by Jada Ryker
He leered in her face.
She shook him off.
Too bad she couldn’t sic the Royal Bloodhound on his ass.
By the time she neared the front door of the bar, she was nearly running. As she started to pass the men’s room, a patron stepped directly in front of her. Unable to stop, Marisa slammed into him. “Excuse me!”
Without responding, the man angrily turned away from her.
“Sorry!” muttered Marisa. As she moved away, she frowned. There was something very familiar about him. She twisted back around as she hit the door, but the man was gone.
In the parking lot, Marisa looked around.
Tara, her chest heaving, caught up with her. “Where the heck did he go?” she wheezed.
In a dark corner of the parking lot, a vehicle started. From the canopied doorway, Tara stepped out onto the paved parking lot. The car’s tires squealed as it rounded the turn. Tara lunged out in the path of the car.
The car wasn’t slowing. “Tara! Are you crazy?”
“He won’t hit me. He’s the police!”
Marisa ran to push Tara out of the way.
The car stopped inches from them both.
Tara nonchalantly pulled the front passenger door open and leaned into the car.
Her heart pounding, Marisa jerked the back passenger door open.
Before she could ask him what the hell he was thinking, Lieutenant Camden growled, “Tara-byte, are you trying to get yourself killed? And Marisa,” he added belatedly. Brusquely, he ordered them into the car. “Quick, before anyone sees you!”
The car jerked to the entrance of the parking lot, the back passenger door still swinging open. A figure launched itself into the car, and landed on Marisa. She struggled.
“Wait, Marisa, let me get off!”
Alex. Who the hell else would it be?
Tires squealing, the car took off.
“Why do you insist upon calling me Tara-Bite?” Tara turned to Dreamus. “I can assure you, I don’t bite!”
“Not b-i-t-e! B-y-t-e! As in tera-byte, which is a unit of computer storage.” With one hand, Dreamus pulled off the red and white bandana and the gray-tinted glasses. With the other, he deftly steered the car through the Friday night crowd of cars and pedestrians jamming the streets.
He glanced in the mirror. “Marisa and Alex, please stop tussling in my back seat. I can’t talk to you, let alone hear myself think, with you two out of control.” His eyes flicked to Tara. “But couldn’t you have approached me in a more discreet way? Nearly letting me run you over in the parking lot will not help you get a merit badge for either lurking or slinking.”
“What do you want to talk to us about?” Marisa leaned over the seat.
Dreamus glanced in the mirror. “Which one of you ladies is being tailed?”
As the car took a corner too fast, Marisa involuntarily fell back into the seat. “What do you mean, tailed?”
Dreamus growled, “Fasten your seat belt. Don’t you know it’s the law? Tailed. As in being followed. Don’t you watch television?”
Chagrined, Tara turned to the lieutenant. “We were followed?”
“I was headed to the bar for tonight’s gathering when I saw Marisa’s little red traffic ticket collector, aka Mazda Miata. There was a white Camry right behind it. Marisa ran a yellow light, and the Camry ran the red to stay with her.”
“Kevin the Stalker!” In her agitation, Tara pushed Dreamus’ shoulder.
He swerved.
Marisa, arrested by Dreamus’ statement, had stopped in the midst of fastening her seatbelt. As the car lurched, she flew from the driver’s side to the passenger’s side. Alex grunted in pain and helped her back to her side of the car.
“Tara! Leave Dreamus alone while he’s driving! And it can’t have been Kevin. He drives an older model, tan four-door sedan his mother bought for him.”
“Who’s Kevin? And fasten those damn seatbelts, Marisa and Alex, or I swear I’ll give you both a ticket!”
“What about laying rubber in the parking lot, Mr. Enforcer? Isn’t there an ordinance against improper stops and starts? And Kevin is a guy I know who is also in Tara’s online group. The white car doesn’t belong to him.”
Tara said, “Dreamus, just because a car is behind us in traffic doesn’t mean it’s following us.”
“You’re right, Tara-byte.”
“That silly nickname again!” Tara twisted in her seat. “Is it because you think I’m going to bite you?”
Dreamus smiled so slightly it was a mere twitch of his lips. “No. I just told you, a terabyte is a unit of storage for information technology. A terabyte is made up of a trillion bytes of information. Since you find at least a trillion ways to push my buttons, including organizing an online group meeting which probably included a murderer, Tara-byte is the perfect nickname for you. Back to your stalker…When I saw Marisa stop at the gas station, I stopped too, just to see what the white Camry would do. When Marisa stopped, her escort stopped at the Walgreens right next door to the gas station. When Marisa pulled out, the white car was right behind her. It followed her into the bar’s parking lot. I stayed in my car after you two went in. The white car just sat there, no one got in, no one got out. I ran the plate on the white Camry. It’s registered to someone by the name of Anna Pikestaff. Ring any bells for you two?”
Tara twisted around to look at Marisa. They shrugged at one another.
“I take that as a no,” Dreamus answered for them.
“Why did you come to my group outing in disguise, Dreamus?”
The lawman glanced over at her, even though the car was dark. “How did you know it was me, Tara? I went to the police station like this. My own staff, most of whom have known me for years, didn’t recognize me. How were you able to penetrate my disguise when trained law enforcement professionals could not?”
Crossing her arms across her chest, Tara stared out the window.
“I certainly didn’t recognize you, Dreamus.” Securely buckled in, Marisa tried to lean forward. “You looked like a teenager, out on the town with a forged ID.”
“That’s exactly the look I wanted.” Dreamus pulled into a Wal-Mart parking lot, and shut off the car. The car’s interior was dimly illuminated by the dome light.
“Dreamus, stop being mysterious, and tell us what’s going on.” Marisa was beginning to feel grumpy. Grumpy and bruised.
“We received an anonymous letter at the police station. We don’t ignore them, but we don’t have the resources to investigate every theory that lands in the police station.
“The letter writer stated her young son had become involved with someone on the internet. It’s a story that’s becoming increasingly common. A teen boy or girl starts corresponding with someone they think is another teen. The predator escalates the online communications and convinces the teen to meet in person, sometimes with tragic results.
“The letter said the boy had been corresponding with someone who wanted the boy to take nude pictures of himself, and email them. The mother wrote that she’d taken away her son’s computer, and she wanted me to track down the pervert. She included a user name and a website.”
Dreamus lowered his car window. “As a police lieutenant, I do my job at my desk.”
When Marisa snorted, Dreamus laughed. “For the most part, I schedule the officers, review and analyze crime trends and patterns, and provide administrative supervision. From time to time, I do get involved in cases. It keeps my crime solving skills honed and I meet interesting people. Especially amateur detectives.” He glanced at Tara.
“And you decided to get personally involved in this issue, which coincidentally brought you to the club and my online group tonight.” Tara glared at him.
Dreamus raised a hand. “When I went online and keyed in the web address, I found the Came-A-Lot live group. Imagine my surprise when I recognized you as the moderator, Tara.”
He crossed his arms and stared steadily at Tara. The cooling car engine ticked.
“Dreamus, don’t get upset with Tara. I started the online group.”
“I know, Marisa. You started the Came-A-Lot group several years ago as Women Who Love Excitement. Your online persona of Miss Behavin’ is famous. Your snappy, intelligent comments on the real time, online forum are legendary. Why did you leave the group?”
Marisa turned to look out of her window at the dark parking lot, punctuated by security lights and scattered cars. “That group took over my entire life. The more I gave it, the more it took. I spent nearly all of my time, at work and at home, on that forum. I knew members of the group who got fired for being on it during work time.”
“Like Brianna, our wielder of the paintball gun.” When Marisa and Tara squeaked, Dreamus laughed. “You keep forgetting I am a detective. I detect! In checking out the online group, I discovered Brianna got fired. Brianna was working for her uncle, and he terminated his niece. He preferred facing the wrath of his sister rather than keep an employee who spent all of her work time on the internet.”
Tara cleared her throat. “Poor Brianna. I’m afraid, though, she’s hit double digits on jobs found and lost.”
“I got free of the online quicksand.” In her lap, Marisa’s hands clenched. “I was a little afraid of going tonight, in case checking out the group would be like sticking my foot back into the quagmire. I was afraid I would be sucked back in up to my neck. I should have known Tara had a secret agenda.” Marisa leaned over the seat and touched Tara’s shoulder. “You would never encourage me to engage in risky behavior. You love me too much.”
Alex snapped his fingers. “Tara dragged you here tonight so you could help her investigate Caleb’s murder!” He glanced at Tara. “And that’s not risky behavior?”
Marisa bounced in the seat. “Is there a link between the online predator and Caleb’s murderer?”
Tara shook her head and squirmed in her seat. “I had no idea there was a predator on the site. I have disclaimers posted, which state no one under eighteen is allowed to join the website. One reason we have the in person gatherings is so we can put real life faces with the online personas. People can and do lie about a lot of things online. They lie not only about their age, but also about their occupation, age, weight, marital status, and even gender. By getting people together on a regular basis, we tend to weed out the imposters.”
“But not all.” Dreamus was regretful.
“No, not all,” admitted Tara. “So, you slipped into the group tonight to try and figure out who is contacting the boys?”
“Young guys who think they have the chance to meet hot women, who then get tricked by a predator.”
Alex frowned. “Why don’t you just run down the user name and the IP address? Wouldn’t that be easier than dressing up and lurking among us on Friday nights?”
“The user name was deleted. The internet provider address took me to the public library. Since the library does not use surveillance cameras, it was a dead end. I decided to go undercover and ferret out the person by setting up the user name ‘King of the Cougars’.”
“But if the user name you were tracking was deleted—oh,” Marisa realized, “all they have to do is create a new one. Duh.”
“Has anyone approached the King of the Cougars?” Tara asked.
“Not yet, but I just started online a little over a week ago. I am hoping that by posting comments in the forum and showing myself in the gatherings, someone will approach me. And when he does, I’ll let him incriminate himself. Then, the judicial system can have him.” His smile was the baring of teeth, one predator on the trail of another predator.
Marisa and Tara both shivered.
“I noticed Bryce Walker was there tonight.”
Marisa pounced on Dreamus’ statement. “I bet he’s a smarmy quasi stockbroker who sells phony stocks!”
Dreamus twisted around in surprise. “No, actually the opposite. He went undercover a few months ago, and helped us catch a group of people who were fleecing elderly ladies out of their life savings. The leader of the scammers would even join the ladies in prayer, once they’d written their checks to him. It was Bryce’s testimony that sent them to jail.”
“Did you have him on a leash in court?”
Dreamus was thoughtful. “You know, Marisa, if I pictured you with a guy, it would be Bryce. He’s smart, educated, successful, and very good looking. His credentials are impeccable, and he’s scrupulously honest. He’s also extremely funny, in a quirky sort of way.”
Marisa didn’t think the last part was complimentary. “Hey—”
“But anyway, I know you and Parvis have something going.” Dreamus and Tara exchanged glances.
“Stop that, you two! Parvis and I are....” She frowned. “Maybe not friends, we just email back and forth, and that is all!”
Tara smirked. “You’re in relationship denial. You don’t want to admit you’ve contracted Parvo-virus.”
“Parvo-virus! Parvis is not a disease!”
“As much fun as this is,” Dreamus chuckled, “let’s get back to business. What was Brandon Proctor, the busybody trauma hospital receptionist, doing there?”
“Brandon was promoted to director of guest relations, although he does still spend some time at the front desk.” Marisa exchanged a glance with Alex. “He’s pursuing another user, Queen of the Classroom. I think he really has feelings for her.”
Tara whistled. “Taylor and Brandon? Taylor is a radical change from the worldly Widow Cranston. She’s an innocent high school teacher.”
Marisa shook her head. “Her name is not Taylor. It’s Sarah. She’s an exotic dancer at the club. She found the web address of the group in her abusive boyfriend’s web browser. Brandon doesn’t know any of that. I think he is truly in love with Sarah’s online persona.”
“Holy shit!”
Alex grimaced. “And Marisa and I have a date to play racquetball with them tomorrow. I think the holy shit will hit the fan.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Should she tell Clay Napier the truth about her life? He thought she was just a retired schoolteacher. He didn’t know about her secret life as the writer Seretha Ranier. In her quiet room, Althea Flaxton shook her head. She’d asked herself the question hundreds of times since meeting the handsome and mysterious man. Her answer had always been no.
Althea asked herself why she refused to confide in him. Since they were both in their sixties, they were far from skittish teenagers. Why did she continue to hesitate? Was she afraid he would feel differently about her? Would he be angry with her? Would he think she should have told him sooner?
To distract herself from the ongoing, inner dialogue, Althea looked around in serene pleasure. Her suite was small, with a tiny bedroom and bathroom, and a miniature sitting room. The far door in her bedroom led to a balcony not much larger than her bathmat.
Althea sighed. She scooted her chair closer to her desk, and removed the cover from her ancient typewriter. She rolled a clean sheet of paper into the machine, and flexed her slightly stiff fingers. Her fingers moved on the keys, transferring the story from her imagination to the paper.
Cross to Bear
By Seretha Ranier
Part One
“The Roadside Cross Ninja had better keep his thieving mitts off Martin’s cross. So help me, I’ll smack the Ninja on the head with it!”
Her father’s strident, slightly slurred voice, thick with his Kentucky backwoods accent and Kentucky bourbon, snapped Tina Stovall out of her conflicted reverie. Just when she thought her brother’s funeral visitation couldn’t get more miserable, it did. She shifted, causing the uncomfortable folding chair to creak. Her eyes inadvertently met Chris Hanson’s solemn ones across the crowded funeral viewing area.
Chris responded to her glance by weaving his way through the groups of standing mourners. The subtle lighting caught the golden highlights in his short, light brown hair and the understated gray pinstripes in his navy jacket. His lean, muscular build drew a few admiring loo
ks from females of all ages, in spite of the solemn setting.
Tina was trapped in her chair by a group of quietly chatting women dressed in their Sunday best dresses and shoes. I have to stand my ground, Tina thought. Firmly extinguishing the electric spark of attraction buzzing across her skin, she slumped back into the hard chair in resignation.
Chris perched on the chair next to her. His face had lost its boyish curves. In their place, his face was all hard planes and curves, too thin and intense to be handsome. His mouth curved in compassion. “Hello, Martina. I am so sorry about your brother Martin.”
Tina drew an angry breath. She promptly choked on the heavy, mourning smell of carnations and roses. “I had my name legally changed to Tina. I refused to keep the derivative of my brother’s name.”
“The youngest child, I think her name was Martinette, died when she was a baby, right?”
“Yes.” Tina didn’t add that her little sister’s cause of death was most likely shaken baby syndrome. She believed it was inflicted by their father during a drunken rage while their mother lolled in a whiskey-induced stupor on the ratty recliner they’d dragged back from the town dump.
“I heard Martin was on his way to the Crossroads Bar to burn it to the ground!” The excited whisper came from the woman seated behind Tina. “He was driving, and took the hairpin turn too fast. His big buddy Jason, who followed Martin around like a frisky puppy, was in the truck with him.”
Chris turned his head. Tina was sure he intended to tell the couple behind them that Martin’s sister was sitting in front of them. She squeezed Chris’ arm to silence him.
“My cousin Herman was one of the paramedics at the scene. Jason was a gibbering mess. He told the paramedics that Marin was on his way to show Nancy what happened to any woman who tried to end a relationship before he was ready to say it was over.”
“Who is Nancy?” The man next to the woman sounded bewildered.
