to keep silent, dear. It’s quite likely those calls are entirely unrelated.”

  “That’s what I thought … what I hoped,” she replied. “But now …” Now she had a very bad feeling. Things had been going just too well to last—she should have known better.

  They conversed for a while longer before Jordan finally rang off. Long after the call was terminated, Aunie remained on the couch with her legs drawn up, her arms wrapped tightly around her shins, and her forehead cushioned by her kneecaps. Shadows grew long across the hardwood floor as afternoon turned into early evening, but she never noticed. God in heaven, she kept thinking over and over again. God in heaven.