Guarding Jess

by Shannon Curtis

  “We need to call Detective Carmichael, and get forensics out here.”

  Drew nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

  * * *

  Drew sat down at the dining table in the apartment he was renting. He glanced over to the sofa. Jessica sat there, a shell-shocked expression on her face. A police officer had just taken her statement, along with the bagged bouquet of roses, and she was clinging to Tomcat like a sailor hanging on to flotsam, adrift in a storm. The woman looked in serious need of a hug. He glanced briefly at Noah. Apparently his friend was too dense to notice.

  He sighed. The stuff on the bathroom ceiling was blood. They weren’t sure if it was human or animal blood yet, but it was definitely blood.

  He turned his attention to Jessica. She shuddered. He could only imagine what must be going through her mind. Her home had been breached. This sicko had invaded her sanctuary. He’d defiled it. From what he’d observed back at the office, the capable Ms. Pennington could handle problems and stresses—but this was different. Up until now, the closest this guy had gotten was outside her window, and calling her at the radio station. Tonight had proved that it didn’t matter where she was, who she was with, he could get to her.

  She lowered her face into Tomcat’s fur, as though seeking comfort, and Drew looked away. Both he and Noah had shared a relieved look when she found that cat. The possibilities of what this psychopath could have done to the animal were best left unsaid.

  “Jess, are you all right?” A deep voice rumbled from the other side of the room. Noah had returned from escorting the police officer to the door. Jessica’s head lifted.

  Oh, hello. Drew watched the unspoken exchange between his taciturn friend and the pretty target. Noah was staring down at her, concern evident in his gaze, in the hand he placed on her shoulder. And Jessica had some sort of look that showed her regard for his friend might not be totally professional. Interesting. Drew leaned back in the chair and folded his arms, prepared to observe. His friend wasn’t normally gentle. And Jessica was looking at him with something more than polite restraint.

  She nodded.

  “Why don’t you turn in for the night?” Noah suggested gently, gesturing to the second bedroom off the living room. Drew’s eyes widened slightly. Wow. His friend almost sounded nice.

  She looked around. “What about the officer?”

  Noah shook his head as he sat down on the sofa next to her. “He’s finished with us for tonight. I’ve given him a copy of the security film, he’s got the flowers and the note, and he’s taken your statement. Why don’t you get some rest?”

  Drew chewed his cheek. Noah’s arm rested on the back of the lounge, and Jessica looked like she just wanted to burrow into his side. Oh, yeah, these two were so focused on each other, he could jump up on the table and dance naked, and they still wouldn’t take any notice of him. He turned to his computer. Well, while they were getting all close and personal, he’d check out the security footage again. He’d already made a copy and given it to the police. There was somebody at the front door, placing the flowers on the doorstep, but nothing else had stood out. Hopefully, upon closer inspection, they’d figure out who the SOB was, and how he had gained entry to Jessica’s secured home. Noah was good. Drew couldn’t understand how the guy had managed to get past Noah’s impressive defenses. He’d even installed some security measures that Drew hadn’t thought of.

  “What about the blood?” Jessica asked hoarsely.

  Drew looked up in time to see Noah’s large hand drop to her shoulder, and Jessica closing her eyes at the contact.

  “We’re taking care of it. Once the crime scene unit is finished taking evidence, we have a cleaning crew set to go in.” Noah’s tone was gentle. Aw, the big guy is smitten.

  She nodded. “Was anything on the security footage? Did you see who did this?”

  “We’re about to go over it again. We can see someone dropping the flowers off, but then he leaves. There isn’t anything else to show how he got in.” Noah’s gaze flicked to Drew’s. He saw the reluctance, the frustration in his friend’s eyes. Noah sighed, and he rubbed her shoulder, as though trying to warm her.

  “Can I see it?”

  Noah nodded. “Sure. Come on over.”

  Drew watched as they both approached, close on so many levels. He turned to the laptop and set the recording to Play.

  There was silence in the room as all three watched the footage. Drew hit Pause when the dark figure approached the front door with the flowers. He quickly catalogued a description. Average height, a little overweight. The guy wore a hooded sweatshirt that cast a shadow over his face.

  Noah leaned closer. “Is that the best we can get?”

  “Let’s see.” Frame by frame, Drew advanced the footage. The man bent over and placed the flowers on the step, then moved in a smooth turn that kept him low and hunched as he turned away and departed. Drew stopped and rewound the recording, playing it repeatedly. It took mere seconds for the dark figure to drop off the flowers and leave. He shook his head.

  “It’s almost like he just wants to drop and run. I don’t think he knows the camera is there, but I’m not getting much of an image of his face.”

  “Can we clean it up, at all? Enlarge it, enhance it somehow?” Noah asked.

  Drew nodded. “We can, but not with this equipment. I’ll email a copy back to HQ and get Ryker to take a look at it.”

  “Send a copy direct to Detective Carmichael. Someone in the lab might be able to do something.”

  “What about when he breaks in?” Jessica asked. “Is there a better image then?”

  Drew glanced at Noah. They had to tell her. Sooner or later.

  Noah shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he turned to her. “We can’t find him doing that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The footage shows nobody entering your home except for us.”

  “But how can that be? He had to get in somehow.” Her voice rose in pitch.

  “True, but it appears that however he did it, he avoided the cameras.”

  Jessica blinked. “How?”

  Noah grimaced. “We can’t tell, yet. We’ll go over the footage some more to make sure it hasn’t been interfered with. We’ve done the same with the alarm. It hasn’t been tripped, it hasn’t been cut.”

  “How can he enter my home if not through the doors or windows?” She blinked rapidly, and Drew realized she was close to tears. “He’s like a ghost. We’ve got him on tape, but can’t see him at all. Nobody ever sees him leaving the letters. We can’t trace his calls. And he can come and go from my home as he pleases, and nobody can do anything.” Her voice rose slightly at the end. She took a deep breath. Drew shifted. He felt as though he’d let her down, so he could only imagine what Noah must be feeling.

  Noah moved closer on the sofa as he tightened his hold on her, hugging her to his side.

  “He isn’t a ghost, Jess. We will find this person.”

  She nodded. She looked like she believed him, as though she had every faith in Noah.

  “I need to ask you something.” Noah’s tone was awkward, uncertain. Drew watched with interest. He’d never seen the big guy awkward. Whatever he thought he needed to know, it must be a doozey.

  “Oh?” Jessica’s wariness showed she was thinking along the same lines. Her grip must have tightened on Tomcat, because the feline wriggled in her arms. She let him go.

  “The majority of stalkers are usually rejected ex partners or lovers of the victim, and things start slowly and escalate, usually after a break-up or a divorce.”

  Drew stiffened. Oh, no. He’d done all the background checks on the names on the list supplied by her receptionist, as well as those he’d turned up in his own investigation. He had a feeling he knew what Noah was about to say.

  Jessica’s ex
pression was a combination of panic and embarrassment. “But I haven’t broken up with anybody.” She kept her voice low, as though she was struggling for control.

  “I haven’t been divorced. I haven’t even been married.” A dry laugh slipped out. “I can’t even remember the last time I went on a date.” Her eyes closed and her cheeks flooded with color.

  Noah nodded, oblivious. “Exactly. We’ve picked through your background. There are plenty of men in your past, but they all seemed to have successfully moved on.”

  Drew blinked. Ow. So he was implying she slept around, but only with men who didn’t really care for her. He closed his eyes. Oh, man.

  He heard Jessica take a deep breath, and he opened one eye to watch. This was like a car-wreck—terrible, horrible, yet strangely fascinating to watch.

  Her face was pale, and she wore a hurt, stunned expression. “Oh?” she squeaked.

  Noah nodded. “Nobody stands out as a possible suspect. None of them are pining for you. None of them seem to fit the mold.”

  Jessica scowled. “Oh, because I can’t inspire that kind of devotion, is that it?”

  Drew winced. Uh-oh. Noah looked wary and puzzled at the same time, as though he was only just beginning to realize he’d upset her, but had no clue as to how.

  “Uh, no, I just think we need to broaden our search. I think we need to look at all of your current clients, instead of your past contacts.”

  Jessica’s lips pursed. “Because we’re all hiding something, isn’t that right?”

  Noah nodded. “Pretty much. All your clients come to you to compensate for something, and to hide it from others. Everyone has something to hide.”

  Drew dropped his head to the table. Oh, this is worse than bad.

  “I don’t want to hear it, Noah. I know you think we’re all fake, that we’re all insincere and masking something dark and hideous—” Jessica gritted.

  “Are you defending your crowd?” Noah’s voice was incredulous, and Drew wanted to go over and gag his friend, before he put his other foot into it. He looked up.

  Jessica and Noah were standing toe to toe, chins jutting forward. “My crowd?” Jessica’s voice was low. Noah nodded.

  “Yes, your friends. All those people you’re so keen to impress, who hide their real nature behind fake smiles.”

  “My friends? Wow.” Jessica’s hands went to her hips as she shook her head. “You really do have a very low opinion of me and my ‘friends.’”

  Drew wanted to hide under the table at the hurt he heard in the woman’s tone. He covered his eyes.

  “I think I’m going to go to bed now.” Jessica’s voice was quiet. Steady. Drew peered through the gaps in his fingers. “Have fun playing solitaire with those blasted cards.” She turned around and stormed to the door, where she halted. “Oh, and you might want to check out Hamish Stewart.”

  She left the room.

  “Why?” Noah called out.

  She didn’t bother to turn back. “Because I thought I saw him in the street when you tackled AJ.”

  Noah stared after her in silence. After a moment he turned around to stare at Drew. His stunned expression was almost comical.

  Drew shook his head. “I’m amazed you ever get laid, dude.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Drew sauntered casually down the hallway at KTFA, looking into the offices as he passed, nodding occasionally as he went. All clues were pointing to KTFA as the home of the stalker, and he was here to find out more. His eyes paused on a pretty blonde by the photocopier. Hmm. Nice. He winked, and grinned at her blush and answering smile. Oh, yeah.

  “Hi there,” he said as he stepped into the office. He noticed the sheaf of papers she held in her hand. It looked like the same stock used by the stalker. He glanced at the wall. There were about twenty pigeon holes, all with different colored paper, including the red color the stalker seemed to favor. Interesting.

  She smiled, not bothering to hide her inspection of him. “Hi, yourself,” she responded. He came a little closer, dragging his hand along the wall. He indicated the photocopier. “Busy?”

  She glanced down at the machine, and grimaced. “Not really. Just one of those mundane jobs,” she said.

  He grimaced. “I know what that’s like. Sorry, I’m new to San Francisco. Are you one of the on-air celebrities?”

  She flicked her blond hair over her shoulder. “No. I’m Angie, the P.A. I’m just popping in to run off a couple of program schedules.” She placed the pile on top of the machine.

  He nodded. He gazed about. There was no restriction on who could access the room, or when, from the looks of things. Staff could come and go as they pleased.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, suggestively. She took a step closer. Drew’s eyes traveled down the petite woman’s frame. She was an attractive woman, but he had to remind himself he was here on the job. Work, not play. He glanced back at the hall.

  “Well, uh, actually, I was looking for Julie Grimshaw.”

  The woman nodded. “She’s at the end of the hall.”

  Drew nodded. “Ah.” He leaned on the photocopier, shifting his stance so that he was closer to the woman’s shorter height. “So, it must be pretty exciting, working with all these radio celebrities, huh?” He lifted his chin toward the door.

  The woman grimaced. “Yes, and no. Most of them are nice.”

  “Who isn’t?” He was here to find out if anyone had a grudge against Jessica. Could this woman help him?

  She looked down. “I shouldn’t say. It’s not nice to gossip,” she whispered.

  He grinned. “Somehow, Angie, I get the impression that you hear and see a lot.”

  Angie laughed, then drew her pouty bottom lip between her teeth. “Oh, you have no idea,” she breathed.

  Drew felt his body harden, and he forced himself to focus on the job. “Come on, fess up, who’s not as nice as they make out?” he asked conspiratorially.

  Angie’s mouth lifted in a teasing smile. “Oh, well, Sonia Souto on the breakfast shift can be a bit of a diva,” she said.

  Drew’s eyebrows rose. He’d never heard of the woman. “Really?”

  Angie nodded. “Uh-huh. And Clive Parker, the newsreader?”

  Drew nodded, his eyes on the woman’s animated face.

  “He’s not quite ready to step out of the closet, and tries to be extra macho to hide it,” she whispered.

  “Wow. Really?” He made a mental note not to confide in this woman.

  Angie grimaced. “Yeah, and then there is Hamish Stewart. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women, but he’s so rude. And everyone knows he’s got it bad for one of the other guest speakers, but is such a pig he won’t get anywhere with her.”

  Hmm, interesting. Jessica had told Noah something along the same lines. “What makes you say that?”

  Angie checked behind him. Drew turned. They were alone. He turned back to Angie.

  She cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he used to be married.”

  Drew arched an eyebrow. “Uh-huh?”

  Angie nodded. “Yeah, but he’s divorced now, and apparently it was really nasty.” Her hand fluttered between them, and Drew couldn’t help the smile that tweaked his lips. Angie looked like she loved gossip, and was so happy to indulge whenever she could, and her excitement was almost contagious.

  “How nasty?” he asked, lowering his head closer to her.

  Her big brown eyes widened, thrilled at his attention. “Oh, mega nasty. He was obsessed with her, kept claiming she was cheating. Followed her around to prove it.” She checked the hall again, and lowered her voice. “She ended up getting a restraining order against him.”

  Drew’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, now that’s interesting.” Hamish Stewart sounded like the typical reje
cted suitor-turned-stalker. Had he dated Jessica? Had she shut him down, and unwittingly presented herself as a challenge? Or did the guy think, in some twisted, warped way that because he and Jessica worked together that they had a stronger relationship?

  Angie nodded. “Uh-huh. Like I said, he can get really nasty.”

  Drew shook his head. “It’s always a shame when a marriage disintegrates into that.”

  She shifted closer, her eyes touring his tall frame. “So, you’re new to San Fran, huh? Do you need a guide?” There was a definite suggestion in her words.

  Drew’s lips curved in a slow smile. “I’m not sure how long I’m in town for.” His gaze tripped down her curvy figure, and he sighed regretfully. “But I have to go find Ms. Grimshaw, now.”

  Angie cocked an eyebrow. Her hand slowly moved down the side of her body. Drew couldn’t help but follow the movement as she reached into the front pocket of her skirt and slowly pulled out a small metallic case. She flicked the tab open, and removed a business card.

  She stepped closer. Her arm reached behind him, and he sucked in a breath when he felt her hand sliding the card into the back pocket of his jeans. “Let me give you my number, just in case you decide you want someone to show you around.” She patted his butt, kissed him on the cheek, swept up the papers and walked away, her hips swaying.

  Drew swallowed. Hoo-yeah, he loved the women in San Francisco.

  He grabbed a sheet of the red paper and stuffed it into his jacket pocket for a later comparison with Jessica’s letters. He shook his head as he walked out of the photocopying room. Hoo-yeah. He caught sight of Angie walking down the hall. She gave a quick smile over her shoulder, then disappeared around the corner.

  That damn business card felt hot and heavy in his back pocket, but he resisted the urge to pull it out and call the number. Work, not play. Or maybe work first, then play.

  He carried on down to the office at the end of the hall. He paused in front of a door bearing the nameplate of Julie Grimshaw, Producer.

  He tapped on it, then opened it slightly. A woman in her late thirties looked up, her expression clearing when she spotted him.