DIVA

by Susan Fleet

  “Not yet. What did Silverman say when he called?

  “I didn’t answer, but he kept leaving messages. He said he knew I was home because my car was out front and the lights were on in the office. I looked outside but I didn’t see his van. Later he called and left another message. He knew I was having chicken for dinner. I bought a barbequed chicken. He must have seen me.”

  “He’s watching your house and following you. You need to hire a security team.”

  “Not now! I’ve got a concert this weekend. Besides, I took care of him.” She felt a burst of pride. She didn’t need Frank to solve her problems. “He called again later. I was sick of hearing his messages so I picked up and told him not to call me anymore. I told him I never wanted to see him again.”

  “How did he take it? What did he say?”

  She twisted the telephone cord around her fingers. Think about the concert. Think about the music. Think about anything but Barry Silverman. Stoltz. Whatever his name was.

  “I can’t waste time worrying about him. I’ve got a concert this weekend. My flight to Louisville leaves tomorrow at ten-thirty.”

  “How are you getting to the airport?”

  “I’ll drive myself and leave my car in short term parking. I’ll only be gone three days.”

  “I’d feel better if you checked into a hotel tonight.”

  A chill wracked her. Maybe you’re nervous about your concert in Louisville, Belinda. After all, it’s the first one you’ll play since Jake died. Jake won’t be with you, but I will. I’ll be in the front row so don’t slip up.

  Silverman’s words had frightened her badly. The thought of seeing him terrified her. Damned if she’d admit that to Frank, though. She wasn’t some helpless little girl.

  “I am not checking into a hotel. I’m staying right here in my own house. I’ll be fine.”

  “You blew Silverman off. He’s dangerous—”

  “Frank, I’m not staying in a hotel and I’m not going to argue about it.”

  A long silence. Then, “Okay, but lock your doors when you’re home. If Silverman shows up, do not let him in. Call me right away. If anything unusual happens, call me.”

  Frank seemed awfully worried about her all of a sudden. Maybe his detective girlfriend was giving him problems. But that was his worry, not hers.

  “Nothing’s going to happen, Frank. I’ll be fine.”

  _____

  Unsettled by what Belinda had said, Frank tapped his pen on the desk. Yesterday she’d blown Silverman off. She didn’t get it. Silverman was a stalker, and stalkers didn’t go away quietly when women rejected them, they escalated. Tomorrow she would fly to Louisville, but for the next twenty-four hours she’d be on her own with no one to protect her. And he had no clue where Silverman was. The BOLO on his van had drawn a blank.

  He fingered the scar on his chin. Belinda’s description of the voicemail threat she’d received was also worrisome. A raspy whisper. Kelly’s rape victim had said her attacker spoke in a raspy whisper. She had also identified his vehicle. An E-Series Ford van like Silverman’s. But the rapist’s van was black.

  He punched Kelly’s work number into his cell phone.

  “Kelly O’Neil.”

  The sound of her voice brought a smile to his face. “Hi, Kelly. Your father’s London cop connection helped a lot.”

  “That’s good,” she said, her tone listless.

  “You sound kind of down. Are you okay?”

  “I keep thinking about Chuck. The funeral’s on Saturday, cops coming in from all over.”

  Another funeral with cops coming in from all over. Had many had come for Terry’s funeral, he wondered. “I’m sorry. That must bring back painful memories.”

  When she didn’t respond, he said, “Ian Attaway called me with Silverman’s real name. Benjamin Stoltz. S-T-O-L-T-Z. Any chance you could run the name through the data bases? I’d do it, but I have to write the Incident Report on yesterday’s craziness.”

  Miller had taken four days off to visit his family in Atlanta, which left him to write the report. He hated writing reports, and this one was crucial. Every detail had to be precise or the judge might dismiss the case. Chuck would have died for nothing.

  “I’ll give it a shot,” Kelly said. “I have to interview a witness on another case this afternoon.”

  “Thanks, that would be great. I just called Belinda. She didn’t remember Benjamin Stoltz, but she played in an orchestra with a violinist named Rachael Stoltz. Could you run that name too?”

  “Sure. Same last name, I’ll probably get lots of hits. Want me to call if I find something?”

  “Yes. Call my cell in case I’m out of the office. This guy’s a ticking time-bomb. Belinda blew him off yesterday. I tried to get her to stay in a hotel tonight, but she won’t. She’s got a concert in Louisville this weekend.”

  “Maybe we’ll find him while she’s in Louisville. I’ll run those names. You never know what the damsel detective might find.”

  Amused by her playful comment, he smiled but quickly sobered.

  No sign of Silverman’s van. Nothing on the Goines kid, either. And Silverman was out there, a stalker rejected by the object of his obsession. Dangerous. Rejected stalkers could be deadly.

  CHAPTER 36

  Her eyes fluttered open. Pale sunlight was creeping through her window.

  With a vague sense of foreboding, she rolled over and looked at her clock radio—6:30—and her alarm went off, an insistent beep. She silenced the alarm and threw off the sheet. Her flight wasn’t until ten-thirty, but she wanted to leave the house by eight-thirty. That would give her plenty of time to get through security, find her gate and relax.

  She heard a faint sigh. Her skin prickled.

  “Good morning, Belinda.”

  For an instant, she thought she had imagined the voice.

  Fear jolted her wide awake. She gasped.

  Silverman stood in the doorway, smiling. No, not a smile, a suggestive leer. But where was his hair? His frizzy brown hair was gone. He looked like some futuristic militiaman in a sci-fi movie. His head was hairless. Even his eyebrows were gone, which accentuated his pale-blue eyes.

  Predatory eyes, fixed on her.

  “What’s the matter, Belinda? You seem frightened.”

  Her heart slammed her ribs. “I’m not frightened.”

  “Good. No reason to be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not.” She wasn’t frightened, she was terrified.

  “Of course not. We’re friends, aren’t we, Belinda.” Delivered in a flat voice edged with anger.

  “I have to go to the airport.”

  He smiled, baring his teeth like a crocodile about to devour a flamingo. “But how will you get there? I offered to drive you, but you refused.”

  Her mind scrabbled for a way out. “I ordered a cab, but they’ll call first.”

  “Will they?” He smiled. “What time are they coming?”

  Realizing that defense was futile, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her naked legs. Aware of her filmy-thin baby-dolls, she hugged her arms against her chest, felt the rapid thud of her heartbeat. "How did you get in?”

  “That’s not important. Now that you’ve had a nice restful sleep, I bet you’re raring to go. Ready to go knock ‘em dead in Louisville?”

  Fighting the rigidity of her cheek muscles, she forced a smile. “Yes.”

  “Gee, can I come with you?”

  Her stomach cramped, a sickening jolt of fear. “Is that what you want?”

  “Of course,” he snapped. “But you don’t seem to want me with you.”

  She said nothing. What could she say? I don’t want you with me. I want you out of my bedroom, out of my house, out of my life.

  “Gee, Belinda, you’re not a very good hostess. You haven’t offered me anything to eat, not even a cup of coffee.”

  She stared at him. Why was he acting as though he was her guest?

  “Let’s have breakfast. It’s not goo
d to travel on an empty stomach.”

  She parsed the words. Was he going to let her go to the airport?

  In an angry gesture, he jerked his thumb. “Downstairs, Belinda.”

  “Let me put on my robe.” Keeping her voice even, though she wanted to scream.

  “No.” His pale-blue eyes were shards of ice. “I like you better in your sexy baby-dolls.”

  Do what he wants. Placate him and maybe he’ll leave. Numbly, she rose from the bed and approached the door. Shrank back as she passed him, disgusted by his rank odor. Gripping the cherry-wood banister, she descended the stairs, aware of his presence behind her, so close she could feel his breath on her neck. At the foot of the stairs, she hesitated.

  The front door was twelve feet away. Maybe she could run for it.

  No. He would catch her and be furious. Better to keep up a pretense of civility and wait for a better opportunity to escape. Clinging to this slender thread of hope, she preceded him into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and faced him, clutching her arms over her breasts.

  She forced a smile. “What would you like for breakfast?”

  “Scrambled eggs. Make enough for two so we can eat together.”

  “I don’t usually eat a big breakfast. Just orange juice and some fruit yogurt. And tea.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” With a mocking smile, he said, “Make me some scrambled eggs and coffee. After watching you sleep all night, I’m ravenous.”

  All night? She felt like a cockroach had crawled down her neck.

  She gave herself a silent pep talk. Concentrate! This is a performance, and you know how to perform. Lull him into a false sense of security and figure out how to escape.

  Aware of his malodorous presence ten feet away, feeling his rapacious eyes on her scantily clad body, she went to the refrigerator. Took out three eggs, milk and butter. Set butter in a frying pan to melt. Beat the eggs and added milk. The activity soothed her. Keep busy and don’t look at him.

  If she looked at him she might dissolve into helpless tears.

  When the scrambled eggs were done she scooped them onto a plate and carried it to her butcher-block table.

  “That looks good, Belinda. Get your OJ and yogurt and sit down.”

  She did as she was told and sat down opposite him. But there was no way she could eat. Dread seethed in her gut like a giant mass of maggots.

  He forked scrambled eggs into his mouth, chewed hungrily and swallowed. “What do you want, Belinda?”

  “Want?”

  “Yes. Right now. What do you want?”

  She wiped her sweaty palms on a napkin. “I want you to leave.”

  “Aw, gee. That’s not very nice.”

  “I need to get ready.” She checked the time. Amazing. It was only ten before seven. He’d been here twenty minutes. Correction. He’d been here all night, watching her while she slept. Only twenty minutes ago had she discovered his disgusting presence.

  “If I leave now, will you invite me back sometime?”

  “Yes.”

  He chuckled, an evil grating sound. “Don’t lie to me, Belinda.”

  She studied his outfit. He didn’t appear to have a weapon, but his black coveralls had a lot of pockets, enough to conceal a gun or a knife. Even if he had no weapon, he had his fists. He was bigger than she was. And stronger.

  “I need to shower and get dressed so I can go to the airport.”

  He forked eggs into his mouth and stared at her. “The airport,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Your flight to Louisville.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I don’t have a ticket. You didn’t get one for me, did you?”

  “No.” And you know it, she wanted to scream. Stop baiting me!

  “Well, I guess we’ll just stay here and spend a nice weekend together.”

  The mass of maggots in her stomach turned to molten lava, seething and heaving. He had no intention of letting her go to Louisville. She should have done what Frank said and stayed at a hotel. But it was too late for that now. Too late to call Frank. Silverman was in her house.

  No, not Silverman. Benjamin Stoltz. Rachael’s brother.

  “Have you ever taken it in the ass, Belinda?”

  Panic gushed into her throat, a geyser of horror.

  “Have you?”

  Unable to look at him, she stared at the floor.

  “It’s a simple enough question, Belinda. Either you have or you haven’t. Which is it?”

  Fighting to stay calm, she dug her fingernails into her palms.

  “No, Mr. Silverman.”

  “Barry.” His eyes were pale-blue marbles of rage. “Say it! Barry!”

  She worked up some saliva and forced out the word. “Barry.”

  “That’s better. Why don’t you take off your PJs and we’ll go upstairs and have a good time.”

  Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t speak. She shook her head: No.

  “Why not? You’ve got a great body. Why not show it to me?”

  “I don’t want to.” Tears flooded her eyes.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you out of my house.” She clenched her fists. “Please. Leave.”

  “Just like that? After all I’ve done for you?”

  As his voracious eyes devoured her body she fought the rising tide of panic inside her. She was trapped inside her own house. Her body shook with tremors. She feared she would faint.

  He drank from his coffee mug, frowning as if he were considering something. “All right,” he said.

  A kernel of hope blossomed. “You’ll go?”

  “Yes. On one condition. I want you to kiss me goodbye.”

  She couldn’t believe her ears.

  “Come on, Belinda. One goodbye kiss and I’ll go.”

  “No.” A whisper. Her chest muscles were so tight she couldn’t breath.

  “Well, then, I guess I’ll have to stay for the weekend. It’ll be fun. I’ll introduce you to the pleasure of taking it in the ass. I know you’ll like it.” He winked. “I’ve got a big one.”

  Bile flooded her throat. She forced herself to swallow. Would he really go if she kissed him? She took a deep breath. “Just one kiss?”

  “One kiss and I’ll go. I promise.”

  “One kiss and you’ll go.” Hearing the telltale tremor in her voice. Hating herself for showing fear.

  “Exactly right.”

  Gripping the table to steady herself, she rose from her chair. He sprang to his feet and stepped closer, a fearsome malodorous presence. She made her mind go blank. This would be over soon. If she kissed him goodbye he would leave. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at his rubbery-red lips.

  “No, no, no. Belinda, I want you to kiss me, not the other way around.”

  She wanted to ram her knee in his crotch and crush his testicles. But the rational part of her mind told her not to. Enraged, he might hurt her. Or kill her. Sickened by his odor, she stood on tiptoe and set her lips against his.

  His hand clamped her head, locking it in place. Then his tongue forced its way into her mouth, rough and slimy, probing her gumline. His other hand pressed her buttocks against him. She felt his erection, hot and hard against her pubic bone. The kiss seemed to go on forever. An endless nightmare.

  When he released her, she stumbled to the sink, certain she would vomit. She worked her tongue around her mouth to erase the ugly taste and the filth of his saliva. She spat into the sink.

  “That was great, Belinda. You sure do know how to kiss.”

  Dear God please let him leave, please make him go out the door and—

  “Okay, Belinda, guess I’ll be going.”

  Tears of relief flooded her eyes. In a minute this hideous nightmare would be over. She could be strong for a minute, couldn’t she? Maybe not. Her legs felt rubbery, her heart was racing, and the sight of him made her want to puke.

  “Walk me to the d
oor,” he said, gesturing for her to precede him.

  She didn’t want to, didn’t want him behind her. But she had to do what he said, had to get him out of her house. Acutely aware of his presence behind her, she walked down the hall to the foyer.

  Suddenly she was flat on her back on the floor. She screamed, a piercing shriek of absolute terror. He struck her face, two brutal slaps that brought tears to her eyes. “Don’t scream, Belinda. No one can hear you.”

  He straddled her, pinned her arms to her sides with his knees, pulled down her baby-dolls and ran his fingers over her pubic hair.

  “Pretty baby,” he said, and licked her lips with his horrible red tongue.

  CHAPTER 37

  He pinned her against the desk in her office. Her body shook with violent tremors and her chest heaved, like a dog panting. Her outgoing voicemail message ended and the tone sounded. Then, a male voice.

  Belinda, it’s Frank. Pick up if you’re still there. I need to tell you something.

  Setting the serrated buck knife against her throat, he whispered, “Does that phone have a speaker?”

  Two quick jerks of her head. More panicky breathing.

  He pricked her throat with the blade. “Turn it on and be careful what you say. If you fuck up, I’ll slit your lovely throat.”

  She extended her hand. Pressed a button on the console.

  “Tell him you were in the shower,” he whispered.

  “Hello, Frank? Sorry, I was . . . taking a shower.”

  Renzi’s voice boomed over the speaker: Glad I caught you before you left. I just got Jake’s toxicology report. He was poisoned.

  Anger shot through him like heat-lightning.

  “Act surprised,” he whispered. Beneath his arm, her body trembled.

  “Oh . . . goodness. That’s awful, Frank.”

  I think Silverman put poison in the brownies he gave to your student.

  Rage bubbled into his throat. Renzi had figured it out.

  “Get rid of him,” he whispered.

  “Frank, I’m sorry, but I have to go now.”

  Right. I don't want you to miss your flight. How’re you doing? Any more problems?

  She hesitated, and he pricked her neck with the knife.