Dear Maggie

by Brenda Novak

  No open windows. No overturned furniture. No filthy words spray-painted on her walls—sometimes she hated her imagination.

  Her heels clicked hollowly on the hardwood floor as she opened the windows that had bars. Then she returned to her bedroom where she stripped off her clothes and shoes, cranked up her air conditioner and climbed into bed. John had stood her up last night, but she didn’t want to think about that. Maybe something had come up. Maybe he forgot. There could be a thousand good excuses….

  But she’d been frightened and had wanted to talk to him and he hadn’t been there. She’d spent her night staring at the face of a murderer as she’d written her piece about Dr. Dan, a man who’d called her and used her name with terrifying familiarity.

  Sleep, Maggie ordered herself. The longer she stayed awake, the more noises she’d hear and the more frightened she’d become. If she didn’t drift into unconsciousness soon, she ran the risk of dwelling on Lola Fillmore again. When Maggie first got to work, she’d used the Internet to dig up a few more details about the other woman’s murder. She’d read every article Lola had written, poring over the ones about Dr. Dan; she’d even e-mailed Lola’s editor.

  His response had arrived just before she left the office, and it had been particularly disturbing….

  Don’t! That was her, not me. It’s not going to happen! The police will catch him before—

  The front porch creaked beneath a footfall.

  Maggie froze, her heart beating loud in her chest. Had she imagined it?

  No. There was a muffled bump, another creak, then nothing for several seconds. Finally the sound of movement beyond her window sent chills racing up her spine. A twig snapped. Grass rustled. Whoever had been on the porch was now moving to the back of the house. Checking the windows? Looking for a good point of entry?

  Fortunately, the back door was locked. But what if Dr. Dan simply broke a window? Would Mrs. Gruber hear? Would anyone hear?

  Maggie grabbed the phone by her bed and heard the reassurance of a dial tone. She was just about to dial 9-1-1 when there was a loud knock. Surprisingly enough, it came from the front door.

  “Maggie? Are you home? It’s Nick.”

  Nick? Maggie hauled in a deep breath, letting relief settle over her like a warm quilt, and hung up the phone. Nick hadn’t been at the paper last night, and she’d wondered about him, but as long as reporters or photographers remained productive and did quality work, they enjoyed flexible hours. She’d assumed he was catching up on his sleep—until she pulled on a robe and opened the door. Then she saw how exhausted he looked. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, a wrinkled shirt on his back and three suitcases at his feet.

  Her jaw dropped. “You have luggage,” she said.

  He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, uh, I was going to talk to you about that.”

  “It’s after five in the morning!”

  “Exactly the reason I didn’t call first.”

  “You nearly scared me to death.”

  He stabbed a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just walked around the house to be sure everything was okay.”

  Maggie flipped back her sleep-tousled hair, wishing she’d gathered it into a ponytail before going to bed. She was hot enough without the weight of it on her neck. “The house is locked up tighter than a drum. The fact that I’m melting is proof of it.”

  “There are worse things than melting,” he said.

  “Being scared out of your wits is one of them. You haven’t mentioned why you’re here.”

  He glanced down at his feet. “My girlfriend kicked me out.”

  “Your what?”

  “My girlfriend. We’ve been on the rocks a long time, and tonight things just kind of came to a head.”

  Maggie tried to ignore the quick burst of jealousy that shot through her. She hadn’t known about any girlfriend. But she’d never asked, either, and the fact that Nick had been living with someone would certainly explain his tame love life over the past three years. “You tried to date me,” she said indignantly.

  “Like I said, things have been over between Shelley and me for a long time. We had hopes at the beginning. She moved out here from Connecticut and talked me into following her, but after the first few weeks, we knew the relationship wasn’t going to work. Since then, we’ve basically been cohabiting, but she’s found someone else, and our arrangement’s come to an end. She brought him home with her last night.” He hooked his hands on the doorjamb above them and leaned forward, his gaze settling on her mouth. “Besides, if I remember right, you turned me down every time I asked you out. I’ve never so much as kissed you.”

  Maggie thought the dance they’d shared was pretty sensual—the way he was looking at her now reminded her of the desire it had stirred low in her belly—but she supposed that was proof of her naiveté. He’d probably felt nothing. “No harm done, is that it?”

  “No, it’s simpler than that. I just need a friend.”

  “Why me?” she asked.

  “I’ve lived in Sacramento less than four months. Shelley’s about the only other person I know.”

  “Is that why you were talking about leaving when we were down by the river?”

  “Yeah, I was considering moving back to—” he paused “—Connecticut.”

  “And now?”

  He shrugged. “I still might. In either case, I’d only need to stay with you a couple of weeks, just until I decide. Then I’ll get my own place or head back.”

  Maggie glanced at the biceps that bulged beneath the short sleeves of his T-shirt and the golden skin she could see wherever his clothes didn’t cover, and took a deep breath. She wasn’t opposed to helping a friend, especially for such a short time, but calling Nick Sorenson friend felt a lot like dressing a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He’d drive her crazy with that crooked smile and those perfect buns and—

  “Where will you sleep?” she asked.

  “You’ve got a couch, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, but that wouldn’t be very comfortable. I guess you could sleep in Mrs. Gruber’s room until this thing with Dr. Dan is over. She’s keeping Zach at her place at night until then. But what about the bathroom? I only have one shower.”

  “I guess we’ll have to share.”

  “Take turns, you mean?”

  His smile gained meaning. “Right. That’s what I meant, take turns.”

  “It’ll be a tight fit.” Surely they’d brush past each other, wearing nothing but a towel now and then….

  “Think of the positive side,” he said. “Now you won’t be alone when you get home from work.”

  With Dr. Dan on the loose, that point held considerable merit. Let’s face it, Maggie thought. Some things are more important than emotional well-being. Preserving life and limb was one of them.

  “I’ll pay this month’s rent,” Nick was saying, “and my half of the other bills, of course. And I’ll be happy to baby-sit Zach sometimes if I’m available. I’ll do my own laundry and pick up my own stuff and…” He hesitated for a moment. “I’ll provide dinner three or four nights a week, but I can’t promise I’ll cook it. Good enough?”

  Maggie raised her brows. He’d had her the second she saw his suitcases. She could never turn away someone who had nowhere else to go, but he was right: there were some definite advantages. He was offering monetary compensation, the reassurance of his physical presence and baby-sitting for Zach. The only negatives Maggie could foresee included telling Darla, having her mother assume she was living in sin—and the possibility that at some point she’d succumb and actually would be.

  “You’ll have to sleep on the couch until I talk to Mrs. Gruber and get her room cleaned out for you,” she said, “but that should happen later today.” She stepped out of his way and motioned him in. “Welcome home.”

  “OH, MY GOSH!”

  Maggie woke to the sound of those words spoken on a screech. She realized almost immediately that one of the negatives she’d anticipated when she let Nick move in
three hours earlier had already been accomplished. Darla was in her living room. And she’d just discovered Nick.

  Click, click, click. High heels tapped down the hallway, coming at double speed. Then Darla flung the door open and stood there, eyebrows cocked, hands on her hips. When she saw that Maggie was awake, she stepped inside and shut the door, and for the first time Maggie regretted giving her a house key.

  “I guess you don’t tell me anything anymore, is that it?”

  Maggie struggled to wake up enough to speak without slurring her words. “Darla, what are you doing here? It’s eight o’clock in the morning. Why aren’t you on your way to work?”

  “After that message you received yesterday, I was worried about my best friend, so I decided to drop in, that’s why. Because I thought we were best friends. But that was back when we told each what was going on in our lives.”

  Covering a yawn, Maggie struggled into a sitting position. “You wanted me to wake you up at five o’clock this morning to tell you Nick Sorenson was standing on my porch with his suitcases?”

  “That’s how it happened?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “But why? What’s he doing here?”

  Maggie related the story Nick had given her, and Darla rubbed her hands. “Hot damn! He’s available. And he’s here, sleeping on your couch!”

  “Shh. He can probably hear you,” Maggie admonished. Then, in a softer voice, “Nick and I are just friends, Darla. That’s all we’re ever going to be.”

  “Only because you won’t give him a chance. I keep telling you, you’re crazy—”

  “The friends part was actually his idea. He’s thinking about moving back to Connecticut and just needs a place to stay for a few weeks, that’s all.”

  “And you’re making him sleep on the couch?”

  Maggie tucked her hair behind her ears in hopes of straightening out the wild mess. “I’m not making him sleep anywhere. We have an arrangement.”

  “I think I could negotiate a better deal. Want my help?”

  “No.” Maggie laughed. “I have Zach to think about. And Mrs. Gruber. Because of Dr. Dan, she’ll be glad to know there’s a man in the house, but I need this arrangement to be on the up-and-up. How are things with Reese?”

  “So far, so good. We watched Gladiator together last night. How was your cyber-date with John?”

  “He didn’t show.” Hearing the disappointment in her own voice, Maggie injected a positive note. “But maybe there was a good reason.”

  Darla’s face showed sympathy. “Yeah, maybe he was in a car accident or something, Mags. You never know.”

  “Jeez, are you still mad at me about Nick? A car accident—is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It would make me feel better if I was the one he stood up,” she said, shrugging. “What about work? How’d that go? You haven’t received any more threatening messages, have you?”

  “Not last I checked.” Maggie didn’t add that she hadn’t checked since the police left yesterday afternoon. If by any chance Dr. Dan had called her back, she didn’t want to hear.

  “Okay, well, I have to go. I’m going to be late as it is.” Darla flashed Maggie a wide smile. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  In the aftermath of Darla’s whirlwind visit, Maggie sat on her bed in a daze. Sleep. She needed more sleep. Working nights, she never seemed to get enough. But now that she was awake and daylight was glimmering cheerily around her blinds, she remembered the e-mail Lola Fillmore’s editor had sent—and felt the need to dig a little deeper.

  Stumbling out of bed, she signed on to the Internet, determined to get right to work and not take time to search for a message from John. But her resolve lasted all of two seconds. Her computer informed her she had mail, and she immediately skimmed through the list of senders, stopping only when she saw his screen name near the bottom.

  Maggie—

  I’m so sorry about our date. I got caught up at work. Please forgive me. I’ll make it up to you.

  Love,

  John

  How should she respond? Should she respond?

  “What was up with Darla?”

  Startled, Maggie turned and saw Nick. Wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans, he leaned against her door, arms folded across a bare chest. Dark blond hair, the same color as that on his head, swirled above his pectorals, then darkened as it thinned and trailed down toward his navel. His hair was mussed, his jaw shadowed with stubble, but all in all, he made a pretty good picture.

  Steeling herself against the sudden flutter in her stomach, Maggie said, “Nothing.”

  “Are you kidding?” he asked. “She gaped at me as though she’d never seen a man sleeping on a couch before.”

  “Well, in her defense, she’s never seen a man sleeping on my couch.”

  Nick gave her a skeptical look. “From what I’ve heard her say, she’s never seen a man sleeping on hers, either, not if she can put him to better use.”

  Maggie laughed in spite of herself. “Darla’s a free spirit. She doesn’t let much get in the way of what she wants, but she’s not as easy as you might think.”

  “Why are you up so early? Can’t you go back to sleep?”

  “I’d like to, but I’ve got work I should be doing.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then why the frown?”

  Maggie sighed. “I was just checking my e-mail. I had a date last night with a guy who stood me up. He’s written to say he’s sorry, but I can’t help thinking that if he really cared about me, he would’ve found the time to send me a quick message saying he needed to reschedule.” She rested her chin on one fist and gazed up at him. “What do you think? Are guys usually sincere with this kind of thing? Or should I forget about him?”

  “Anybody can make a mistake,” he said. “I wouldn’t automatically say you should forget about him.” He cleared his throat. “What does his message say?”

  Maggie read John’s message aloud.

  “This is the John you told me about? The one you met online?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he seems like a decent guy. I’d definitely believe him.”

  Considering, Maggie chewed on her lower lip.

  “How well do you like him?” he asked.

  “Sometimes I like him a lot.”

  He grinned. “Better than me?”

  “I’m not going to answer that. The two of you are nothing alike.”

  Nick coughed into his hand. “Really? How are we different?”

  “You just are.”

  “I take it I wouldn’t compare favorably.”

  “He’s just more my type.”

  “Oh, we’re back to types, huh? Maybe it’s time we talked about stereotypes.”

  Maggie stood to face him. “I’m not stereotyping you.”

  “Then what do you have against me? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I know. We’re friends.”

  “You don’t think I meant what I said that night on the porch. You don’t think I’ll respect my boundaries, is that it?”

  How could she when his eyes said one thing and his mouth said another? “I think you’ll respect the boundaries as long as I make you.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Want me to prove it?”

  “Give it your best shot.”

  Stepping closer, Maggie pressed her palms flat against his bare chest. He felt every bit as good as she’d imagined—no, even better. She let her hands slide up and around his broad shoulders to lock behind his neck. His hair tickled her knuckles, and the look on his face grew shuttered, unfathomable, but when he didn’t react, Maggie almost lost her nerve. Deep down, she was still the tortured, shy girl she’d been in high school, wasn’t she? She had no business doing this. Except that her marriage, her divorce, her profession had taught her to confront her fears. And she’d seen the desire in Nick’s eyes. He’d confessed to wanting her….


  Standing on tiptoe, she brought her lips to his and he…did nothing.

  “Satisfied?” he asked when she pulled away.

  Satisfied probably wasn’t the word Maggie would have chosen, but she finally believed him. He was serious about the boundaries he’d drawn.

  “I guess,” she said, finding it difficult to look him in the eye. She’d felt a pull when she touched him and had to admit, at least to herself, that she’d never so badly wanted a man to make some sort of move. But evidently she’d been wrong about the desire in his eyes, wrong about his sincerity a few nights ago when he’d said he wanted her. He’d obviously felt nothing when she’d kissed him, which meant, as far as her new roommate was concerned, that she had nothing to worry about.

  Which was good news, right?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  STEPPING OUTSIDE Maggie’s bedroom, Nick closed his eyes, curled his hands into fists and took a steadying breath. The feel of Maggie’s lips against his mouth was still with him, along with the softness of her breasts brushing his bare chest through the thin fabric of her tank top. Two strides, only two strides, and he could pull her back into his arms. Except this time he’d crush her to him and let his hands delve beneath her shirt to massage the soft skin he knew he’d find there—

  No! Nick shoved the resolve-weakening image from his mind and, by the slimmest of margins, held on to his self-control. Remembering Irene helped. Irene crying, surrounded by the gifts they’d received for their wedding…He still felt terrible for putting her through such hurt and humiliation. Especially because he didn’t entirely understand why he’d backed away from her. He’d thought he was committed. He’d thought he could marry her. He should have been happy to have her as his wife. She was an intelligent, lovely woman, and she’d waited nearly two years for his proposal. But for some reason, when it came right down to it, he simply couldn’t walk up to the altar and promise her the rest of his life.

  At least he knew his limitations now. He wouldn’t leave Maggie crying.

  Heading back to the living room, Nick yanked on his T-shirt and gathered his beeper and cell phone. It was mid-morning. He worried less about Dr. Dan hurting Maggie during the day than when she was coming home in the dark predawn. Now that he’d be staying at her place and could protect her during those hours, he felt calmer about the whole situation, but he’d continue to have a squad car drive past the house a few times per hour to keep an eye on her so he could get back to work. Steve Ritter had given him a list of his wife’s associates, and he’d spoken to most of them, but a few had been out of town or were otherwise unavailable. He hoped they could provide a clue—something she said or did in the days before her death—that might bring him a step closer to her killer. He also wanted to listen one more time to the recording Mendez had made of Dr. Dan’s message to Maggie, just in case he’d missed a subtle hint or inflection that might spin the investigation in a new direction. Now that Dr. Dan’s face was in the paper, he hoped the tips would come rolling in….