Her birthday. Thirty years old. “I’ve been trying not to think about it,” Joni admitted Dirk hadn’t said a word. She couldn’t remember whether he even knew it was her birthday. “I’d like to celebrate with the kids, if that’s okay with you. I’ll take them both to school in the morning, too.”
“That would be great.” From the relief in Kadtryn’s voice, Joni realized she must have been feeling stressed.
At the back door came a light, rapid tapping. “That sounds like my neighbor,” Joni said. “I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks again!” Her friend rang off.
Sure enough, it was Celia, her arms filled with small packages. “Happy birthday, Joni!”
“I can’t believe you remembered!” Hoping that she wasn’t going to be late for work but appreciative of her neighbor’s kindness, Joni invited her inside. “What a delightful surprise!”
The older woman smiled, clearly enjoying herself as she presented each parcel in turn. “These are Chinese bean-curd pastries, not too sweet. I hope you like the flavor.”
“I’m sure I will.”
The next package, topped with clear cellophane, contained four round green fruits. “Asian pears,” Celia explained. “You peel them and slice them. They taste like pears but they are crisp.” Next, a box of pineapple-flavored cakes joined the gifts on the table.
Joni thanked her profusely, then said, “I wish I had more time to visit, but my boss must be getting impatient. Could you come over Saturday afternoon for coffee?”
“I look forward to it.” Celia patted her on the arm. “I am so glad they arrested that man. Now you are safe.” She glanced toward the den. “Is your brother-in-law still here?”
“He went to work.” It didn’t seem enough of an explanation, so Joni added, “He’ll be leaving town soon. His business is overseas.”
Her neighbor smiled. “Like my husband. But you are too smart to marry someone who is always gone. Well, I see you Saturday!”
After ushering her outside, Joni collected her purse. She still couldn’t bring herself to take her own lunch, though.
How had Charlie managed to slip inside the hospital on Tuesday and put the fringe in her bag? she wondered. Perhaps he’d been making plumbing repairs.
On the way out, she remembered to set her new alarm system. Yesterday afternoon, she’d been in such a hurry to pick up Jeff for the soccer game that she’d forgotten. It might take a while to get used to this thing, which was ironic considering that her reason for installing it no longer existed.
Fog lay heavy on the ground, and Joni navigated her car with care. On San Bernardo Road, a scarecrow dangling from a tree startled her even though she’d seen it before. In light of the two recent murders, she wished whoever had chosen this ghoulish decoration would display better judgment.
At the hospital, a couple of people stopped her to ask if she’d been hurt yesterday and to express relief about the arrest. It helped the reality sink in that she no longer had to fear being stalked.
Joni’s mood lightened further as she observed the costumes that many of the staff wore for the holiday. Although hospital policy discouraged anything that might interfere with patient care, workers indulged in face paints, shocking hair colors and offbeat sweatshirts.
Black and orange crepe paper festooned the public relations office, Joni noted as she arrived. When Basil padded from his office, she saw that he was chewing an unlit pipe and wearing a Sherlock Holmes cap and a tweed jacket with elbow patches.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It suits you.” She regarded his tall, gaunt frame. He did remind her somewhat of the legendary detective.
He cleared his throat, a sign that he was about to raise a more or less personal issue. “How are you holding up? The radio said you were assaulted.”
“My knees are scraped, but you should see the other guy.” Joni couldn’t help chuckling. “Honest, I gave worse than I got.”
“That’s over, then.” Her boss made a satisfied clucking noise. “In that case—”
“—you can expect me to get the newsletter out on time after all,” she finished for him.
“Er, yes,” he said.
Joni went to work at her computer. She lost track of time until the hospital florist appeared about ten o’clock with a large flower arrangement in black and orange. It was spectacular but, she reflected, a touch creepy.
“Is there a card?” she asked, giving him a tip.
“Right in there.” He pointed to a small orange envelope. “Happy Halloween.”
“Thanks.”
Inside the envelope she found a white card. It read, “Glad they got the killer, but I hope you’ll still consider living on the estate or buying a new house together so I can watch over you and Jeff. Happy birthday!” It was signed, “Herb.”
Joni studied the note with mixed feelings. If money were no object, she’d be happy to consider moving to a different house, but the Peterson mansion retained too many memories of Lowell. She doubted she could ever feel comfortable there.
It was kind of Herb to offer to leave his condo development, where he enjoyed the games and classes sponsored by a senior citizens’ club. And it would be nice for Jeff to have a father figure on the premises. She couldn’t help reflecting that, in fact, he had a father, but one who wouldn’t be around for long. The thought made her chest ache.
In some other lifetime, she and Dirk might have been destined to be together. But not in this one. The chasm between them was too great.
He bore the scars of a youth filled with his father’s tyranny and rejection. Even the death of a woman he loved hadn’t been enough to cure his restlessness.
Had he felt about this woman the way he felt about her? She supposed it was impossible to compare the two relationships at such different points in his life.
What she needed wasn’t a man to lean on at every turn but an unshakable bond with someone she loved. Someone who would be there for her and Jeff when it counted, in the ways that mattered most.
Dirk seemed to think that was what he was offering. But he was holding back the essential part of himself. His love. His intimacy. His commitment.
She wondered how long it would take before she could regard him as someone whose absences didn’t matter, and whose presence brought only mild pleasure. Would that ever be possible?
After setting the flowers on a side table, Joni returned to work. At lunchtime, she made a quick trip to the cafeteria and brought back a sandwich so she could continue editing.
In her distracted state, she had to rewrite more than usual and juggle the layout several times. By late afternoon, several hours of work remained, but at least she would be able to finish by midday Friday. Then she could drop the camera-ready art at Peterson Printing and pick it up on Monday. She would make her deadline. Barely.
By four o’clock, the part-time secretary had left for the day, so when the phone rang, Joni answered it herself. “Public relations.”
“Mrs. Peterson? Detective MacDougall.” Did she just imagine that his voice held an ominous note?
Her hands went cold. “Is something wrong?”
“We’ve released Charlie Rogers.”
She couldn’t believe it. “He made bail?”
“He’s been released on his own recognizance,” the detective said. “I’m afraid the only charges we can bring are simple assault and malicious mischief.”
The receiver nearly slipped from her grasp. “What do you mean?”
“We can’t link him to either of the murders.” A trace of huskiness hinted at the detective’s frustration. “Last Wednesday, at the time your husband was killed, Mr. Rogers was conducting an aerobics class. We have a dozen witnesses.”
Her mind searched frantically. “What about Saturday?”
“He says he was home alone. That’s not much of an alibi, but there’s nothing to tie him to Mrs. DeLong,” the policeman said. “No witnesses, no evidence.”
“His knife?”
“We ran tests. It’s clean.”
She yearned to feel safe a little while longer. “Can’t you hold him for a day or so?”
“He got out half an hour ago.” MacDougall sighed. “I was just informed and I thought you’d want to know.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Numbly, Joni hung up. Into her mind flashed the scene from last night: the isolated soccer field, the eerie shadows from a distant streetlight.
Charlie had threatened her and grabbed her. How could they let him go?
But a man couldn’t be in two places at once. If a dozen students confirmed that he’d been teaching aerobics, she didn’t see how he could have murdered Lowell.
It was time to stop clutching at straws. Unwillingly, Joni forced herself to face the facts.
Charlie Rogers couldn’t be the killer. That meant her stalker hadn’t been arrested.
He was still out there.
Chapter Fifteen
The first of the two potential buyers, a tall, balding man with a handlebar mustache, arrived on schedule at the Peterson estate and proceeded to criticize everything from its winding driveway to the lack of a swimming pool. After a teeth-gritting hour and a half, both Dirk and the real-estate agent were relieved to see him go.
He’d encroached into the second prospect’s time, but that didn’t matter because she arrived late. Very late, towing her mother, her sister, her brother-in-law and two small children.
They loved the property, if only Dirk would agree to sell it for half price. And, in lieu of a down payment, to trade for a property they’d inherited in the Mojave Desert.
Leaving the agent to shoo them away, he drove to the printing plant in an edgy mood. Dirk wasn’t sure what had set him off; the buyers were a pain, but he’d encountered their types before in his various business ventures: the nitpicker and the wheeler-dealer.
He cheered himself by reflecting back to his morning’s review of the company books. Profits had risen steadily, costs had been kept at a reasonable level, and Lowell’s publishing prospectus was exciting.
Best of all, Joni’s stalker had been captured and put behind bars. She and Jeff were safe.
At least with you, I’ll have a phone number. I guess that qualifies as an improvement.
The memory of her words seared Dirk. Joni hadn’t intended to taunt him by comparing him to her runaway father, he felt sure. She’d merely been stating a fact, and that made it all the worse.
How could he reconcile his feelings for her, and for Jeff, with what he knew of his own nature? It would be worse to make a commitment and then break it than to make none at all. But it was also possible, Dirk knew, that he was simply afraid to risk everything on one roll of the dice.
Turning into the parking lot, he headed for his reserved space and nearly drove into the yellow police tape that roped it off. As he hit the brakes, his heart started to race with unexpected anxiety.
Taking a deep breath, he parked alongside the building. He hadn’t given himself a chance to recover from finding Kim’s body yesterday. No matter how tough a man imagined himself to be, a shock like that was bound to affect him.
What kind of a monster was Charlie Rogers anyway? Had he truly believed he would impress Joni by killing her one-time rival?
Mulling over that question, he exited the car and strode inside. When he entered the administrative wing, a stocky man in a tailored suit rose to greet him.
“Maynard!” Dirk shook hands enthusiastically. “What brings you here?”
Maynard Greenburg, a voluble man in his forties, headed a Los Angeles advertising and marketing firm that specialized in adapting promotions to local tastes anywhere in the world. He’d flown to out-of-the-way sites several times to meet Dirk and formulate strategies for boosting new businesses.
“Actually, I had an appointment with your brother,” the man said. “He contacted me about writing a book for him. Your secretary just told me about his death. I’m very sorry.”
“I regret that you had to get the news this way,” Dirk said. “If I’d known about your appointment, I’d have called.”
“It wasn’t on my calendar,” the secretary said apologetically. “Mr. Peterson must have forgotten to tell me.”
“Now that you mention it, I remember recommending you to him,” Dirk told Maynard. “I figured you’d be worth a couple of book ideas at least. Come on in. I apologize for keeping you waiting.”
“No problem. I’m spending a few days in Santa Barbara with my daughter, so I didn’t have to drive all that far.”
“You have messages, Mr. Peterson!” the secretary called as they went into Dirk’s private office.
“Thanks. I’ll look at them later.” He couldn’t wait to go over ideas with Maynard. A writer this inventive and cutting edge would be perfect to help launch the publishing venture.
The discussion flowed. Dirk took copious notes, only wishing he would be on hand to see the project carried to fulfillment. On the other hand, it might take quite a while to find an executive to run the company and serve as publisher, and he would have to fill in until then. Dirk was surprised how much that prospect pleased him.
By the time Maynard departed, he discovered to his surprise that the daylight had gone. So had his secretary, since it was nearly six o’clock.
For the past few days, Dirk had always been aware on some level that he needed to keep tabs on Joni’s safety. Today, he’d cut himself some slack because that was no longer necessary.
Messages. Right.
He punched a command into his computer and the secretary’s notes appeared. First, a major order was expected, and the foreman wanted his approval to reserve sufficient paper stock at the mill. Second, he needed to authorize the annual Christmas merit bonuses.
The third one was from Joni. “They’ve released Charlie Rogers. He has an alibi for last Wednesday.”
Dirk pictured the short-haired man sitting on the grass last night, clutching his injured face and whining. He’d all but attacked Joni and he had a violent history.
Surely the police wouldn’t have let him go unless the alibi was airtight. Their killer, however, might be clever enough to fake an alibi.
He put in a call to MacDougall and got his voice mail. The man had left for the day.
Where was Joni? Dirk tried her house, but the answering machine picked up. A call to the hospital public relations office brought the same result. She must be in transit. There was no reason to believe she faced any immediate danger, and yet...
He glanced out the window and remembered that it was Halloween. Rationally or not, Joni had believed matters would come to a head tonight.
It was also her thirtieth birthday. A turning point, a milestone in her life.
Any man who wanted to possess her badly enough to kill would surely intend to be part of this night. While Charlie’s arrest made everyone complacent, the real killer could have been watching his chance and moving into position.
Joni was in danger, Dirk had no doubt of that. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
CARRYING THE OVERSIZE floral arrangement, Joni hurried down the hospital corridor. In her eagerness to finish screening photographs for the newsletter, she’d lost track of time, and the day-care center closed at six.
She hustled past the auditorium, where the Red Cross had chosen this rather ghoulish night to hold a blood donor clinic. It amused her, when she glanced inside, to see a man in a Dracula costume filling out his paperwork to give blood.
“Joni!”
She glanced up, startled. From the auditorium emerged a white-coated volunteer, none other than Herb.
“Oh, hi!” She smiled at Dirk’s grandfather. “Thanks for the flowers!”
“Need some help with those?”
Joni was about to decline when she realized she really did need help. “Sure. Thanks.”
Herb moved ahead of her to the heavy glass door and propped it open. “I just heard on the radio about them letting that coach go. I think it’s
terrible.”
“Apparently he’s innocent,” she said. “Of murder anyway.” A breeze misted her face, reminding her that showers were expected. The air felt ominously heavy, the way it had last Wednesday. The night Lowell was killed.
The older man relieved her of the flowers and walked beside her between rows of parked cars. “Do you have anything special planned tonight? I thought I might drop by later.”
“That would be lovely.” She stopped beside her sedan. “I’m taking Jeff and Bobby trick-or-treating, but we should be finished by eight. Probably earlier if this rain gets worse.”
“You mean that grandson of mine isn’t planning a special celebration for your birthday?” he asked.
Joni fished the key from her purse. Herb was perceptive enough to have noticed that she and Dirk were far from indifferent to each other, but she hoped he didn’t guess how involved they’d become.
“Not that I know of.” After setting the flowers in the passenger seat, she slid behind the wheel. Herb closed the door and leaned on it, watching her.
“Joni, I want to talk to you about the future,” he said. “Your plans, I mean.”
If she were more than ten minutes late to fetch the children, the center would bill her extra. A lot extra.
“I’m sorry but I’ve got to pick up the boys. Can we talk later? Please?” She turned the key in the ignition.
Nothing happened. Not even a click.
Joni’s stomach sank. She tried again. Still nothing.
Urgently, she considered her options. A jump-start? A cab?
“I’ll give you a ride,” Herb said.
“Aren’t they depending on you at the blood drive?” she asked.
“We can pick up the boys and I’ll drop you off at home,” he said. “I’ll be back before anyone notices I’m gone.”
She didn’t feel right, taking him away from his volunteer duties. During the hospital’s blood drives, the early evening hours were always the busiest.
Down the aisle cruised a white minivan with black and silver racing stripes. With a rush of relief, Joni recognized it, and the driver. “That’s Bobby’s dad!”
His Secret Son Page 17
