by Brenda Novak
Rachel didn’t respond right away.
Maggie prayed she’d finally convinced her.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said at last and hung up.
Maggie sat for several minutes staring at the phone. She thought of calling Detective Mendez to let him know that she was making progress, then decided against it. She really couldn’t say if Rachel would come through or not. All sorts of things could go wrong. What if she couldn’t find the letters again? What if she couldn’t manage a private moment to copy them? What if she changed her mind? What if, what if, what if! There seemed to be a “what if” attached to everything in Maggie’s life right now. What if the police weren’t watching her house carefully enough and Dr. Dan slipped inside?
What if Nick didn’t love her?
Biting her lip, Maggie turned to her computer. It was time to take care of the second thing on her “dread” list—writing John. Whether Nick returned her feelings or not, Maggie’s conscience demanded she tell John there was someone else, but she didn’t know where to start. The last time she’d “spoken” to him, she’d told him Nick was gay. How he’d become her lover wasn’t going to be easy to explain.
She clicked on the pencil icon and started:
Hi, John—
Your present arrived yesterday, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to open it. I don’t want your sweet gesture to make me feel any guiltier than I already do. Things have changed quite a bit in my love life over the past twenty-four hours. I should have seen it coming, and prepared you, but I didn’t want to admit, even to myself, that there was someone else. Remember that roommate I mentioned? The gay one? Well, he’s actually straight and things have gotten pretty—
What did she say? She couldn’t say “serious.” Nick hadn’t made her any promises.
—intimate between us. I’m very sorry. There are so many things I like about you. You seem kind and loyal and intelligent. I think I could have fallen for you, but there was just this other guy and…I’m sorry. I’ll send your package back unopened. Maybe you can return it and get your money back. Otherwise, I’ll be happy to reimburse you.
If I don’t hear from you again, I’ll understand. Please know I wish you happiness and success in everything you do.
Love, Maggie
Maggie shook her head as she read through her words. Her message sounded terrible, but she didn’t know how to make it any better. She was in love with Nick, and there was no getting around it.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she hit the send button.
“I COULD HAVE FALLEN FOR YOU, but there was just this other guy…” Alone in his apartment, Nick crossed his arms and sat back to consider Maggie’s e-mail to John. He was the other guy. Did that mean Maggie had fallen for the flesh-and-blood version of him?
He certainly hoped so. He’d never experienced anything like last night. He’d made love to other women, but never had he felt such an all-consuming emotional connection, such a desire to join and possess and enjoy forever. Maggie was the one woman who seemed to fit him perfectly, the one he thought he could mow the yard for—on a weekly basis. After drawing so close to her, he no longer feared that at some point he’d need to find the back door. He wanted a commitment, wanted to bind her to him. Bottom line, he wanted to marry Maggie, and once he caught Dr. Dan, he planned to do just that. He’d get a desk job and move to Sacramento. Since he’d met Maggie, traveling appealed to him less and less. He was more interested in fixing up her old house or buying them a new one, if that was what she wanted.
As long as Maggie didn’t hate him too much for all the lies…
Nick steered his mind away from that thought. He couldn’t deal with it now. He had to finish up the investigation, retain his focus. But first, he had to figure out what to do about John. Should he have him get angry at Maggie and not respond? Take him out of the picture completely?
No, not yet, he decided. John had a connection to Maggie that Nick, as himself, didn’t possess. She trusted him, felt safe to tell him anything, and Nick wasn’t ready to give that up.
Dear Maggie—
Keep the present. I bought it for you because I wanted you to have it, and I still do. I understand about your roommate. Sometimes things like that happen when you least expect them. You and I never had any commitments between us, so you don’t need to feel guilty about anything. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and hope we can still be friends.
Love, John
MAGGIE SHOOK HER HEAD as she read John’s message for the second time. He had to be an absolute saint. There wasn’t a hint of anger or reproach in his letter. He acted as though everything was fine, as though he cared about her and always would, regardless of the other men in her life.
“Who’s that from?” Darla asked, leaning over the side of Maggie’s cubicle.
Maggie lowered the volume on the cop radios that crackled on her desk and glanced down the hall to see if Nick had come into the office yet. He wasn’t there. After last night, she couldn’t get him off her mind. She missed him already, wanted to be with him. What was ever going to become of her? “It’s from John,” she said.
“You guys getting along okay?”
“We’re just friends.”
“Friends?” Darla followed Maggie’s second glance toward Nick’s desk and smiled sympathetically. “Okay. Now I see what’s going on. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
Maggie knew she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from Darla for very long so there wasn’t any use denying it now. “Yeah,” she said.
“Does he return your feelings?”
“He hasn’t said.”
“But has he shown you?”
Last night had been special. Maggie had never felt more loved, more cherished. And yet, without the words, she couldn’t say for sure how Nick felt about her. “He got pretty jealous when I went out with Brian Wordelly,” she said.
“That’s a good sign. Was Brian any competition?”
“No.”
“So what are you going to do about Nick? Let him stay at your place indefinitely?”
“I don’t know yet. All I can say right now is that I’m going to give what I feel for him a chance.”
Darla shrugged. “He can’t be any worse than Tim, right?”
Maggie couldn’t help laughing. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“And John seems to be taking the news okay.” She waved at the message on Maggie’s computer screen.
“Yeah, but I feel badly for him. He seems like a great guy.”
The telephone rang and Maggie reached over to answer it. “Maggie Russell.”
“Where’s my article?” Ben demanded.
Maggie shuffled through the papers on her desk and uncovered her most recent piece on Dr. Dan, the one giving the make and model of the car that had followed her the night she’d gone to Darla’s. Ever since she’d learned Dr. Dan had probably been driving the Geo Metro she’d seen in the parking lot at Safeway, she noticed every Metro on the road, regardless of color. “It’s right here. I was just going to turn it in,” she told him.
“I don’t have all day,” he said and hung up just as Maggie’s call waiting beeped. She held up a finger to tell Darla she’d be another minute and switched to the incoming line.
“Maggie Russell.”
At first there was no sound, no breathing, nothing. She thought she’d lost whoever it was and was about to hang up when Dr. Dan’s high-pitched voice came over the line. “Hi, Maaaggieee, you know who this is, don’t you?”
Maggie’s heart lurched in her chest, and a cold chill went through her whole body. It was him, not a message. It was him! “What do you want?” she asked, quickly scribbling down Detective Mendez’s cell phone number and mouthing for Darla to call him. “Why have you been following me?”
“Why do I follow any woman, Maggie? Because you’re a lying, conniving bitch. I sent you a letter and told you to print the truth about the police and what happened in Seattle. So where’s my
article?”
“You’re not going to get one,” Maggie told him. “I decide what I write, not you.”
He laughed softly. “Such a disappointment, pretty Maggie. You’d rather live the lie, just like everyone else, and believe the police can protect you. But they’re idiots, and you’re worse than Lola. You look so good and tease and tempt, and yet, when I get close you turn vile and putrid and vent your stinking anger in my face. But you won’t be able to lie much longer. I’ll fix that and leave you with nothing, not even air to breathe.”
“Stay away from me,” Maggie said. “The police are watching my house. They’ll catch you if you even try to come near. And I’m going to let them tap this phone.”
“It won’t do them any good. The only thing they’ll find is a pay phone. You’re still dreaming Maggie, but it’s time to wake up and know that I could slip into your little house without being seen and come to you in the night. I could caress you, bury myself inside you—”
“No! The police—”
“Won’t stop me, Maggie. I know everything about you and your house. I know where your bedroom is. I know the color of your sheets. I know where you keep your underwear—”
“I won’t believe you. You thrive on terrorizing innocent people, but you don’t scare me,” she lied. “And the truth is you know nothing about me.”
He laughed softly. “Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that, Maggie. We’ll see.”
ZACH FOLLOWED NICK around Maggie’s yard, jabbering at his heels, while Nick used a flashlight to check the flower beds for any sign of footprints. The hot summer days had been dry, but the automatic sprinkling system the previous owner had installed turned the water on at night. If someone had been creeping around, peeking in windows, it was certainly plausible to think he might have left some trace of his visit behind. But Nick didn’t find anything. Not that the absence of a print meant Dr. Dan hadn’t been there. After the call Maggie had received earlier, Nick was sure Dr. Dan had visited her many times. He might even have been inside the house. And now that Dr. Dan was angry, Nick knew he’d be back. He just didn’t know when.
“Did you know a s-s-snail carries-s-s his-s-s home on his-s-s back?” Zach asked, stooping to examine a snail he found in the dirt.
The moon was full and bright, casting everything in a silvery glow, but Nick shined his light on the creature so Zach could see it better. “Pretty convenient way to live, don’t you think?” he said, pulling the light away long enough to check a broken tree branch for threads or fibers.
Zach poked his find with one chubby finger. “I think it would be heavy.”
“Your house certainly would be. I know I wouldn’t want to carry it.”
The boy frowned at the snail. “Me, either. But I think Mrs-s-s. Goober could do it.”
Nick smiled. “Oh, yeah?”
“She’d just put it in her purse.”
“She packs a lot in there.”
“Mrs-s-s. Goober can do anything.”
Except drive, Nick thought, remembering the scrapes and dings he’d seen in the big Cadillac she parked out front. “Come on,” he told Zach. “Mrs. Gruber is expecting me to bring you over so I can go to the office, but I want to check the garage first.”
“Check the garage for what?” he asked, abandoning his snail.
“Anything that’s not supposed to be there.”
“Can I carry the flashlight?”
“For a few minutes.” Nick handed him the flashlight and watched its beam dart everywhere from the ground to the sky to the trees before they’d gone ten steps.
“Hold it steady,” he said when they reached the garage. He put a hand over Zach’s so he could direct the beam long enough to unlock the garage door.
The springs groaned as Nick lifted the heavy wooden panel, but before he could make out the shadowy shapes inside, Zach shined the light directly in his eyes to ask if he could see anything that wasn’t supposed to be there. Momentarily blinded, he stepped back just as something came at them.
Instinctively, Nick threw his body on top of Zach to protect him, and rolled away with him, at last popping up in a defensive stance. But it was only an alley cat. Nick saw its white tail disappear around the corner of the house as he came to his feet.
Stunned and probably a little hurt, Zach was still on the ground. A second later, after the shock wore off, he started to cry.
“Come here, Zach,” Nick said, lifting him up and into his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought…” He didn’t know how to explain to a three-year-old, so he said simply, “It was an accident.”
“No,” Zach cried, adamant. “You did it on purpos-s-se!”
Nick tried not to laugh at the accusing look on Zach’s face and hugged him close, marveling at how wonderful it was to hold him. Zach’s small arms circled his neck and his round, wet cheek was pressed to Nick’s. Evidently Maggie wasn’t the only one making an impact on his heart. Zach was carving out his own place there.
“I would never hurt you on purpose,” he told him. Then he said something he wasn’t completely sure of at first, but as he spoke the words, he knew they were true. “I love you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I’VE GOT THEM.”
Maggie held the phone closer to her ear, more grateful for those three words than for anything else in her life. Rachel Nunez was going to come through. Maggie would be able to call Mendez and turn the letters over to him tonight, and then, maybe, the police would be able to put a stop to Dr. Dan before he made good on his promise to slip into her house.
“How’d you do it?” Maggie asked.
“Lola wasn’t married,” Rachel replied. “So the Independent boxed up her stuff and sent it to her mother. I called and said the police thought there might be something in her files that would help them catch her killer. Her mother and I met once when she picked up Lola for lunch, so she let me come over and go through everything.”
“Hadn’t the police already gone through Lola’s files?”
“Why would they? They thought she’d cooperated with them from the start. Besides, I dug through a lot of boxes. Maybe this was one that came from her house rather than the office. Who knows? Anyway, they’re here now.”
Maggie shoved her hair out of her face and took a deep breath. “Fantastic. Since you’ve got them, I’m sure the police will want the originals to check for prints, but before you send them, can you fax me a copy?”
“I don’t have a fax machine, but my father bought me a scanner for Christmas. I’ll scan them into my computer and e-mail them to you.”
“That’ll work. Thanks, Rachel.”
There was a long pause. “You’re welcome, Maggie. I hope they help.”
Maggie closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. So did she.
“HI, BABE,” Nick said, coming up behind Maggie at the water cooler and slipping his arms around her waist to kiss her neck.
Maggie turned and smiled up at him. “There you are. I’ve been wondering if you were coming in tonight. It’s after eleven.”
“You’re here, aren’t you? Where else would I be?”
“At your other job, I guess. You seem to have booked a lot of weddings.”
Nick felt a twinge of guilt at the reminder of his double life and buried his nose in her hair so he wouldn’t have to comment. She smelled so good. He couldn’t wait to get her home and take off her clothes and—
“What’s that?” he asked, suddenly distracted by the papers she held in one hand.
“Letters to Lola Fillmore from Dr. Dan. My contact in Seattle just e-mailed them to me.”
“What are you going to do with them?”
“Turn them over to the police. Dr. Dan called me tonight, here at work.” She shivered. “Talking to him in person is even creepier than hearing a message. He sounded crazy. I mean, he’d have to be, but it was disturbing to hear that odd quality in his voice.”
Nick tensed but tried to keep his demeanor calm. “What did h
e say?”
“That he can get to me anytime he wants, basically. He prides himself on outsmarting the police. He wants to use the paper—and me—the way he used Lola and the Independent. I’m supposed to portray him as beyond the law, too crafty for the police. But when I told him I wouldn’t write something he dictated, he sort of lost it.”
“Can I read the letters?”
Maggie handed them over, and Nick instantly recognized the same computer font, paper and formal writing style Dr. Dan had used in his missives to the police and FBI.
The first letter disparaged the police in general terms. The second gave the details of how he’d stalked and murdered Tasha Thomas. He’d simply seen her and her husband at the movies, followed them home and watched the house over a period of several days, finally closing in one night when she was alone. He’d chosen her because he found her attractive. That seemed to be the only criterion Dr. Dan used. He killed women he found attractive before they could rebuff him.
The letters were interesting but provided nothing that would significantly help his investigation, Nick thought—until he reached the bottom of the third letter. It described several clues Dr. Dan had left for the Colorado police that they’d missed. Nick remembered some of them being listed in one of Lola Fillmore’s articles, so he was sure James Jenson had already garnered what evidence he could along those lines. What caught Nick’s attention was the fact that Dr. Dan claimed to have been pulled over by police while heading home from the scene of the crime. He said he had blood on his clothes and hands, and that the officer who stopped him didn’t even notice. He simply ran his driver’s license, gave him a speeding ticket and let him go.
“Why do you have that look on your face?” Maggie asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Nick glanced up to see her staring at him and tried harder to cloak his excitement. “What look?”
“I don’t know. You look…pleased, I guess.”
