Jodie's Little Secrets

by Joanna Wayne

  The message had been clear. The stalker had been watching and then had beaten her to her apartment to put the gift in place.

  She fit her trembling hands around the key again and gave it one last try. The engine didn’t respond. She stepped out of the car. She’d find a phone booth and call Selda.

  “Hello neighbor. Having car trouble?”

  The voice startled her, triggering a rush of adrenaline. She spun around and stared at the man who’d come up behind her. Recognition was instant. Selda’s new tenant was staring at her, a smile splitting his face, his eyes laughing.

  “The engine won’t start.”

  “I’ll take a look at it if you like. If we can’t start it, I can give you a ride.”

  “Is that your blue car?”

  “That’s it. I was taking some pictures of the old courthouse but the workers on the other side of the river caught my eye. This Festival of Lights must be some display.”

  “I thought you were in town to photograph plantation homes.”

  “I am. But lucky for you I stopped off in town before heading home. Why don’t you pop the hood and let me take a look?”

  “It was running fine earlier,” she said, opening the door and releasing the hood catch.

  “Does this happen often?”

  “No. Only once before.”

  “What was the matter with it then?”

  “I don’t remember,” she lied, not sure why she felt the need.

  He rolled up his sleeves and propped the hood on the safety rod before his head disappeared inside. “Here’s your problem.”

  She walked around the car and peeped under the hood. Wires, valves, belts and thingamabobs. A greasy puzzle with no cheat sheet. If the whole thing had been installed backward, she wouldn’t have known. “I don’t see a problem.”

  “This little wire’s your culprit. It’s supposed to be connected right here.”

  He demonstrated, fitting the wire into place and tightening the connector on the battery. That was the one part she could identify. She’d had to have it replaced once. New York winters ate batteries like monkeys ate bananas. That’s what her mechanic had said when explaining why she should purchase the most expensive one he had.

  “Now try it,” Greg said, pulling a white handkerchief from his pocket and adding a little more grease to the black stain that was already there.

  She did. This time it hummed beautifully. “You saved the day, Mr. Johnson, isn’t it?”

  “My pleasure. And the name’s Greg, especially when a beautiful redhead is asking.”

  “Then, thank you, Greg. But I’m curious,” she said, “what would have made the wire disconnect?”

  “A bad bounce in the road. Maybe nothing. Sometimes they just work loose. Or maybe fate just wanted us to meet again.”

  “I doubt that. Fate hasn’t been on my side lately.”

  “Then maybe it’s my fate, and you just got caught up in the undertow.”

  “Well, for whatever reason, I appreciate the assistance. If I can ever return the favor—”

  “You can,” he answered, too quickly.

  She eyed him warily.

  “You could have dinner with me tonight. Tell me if I’m jumping to conclusions or out of line in inviting you, but I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

  “Well, it’s a long story,” she joked, realizing she was beginning to feel at ease with the lanky photographer with the easy smile. She wasn’t entirely sure that was good, but he did seem harmless.

  “Then will you have dinner with me?”

  “Why? All you know about me is that I have two sons and a car that dies at inopportune times.”

  “I know a lot about you.”

  “How would you?” The wariness intensified as quickly as it had faded.

  “My landlady loves to talk. Besides, like I told you, I have a good view of your back porch from my window. That seems to be one of your favorite resting spots.”

  “When do you work if you’re always watching me?”

  “When the light is right. So, are we on for dinner? I promise not to bore you with stories of the big shots that got away.”

  “I’m afraid not. My life is in a state of flux right now. And, to be perfectly honest, there is someone else.”

  Jodie sensed a change in her rescuer. Not in the smile. It never left his face. It was the eyes that changed, grew darker, more intense.

  “I’m disappointed.”

  “Don’t be,” she said. “In my present situation, I would be lousy company. And if the situation changes, you never know, I just may take you up on your offer.”

  “Then you better hurry, or you might miss your chance.”

  “It won’t be the first time.”

  “Or hopefully the last.” He tipped his hat and walked away.

  A strange man, she decided, friendly, but a little quirky. Everyone you know is a suspect. Ray’s words echoed in her brain. She tried to picture Greg Johnson sneaking into her house or plunging a knife in Max Roling. The thoughts made her blood run cold, but they didn’t ring true.

  Shifting into reverse, she backed out of her parking place and headed home. Hopefully not to another gift.

  RAY KOSTNER STRETCHED, his mouth opening into a killer yawn. Keeping up with his own business long distance and running his dad’s office had turned into a lot more work than he’d anticipated. But that was not what was dragging him down.

  It was the past, attacking him without mercy, digging into dark crevices of his brain and pulling out memories he’d thought were buried too deep to be unearthed. Another reason Natchitoches was no good for him.

  “You’re a disappointment, son. You’ve gone too far this time. I have no choice but to step down as judge.”

  Words from the past tore at his strength, reducing him from the man he’d become to the boy he’d been. He’d never been good enough to please his dad, so he’d gone the other way. Pushed the limits until they’d broken, and his father’s life had come crashing down around them.

  But he wasn’t that rebellious kid anymore. He’d matured, made it to the top in a dog-eat-dog world. He’d just handled and won one of the highest profile criminal cases to hit Louisiana in many a year. But, back in Natchitoches, he was still Parker Kostner’s son.

  It shouldn’t matter, but it did. The truth was he’d exchange all his Times Picayune headlines for one acknowledgment from his dad that he’d been wrong about him. Maybe then he’d believe it himself. Maybe then he’d believe he could handle the role of husband and father without letting everyone who mattered down again.

  Strange, but he could see himself in Natchitoches now, working in this very office, going home to Jodie and the boys at night. At a decent hour so he could help bathe them and tell them bedtime stories.

  Or maybe his dad was right, had always been right. Maybe he thrived on controversy, gave in to cheap thrills, went for the pleasure of the moment, let people down. Maybe Jodie and his sons would be better off without him.

  When this was over, he’d have to make decisions. Right now, the only thing of importance was keeping Jodie safe. He’d talked to Cappan again, and though hundreds of miles apart, they’d reached the same decision.

  A stalker who traveled across the country to torment a woman he’d never been involved with was a dangerous psychopath operating on a short fuse. And the next explosion could be at any minute.

  That’s why Cappan needed Jodie to return to New York. He had to question her further, in person. And she needed to look at mug shots of multiple sex offenders.

  Jodie Gahagen, the girl he’d taken to the senior prom, young and innocent, vivacious and witty and one terrific kisser. She’d changed. Now she was one hell of a woman and a fantastic mother. And still a terrific kisser.

  Picking up the office phone, he punched in her number. He needed to hear her voice, tell her he was on the way back to her house. Miss Emily answered on the second ring.

  “Is Jodie there?”

  “
No, she’s out.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “Let’s see. I think she said she was going over to Selda’s. No, that wasn’t it. I don’t remember, but she’ll be back.”

  Leaving Emily and the boys at night didn’t sound like Jodie. Apprehension pitted in his stomach. “Do you have the walkie-talkie?”

  “It’s right here somewhere. Here it is, hanging on my hip.”

  “Give her a call.”

  “What do you want me to tell her?”

  “Just call her. I want to know where she is.”

  “Oh, I don’t have to do that. I remember now. She was going down to the boathouse to talk to Ben.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Well, of course I’m sure. Now what was it you wanted me to tell her?”

  “Nothing, Miss Emily. I’ll see her in a few minutes.”

  He said a quick goodbye and slammed the receiver into the cradle. In two seconds he was heading out the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jodie trod the worn path to the boathouse. The sky was cloudless, the stars so bright she felt she could reach out and touch them for luck. But, as always, the peace and beauty were flawed by the nagging worries that forever preyed in her mind.

  She pulled the flannel cape across her chest. The boat-house was in sight, and a beam of light from the unshuttered window told her Ben was still awake. She’d felt bad about cutting him off so quickly the other day. Tonight seemed the perfect time to let him know she appreciated all he was doing for them.

  Voices rumbled through the air. She wasn’t close enough to make out all of the words, but the tone was unmistakable. Ben was arguing with someone. Her first urge was to turn around and march back to the solace of the house. She didn’t give in. Under present circumstances what she didn’t know could definitely hurt her.

  The voices became more distinct which each step. When she knocked on the door, the loud quarrel quieted instantly.

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Jodie, Ben.”

  He jerked the door open. “Is something the matter, Miss Jodie?”

  “No, I just walked down to chat for a while. Did I come at a bad time?”

  “No. Come on in.”

  Her gaze swept the room. Grady stood in the corner, taller than she remembered, and muscular like his dad. His hair was cut short, stylish and he was dressed casually in trendy, khaki pants and a collarless shirt.

  “Hello, Jodie. Long time, no see.”

  “It’s been a while. You’ve changed. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  “Changed for the better, I hope. I’d know you anywhere. Still the prettiest girl in town, just like my dad always says.”

  A blush heated her cheeks. “Thanks to both of you. If I’m interrupting something, I can come back later.”

  “An argument,” Grady answered honestly, “but it can wait.”

  “We don’t want to bother you with our family squabbles,” Ben interjected. “Have a seat, and I’ll get you a soda.”

  “Thanks.” She sat on the only decent chair in the place. This was no way for Ben to live, cramped in a spot originally built for housing fishing supplies. Grady propped against the long table where her grandfather had skinned and filleted his catch. Ben dropped to the sagging bed.

  She was glad she’d made this visit. At least she could provide a decent mattress for him. She’d see to it first thing tomorrow. Grams would have done it already had she realized the condition of this one.

  “You’re really going the extra mile, Ben, staying out here when you could be at your own place, sleeping in your own bed.”

  “But then he’d have to put up with me, or else kick me out. He’s loath to do either of those things.”

  Ben shot his son a look that couldn’t be misinterpreted. Grady ignored it and kept talking.

  “That’s why I have to find a job and get a place of my own. What about around here? The boathouse could use a coat of paint, the gazebo needs power washing, and the fence between here and Miss Selda’s needs to be repaired. There’s a break down by the water’s edge big enough for a grown man to climb through.”

  “You certainly seem to know a lot about the place.”

  “I gave it a once-over the other afternoon when I was out here to see my dad. I’m thorough. And I work cheap.”

  If he worked free, she still wouldn’t have wanted him around the place. She hadn’t liked him as a teenager when he’d come out in the summer and helped his dad cut grass and weed the garden. He hadn’t had much to do with her, but he had hung around when she was outside, appearing from nowhere and scaring the wits out of her more than once.

  Now it was his reputation that caused her not to want him around. Troublemaker and loafer, though she had to admit he didn’t look the part.

  “I could use a little help,” Ben said, from his spot near the door. “It’s my own fault, but I did let things get ahead of me when I was out of town.”

  His comment surprised her. She was sure she’d interrupted a heated argument, yet Ben was encouraging her to hire Grady, to make it necessary for them to spend more time together.

  She could turn Grady down without hesitation, but it was a lot more difficult to say no to Ben, especially with him living here in one ill-equipped room in order keep her, Grams and the boys safe. He could have stayed in the house, of course. Grams had offered use of one of the guest rooms but he’d refused to even consider it.

  Grady leaned against the door frame, studying her reluctance. “Of course, if you don’t want me around…”

  “That’s not it. Look, we’ll give it a try. See if it works out”

  The smile that crossed his lips seemed genuine, but the taunting look in his eyes made her regret her hasty decision.

  Everyone’s a suspect. The familiar phrase hammered in her head, tightened the muscles in her throat so that she could barely swallow the soda Ben had given her. How much longer could she go on like this, wary of everyone she ran into, even people she’d known all her life?

  One sign of trouble and Grady would be out of here. She couldn’t take chances. And she’d make sure Butch had Grady’s name on the list of suspects he was checking out.

  Eager to leave, she downed a few more swallows of the canned drink and excused herself. The wind had picked up. It wasn’t gusty, but strong enough to sway the branches and tease a few of the last leaf holdouts from their stronghold.

  Lost in unpleasant thoughts, she walked to the edge of the water.

  “A nice night for a walk.”

  She turned at the voice, her heart racing the way it always did when Ray appeared. “Is that what brought you here?”

  “No, I came looking for you.” He stepped behind her and wound his arms around her waist, burying his lips in her neck. Tiny shivers of delight feathered her skin. Suddenly she didn’t want to go back to the house, didn’t want to talk about stalkers or police reports.

  “Let’s take the boat out, Ray.”

  “What brought that on?”

  “You. The moonlight. The need to feel normal again.”

  “I’m game. I’m not dressed for it, but I’m game.”

  “If your shoes get wet, they’ll dry. If your clothes get dirty, have them cleaned.”

  “You have answers for everything.”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t have answers, and I’m so tired of searching for them. For a few minutes I’d like to be uninhibited, unafraid, the way I used to be. The way we were when you visited me in New York.”

  “I’m not sure I have the energy to be the way we were then,” he teased.

  “Not that. I want to laugh, to act silly, to have fun.”

  “But not to make love?”

  “If it happens.”

  Ray ran his fingers through her hair, silky curls that tangled his fingers. Leaning closer, he touched his lips to hers and then drew away, sucking in a shaky breath. The taste, the feel, the flowery fragrance. All Jodie. All devastating.

/>   “If I stay with you another minute, it will happen.”

  “But first the boat ride.”

  “Won’t you mind leaving Grams and the boys alone?”

  “Not tonight. Butch talked the chief into assigning a man to watch the house. He’s pulling the first shift.”

  “Then a boat ride it is.”

  Minutes later he was guiding the small fishing craft down the Cane River, the hum of the motor breaking the silence, the wind in their faces easing but never dissolving the burdens of dealing daily with a killer.

  “I feel like the big bad wolf out with Little Red Riding Hood the way that cape’s flowing behind you.”

  “It’s russet, not red.”

  “Moonlight’s deceiving.”

  “Life’s deceiving.”

  He didn’t have an argument for that. They rode in silence for fifteen minutes, and for the first time in days, Ray could almost feel his muscles letting go of the tension. He slowed the motor and guided the boat to a small wooden dock that jutted into the river.

  “Where are we?”

  “A fishing camp. It belongs to a friend of mine, but they don’t use it much anymore. It’s quiet. We can talk, and laugh and act silly with no one to hear us.”

  “Don’t make fun of me. You have to admit the boat ride was a good idea.”

  “Great.” He killed the motor and stepped out, tying the boat to a post. Jodie joined him on the dock. They walked together, hand in hand, up a grassy hill toward a rustic cabin. An owl hooted, the only sound in their world of isolation.

  Jodie stopped and stared up at him, moonlight shimmering in her eyes. “Too bad the world can’t always be this peaceful.”

  “It can. It will be again.” He held her close and she cuddled against him, soft where he was hard, curves where he was planes and angles. The ache inside him swelled to strangling proportions. “We just have to keep you safe long enough to see it.”

  “We’re supposed to be laughing and acting silly,” she said.

  “And making love. But first I have to bring up something serious.”

  “You are the big, bad wolf,” she groaned.

  “I talked to Cappan today.”

  “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”