Jodie's Little Secrets

by Joanna Wayne

  “We’re not your responsibility.”

  Ray put down his fork and wiped his mouth. Civilized dining was obviously over. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation, not with Jodie Gahagen. She’d always been headstrong, but in the past she’d at least been sensible. Now she was spouting pure lunacy.

  What he wanted to do was just put his foot down and order her to do what he said. In the same breath he might order the Mississippi River to change its course or the sun to rise at midnight.

  He’d have to think of something more democratic, and persuasive. After all, he was the top defense lawyer at Fowler, Glenn, Kostner and Grange. The top one in the south since the Greer murder trial if he gave credence to the press. He could damn sure argue a point. If he could find one.

  The beeper at his waist vibrated. He pushed his plate back, leaving half a catfish. His appetite was suddenly shot to hell, but Jodie’s had blossomed. While he stewed, she was cleaning her plate, evidently feeling much better now that her ridiculous plan was out in the open.

  “I have to make a call. Will you excuse me?” he said, punching in the beeper and making a mental note of the number.

  “Of course. I think I might try a piece of that pie you were talking about. Can I order one for you?”

  “No, thanks. Just coffee for me. And if she has some left in the bottom of a pot, tell her to warm that up for me. I need it strong.”

  He opted to make the call from his car phone. It would be much quieter there, and if the beep was the one he was expecting he wanted to hear the caller clearly. He exited the restaurant and slid into the front seat of his unlocked car. Grabbing the phone, he punched in the number. The credit card administrator answered on the third ring.

  “I have the information you requested about Mrs. Gloria Bigger’s reported credits, Mr. Kostner. I hope this is helpful to her.”

  “I’m sure it will be. And thanks for getting on this so fast.”

  “No problem. Since you faxed us documentation that the Kostner firm has the legal authority to handle all business decisions for the flower shop, we are glad to be of assistance.”

  Ray took out his pen and waited for the name and address of the person who had charged an order for a dozen roses yesterday afternoon. He scribbled it down and thanked the woman before slamming the cover shut on the phone. Everything he needed to know in two little words. Nasty words that blew his and Cappan’s theories into shrapnel.

  Now all he had to do was tell Jodie she’d been right all along. Statistics lied. Her survivor instincts had not. The card used to order the flowers had belonged to Max Roling. Ray shoved his knotted fists deep into the pockets of his trousers.

  Jodie going to New York to face a killer. Like hell she was. He’d stay with her twenty-four hours a day if that’s what it took to keep her in Natchitoches until the man was caught. Eat with her, work with her at his side, even sleep with her if he had to.

  Sleep with Jodie Gahagen, and then walk away. He’d done it once. He’d sooner go hand-to-hand with a grizzly than try that again.

  Chapter Five

  Jodie stared at the walls of Ray’s temporary Natchitoches office, the blood draining from her head, her mouth so dry she couldn’t swallow. In her heart she’d always known the person who was stalking her had been the same man who’d plunged a knife deep into Max Roling’s heart, twisting the blade until his life had spilled out on the street like used crankcase oil.

  But somewhere inside her, she must have hoped other-wise. Why else would Ray’s words be turning her stomach inside out?

  “He’s dead because of me.” Strain tore at her voice, breaking the silence that hung in the air between them.

  “He’s dead because a lunatic took his life. This isn’t your doing, Jodie.” Ray paced the room, then stopped in front of her, rolling a chair closer and propping on the edge. He took her hands in his, holding them firmly, easing their cold shaking. “It’s the work of a madman who has to be stopped.”

  “Right. Only no one stops him. I couldn’t even get the police to seriously consider he was Max’s murderer. They were so sure it was some punk kid, coming off a high and looking for a few bucks to start a new climb.”

  “They’ll listen now. You just sit tight. The fact that Max’s credit card is tied in with the flowers will force them to listen. With this new bit of evidence, they’ll have a lot more motivation for finding and stopping the man who’s ruining your life. And when they try him for murder one, he can be locked behind bars for the rest of his natural life.”

  Ray made it sound so easy. Sit tight and the police would handle everything. Trust justice. And put more people in danger, people she cared about more than life itself. “I can’t do that,” she told him, pulling away. “Especially not now.”

  She stood and walked to the window. Clouds were forming in the west, a new frontal system on the way, painting the old courthouse that stood across the street in shades of shadowy gray. The present building had been there since 1896, sturdy, unchanging, like the town. Perhaps its walls had seen murderers before. Perhaps the town had seen men as evil as the one who was either here now or on his way.

  Perhaps not. All she knew was that she couldn’t be the one that brought him to these streets. She couldn’t be the cause of another death. Burning moisture gathered at the back of her eyelids. She tried to blink it away, but a tear escaped, sliding down her cheek. She whisked it away with the back of her hand, silently cursing it for exposing her weakness.

  Ray eased behind her, so close she could hear his breathing, feel the warmth of it on the back of her neck. She kept her gaze riveted to a distant point outside the window. “I have to leave. It’s the only way I can make sure the boys are safe. And Grams. And even you, Ray, and anyone else who befriends me.”

  “No.”

  There was no pleading in his voice. The word was a command, direct, final.

  “I’m not doing this out of some death wish. I’m not looking forward to it, but I have no other choice. You’re an intelligent man. Surely you can see that.”

  His hands pressed into her shoulders, tugging and forcing her to turn and face him. She met his gaze, and the intensity in his dark eyes sent a new wave of chills skidding along her nerves.

  “I’m not letting you leave, Jodie. Not as long as this killer’s on the loose.” His grip loosened, but his hands didn’t leave her body. His thumbs moved along the veins in her neck, sweeping up to her earlobes and back down again, a slow hypnotizing rhythm.

  “Why, Ray, why now? Why are you all of a sudden so. concerned about my well-being? Nearly two years ago, you spent a week in my apartment. You danced with me on Broadway at two in the morning, shared hot pastrami sandwiches with me at daybreak, rode the carousel with me in Central Park. And then just walked away with a simple goodbye.”

  “That was different.”

  “Obviously.” Different in a million ways. Then he had slept beside her in bed, made love to her until every muscle in her body had ached with delicious pain. And when the week was over, he had said his goodbyes hurriedly, as if their time together had been a careless holiday he was ready to put behind’him.

  “You never even returned my calls. So what in the world makes you think you can just stroll back into my life now and give orders?”

  She was shaking inside, but somehow she forced the outside to play the game, to hang tough when she was dragging her heartbreak out for public display. “Why now?” she insisted again.

  “Because…” He backed her to the wall, his hands on her shoulders. His body was so close the front of his white dress shirt brushed against the smooth cotton of her blouse.

  “Because, I…I can’t stop myself.”

  She didn’t get the chance to argue. Before she could open her mouth, his lips were pressed against hers. She pushed her hands into his chest, hard, afraid of the feelings that wrestled with her feeble hold on control. Control lost. The world spun around her, and instead of pushing, her hands and arms wrappe
d around him, pulling him closer.

  His kiss deepened, his body pressing into hers, rocking her against the wall. Passion dipped inside her, exciting parts of her body she’d never known existed until the week she’d spent with him in New York. Now it was as if he’d never left As if the nightmare of the stalker didn’t exist.

  She parted her kiss-swollen lips, and the play of his tongue tangling with hers left her weak and struggling for air. But still she couldn’t pull her mouth away, couldn’t bear to have his arms not around her, his fingers not digging into the flesh of her back. Tiny moans gurgled inside her, and she arched her body, pressing her hips against his, reveling in the hardness that she had brought to life.

  The intercom on the desk buzzed. She barely heard it. It buzzed again, persistently, and Ray managed to pull away, grabbing the receiver. His “What’s up?” was hoarse, strained with the passion that had to be tearing at him the way it was her. The receiver bobbled between his cheek and shoulder while he straightened his tie and rubbed at the wrinkles in his shirt.

  “Put him through.”

  Jodie’s pulse slowly returned to somewhere near normal. Ray was obviously talking to someone with the NYPD, giving them the facts about the credit card. The rest of the conversation made no sense at all.

  “What was that all about?” she asked when he’d hung up the phone.

  He tossed the legal pad he’d been scribbling on across the desk. “The kiss or the phone call?”

  “Both. You can start with the phone call. The kiss we’ll discuss later.”

  His gaze raked across her. “The investigation into the stalker has officially escalated to a homicide case. And, they believe your stalker is still in New York City.”

  “Why would they believe that? They have no idea who he is.”

  “A watch engraved with Max Roling’s initials turned up in a pawnshop this morning. His sister identified it. She’d given it to him last Christmas.”

  “Oh, poor Janie. They were so close. Neither of them had married yet, and they spent lots of weekends together. They both loved the city. They were from a little town in Illinois.” She was rambling. She couldn’t help it.

  “Concentrate on the positive, Jodie. If the man is in New York, then he’s not here.”

  “Ifs are not reliable.”

  “They’re as reliable as anything else we have to go on. And that means, you, the boys, your grandmother, all of you are perfectly safe. In fact, until this thing is wrapped up, this is the best place for you.”

  “And if the police are wrong? If the man is here in Natchitoches? If he frightened Gloria Bigger into her heart attack?”

  “Then we’ll know soon enough. Gloria’s condition is listed as stable. If someone was in her shop last night, she’ll be able to describe him. But the evidence points to the fact that your stalker’s in New York. If he is, he can’t hurt you or the boys.”

  “I can’t take that chance.”

  “You have to, for all the reasons you mentioned before. You have two babies who depend on you for everything. They need you alive.”

  Two babies who needed her. Ray was right. No matter how badly she wanted the lunacy to end, she couldn’t willingly put her life in danger. Not if there was any other way to stop the madness.

  “What if you and the police are wrong, if the man is already here, watching and waiting?”

  “Then you’ll still be safe. Ben will be with you and Grams and the boys during the day. I’ll be there at night.”

  “It sounds too simple, too easy.”

  “Not simple, just safe. So forget this nonsense about leaving town.”

  Jodie closed her eyes, determined to think with reason. Everyone had advice, but they didn’t know this man, not the way she did. He was the terror she woke with in the morning and climbed into bed with at night.

  Still, if she could stay here with the boys and know they were safe, know Grams was safe…“I can’t promise you anything, Ray, except that I’ll think about it and that I won’t act foolishly.”

  “That’s a start.” He slipped a finger under her chin and tilted it upward. “Just hang in there, Jodie, and give the wheels of justice a little time.”

  “You never answered my question, Ray. Why are you so concerned about what happens to me?”

  He slid a finger down her nose and across her mouth, then slowly traced the lines of her bottom lip. “I think I did answer the question a minute ago, for both of us. It’s just that the answer has flaws.”

  “Flaws or limitations?”

  “Both.”

  Flaws and limitations, the story of her life. She didn’t even want to imagine what kind of limitations could go with a kiss so powerful, they had both been left as weak and disoriented as midday drunks.

  “We’ll talk about it tonight,” he said, moving back to his desk. “Right now I have an appointment with a feepaying client. One of Dad’s regulars. He keeps the firm on retainer just so he can have instant attention.”

  “I can take a cab back to Gram’s.”

  “No cabs. No strangers. I’ve already arranged for Dale to drive you home. He’s the student worker from the university. Six-four and built like a wrestler. You’ll be in good hands.” Stretching across the desk, he punched the intercom button and asked his dad’s secretary to find Dale.

  Jodie slung her handbag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight,” she said. He only nodded, his head already bent over a manila folder of typed forms.

  She opened the door and went to wait for Dale. The outer office was chilly, a forecast of the cold front that was dropping the outside temperature by the minute. Still, a flicker of heat ran through Jodie’s blood. Flaws and limitations or not, the kiss had proved one thing.

  She had not imagined the passion she and Ray had shared in New York. And it was still alive, not just inside her but burning in him as well, easily raised to four-alarm status.

  When all of this was over, if it ever was, she wanted one more chance with Ray Kostner, not as her bodyguard, but as her lover. One chance to see if what she felt was love or just a young girl’s fantasy that didn’t know when to die.

  And one more chance to see if he had what it took to be a husband and father. Either the flaws would win or she would.

  THE EARLY AFTERNOON showers ended, leaving cooler temperatures and earth that squished instead of crunched beneath Jodie’s rubber boots. She trudged along, tugging the wagon carrying Blake, Blair and a conglomeration of stuffed animals and plastic toys behind her. Fortunately, Grams’s lot was large, nearly an acre, a yard size unheard of in New York. It gave Jodie and the boys room to roam without leaving the protection of home.

  Especially with this, she thought, patting the walkie-talkie attached to a belt loop at her waist. One for her, one for Grams and one for Ben. Instant communication. Another of Ray’s ideas. Another ploy to convince her to stay in Natchitoches.

  Ray was determined that she was not going to leave. His reasoning was still a mystery to her. It would have made sense if he’d believed her when she’d told him the boys were his. Surely any decent man would feel obliged to protect the mother of his sons.

  But he believed what he chose to believe. Mr. No Commitment turned macho protector from a stalker he kept insisting was thousands of miles away. His actions did not match his claims. If he’d really believed there was no danger, he’d be sleeping in his own bed at night, not camped out in Grams’s guest room.

  She stopped and pointed out a scurrying squirrel to the boys. Blake clapped his hands, and Blair tried to crawl out of the wagon. If he could see it, he wanted it. The simple logic of childhood. She could use a little simple logic herself these days.

  “Jodie, is everything all right?”

  She jumped, startled by the voice.

  “I’m fine, Ben. Where are you?”

  “Down by the boathouse, cleaning up some gardening tools. I just thought I’d check on you.”

  “We’re fine.”

  “Then over
and out.”

  Checking and playing with his new toy. He and Grams both were acting like troopers. Actually, more like children playing espionage. And, if Ray’s scenario held true, it would stay that way. No one would get hurt.

  She shuddered and looked around, a sense of uneasiness shrouding the peace of the garden. It wasn’t fair. A man too cowardly to identify himself had drawn her and her family into his circle of fear, robbed her of her right to live without terror.

  And she was not the first woman to face this kind of nightmare. It happened far too often, according to Cappan and the literature she’d read on the subject. But usually the woman knew who was watching and following her, threatening her privacy and often her life. Somehow, Jodie was sure knowing would be easier. It was impossible to fight an identity without form.

  She’d spent all of the boys’ afternoon nap time sitting on the back porch, following Ray’s orders. Searching hidden crevices of memory, she’d conjured up everyone she’d come in contact with in New York in the past year. If there was even the most remote chance they might be the stalker, she’d listed their name, as detailed a description as she could come up with and anything else she knew about them.

  Tomorrow Ray would fax the names to Detective Cap-pan. He could check the ones she’d added since she’d given him the original suspect list and see if any one of them had a record. Ray would also fax the descriptions to his friend André in New Orleans. Ray wanted the drawings of possible suspects shown to everyone in the apartment building where she had lived. If someone had seen one of the men hanging around, either coming or going, they would have something to go on.

  Anything would be miles ahead of where they were now.

  Her list of possible suspects had grown. A few of her past clients, a couple of neighbors, an intern she’d fired for making unwanted advances to her secretary, a guy who worked at the deli by the office. Once she’d started, the list had grown, broadened to people she hadn’t considered before.

  The basic similarities were that they were all male. They all flirted, a little. They all looked at her in that way men do when they want you to know they like what they see. And none of them seemed nearly as sick as the man who had sent the bizarre notes.