by Joanna Wayne
“No, tomorrow you’ll be packing for a trip to New York. The two of us will be leaving the day after that.”
“I’m busy, Ray. You know that. I’m still working out the plans for my project. It’s Tuesday now. The ad runs Saturday. I have to see Butch again.”
“If the trip’s successful, you won’t have to go through with your plan. Cappan has some ideas.”
“I talked to Cappan when I was in New York. Many times. His ideas were useless.”
“This time will be different. He has mug shots of everyone in the New York area who’s been convicted on multiple sexual offenses in the last decade. He needs you to see if one of them looks familiar. By the time we get there, he’ll also have a computer printout of every stalker case that even remotely resembles yours.”
“Cappan’s been busy.”
“He’s pulled out all the stops. Even gone so far as pulling up past serial killer data to see if your guy could be a copycat.”
“Too bad he wasn’t that cooperative before I gave up my job and moved to Natchitoches.” She pulled away and walked to a worn hammock that swung between two pines.
“But I was just a woman complaining about some man sending her gifts and breaking into her house without taking anything. We had to wait until the NYPD were convinced the guy had committed a murder before they got serious.”
“Cappan’s serious now. And so am I.”
“Plane reservations to New York are not always easy to come by on short notice.”
“We have reservations. We have a direct flight out of Shreveport at eight o’clock Thursday morning. We meet with Cappan right after lunch.”
“Why did you wait until now to tell me?”
“Cappan didn’t let me know until this afternoon that he could provide everything I asked.”
“So this was all your idea?”
“It would have come to this eventually. I just pushed the buttons a little sooner.”
“I have the boys, Ray. I can’t just up and leave.”
He dropped beside her in the hammock. “I’ve already talked to Selda. She’ll stay with your grandmother until we get back. And you said Butch already has cops watching your house.”
“Butch took credit, but that was your doing, too, wasn’t it?”
“I talked to the chief of police. He owed my dad a favor.”
“So everything is set.”
“You can say no.”
“And miss the chance to get a real lead? Not on your life. I just wished these actions had come sooner, while Max was still alive. While Gloria Bigger was still alive, even though no one but me is convinced the stalker frightened her into the initial heart attack.”
“I know.” He traced the lines of her face, trailing a finger down her forehead, over her nose and to her lips. “I wish a lot of things were different.”
She tipped her head toward him. “Kiss me, Ray. Make me forget for a few minutes that the world is cursed with people who destroy other people’s lives.”
He pressed his lips against hers, and she melted into him, warm and willing. The kiss fed his hunger but didn’t begin to satisfy the needs that raged inside him.
“Do you want to go back now?” he asked, “while I can still pull myself away from you and walk back to the boat?”
She wrapped herself around him and pulled him down into the roped folds of the oversize hammock. And that was all the answer he needed.
THE HOUSE WAS DARK and locked up tight when they returned. Ray fiddled with key until the back door opened.
Jodie flicked on the light. Her hair was tangled and wild from wind blowing across the water and from making love in a swaying hammock. Her blouse was wrinkled and buttoned crooked, with one side hanging down inches past the other.
She’d never looked more sexy. Ray fought back urges that should have been well satisfied from heaven in the hammock.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, opening the refrigerator and peeking inside.
“Famished.”
“How about a BLT on toast?”
“With cheese?”
“Melted and gooey.”
“You talked me into it.”
Ray peeled the slices of bacon apart and placed them into the frying pan while Jodie sliced a large tomato and a hunk of cheddar cheese.
“We make a good team,” she said, slipping a sliver of cheese between his lips.
He let the comment ride. No matter how good things seemed at this minute, he couldn’t make promises, not about teams or partnerships or anything that spoke of permanence. Not until he was sure he could make it work. Until he was dead certain he would not fall short again.
His temporary silence did not daunt Jodie. She kept up her cheery chatter while they finished making the sandwiches and then devoured them.
Ray wasn’t fooled for a minute. The party atmosphere only covered the surface, like a thin layer of gold over dull, imitation metals. Hopefully their trip to New York would lead to an arrest that could change everything, give her back her life.
And take her back to New York, away from him.
The phone jangled loudly, interrupting his thoughts.
“You answer it, Ray. I hate phone calls this time of night. They’re never good news.” She picked up the kitchen extension and handed it to him.
“Hello.”
The caller was Butch Deaton. “I saw lights on. I thought I’d check and make sure everything’s all right.”
“Everything’s fine. Jodie and I were just grabbing a snack.”
“It’s a little late for eating, isn’t it?”
“Not if you’re hungry.”
“Tell Jodie I called. If she needs me tonight, I’ll be practically within yelling distance.”
“I’ll let her know.”
Ray hung up the phone. “Your Officer Unfriendly seems to be interested in getting more friendly these days, at least with you.”
“I know. He has some crazy idea the two of us might have ended up together if he hadn’t broken our date for the senior prom.”
“Your senior prom.” Ray stepped closer. “I remember it well. I had just graduated from LSU. My mom asked me to do a favor for her.”
“Take me to the prom?”
“Yeah. It cost her twenty bucks. I needed gasoline to drive to New Orleans that weekend.”
“You mean you were paid to date me?” She wadded a napkin and threw it at him.
“Cold, hard cash.”
“If I’d known that I would have never let you kiss me good-night.”
“Yes, you would have. You initiated the kiss.”
“I certainly did not.”
He reached over and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. “You did. Looking up at me with those big green eyes, tossing that mane of gorgeous wild hair. The same way you’re doing now.”
And then his lips were on hers. And he was lost in her again. He lifted her like he might have done Blake or Blair and carried her up the stairs.
He couldn’t fight his feelings for her any longer. Not sleeping under the same roof. But when this was over, when the stalker was caught, then he’d have to deal in reality.
The reality that he was not the man she thought he was. The reality was that if he didn’t walk away, he would hurt her and the boys, let them down the way he had let down everyone in his life who had ever mattered.
And no matter what leaving did to him, it wouldn’t be as bad as watching the love she had for him turn to bitter resentment. It wouldn’t be as bad as ruining Jodie’s and his sons’ lives.
JODIE ROLLED OUT another round of pie dough, flexing her wrists, and laying on the muscle power. Physical activity was great for releasing tension, and after this morning’s meeting with Butch, she had more than her share. He’d argued every point, but finally they’d managed to agree on enough of them that everything was set in case the killer really did answer her ad.
“How many more of these rounds do you need?” she asked, turning and spilling a
little more flour down the front of her apron in the process.
Selda stopped beside her. “You’re just getting started, honey. We’re making a hundred meat pies.”
“A hundred! Who’s going to eat them?”
“A hundred tourists. These are for the church booth. Last year we made enough money the first weekend of the festival to take the golden agers to Branson for five days.”
“We’re going back next spring,” Grams added. “Selda’s got a thing for Mel Tillis.”
“You should talk. You were drooling over John Davidson.”
“I was not. That was my false teeth slipping.” Their laughter filled the kitchen.
Selda slammed another package of meat on the table and peeled off a layer of butcher paper. “Do you think this ground beef’s too lean, Emily?”
“Way too lean, but the pork’s a little fatty. Cooked together we should have enough meat drippings to give the pies a decent flavor.”
“I don’t believe anyone mentioned we were making a hundred pies when you enlisted my help,” Jodie complained good-naturedly.
“You didn’t ask.” Grams and Selda exchanged sly smiles.
“I’ve been had.”
Blair agreed with her, bouncing a rattling set of plastic keys off the tray of his high chair.
“Did you bring the sage?” Grams asked from her position on her all fours. She was rummaging in the bottom cabinet for her biggest mixing bowl.
“You told me you were going to get the sage and some cayenne pepper.”
“The pepper’s on the counter. Did you buy sage at the store, Jodie?”
“It wasn’t on my list.”
“Well, we’ll just have to stop cooking and go get some. You can’t make Natchitoches Meat Pies if you don’t have all the right spices,” Selda said.
“I don’t know how I forgot to put it on the list.”
“No reason to fret,” Selda said, wiping her hands on the tail of her apron. “It won’t take but a minute to run up to Brookshires.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Jodie said, fitting her fifth circle of pie dough onto a slice of waxed paper. “The boys and I will go to the store and get the sage and anything else you need. They’re ready for a break.”
“You are such a sweetie,” Selda purred. “You’re lucky to have her around, Emily.”
“That’s the truth. I plan to keep her here, too, even if I have to go out and find her a husband to do it.”
“The way that Kostner boy’s hanging around, I’d say he’s sweet enough on her to swing for a diamond.”
“Hmmph! That fellow’s not her type. The man will talk your ears off, and he’s a little too thin,” Grams snorted, never tiring of her own version of the matchmaking game.
“Well, a man that handsome could slip his shoes under my bed any night,” Selda replied. “Of course, I’d have to double up on my heart pills.”
The two women erupted in giggles again.
Jodie unstrapped the safety catches on the boys’ high chairs and sat the twins on the floor. Blair crawled toward the table leg and started pulling up. Blake headed for a spot of spilled flour.
She grabbed them both, balancing one on each hip. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Are you sure sage is all you need?”
“That’s it.” Emily followed her to the door. “Be careful,” she said.
“I will. The store will be full of people this time of day.” Jodie bent down and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. No matter how hard Grams tried to present a calm front, the fear was there, just under the surface of carefree chatter, hiding beneath the thin veil of daily routine. And Jodie had brought the trouble down on all of them. She wasn’t sure how, but she had to have done something to cause the stalker to pick her out of all the women in New York City.
The drive to Brookshires was uneventful. She parked near the exit and pulled the double stroller from the trunk before unbuckling the twins’ car seats. No use to bother with a cart for one item.
“Mommy’s going to make this quick. A can of ground sage and then home again, home again, clickety clack.” The phrase was accompanied with one of her silliest faces. Blair giggled; Blake stuck a pudgy hand into her face. He was the doubter. It took a lot more than a silly face to convince him being buckled into a stroller was going to be fun.
Wednesdays were obviously a good day for shopping. Fewer people than usual walked the aisles, most with half-filled baskets, and there were no long checkout lines. Jodie walked straight to the spice aisle. She pushed the stroller to the side while she searched for the sage.
“Jodie Gahagen!” The greeting was a high-pitched squeal.
She turned to find a statuesque blond standing behind her, a wide smile showing off a row of perfect white teeth.
“Mary Lou Skelton!” Jodie fell into a bear hug. “It’s been years.”
“Nine. Tommy and I got married the summer after high school graduation and moved to Little Rock. You were the smart one, going to LSU. I was so envious.”
“You were never envious of anyone. How’s Tommy?”
“Still sweet as ever. What about you? Did you get married, or are you one of those career women?”
“I’m…unattached now.” That covered it better than the choices Mary Lou provided. “How’s your family?”
“Daddy retired, just last month. He and Mom are moving up to Hot Springs Village so they can be close to us and the kids. We have two boys and a girl. Do you believe it?”
“I have twins myself.” She turned back to her sons. “Oh, my God, my boys.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Blake and Blair! They’re gone.” Terror slammed into her, knocking the breath from her lungs. For a second, her body was frozen in fear. The next second adrenaline shot through her in energizing bursts.
She rounded the corner of the aisle. They were there, sitting calmly, each with a sucker, one end clutched in their pudgy hands, the other stuck in their mouths.
She bent down beside them, relief coursing through her in relentless waves. “Where did these come from?” She pulled the candy from their mouths and they wailed in protest. The suckers were red, heart-shaped. She clutched a shelf filled with canned vegetables for support. He had been here. In the one split second she had turned her back, he had pushed the boys around the corner and given them the suckers.
She wanted to cry, to scream, to beat her fists against the stacks of cans and send them clattering to the floor.
“Why are you so upset, Jodie? I mean it’s just a sucker. They didn’t choke or anything.”
“It’s not the candy. Someone moved them. While we were talking, someone pushed their stroller around the corner.”
“Why would they?”
“To drive me crazy. To let me know he was here, watching me. To let me know I can’t stop him.” Her voice was shaking. So was she, but she couldn’t control herself.
Mary Lou backed away, the look on her face proof that she didn’t think the drive to crazy would have to be very far. “Maybe you just walked away from them without thinking, you know, while you were looking at groceries.”
Jodie struggled for a calming breath. She had to pull herself together for the boys’ sake. “No, it’s a long story, Mary Lou. But, the boys are fine. That’s all that matters.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?”
Like a psychiatrist. Reading Mary Lou’s mind was not a challenge. “There’s no reason to call anyone.” No reason at all. The police hadn’t been able to stop him. And in spite of all of his efforts, neither had Ray.
“If you’re sure you’re all right?” Mary Lou took another step backward, obviously eager to be on her way.
“I’m sure.” She waved Mary Lou off and bent again to hug her boys and wipe the tears from their eyes.
“No more candy,” she said, giving each tummy a gentle tickle. “We’re going home. Mommy will keep you safe.”
Her heart was pounding as she paid for the sage and walked
to the car. But still she stole furtive glances in every direction. There was a man loading his groceries in the car, a mother trying to keep up with the preschooler who skipped in front of her, a pregnant lady pushing a cart of groceries. Not one person who could possibly be a suspect.
Mommy will keep you safe. The promise echoed in her head as she started the car and drove back to Grams’s house. She would keep that promise or die trying.
Chapter Twelve
Jodie rubbed her burning eyes. She’d spent hours staring at countless mug shots that had gotten her the same place every other step in this dance with the devil had. Nowhere.
“Just a few more, Jodie,” Ray urged, giving her shoulders a quick massage.
“It’s a waste of time. None of these people look familiar. And none of the people I named or described had a record. Cappan even checked out the guy who sells roasted nuts at the corner by my old apartment. He’s squeaky clean, at least in this sense.”
She vacated the chair next to Ray’s, standing and stretching her neck back as far as it would go without making it hurt more than it already did. Every muscle in her body ached, not only from the activities of the afternoon, but from three months of strain, from tension that woke with her in the morning and slept with her at night.
Cappan walked to the open door and peered in. “Any luck?”
“Nothing but dead ends.” She walked over and retrieved her raincoat from the back of a chair, folding it over her arm. “I feel like I’ve looked at snapshots of every psycho in the state of New York except the one tormenting me.”
“Who isn’t in New York at the time.” “No, the man did what you said he wouldn’t, followed me from one end of the country to another.”
“Maybe he’d already done that.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“We’ve been looking for someone who lives, or at least lived, around this area. We could be way off base. Your stalker might be someone from your past, someone from Louisiana who followed you here, or at least came up here looking for you.” Cappan propped a hip on the door frame.
“That’s impossible. I’ve lived up here five years, ever since I graduated from LSU.”
“What brought you here?”
