They had reached the parking lot. "Nothing. They were mailed from all over the country."
"All written by the same person?"
"As far as we can tell. Handwriting appears to be done by the same person, but beyond that we haven't been able to get anything else. Our lab here went over them and came up empty. I sent the letters over to the FBI lab for a look and they couldn't do much better."
Ted stopped before they reached the terrace steps. "The thing is, 'Lost Loves' is in markets in practically all fifty states. Stations all over the country broadcast it every night on a national network. All the calls came in on the national 800-number."
Jake closed his eyes. 1–800–NIGHT TALK. How many times had he heard Dear Jane call out that number?
"All the letters that came," Ted continued, "were addressed to the network's post-office box, which is announced numerous times throughout the program and can also easily be found on their Web site. When he called, he asked for Jane—you know, Jane Streeter, the name Kristin uses on the show. When he wrote, he addressed all the letters to Jane. We're fairly certain he didn't know who Jane Streeter really was or where to find her, but now, after tonight…" He shrugged, letting his words drift.
Jake could hardly believe what he was hearing. It explained so much. No wonder she had reacted so violently to him earlier; she must have been terrified. She wasn't unfriendly, she was frightened—and she had every reason to be.
"And if he knows where to find her," Jake concluded, "it's just a matter of time before he finds out who Dear Jane really is, if he doesn't know already."
"I've got to find a way to keep her safe, Jake," Ted said in a tightly controlled voice. "And I need your help."
Chapter 4
"I can't do this."
"Jake, you've got to. I need you on this one."
"No." Jake shook his head. "I'm not going to get into this armchair-philosophy-facing-your-fears sort of thing with you."
"Is that what you think this is?"
"That's exactly what it is." Jake paced back and forth between the coatracks, feeling like an animal caught in a trap. "I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work."
"I'm trying to keep Kristin alive," Ted said, his eyes following Jake as he moved. "And I'm asking for your help to do that."
Jake stopped. "You're forgetting what happened the last time I was in charge of protecting someone. I blew it, remember? Or would you like me to call up his widow, have her remind you?"
The storage area behind the hatcheck counter was small and cramped but it was private and out of sight of the wedding guests—and for what they wanted to discuss, they'd wanted no one listening. They'd sent the attendant on an extended break and hung up the Closed sign. They were completely alone. Only the light, lively music from the reception drifted through the array of coats, hats and wraps, a stark contrast to the intensity of emotion that filled the small space.
"I don't need to be reminded of anything," Ted pointed out. "What happened three years ago is over, done with, ancient history. Besides, despite how much you love to beat yourself up about it, the fact is it wasn't your fault. No one suspected Hollywood had someone on the inside. There was no way you could have known, and it's about time you stopped punishing yourself for the incident. You need to put it away once and for all."
"I'm living my life. Maybe it isn't the life you, or the department shrink, or anybody else thinks I should be living, but the fact is, I'm alive." He started pacing again. "That's more than I can say for Ricky or the two good cops who died trying to save him."
Ted was quiet for a moment, watching as Jake walked back and forth. "You know, I take it back. You're not still punishing yourself. You don't have time. You're too busy feeling sorry for yourself."
Jake came to an abrupt halt and stared at Ted, fists clenched. He wouldn't have tolerated that accusation from anyone else.
"So are you finished with the psychoanalysis?" he asked in a tightly constrained voice.
Ted turned away, shaking his head. "Did I tell you Cindy lost her parents when she was in high school? Three weeks before she was to graduate." He walked to one of the racks, resting a hand along the top. "Some guy blew through a red going about sixty and T-boned them in the middle of the intersection. Cindy pretty much raised Kristin after that. Except for a few distant cousins, there was no other family." He glanced back at Jake. "I promised her I wouldn't let anything happen to Kristin. I'm asking you as a favor to help me, Jake. Help me keep my promise to my wife."
Jake felt the anger seep out of his body and his hands go limp. Why was he even bothering to argue. He owed Ted—a lot. Ted had always been there for him and there was no way he could turn him down. But fear had his stomach knotting into a tight ball. He understood how much this meant, not just to Ted and Cindy but to Kristin as well.
Kristin. He thought of the nights he had listened to her on the radio, of that low, sultry voice drifting out along the mountaintop. It seemed impossible to think that at the same time there had been someone else listening, a madman bent on harming her. Ted had told him how remarkable she had been, coping with all this for the last eight months. She had complied with all the restrictions they'd asked of her, curtailing her activities, halting public appearances and changing her daily routines. But Jake had seen the terror in her eyes, he had see the suspicion and the anxiety. Everything in him responded to the threat to her safety. He wanted to protect her, wanted to keep her safe—he just prayed he wouldn't fail again.
"I'm…I'm afraid," he confessed in a whisper.
Ted took the few steps to bring them together, resting a hand on Jake's shoulder. "I know."
"What if I…if I can't—"
"You can," Ted said, not even giving him a chance to finish that thought. "If I had any doubts, I wouldn't ask. This is family—my family. Do you think I'd ask if I had even a shred of doubt?"
Ted's faith in him was almost enough to make him believe too. "Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me about this plan of yours."
* * *
"Where are you taking us?" Cindy giggled as Ted took an abrupt turn in the foyer and steered her toward the door of the hatcheck counter. "What is going on?"
"Come on, we're going in here for a minute," Ted said, opening the door and stepping to one side to allow Cindy and Kristin to pass.
"What?" Cindy laughed as Ted gave her a little push through the door. "What for?"
Kristin started to follow but couldn't quite shake a sense of uneasiness. Ted had found them and hustled them out of the reception, offering very little explanation. She was suspicious but cautioned herself not to overreact, especially given how she'd embarrassed herself earlier with Jake, but something just didn't feel right.
"Jake? What are you doing here?" Cindy asked, spotting him as she walked inside. She turned back to her husband, eyebrow arched. "What are you guys up to?"
Spotting Jake, Kristin came to a dead stop at the door. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"
"What?" Cindy said, confused, her smile faltering. "What are you talking about?"
Kristin's gaze slid from Jake to Ted. "I'm right, aren't I?"
Ted shifted his weight, motioning her inside. "We'll talk in here."
Kristin moved through the door on legs that felt like water. Ted had his "cop face" on now and the sense of dread she felt was almost palpable. But she'd become adept at masking her emotions, had mastered the art of maintaining control when all she wanted to do was fall apart, especially in the last eight months. She had no doubt as she walked into the small open area behind the counter that no sign of the terror that clawed at her stomach showed.
She glanced up at Jake as she entered. There was something about him though, something that made it more difficult to maintain control. It was as if he saw too much, could tap into those thoughts and fears she preferred no one see.
"What is it?" Cindy demanded. She was visibly agitated now and Ted reached for her in an effort to calm her down. "Something terr
ible has happened, hasn't it? Tell me!"
"First I want you to sit down," Ted insisted, leading her to the attendant's chair. "Kristin, let me find you a chair—"
"Ted, for pity's sake, just say it," Kristin snapped. The anger felt good and helped tamp down the fear that wanted to bubble over and consume her. "What the hell is going on?"
Ted glanced up at Jake, then turned back to Kristin. "There's been an assault. Someone at the radio station."
"Oh God," Cindy groaned.
Kristin's body went numb. "Was it him?"
Ted nodded. "We're fairly certain."
The world seemed to shift suddenly then, causing her to lose her balance, and it wasn't until she felt Jake's strong arms around her that she realized she'd been about to faint. There was a blur of noise and action around her, Cindy was saying something but she couldn't seem to concentrate or respond. She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry, or scream or just drift away. The only thing she could be certain of were those arms around her, solid and secure.
"Ted, that chair over there," Jake shouted, nodding to the folding chair leaning against the back wall.
"Just lean on me," Jake told her.
"I'm…I'm fine," she insisted as he helped her to the chair, but she wasn't sure about that at all. She hated being weak, hated that she couldn't stand up to all this on her own. But even as the ringing in her ears subsided, a wave of nausea replaced it.
"Here," Cindy said, shoving a glass into her hand. "Drink this."
She wasn't sure where the ice water had come from, had no recollection of Cindy leaving to get it, but it didn't matter. It felt cool and refreshing going down her throat and seemed to revive her clouded perception.
"W-who?" she stuttered after she'd taken a few sips. "Who was hurt?"
Ted reached into the breast pocket of his tux, bringing out a small tablet.
"Her name is Victoria—"
"Tori Peters," Kristin mumbled, leaning back in the chair. She closed her eyes, picturing the bouncy young woman in her mind—smart, funny, full of life. "Is she…"
"She's in surgery right now," Ted said. "They'll know more once she's out."
"Surgery? Was she shot?" Cindy asked.
Ted shook his head. "Multiple stab wounds to the upper torso."
Kristin groaned. "But why? Why would he want to hurt Tori?"
Ted hesitated for a moment. "She's tall, she's blond. He thought—"
Kristin groaned. "He thought she was me." This couldn't be happening. It just kept getting worse. When was it going to end?
"But I don't understand," Cindy said, pushing Kristin's hair back from her face. "How can you tell it was him? I mean, how do you know it wasn't a random attack?"
Kristin felt the apprehension building and felt sick to her stomach. "Because there's something more, isn't there?"
Ted knelt down in front of her. "He'd mistaken the victim for you. He left…he left evidence at the scene that said as much."
"Evidence?"
Ted's gaze shifted to Jake for a moment. "It's clear this guy isn't fooling around any longer. He means business and we have reason to believe he's going to make another attempt."
Kristin looked from Ted to Jake, and back again. "How can you know that? What's this evidence you found?"
"He left a…communication at the scene," Ted hedged.
"A communication? What kind of communication? A phone call, a note?"
"It's not important," Ted said finally with a dismissive gesture. "Just believe me when I say he's planning another attempt."
"Then we have to do something," Cindy demanded. "You have to find him and stop him."
Ted stood up, taking Cindy by the arm. "That's what we want to do, what we intend to do." He turned to Kristin. "Jake and I have come up with a plan but we're going to need your cooperation to make it work."
"What kind of plan?" Kristin asked. And what does Jake have to do with it was the question she didn't ask.
"Until tonight, we had no way of knowing just how serious a risk this guy presented. It was important to take precautions, to not take any chances, but for all we knew, these could have just been idle threats and all the guy was interested in was getting his jollies thinking he might have frightened you." Ted reached down and gave Kristin's arm a pat. "Now we know that wasn't the case. Now we know how dangerous he is and we're going to have to take some serious steps to ensure your safety."
Kristin thought of the precautions she'd been taking for the last several months—check-ins with her boss and Cindy; circling the block before going home; altering her routes to and from work; not answering her phone—precautions that had all but made her a prisoner in her own life.
"I've done everything you've asked me to," she pointed out. "What more is there?"
Ted straightened up, slipping an arm around Cindy's shoulders. "I want you to go away for a while."
"What?" Kristin leaped to her feet. "What do you mean go away?"
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Cindy said, reaching for her. "Let's hear what he has to say."
"I won't wait," Kristin snapped, pulling her arm back. "I won't discuss it. It's out of the question."
"We're talking about your safety here, maybe even your life," Cindy snapped back. "Nothing is out of the question." She took a deep breath, gathering her control. "Let's just listen."
Kristin glared at her sister, but she knew she was right. After a moment, she turned to Ted. "All right, I'll listen."
"Kristin, this guy isn't playing around, and he seems to know what he's doing. The show is syndicated in markets across the country. Finding the station where it's broadcast couldn't have been easy, but he did it. He also knows what you look like, has probably seen pictures of you on the Internet taken at various awards shows. Also, he's probably watching the studio, or has someone watching it for him, and it's just too risky for you to try and continue doing the show from there."
"Then I'll do the show from somewhere else. I'll talk to Dale, he'll make the arrangements."
"We need to get you away from here, someplace where he can't find you."
"But what about my practice, my clients? Ted, I have people who depend on me, who need my help."
Ted hesitated for a moment, looking to Cindy and giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Well, hopefully it won't be for very long. Maybe you could think of it as a…a vacation."
"A vacation?" Kristin shook her head, tossing her hand in the air and pacing a few steps back and forth. "This is crazy. You're going way overboard here." She stopped, her hands on her hips. "This guy is looking for Jane Streeter, not me. He doesn't know my real name."
"You can't know that for sure."
She turned at the sound of Jake's voice behind her. In the back of her brain she thought of those strong, solid arms and how secure they'd made her feel. "It's not common knowledge."
"Maybe not," he admitted. "But it's not exactly something you can control either. You know how it goes, one person knows—a friend, a co-worker, and they tell someone, who tells someone." He shrugged. "I found out and I wasn't trying."
She couldn't argue with him. She may have told him she didn't like people knowing she was Jane Streeter, that she'd been concerned about protecting her clients who came to see her for help, but the truth was that up until eight months ago she hadn't cared who knew.
"So okay," she conceded, turning back to Ted. "It's a lot more dangerous now. I'll take a lot more precautions—I'll call in every hour, I'll put bars on the windows—whatever."
"You just don't get it," Cindy cried, her voice wavering with emotion. "There's someone out there who wants to hurt you, who maybe wants to kill you. This isn't the time to be thinking about your practice or your radio program. It's the time to start doing what you need to survive."
Kristin sighed, the fatigue of many long, sleepless nights taking its toll. "Cin, I'm sorry. You're right, you're right," she said quickly, reaching for her sister and giving her a hug. Knowing she had upset Cindy only made the situa
tion worse and she just wanted to make it better. "What should I do? Go to a convent somewhere? A desert island?"
Cindy turned to Ted. "Why doesn't she come to Mexico with us?"
"I am not going on your honeymoon with you," she stated flatly.
"Then we won't go," Cindy continued without missing a beat. "I've got the time off work, you can come stay at our place."
"No," Kristin said, stepping back and shaking her head. "You two are going on your honeymoon as planned."
"You expect me to get on a plane and leave now?" Cindy shook her head. "No way."
Kristin looked at her sister. There she stood in her wedding dress, the shoulder-length veil pushed back, surrounding her face like a halo. This was her wedding day, she should be beaming with happiness and hope. Instead, she looked miserable, her face pale and eyes red from tears. Kristin wanted to scream, wanted to pound on the wall, pound on her chest, pound on something in protest. This whole awful nightmare was like a poison in her life, spreading and touching everyone and everything she cared about. Wasn't it enough that a nameless, faceless stranger had made her life into a living hell? Did he have to tarnish the lives of the people she loved as well?
She thought of the young woman in surgery fighting for her life. That should have been her in that hospital bed, not Tori, not lovely, wonderful, innocent Tori. The woman had done nothing wrong, her only crime being that she bore a slight resemblance to her—to Dear Jane.
She reached out and took Cindy's hand again. Now the poison had reached her sister, had turned a bride's smile to tears, marring this wonderful day. It wasn't right. She had to put an end to it, had to stop the poison from spreading before it ruined all their lives.
"You have to go, Cin," Kristin concluded. "It's your honeymoon."
"We can go some other time," Cindy insisted.
"But everything's all planned."
"It doesn't matter," Cindy insisted. "It was only a week, there will be other trips."
"But not like this—"
"Stop!" Ted's voice boomed loudly in the small room, causing them both to be quiet. He picked up the stool from behind the counter and slid it beside the folding chair. "Both of you, sit down."
Night Talk Page 6
