Behind Closed Doors

by Carla Cassidy

  The rest of the ride to the restaurant was filled with pleasant conversation. Rosemary asked her about her job, they spoke of the weather and before Ann knew it Clay was parking in Manconni’s lot.

  The interior of the restaurant was dim, tables and hanging greenery arranged for maximum intimacy. They were led to a corner table, upon which a candle burned in the center, creating an inviting, golden glow.

  Clay sat next to his mother and across from Ann. Their knees bumped beneath the table and he grinned at her, as if telling her with his gaze that he enjoyed the inadvertent brief contact.

  Almost immediately a waitress appeared at their table to take their orders. “Do we need more time?” Clay asked the two women.

  “I don’t,” Rosemary exclaimed. “I know I want the Iasagna.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Ann agreed.

  Clay ordered for the three of them and the waitress left. Throughout the meal, the pleasant conversation continued. Rosemary kept up a steady stream of talk, regaling Ann with stories of Clay’s youth, memories of her husband and humorous descriptions of her bingo buddies.

  “My mother is almost as addicted to bingo as she is to talking,” Clay said, an amused affection lighting his eyes.

  Rosemary cuffed him on the shoulder. “I am not.” Her dark eyes, so like Clay’s, twinkled merrily. “I like to talk a lot more than I like playing bingo.”

  As mother and son went back and forth, Ann found herself envying Clay his relationship with his mother. Their intense love for each other was apparent, but beyond that there was also a genuine affection and respect that spoke of a healthy familial connection.

  Ann wished she’d had that with her mother. She shoved away thoughts of the sad, dysfunctional woman who’d given her birth, not wanting thoughts of that distant past to taint her pleasant evening with Clay and his mother.

  Over coffee, Rosemary turned to Ann. “Has my son told you his plans for retirement?”

  “My mother doesn’t approve of my plans. She thinks I’m a fool,” Clay added.

  “That’s not true,” Rosemary protested. “I know you aren’t a fool and that’s why I don’t understand your foolish plans.” She looked at Ann once again. “What do you think of his plans?”

  “I think Clay should follow his heart,” Ann replied.

  “She’s just mad because I won’t be around to take her out to dinner every week,” Clay said.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Rosemary scoffed. “You think you’re the only male around who will pay for my dinner?” She smiled coyly, then sobered. “You’re too old to be a teenage beach bum, and too young to sit idle for the rest of your life.”

  “What other male will pay for your dinner?” Clay asked, turning the subject back to her.

  Again a coy smile curved her lips. “I have several gentlemen friends who enjoy my company. Unlike you, I don’t enjoy living my life alone.” Rosemary looked at Ann once again. “Now, dear, tell me about these writing classes of yours.”

  An hour later, after dropping off his mother at her place, Clay drove toward Ann’s house. “Your mother is wonderful,” she said.

  He grinned. “She’s irrepressible, could talk the ear off an elephant, and is far too meddling, but I love her.”

  “Does it bother you that she’s apparently dating?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I’m pleased for her. Dad has been gone a long time and I know she’s been lonely. I’ll feel better taking off from here knowing she has some other people in her life.”

  “I imagine your mother doesn’t have problems finding friends. She appears to be a very warm, very amicable person.”

  Clay smiled again. “No, she doesn’t have problems making friends. She has a group of women she plays bingo with, another gang who plays bridge. The one thing my mother doesn’t lack is friends.”

  “Thank you for inviting me along this evening,” she said as he pulled into her driveway.

  “No, thank you for coming.” He shut off the engine and turned to her. “If you hadn’t been there, I would have had to listen to an hour-long lecture on my ridiculous retirement plans.”

  “Your mother made it pretty clear she doesn’t approve of your plans.”

  Clay winced slightly. “No, she doesn’t. If she had her wish, I’d be married and have half a dozen kids for her to spoil.”

  “But the nice thing is you know she’s going to love you no matter what you do.”

  “That’s true,” he agreed. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”

  When they got to her door, Ann fought the impulse to invite him in. She knew she couldn’t become too dependent on him, yet wished she could spend another night in his arms, another night of lovemaking. “Good night, Clay. Thanks again.”

  “You going to be all right for the night?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her, a kiss of gentleness. “Sweet dreams,” he said, then after a lingering touch to her cheek, he turned and went back to his car.

  Ann waved to him, then slipped inside her house and locked the door. For a moment she leaned against the door, her mouth still holding the imprint of his lips.

  He’d given her a perfect opening for inviting him in. She knew she’d done the right thing in not inviting him to stay with her. It would be far too easy to grow too dependant on him and in a few weeks he would be gone.

  She’d never needed anyone before, had never had anyone in her life to be dependant on. She wasn’t about to change now; she couldn’t afford to care about Clay.

  She shoved herself away from the door and went into the living room, a smile curving her lips as she thought of the pleasant evening she’d just shared. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a good time. Rosemary had been an absolute delight. Ann felt as if the loving and caring that existed between Clay and his mother had somehow spilled over on her, bathing her in a warm glow.

  Stifling a yawn, she headed for the bedroom, but paused as the telephone rang. Without thought, bathed in the residual glow of the evening, she picked up the receiver.

  “Ann.”

  The familiar, yet unfamiliar voice caused a wave of shivers to overtake Ann. “Who...who are you? Why are you doing these things to me?”

  “You know who I am, Ann.”

  “No, I don’t. Who are you? For God’s sake, what do you want from me?” Ann screamed.

  “I just wanted to remind you that your cat has nine lives, but you, sweet Ann, only have one.”

  Ann sobbed, realizing he’d hung up, and she, too, slammed down the receiver. For just a little while this evening, she’d been able to forget about him and his threats. For several hours she’d felt normal, sane...safe.

  Now the horror was back. She moved to the front window and pulled the curtain aside just an inch. She peered out, her heart thudding with painful intensity.

  Someplace out there was a madman who wanted her dead.

  Chapter 10

  Silence can be as terrifying as a scream, Ann thought over the next couple of days. There were no calls, no notes, nothing from her tormentor. Just silence...and a dreadful anticipation of what might come next.

  Thursday morning she lay in bed, listening to the sound of raindrops pinging against the window. The rain had begun sometime in the night, a welcome relief after the hot spell of the last several weeks.

  Maybe he’s gone away, a small voice spoke inside her head, bringing with it a burst of hope. Maybe the ordeal was finally over. Three days of utter silence.

  Perhaps the poisoning of Twilight had been the final act of a madman who’d now turned his demented sights to somebody else. Although she hated the thought of another woman having to deal with the madness, she wanted it out of her own life.

  A faint scratching sound came from under her bed, and she knew Twilight was waking up. Since she’d brought him home on Tuesday, he’d spent most of his time hiding beneath the bed, obviously traumatized by his ordeal.

  It wo
uld take time and love to bring him back, to teach him to trust once again. In the meantime Ann had infinite patience when it came to her furry friend.

  As she showered and dressed for her day of classes, she remembered it was Tina’s day to clean. She’d need to leave a note for the young woman, explaining about Twilight and telling her not to worry about vacuuming beneath her bed.

  Driving to the college, the burst of optimism that had greeted her first thing that morning renewed itself, warming her like meeting a long lost friend.

  She didn’t know whether it was the three days of silence or the sweet, fresh rain that rejuvenated her feeling that perhaps it was all finally over. The rain had brought with it a pleasant drop in temperature, and the scent of a world washed anew.

  It was hard to hold on to terror, hang on to fear for an extended period of time. The human spirit could only sustain fright for so long before rebelling. She steadfastly refused to dwell on fear today, instead embracing her feeling of optimism and pulling it into her soul.

  Her students seemed to respond positively to the cooler weather and soothing rain. Classes seemed more relaxed, the students in good spirits despite the dreariness of the skies outside.

  She let the students of her last class before her dinner break go fifteen minutes early. It was an English Lit class and they had all done their work and turned in their papers. As they left the classroom, she gathered up her things, eager to grab something to eat before her creative writing class began.

  “Ms. Carson?”

  “Yes?” She looked up to see that the room had emptied and Barry Namath had entered. “Barry.” She tried to still the sudden rapidity of her heartbeats. She hadn’t seen him since the scene at her house. He hadn’t come to class on Tuesday night.

  “Can I talk with you for a minute?” he asked, advancing toward her.

  She took a step backward, uncomfortable as he moved close enough to invade her personal space. “What can I do for you?” she asked, refusing to give in to the fear that suddenly winged through her as she realized how alone she was with him.

  “I heard about your cat. I just wanted you to know I had nothing to do with that.” His features pulled into a tight scowl. “I might be capable of doing lots of things, but I could never poison no cat.”

  “I never thought you were responsible, Barry.”

  “Yeah, well the cops think I did something. Somebody came sniffing around my work, checking me out. I just wanted you to know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  “Ann.”

  Both Ann and Barry turned toward the doorway, where Clay stood, a pulsating tension radiating from him. “Everything all right in here?” he asked.

  Barry stepped back from Ann, his eyes flashing thunderheads to rival the black clouds outside. “Everything is just fine.” Without waiting for any reply, he turned and left the classroom.

  “You sure you’re all right?” Clay asked, moving closer.

  She nodded reassuringly, unsurprised to discover that she didn’t mind him invading her personal space. “Barry was just telling me he had nothing to do with poisoning Twilight.” She picked up the last of her papers. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was in the neighborhood on another call, so thought I’d drop in and see if I could take you to dinner.”

  Warmth spread through Ann. She hadn’t seen him since the night she’d gone out with him and his mother. Although he had called her every day, the calls had been brief. “I only have about a half an hour before the creative writing class. We could get a sandwich in the student union.”

  “Great, just lead the way.”

  The rain had slackened to a fine mist as they left the English building and headed for the nearby student union. He walked with long, confident strides, seemingly unaware that she hurried to keep up with him. She could smell his cologne, a wonderfully familiar scent that mingled with the fresh odor of the rain and recalled the sensory pleasures of the night they’d made love.

  She blushed, realizing he’d asked her a question and was waiting for her answer. “I’m sorry?”

  “I asked if you’d heard from the creep again.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. Not a word since the night he left the message about Twilight.”

  They entered the student union and went through the cafeteria line. Ann grabbed a tuna salad sandwich and Clay chose a roast beef. They both got sodas, then made their way to one of the tables that crowded the room.

  “I’m beginning to hope that maybe he’s moved on,” Ann said, picking up the thread of their conversation as they sat down.

  “That would be nice,” he replied.

  “But you don’t think he’ll move on.”

  Clay smiled at her. “I don’t know, Ann. I wish I could give you some answers, but we know nothing about this guy, have no clues as to what makes him tick. It’s very possible he’ll move on and you’ll never be bothered by him again. Or, it’s possible he’ll keep on until—”

  “Until?” She swallowed hard against the lump that grew in the back of her throat.

  “Until we catch him.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “Everything else okay? You sleeping all right?”

  She hesitated, then decided to be truthful. “Not really. I’ve been having nightmares.” She looked down at her sandwich, then back at Clay. “I hate him for bringing back my nightmares.” She averted her gaze from him, instead focusing on the occupants on a nearby table. “It’s hard to believe he might be somebody right here, right now in this room.”

  Clay followed her gaze to the table where several of her creative writing students all sat. Dean Moore was there, along with Barry Namath and several other men Clay didn’t recognize.

  “Who’s the young blonde?” he asked, noting the skull tattoo decorating the youth’s upper arm.

  “Warren Taylor. He’s a good kid. His mother is a fellow teacher.” Ann chewed a bite of her sandwich thoughtfully, then added, “I like to think that whoever this man is, I don’t know him personally. He’s not one of my students or anyone who’s ever been in my life. He’s just some crazy man who saw me in the grocery store or at the dry cleaners and fixated on me for some reason.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” he agreed easily. “It’s very possible you don’t personally know him. We won’t know for sure until he makes a mistake.”

  “Will he make a mistake?”

  He smiled, his gaze warming her. “They always do, Ann. Sooner or later they all make mistakes.”

  Again hope buoyed inside her, like a sailboat refusing to give in to a storm. “I think it’s over,” she said. “It’s been four days since anything has happened. I think he’s moved on, or grown tired of his sick game.”

  “I hope you’re right. It would be nice to know your life is once again your own when I leave the department.”

  His words reminded her that she shouldn’t get too dependant on him, couldn’t allow him to crawl into her heart. She would only be hurt and life had handed her enough hurts already. She certainly didn’t intend to set herself up for another one.

  She finished her sandwich then looked at her watch. “I should get going. Class starts in ten minutes and the students are accustomed to me being there a little early.”

  He nodded. “I’ve got to get moving, too. The chief handed me another case this morning, a shooting that’s hot with leads.” He stood. “I’ll walk you to your class.”

  “I’m glad you stopped by,” she said as they walked back the way they had come.

  “Phone checks are all right, but I wanted to see for myself that you were doing okay. Make sure you get somebody to walk with you out to your car after class. I don’t want you walking alone after dark.”

  “Tuesday I got campus security to escort me out after class.”

  “Good. Even though you think things might be over, it’s not time to let down your guard.”

  They paused just outside Ann’s classroom. The rain had momentarily halted, although no
stars peeked out of the thick clouds overhead. “Thanks for supper,” she said.

  “You’re a cheap date,” he returned with a smile. As always, he reached up and touched her cheek, his fingertips warming her skin. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He dropped his hand and left. Ann watched him go, a curious bereavement slicing through her as he disappeared around the corner of the building.

  “Careful girl,” she whispered to herself. “Hang on to your heart.” She had a feeling Clay had purposely reminded her that he was leaving, wanting her to understand yet again that there would be no future, no commitment, no happily-ever-after between the two of them.

  Still, was it wrong for her to enjoy his company for as long as he was here? Was it wrong for her to want the comfort, the passion that his embrace inspired? Surely she deserved that, a few weeks of being happy.

  Her feeling of optimism continued after class when she got to her car and discovered no note, no threatening message under her windshield wipers.

  As she drove home the rain began again. Soft and soothing, it pattered against the windshield in a near-hypnotic rhythm.

  Ann had always liked rain. Rainy nights had sometimes brought the only normalcy Ann had ever known in childhood. Rain kept people at home...including mothers.

  She shook away thoughts of her past, refusing to be drawn back in time, back to those dark years of fear. She’d survived so much. She was strong and would survive whatever fate threw her way.

  The moment she walked into her house the scent of lemon oil and pine cleanser greeted her and she remembered Tina had been there to clean that day. A rivulet of pleasure danced through her. Nothing better than coming home to a sparkling house, knowing she wouldn’t have to do any of the cleaning herself at least for a couple of days.

  She walked through the living room and into her bedroom, where she immediately pulled up the dust ruffle and peered beneath the bed.

  Just as she’d expected, Twilight was curled up in the corner, his eyes gleaming iridescently from the dark shadows. “Hi, baby,” she said softly and reached a hand out. He crawled a few inches toward her, licked her extended hand, but refused to budge from his hiding place. “I’m going to put some food out for you. Maybe later you’ll feel like coming out and eating.”