by Sheryl Lynn
Janine poked his arm. “When you’re this quiet, you scare me.”
“Yeah, Daniel.” Kara sounded subdued. “You’re scaring me, too.”
“Pinky is like a train on tracks. Rigid, focused. That’s what makes this kind of stalker self-destructive along with being destructive toward others. A delusion is addictive. Deviation from it is damned near impossible without serious intervention.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t, either. And I don’t like it. We switched Pinky onto another track. He should be worried about me.” He snatched up half a torn paper heart. “But something switched him back.”
“He’s mad at the colonel again?” Janine shook her head in fervent denial. “No! He’s supposed to leave my father alone.”
“Kara,” he said. “Have you been talking about the anniversary party?”
“Everybody is talking about the party.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and she swiped it away.
“Is anybody complaining about the extra work? The overtime?”
“No.” Her lower lip trembled. “The kids helping me with the decorations are using their own time. Even Chef is excited about the party. The cake he’s making is a masterpiece.” Her words trailed into a wail. “Why did Pinky have to go and do this?”
The three trudged downstairs to the family dining room where the managerial staff had gathered. All of them had seen the damage, and the mood was grim.
Cody Hodgkins spoke up. “Devon Hightower isn’t your culprit.” His huge mustache bristled. “Day long, he never stepped foot inside the lodge.”
“How do you know?” Daniel asked.
“Up until about three o’clock he was guiding horseback tours. Six, eight folks, each out for an hour-long ride. Didn’t even take time for lunch. After that he was cleaning tack. I told him to cut loose for supper around six.”
“You’re positive he never left the tack room?”
Cody fiddled with the broad brim of his felt cowboy hat. “Wasn’t breathing down his neck, but every time I passed the door, there he was, up to his elbows in saddle soap. Repaired a hackamore for me, too, and splicing rope like that takes doing. He took his supper with me. He isn’t Pinky. I stake my own job on it.”
Cody might have missed the boy being away for a few minutes, but it had taken Pinky longer than a mere few minutes to vandalize the room upstairs. Daniel caught Janine’s attention and nodded.
“I believe you,” Janine said. She looked to the head housekeeper. “What about Ellen Schulberg?”
In her trim black suit with a crisp white blouse, the head of housekeeping looked like a department store manager. She worked a finger under her blouse collar and tugged at it. “Ever since you told me you think she might have vandalized your boyfriend’s car, I expressly forbade her to step foot in the east wing.”
“Shift ended at two-thirty. Where was she after that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who’s on housekeeping in the east wing today?”
“Pat and Kathy. I already talked to them. They didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
“Chef, what about Brian?”
He told Daniel that as a baker’s assistant, Brian began work at three o‘clock in the morning. He finished his first shift at nine o’clock in the morning, then resumed working at four in the afternoon. Which gave him four unsupervised hours for mischief making.
Juan Hernandez claimed Jason Bulshe had spent the entire day repairing a balky sump pump in the lodge basement. Lanny had the day off. Juan didn’t remember seeing him today.
Daniel whispered in Janine’s ear. “We have to search their rooms.”
Her expression tightened, and the skin under her eyes looked even more sickly green. “Colonel,” she said. “I’m going to search the dormitory.”
A murmur of protests filled the dining room.
“The entire dormitory. I won’t single people out. I won’t embarrass any individual.”
“I refused to grant the police permission to search indiscriminately,” the colonel stated. “I am not certain this is the best strategy now.”
“Your objection is noted, sir.” She tossed hair off her shoulders. “I’m doing it, anyway.” She glanced at her watch. “Cody, go to the dorm right now. Ask everyone to leave their rooms and wait in the hallway. The rest of you, if you have anyone who lives in the dorm and is working right now, pull them off duty. We’ll check their rooms first so they can get back to work.”
“I have not granted permission,” the colonel said.
“I’m not asking, sir.” She leaned both hands on the long table and stared directly into her father’s eyes.
“The privacy of—”
“To hell with their privacy!” she shouted. She slammed the tabletop with a fist. “Pinky is endangering the entire resort and the fifty-nine people who are doing their jobs. He is threatening you!”
The old man snapped his mouth shut, but he pulsed with angry energy. His eyes were Arctic ice. “I do not approve.”
“Noted, sir. I take full responsibility for this.” Janine swung her glare on the managers. “I want all of you to let your people know that it is me, not the colonel, who is forcing the issue.” She nodded curtly. “Take care of your people. I’ll be in the dorm in twenty minutes. I expect every door to be standing open. And nobody is to take anything out of that building.”
As the group filed out of the dining room, Janine stopped them. “I want a key inventory, too. On my desk, first thing in the morning. I want to know the exact location of every single key in this resort.”
Even Chef left quietly.
Daniel stared at Janine. She was of average height and weight, but at this moment she was a Valkyrie, an Amazon, a crusading general who knew her objective and to hell with public opinion. Admiration swelled his chest.
Elise rested her hands on her husband’s broad shoulders. “Are you absolutely certain you aren’t overreacting, Janine?”
“You saw what he did to the decorations, Mom,” Kara said. “Pinky overreacted, not us.”
“He’s mad at you again, Colonel.” Janine looked to Daniel for confirmation. “He’s mad about the party. Let’s go, Daniel.”
On the short walk to the dormitory, Daniel asked, “Ever gone Dumpster diving? It’s an experience you’ll never forget.”
“No cute talk. I’m not in the mood.”
“If we don’t turn up anything in the dorm, we need to look in the Dumpster.”
She laughed bitterly. “It’s Monday. Our trash is picked up every Monday.”
Damn.
“Why is he doing this? Why won’t he show himself?”
Daniel figured Janine spoke rhetorically. In any case, he had no real answers for her. She was frustrated, scared and angry—as was he. If Pinky had trashed her bedroom she wouldn’t be half this upset.
He slowed his step so he walked behind her. Head high, spine straight, she swung her arms widely as she walked. Her shoes snapped and crunched on the graveled path. A woman of purpose. A woman very much in control of her life. A woman capable of deep, and dangerous, anger. A most unusual victim for a stalker.
Like any predator, stalkers selected their prey carefully. They had a sixth sense about victims whose backgrounds or personalities made them vulnerable to abuse. Daniel’s stalker had intuited that while Daniel took no guff from males, he was a total marshmallow with women and children. When she failed to control him with persistence, she’d committed suicide. In a way she’d won, because not a day passed when the image of her limp body swinging off the balcony railing didn’t haunt him.
Power and control—stalkers confused those feelings with love. They couldn’t force their victims to love them, so they controlled them instead.
Pinky had figured out Janine’s weakness. How simple it would be for Pinky to knock on the colonel’s door and shoot when the old man answered. Or follow him in a car and run him off a mountain road. Or ambush him in one of the lodge’s many ro
oms and beat him to death.
There, Pinky could say, I control the lives of those you love—now you have no choice except to love me!
He and Janine entered the dorm. Built long and low, it had sixteen sleeping rooms, three communal bathrooms and a large common room with kitchen facilities and an entertainment center. Cody was waiting. Every door on both sides of the long hallway stood open. Young people, some appearing confused, some angry, waited in the hallway.
Daniel spotted Jason Bulshe, Ellen Schulberg and Brian Cadwell, but not Lanny Lewis. Ellen wore a short robe and fuzzy slippers. She rubbed her eyes as if she’d been sleeping. Brian wore a white tunic over black trousers. The front of his tunic looked as if he’d been in a spaghetti sauce explosion. Jason wore jeans and T-shirt, and also looked as if he’d been sleeping.
At the first room, Janine raised her voice so everyone could hear. “I have reason to believe a criminal lives in this dorm. If any of you have an objection to this search, say so now. I will respect your wishes, but if you refuse to let me search, you will be asked to vacate the dorm.”
No one objected, and Janine entered the first room. Daniel watched. The room was about ten by twelve feet with a single window, a double closet, two narrow beds, two upright dressers, several chairs and two desks. The occupant had decorated the walls with animal posters and animal-print throws on the furniture. Janine searched the closet, drawers, clothes hamper and both desks. She lifted the mattresses on the beds. She checked the trash can.
Nothing.
Room by room she went through the dorm. Each room was as individual as its owner. Some were tidy and spare, some were messy and cluttered. Most had been decorated to reflect its occupant’s tastes and interests.
Daniel studied the suspects. Brian Cadwell acted nervous and upset. While Janine searched his room he babbled about a movie he’d seen. He skipped through words like a kitten tearing through a box of Christmas ribbon. Cody finally told him to shut up. Ellen hovered on the verge of tears.
Lanny Lewis wasn’t present, so Cody accompanied Janine as a witness. She found nothing incriminating in his room.
When Janine reached Jason’s room, the young man leaned against a wall, his arms folded and his eyes hooded.
“You don’t say much,” Daniel said.
“She’s the boss,” the kid replied. He stared at the ceiling. “She can do what she wants.”
Short hairs lifted on Daniel’s nape. At least half the teenage boys who began martial arts instruction from him possessed this smug, hostile, arrogant attitude—an attitude Daniel took great delight in dispelling.
He studied Jason’s room. The kid didn’t have a roommate, but both beds were made up with military precision. The walls were bare, as were the surfaces of the desks and dressers. The only signs that anyone lived in the room were clothes in the closet, a digital clock and a cheap boom box.
“Ever been in the military, Jason?” Daniel asked.
The kid stared distantly. “No.”
“Jail?”
Jason turned his head slowly. His eyes were blank. “No.”
Janine stepped out of the room. “Thank you, Jason. I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep.”
If Jason had been sleeping, then he’d been snoozing on the bare floor. Neither bed showed so much as a dimple. Daniel noticed him making a point of not looking at Janine. The alarms in his head blared like a Klaxon warning signal.
“Where are the coveralls you wore today?” Daniel asked.
“In the washing machine.”
“Show me.”
“Screw you.”
“Show me,” Janine said.
Jason pushed away from the wall and stalked down the corridor to a bathroom. He straight-armed his way through the swinging door.
A washer and dryer sat against the far wall. Jason jerked open the lid of the washing machine then stepped back and folded his arms. Janine pulled two pair of jeans and two coveralls from the machine. The dark green coveralls were much-mended and stained. Daniel spread them out and searched for signs of the acrylic paint Kara had been using for the decorations. He found colored stains on both coveralls, but there was no way to tell by looking if the stains came from craft paint.
From the corner of his eye Daniel caught a trace of a grin on Jason’s face. Screw you twice, his expression said.
Janine resumed searching the dorm. She found nothing that pointed to Pinky.
Mike Downes waited for them outside. Clouds blotted out the stars. A stiff breeze sounded like highway noise as it rushed through the trees. Janine informed the deputy they hadn’t found a damned thing. They returned to the lodge.
Sounds of revelry rolled from the ballroom. People in formal dress milled about in the lounge. The sight reminded Daniel that they had only days until the big anniversary party. Destroying the decorations could be a mere precursor to what the stalker might do at the party.
Once in Janine’s office, Daniel spoke to the deputy. “Jason Bulshe is off, way off.”
Janine plopped onto the sofa and dropped her face on her hands. She clenched her hair, and white knuckles showed through masses of chestnut curls. “I can’t fire him because you have a hunch. Why is he off?”
“I’ve got a better suspect for you,” Mike said. “Your cook, Cadwell. He’s got a juvie record. Breaking and entering when he was fifteen.”
Adrenaline rushed through Daniel like electricity.
“I talked to the FBI, too. They say a lot of stalker types get popped for crimes like B&E, peeping and burglary.” A grim smile creased his cheeks. “I’ll take hard facts over your hunches, Daniel. Brian Cadwell is your man.”
Chapter Ten
Not finding anything during the dorm search bugged Daniel. Jason’s attitude incriminated him. Brian’s lies on his employment application about not having a police record incriminated him. Lanny’s no-show possibly incriminated him. Even mousie little Ellen remained a suspect.
Then it hit him. He knocked a fist upside his head. “I’m an idiot! Pinky’s stash.”
Janine and Mike stopped talking. Both blinked owlishly at him.
“His I-love-Janine stash. We know he has your Day-Timer. Chances are he’s collected other souvenirs, too. He’s too smart to keep them in the dorm.”
“Souvenirs?” Janine wrinkled her nose. “What kind of souvenirs?”
Daniel recollected everything he’d ever read or heard about erotomanic stalkers. Much like serial killers who collected souvenirs from victims in order to relive their crimes, erotomanic stalkers often did the same in order to remain close to the object of their twisted affections. “Stuff he’s collected from you. Things you’ve written. Knickknacks, pieces of clothing.”
Color drained from her face. “A hairbrush?”
“That would be quite a treasure. According to his letters, he loves your hair.”
Color returned in a rush, pinkening her cheeks. Her eyes glowed with feverish light. “I lost a hairbrush. Right out of my bathroom! I went nuts looking for it” A shudder rippled through her entire body. “Come to think of it, I’ve lost several items in the past few months. Little things, dumb things. The hairbrush, a bottle of perfume, lipstick, a pocket journal.”
His mouth filled with a nasty sourness. “First thing in the morning, we’re searching the lodge. We’ll search the entire resort inch by inch if we have to. Can you help, Sergeant? If we find the stash, you can lift fingerprints.”
“I’ll clear it with the sheriff.”
With nothing left they could do that night, Daniel and Janine retired to her room. She spent a long time in the bathroom. When she came out, she’d changed into her robe. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her complexion was blotchy. Daniel’s heart ached for her.
Common decency said to vacate her room and leave her be; Pinky dictated otherwise.
“Are you okay?”
“Dandy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not getting a handle o
n Pinky.”
“I haven’t been able to figure out who he is in a year. I don’t know how you expected to do it in a week.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her shoulders hitched. “I hate him so much. He’s forcing me to do things... You don’t know how humiliating it was to search the dorm. I hate people who abuse positions of power. Now I’m one of them.”
“You aren’t like that. Don’t—”
“I put my hands in underwear drawers! I rifled through personal papers.” She clutched the back of a chair and looked ready to fling it across the room. Instead, she hung her head, so damp tendrils of hair fell over her face.
“We’ll find him.”
“Before or after he’s destroyed my life?”
“Before. Get some sleep. You look exhausted.”
She pointed with her chin at the television set. “What are you watching?”
An old movie played. He didn’t recognize any of the actors. “I don’t know.” He aimed the remote at the television set to turn it off.
“Leave it on. If you don’t mind. I can’t sleep.”
He patted the couch cushion. “Have a seat.” Warily she did so. “Put your feet up.”
She used the remote to flip through television channels. When she reached the old movie again, she tossed the remote as if to say, I give up. She lifted her feet onto his lap. The robe fell open to reveal her legs covered by gray sweatpants. Her toenails gleamed with bright red polish.
He began working on her right foot. He used the flats of his fingers to stroke the length of the tendons, manipulating and warming the fascia. “Nice feet. No bunions, no corns. You don’t wear stupid shoes.”
Her eyelids lowered. A thin smile softened her mouth.
“I see wrecked feet all the time. I’m surprised some women can even walk.”
“You have a foot fetish?”
He went to work on her toes, spreading them gently and working his fingers between the joints. She sank farther down on the cushions. “I notice feet. It’s my business. You, my dear, have terrific feet Strong arches, good conformity. Cute toes.” He used both hands to work her ankle and stretch the muscles. He could tell the massage had the desired effect when her foot went as limp as a sleeping puppy.
