by Desiree Holt
Kicking off her shoes, she fixed herself a sandwich and a glass of iced tea and curled up on the couch with a magazine. She needed this hour to unwind so she could shift gears from one client to the next. She’d just finished the tea when a sharp knock on the connecting door from the office startled her. Frowning, she got up to open it. Her staff seldom disturbed her when she was in here. She pulled open the door to find a nervous Brianna confronting her, another large envelope in her hand.
“I swear I don’t know when it came, Lindsey. Or how it got here.” Her hands shook as she handed over the envelope. “There’s no address or messenger tag this time, either.”
Lindsey took it from her, completely forgetting McCune’s instructions, and opened the flap and drew out its contents, then nearly dropped everything.
“What is it?” Brianna asked. “I was afraid to look inside after the last one.”
Lindsey held up a photo showing her walking away from Marquez’s office building, swinging her portfolio, wearing a satisfied smile. Across the bottom, again printed in Magic Marker, were the words, “Congratulations on your new contract. Enjoy your success while you can.”
Lindsey stared at the photo, shock mixing with fear. “How the hell did this person even know about the contract?”
“Are you going to call that detective again?” Bri asked.
“I guess I probably should. Apparently this isn’t just a one-time thing anymore.” She dropped into an armchair, her knees suddenly weak. “I entered his info into the electronic contact file. Would you call him for me? Tell him we’ve gotten another photo and ask him if he can come to see me again. The Randolphs should be out of here by three-thirty, so make it after that. Then bring Mark and come into my office.”
Somehow, she pulled herself together. In her apartment, she washed her face with cold water and applied fresh makeup, then popped two aspirin in her mouth in an effort to stave off the headache building behind her eyes. By the time she returned to her office, Mark and Brianna were both there waiting for her.
“Okay,” she told them. “I need to find out what’s happening here. Mark, you went to lunch at twelve-thirty, right?”
He nodded, looking nervous. “I needed some supplies and I didn’t want to wait for the delivery. You gave me the okay to do that.”
“Please,” she told him, her voice edgy. “I’m not concerned about your trip to the store. What time did you get back?”
He fidgeted. “About two.”
“Okay. I’m just trying to construct a time table here.” Lindsey took a deep breath and turned to Brianna. “You left at one and came back at two, also, right?”
“Mark and I came back almost at the same time,” she replied. “We rode up in the elevator together.”
“And where did you find the envelope?”
“Scotch taped to the door. It just had your name and address in felt tip pen, like the other one.”
“No other note or anything?” Lindsey persisted.
“No.” Brianna shook her head furiously. “Nothing at all.”
Lindsey sat back in her chair, flipping a pencil back and forth. “It concerns me that someone is apparently following me around with a camera and taking pictures at will. If that was the only thing, I might blow it off. Only how did he—or she—know about this contract? I only signed it a few days ago. And how did they know why I was in that building?”
“I’ll tell you what.” Brianna flipped her head, setting her corkscrew curls to swaying. “With all those crazies out there today, I’d be plenty nervous if it was me.”
“Single women need to be careful, you know,” Mark chimed in.
Lindsey smiled. Mark was so devoid of social interaction she was surprised he even knew there were single girls out there. Short and stocky, he lived in chinos and polo shirts that looked left over from his college days. His curly dark brown hair was usually disheveled from his fingers running through it. His philosophy was that, since no one ever saw him at the office anyway, he might as well be comfortable. One of these days Lindsey planned to take the time to sit down with Mark and try to convince him he could have a life outside his work. His drafting skills were excellent, but sometimes she felt as if she were keeping him locked in a closet.
“I’ll remember that, Mark. Thank you.” She looked down at the photo again. “I guess it just makes me a little nervous that someone has that kind of information about me. All right, Brianna, call Detective McCune and see if he’ll come by later.”
The Randolphs arrived with a two-page list of changes and hopeful expressions on their faces. Lindsey worked hard to maintain her concentration as she reviewed the items with the couple. She liked her clients to be happy and tried to accommodate whatever she could. The Randolphs had never had the money to build a custom home before, and Lindsey thought they were like two kids approaching their first Christmas with anxiety and anticipation. She really liked them, wanted to make this work for them, and was happy when the new changes still kept them within their budget.
Finally, they were finished and, hiding her relief, she escorted them out the door.
Brianna came in at once with the list of appointments for the next day and the news that Detective McCune would be arriving in a few minutes. Lindsey fixed coffee from the single serving machine and brought a cup to her desk, plopped down in her chair, and closed her eyes. She hated to admit how this photo business unnerved her. She just hoped McCune would ease her fears by assuring her there was nothing to be concerned about.
McCune, however, had another opinion of the situation. Sitting across from her, holding his notebook, he waved away the notion that her situation was harmless.
“First of all, let me remind you that I asked that no one touch the envelope.” He frowned. “You were supposed to leave it for Forensics.”
Lindsey bit her lip. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. Brianna didn’t think, and neither did I.”
“If you get another one, please remember not to destroy the evidence, okay? Not that I think we’ll find anything. This stalker has been very careful about not leaving any trace.”
Her eyes widened, and she felt a chill creeping through her body. Oh, God. “You think I’ll get another one?”
“This is two times in seven days, Miss Ferrell,” he said.
“Lindsey,” she interrupted. “Please, call me Lindsey.”
“All right. Lindsey. But this sure looks like someone is homing in on you. The pictures and messages are too specific.” His gaze focused on her face. “Despite the fact that you say your employees aren’t suspects, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check them out. So, besides them, who knew about that contract?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea. It’s not a big secret. Maybe someone in Marquez’s office. Or maybe Marquez and his wife mentioned it to some of their friends. It’s hard to say.”
“It’s got to be someone who can watch you enough to know your office routine,” McCune pointed out. “Someone who’d know when the office is empty so the envelopes can be left without being seen.” He closed his notebook. “I need you to spend some time making out a list for me. Disgruntled clients, unhappy or rejected boyfriends, people you’ve done business with who might be ticked off at you. Anything like that.” He held up a hand. “I know you said there wasn’t anyone, but you really need to dig deep and list anyone who could remotely be a candidate.”
“All right.” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“It’s usually the ones we least expect.” He frowned. “Too bad you don’t have a security guard on duty in the lobby during the day. Anyone could easily slip in and out of the building.”
After he left Lindsey chewed her fingernail for a minute, lost in thought. Finally, she picked up the phone and dialed Quinn and Kate’s number. Being brave was one thing, but she didn’t want to be stupid.
“Hey!” Kate’s cheerful voice answered the phone. “What’s up?”
“Can I come by tonight and bring pizza f
or dinner? I need to take Quinn’s advice, after all.”
“Something else happened.” Kate’s voice immediately turned sober.
“You could say that. What time would be good for you?”
“John goes down at seven so any time after that. But you don’t have to bring food, you know.”
“Call it my fee for advice. I’ll see you about seven-thirty.”
She trusted Quinn’s judgment more than anyone else and needed to get his take on this latest development.
“I’m leaving for the day,” she told Brianna, gathering her things up and locking her office door. “It should be fairly quiet now. Check the computer for the Randolph document. There’s a list of new specs we need to get estimates on. You know the places to call. I’d like to get information back as soon as we can.”
“I thought you were staying in town tonight to work on the Marquez plans.”
Lindsey nodded. “I’d planned to, but this whole business has me a little spooked. I want to talk to a friend of mine about it.”
“Take care, then,” Brianna told her. “See you in the morning.”
Chapter Three
Lindsey changed into jeans and a T-shirt as soon as she got home, told Mary not to fix dinner for her, and said she’d be back sometime later in the evening.
“Big date?” Mary asked, raising a hopeful eyebrow.
“Dinner with Quinn and Kate,” she explained.
“You need to have dinner with a man who’s not attached, Lindsey.” Mary had definite ideas about what she should be doing with her life that Lindsey found both humorous and exasperating.
“When I find one, I’ll let you know.” She grinned.
She kissed Mary on the cheek and dashed off to pick up the pizza. Saturday night she had resisted the idea that this was more than a sick joke. Now she wasn’t so sure. McCune didn’t seem too positive about getting results, but she knew Quinn would have his own ideas.
“Come on in.” Kate hugged her at the door. “Quinn opened wine to go with the pizza. He thought you might need it.”
“No kidding.” She handed the pizza boxes to Kate and grinned at Quinn as she took the glass of wine he held out to her. “Thanks. You know how to take care of a friend.”
“That’s if the friend lets me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess. Something else happened.”
“Yes, and I just want to make sure I’m not overreacting. But food first. I’m actually hungry.”
For a while, as they ate, Lindsey almost forgot why she was here and what was creating such tension in her life. But then, after she and Kate cleared the debris away, Quinn refilled their glasses and turned to her.
“Okay, you’re not given to looking over your shoulder and freaking out, so let’s have it. Something happened today, right?”
She took another small sip of the wine. “I got another photo today.”
Quinn and Kate exchanged glances.
“Like the last one?” Quinn asked.
“Sort of.” Lindsey described what this one looked like, and the message written at the bottom.
Quinn frowned, processing the information. “And Brianna said she found it taped to the door?”
“Yes. When she came back from lunch. I called the detective, and he came by and picked it up. But he didn’t seem too optimistic about finding anything.” She fiddled with her wine glass. “So…what do you think? Am I making something out of nothing?”
Quinn set his glass down carefully. “Someone went to a great deal of trouble to take these pictures, Lindsey. And to put personal information on one of them.”
“That means this isn’t random,” Kate added.
Lindsey sighed. “Damn. I was afraid of that.”
Quinn leaned forward. “I don’t want to alarm you, honey. God knows you’ve had enough going on these past months with your mother and everything. But I’d say someone is going to a great deal of trouble to stalk you. That makes this a dangerous situation.”
“A stalker?” Lindsey felt the blood drain from her face. The word alone made her stomach knot and nausea bubble up inside her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Someone’s following you and has a message to send,” Quinn told her. “Maybe even has a plan in place, one that we don’t know about yet. Don’t think for one minute that this is something to blow off.”
“I can’t even think who’d do this.” She massaged her temples with her fingertips, the headache trying to build to full force. “McCune said to make a list of everyone I know who might be angry at me for something, no matter how small. It’s just so hard to believe that someone I know is doing this to me.”
“Unfortunately, there’s only so much the cops can do until after a crime is committed.”
“Swell.” Lindsey gripped her wine glass, thinning her lips. “I don’t know what to do, Quinn. I go here, there, everywhere. Sometimes I stay in town overnight. I can’t look over my shoulder every minute, wondering who’s following me.”
“You need to be aware at all times, no matter what,” he cautioned. “But that won’t take care of the entire problem. And it sure isn’t a great idea to wait around and see what happens next.”
“So what can I do? I thought maybe you’d have some suggestions.” She slammed her fist on her thigh in a sudden spurt of anger overriding the fear that had been building. “I can’t believe some nut case is making me lose control of my life.”
“I’d take care of this myself if it were the old days.” Meaning before Kate. Between the violent death of his first wife and his marriage to Kate, Quinn had hidden up here in the hills and occupied himself doing “favors” for people. Nobody ever talked about exactly what those favors were, but she knew the people he’d helped were committed to him for life.
“Oh, I wouldn’t even expect that,” she said quickly. “I’m really just looking for an evaluation and some suggestions.”
“I’ve got some thoughts about this. Tomorrow I’m going to call Nick.”
“Vanetta?” Lindsey raised her eyebrows.
Nick Vanetta and his partner, Reno Sullivan, owned a large corporate security agency. He and Quinn had been friends for a long time, but Lindsey had never met him.
“The one and only.”
“I thought Guardian only took corporate contracts.”
“Nick owes me some favors. He’ll be glad of the chance to repay them. I’ll have him get in touch with you, but until then, don’t take any chances.”
“Oh, Quinn, I don’t know if I’d be comfortable with bringing a stranger into it. Besides, even I know Guardian has a top reputation, and I’m sure they’re super busy. I don’t want to feel like this is an imposition.”
“You won’t. I promise. And it’s better to be safe, honey. Trust me on that.”
She nodded, still uncomfortable with the situation. “I know. I just hate letting someone take over my life this way.” She paused, forming the next question carefully. “You really think you need to bring Nick into this?”
Quinn nodded. “I do. And I want you to listen to whatever he says. He’s the best in the business. Believe me, Lindsey, this is nothing to ignore. I don’t want to frighten you, but I’ve seen some of these situations really escalate.”
“I’m more mad than frightened right now.” She grinned. “I even thought about carrying Dad’s old .38 Special with me.”
“Absolutely not.” Quinn shook his head. “You don’t have a license to carry, you haven’t practiced in years as far as I know, and you have too much of a temper to safely carry a firearm. No, no, and no.”
She sighed again and clenched her fists in frustration.
“And don’t stay in town again for a few nights,” he cautioned. “Have you told Ruben and Mary about this?”
“Lord, no.” She sighed. “Ruben would be literally riding shotgun every minute if I did. Although maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”
“He’ll need to know,” Quinn pointed out. “He needs to be told your safety is at risk. H
ow about if I talk to him?”
“No, you’d better let me do it. Otherwise, he’ll get his feelings hurt. But I want to wait until I hear from Nick, okay?”
“Just promise me you’ll be extra careful until then.”
“I promise to be alert and watchful.” She hugged both Quinn and Kate. “Thank you so much for helping me.”
“No problem,” Quinn said. “You’re as good as family, and family sticks together.”
****
Guardian Security Services took up the entire tenth floor of the Bank of America building on Northeast Loop 410, a multi-lane highway that circled the city. One side of the floor held the offices, including a large open area where the agents worked at their desks. The other side was all technology, containing the monitors for the security systems they installed, the labs where engineers worked on sophisticated devices, and other related sections.
Nick Vanetta leaned back in his desk chair, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, feet propped on an open drawer while he studied a report. The huge oak desk dominated the office, and floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Interstate. A wall of monitors faced the desk. Nick liked to be able to keep track of everything from his office, and his technical staff had obligingly set it up so he could.
His specially cut sports jacket hung on an old-fashioned clothes tree in one corner, along with the shoulder holster he always wore and his Sig Sauer 9 mm. As the size of the staff had grown, he had slowly removed himself from active bodyguard work. However, years of habit made the gun a regular part of his wardrobe.
A glass case in one corner held his trophies from his days as a football jock, both in high school and college. His diplomas hung next to them. Few people knew that Nick had graduated from the University of Texas Law School, although he’d never intended to practice law. Once he met Reno, building the security firm became his main focus. He soon discovered, sometimes to his dismay, he’d become more of an administrator than an active security specialist. His background qualified him to make the right choices when hiring the agency’s legal staff and supervising the work of the agents. Still, there were many days he itched to get back in the field.
