by Stacy Juba
Cassidy exited into the scorching sunshine, clinching her pepper spray. She had to leave before guilt set in. Spike annoyed the hell out of her, but he had held her job all those months. And while Rhonda Sue wasn’t her dream client, there were plenty of other decent club members who relied on Cassidy.
You don’t owe anything to anybody but yourself, Cassidy thought. She wished she believed it.
Her head snapped up as tires scraped into the parking lot. Cassidy exhaled as Zach idled his car beside her, unrolled the window and stuck out his head.
"Slacking off?" he asked over the air conditioner and muted strains of country music.
For just a second, her tension eased. She could use a friend, or whatever Zach was, right now. "Not exactly. I quit."
His grin evaporating, Zach switched off the radio and ended a female singer's laments about broken hearts. "Seriously?Did your agent come through, or did something happen?"
"I’ll tell you later. Can you follow me in your car? I want to get out of here."
"I’m right behind you," Zach said.
***
They wound up in a far booth at Angela's Diner. Cassidy tugged the salt shaker out of a chrome holder, too edgy to eat the western omelet and home fries her mother had plunked before her. She’d done all she could, calling Detective Pierce from her cell phone and informing him of the latest development. Now Cassidy had to unwind and plan her next move, not a simple task when her mind wouldn’t slow down.
Angela, the grey-haired owner, whipped a gallon of cream with an electric beater, her famous gingerbread topping. Photos of her grandchildren, crayon drawings and news clippings highlighting Sink or Swim papered the wall above the cash register.
Triglycerides excluded, Cassidy had always felt safe in the cramped double-trailer length diner with its eight booths running down both sides, rows of gingham-curtained windows and townie customers.
Now she couldn't stop peering over Zach's shoulder, scouring the parking lot for Adam’s sedan. She'd chosen the narrow red booth nearest the kitchen and back exit.
Zach looked up from his half-finished plate of chicken croquettes and gravy-drenched mashed potatoes. "You haven’t eaten a thing. What're you thinking?"
"I'm wondering why Adam came up with this Miles ploy. I mean, assuming he’s our guy."
"He seemed quiet on TV. The underdog. Maybe he didn't think you could fall in love with him so he created a daring alter ego."
"He's pretty daring if he killed Reggie."
"It seems weird that Adam would have fixated on two things at once. His obsession with you and his anger toward Reggie."
Cassidy twisted a silver canister of straws by the lid. "What are you saying? That you don’t think he’s Miles? Or, that you don’t believe he’s Reggie’s killer?"
"I don't know what to think. Maybe you’re looking for connections when nothing is there. But they’re definitely worth exploring." Zach pried her hand off the canister and kneaded her fingers with his long callused ones.
She trembled at the warmth toasting her body. "By the way, what were you doing at my apartment building yesterday?"
"You heard about that, huh? I swung by to see if anyone strange was hanging around."
"You didn't notice Adam? My neighbor told me he was camped out."
"I was only there a little while. I must have missed him."
"What's this about you shacking up at the four-star establishment, the Countryside Motel? This stint must be pretty temporary for you. I thought with your grandmother, you’d be staying longer." Cassidy cocked her head at a Garrett Daily News issue folded on the Formica counter.
"Who said anything about temporary? It can take awhile to find the right apartment." He forked another bite of chicken croquette, engrossed with his food.
She lightened her tone to hide the unexpected heaviness in her chest. She'd grown used to Zach's honeyed accent and worn Stetson. "Uh huh. I think you're fretting over blustery New England winters. If I were you, I'd fly south, too."
Cassidy waited for a response. His knife sliced into the croquette, clinking back and forth across the plate. Zach averted his eyes, his smile long gone.
Her mother appeared with warm gingerbread drizzled in cream and powdered sugar, nametag drooping on her dress and stray curls frizzing around clunky earrings. "On the house."
"Thanks for your hospitality, ma'am," Zach said. "I'm recommending that the paper do a business story on this place. Best meal I've had in Garrett."
Her mother managed a wan grin back as she refilled his coffee cup. "You're a good kid. Thanks for taking care of my daughter."
"No one's taking care of me, Mom. You know that." Cassidy gripped the cold stainless steel edge of the booth.
"Wishful thinking, I guess. Glenn called this morning, complaining that you were too stubborn. For once, he's right. You should let us chauffeur you, or at least follow you places. You can't drive all over tarnation with this freak after you."
Her mother nudged Zach, batting her fringe of fake lashes. "Tell her. Now that she's quit, she needs to stay home. She won't listen to me. Maybe she'll listen to you."
"Mom- "
"I don't think she'll do anything stupid, ma'am. Cassidy's a smart young lady."
"You don't think I'll do anything stupid?" Cassidy asked. "Thanks for the confidence."
"She's smart, but impulsive," her mother said. "That's what worries me."
After lunch, Zach followed Cassidy to her stepfather's building and escorted her up to the third level. She stopped at the second door down. Glenn wouldn't be home for another hour.
"Want to come in, cowboy?"
"Wish I could, but I'd better swing by the paper. Don't make me a liar to your mama, okay? Don't do anything crazy." He brushed a strand of red hair out of her eyes. Furrows creased his forehead beneath his dark bangs.
His concern stirred a fountain of emotions inside her. Surprising herself, Cassidy leaned forward and kissed him firm on the lips. Zach pulled her close and melded into the intensity of the kiss. Her fingers explored the rough slope of his chin and the recesses behind his ears. His soft mouth parted hers.
Zach stepped back and held her wrists. "I'd better go," he whispered. "I'm late for work."
He retreated down the windowless hall. Breathless, Cassidy spun her keychain at her waist. Did he like her, or didn't he? She must have been too forward. It was all Adam's fault. She hadn't wanted to enter the apartment alone and latched onto Zach in a lame attempt at companionship.
Zach halted halfway to the stairs, turned and tossed her his Stetson. Cassidy caught it with both hands, then perched it on her head.
"What's this for?" she asked. "You don't expect me to go barrel racing, do you?"
"So you'll remember to call me if you need me. Be careful."
"I'll be fine."
"Incidentally, I enjoyed that kiss. Hope we can do it again some time." Zach disappeared around the corner.
Cassidy smiled. Okay then. He must like her a little bit. She pivoted to the door, her smile slipping as she imagined the bleakness beyond.
A few minutes later, Cassidy settled in the living room and returned a phone call to Deniz Jewell. The deals her agent was pursuing would make Spike’s paychecks seem like milk money, she reassured herself. Maybe releasing her burdens at the health club would turn out to be a wise move.
However, a chasm hollowed her chest as Deniz apologized for the lack of exciting fitness-related opportunities.
"I thought it would be easier to generate national interest, but now that the SOS season is in reruns, it’s all about those singing and dancing reality shows," Deniz said ruefully. "But, I’ve been talking to someone affiliated with a national aerobics competition in Las Vegas, and they’re looking for celebrity judges next month. And, Sensational Seas Cruise line considers you their local heroine. They’d like you to sail with them as their guest in September and take promotional shots for a brochure to distribute around New England. The fees need to be neg
otiated, but it’s not a bad start."
"September? That’s just around the corner." Cassidy’s shoulders sank at the idea of being trapped on another ship, especially if her stalker bought a ticket. He’d already found her there once.
"I think we should also put out the word that you’re available to speak to high schools, colleges and civic groups in your region," Deniz went on. "We’ve got to keep you in the public eye and prove you have charisma. Staying power."
Driving around to campuses and exposing herself to large groups? That sounded even riskier than the cruise. Cassidy decided she’d better be honest. "I was hoping for a project like a commercial or fitness video, where I’d be in a controlled studio environment, not out mingling with the public. I have a stalker, Deniz. I’d like to hold off on the cruise and speaking engagements a bit till I see where this is going. "
Cassidy described the situation, leaving out Adam in case he was innocent. Deniz listened for a moment, then said, "Sorry about the stalker, hon, but it's trendy. All stars have one. That’s how you know you’re somebody. You can't let these nuts win."
Cassidy imagined the agent decked out in purple garb, fluttering her pudgy arms for emphasis. "Letting him win is the last thing I want to do. That’s why I need time to find out who’s doing this."
"I can’t represent you, Cassidy, if you’re going to turn down opportunities," Deniz said in a sharp voice. "Especially when they’re the only opportunities coming your way."
"I know, I know. Can you just give me another week or two to straighten things out?" Cassidy felt like a 10-year-old pleading with a teacher for extra hours on her science project, a sensation more foreign to her than Latin. She’d never been the kind of person who didn’t follow through on her responsibilities. Until recently.
A deep sigh vibrated over the phone line. "All right, I’ll put off the cruise line and the aerobics people for a little longer. Then, you’ve got to decide whether you want to be in the spotlight or not, Cassidy. I’ve got one more idea, and that’s marketing you to other reality shows, the ones where B-list and C-list celebrities camp out in a house, or get teamed with a professional to learn a new skill. There are some minor celebs who float from one show to another, hoping that if they get famous enough, they’ll get their big break. Sometimes, it works out. You might even get money up front. What do you think?"
Another reality show and long investment of time doing something she disliked. Cassidy combed a tense hand through her hair.
"If you could explore that, I’d appreciate it," she said. "Thanks, Deniz, and I’ll make sure this is over soon. I promise."
I hope.
***
The next morning, Cassidy awoke to sunlight cascading into the room and the faraway sound of Glenn’s voice. She opened her crusty eyes and twisted sideways, all the bad memories flooding back. Let’s see. She’d quit her job, irritated her agent and thrown her career into shambles, all because a stalker was pursuing her.
Maybe she should just stay in bed.
"Cassidy, wake up." Gradually, Cassidy focused on Glenn hulking over her, his mouth compressed into a frown. Her gaze slid to the computer printer paper he clutched from one corner. As if he didn't want to ruin fingerprints.
Cold awareness seeped into her bones. Cassidy sat up. "What is it?"
"I found this on your car, under the windshield wipers, no envelope. It's signed Miles. Take it carefully. We'll put it in a plastic bag and deliver it to the police."
Swallowing, she accepted the letter from Glenn's outstretched hand. She cradled it by the edges and read it to herself.
"Cassidy, I'm disappointed in you. How could you leave your apartment? How could you run from me? We're meant to be together. You wore that green pantsuit at the ship preview just for me, knowing it's my favorite color. Don't tease me. I can't stand it. When I see you with that photographer, it hurts. I tell myself you must be confused and that soon you'll realize your true feelings. It's my job to make you think of me night and day. I will make you love me. Miles."
Cassidy leaped off the futon. She paced the room, hugging the waist of her sleeveless top and pajama shorts. She shouted at the top of her lungs, "What's wrong with this pervert? He thinks I'm teasing him? I can't take this anymore!" Her heart walloped in her chest so fast she could barely breathe.
Glenn grasped her by the shoulders. "Easy, sweetheart. Stay calm."
"How can I when I don't know who’s behind this? Is it Adam? Some stranger?"
He steered her toward the futon and Cassidy kicked a paperback out of her path.
"I think you should leave town," Glenn said. "Just for a little while. Remember my second cousin, Rosemary, and her husband? They live in Vermont, in a nice rural area. I want you to stay with them. It'd be like a vacation."
She whirled to face him. "I'm not running away."
"Your life is at stake."
"It's not fair. Why should I have to change everything because of some lunatic?"
His complexion mottled to burnished red under his beard. "Whoever said stalking was fair? I’ve heard of victims who have had to move away. Change their identities. All that matters is staying alive."
Fear crested in her chest. "No. All that matters is not letting this jerk win. I lost Sink or Swim. I won't lose this."
"It's not a game," Glenn said in a resigned tone.
"Oh, yeah it is. And I want a turn."
Chapter Fourteen
The living room breathed gloom, shades drawn and air charged with silence. Glenn, Bo and Cassidy’s mother sat lined up on the futon. Her brother hunched in the middle, a barrier between his parents.
Cassidy broke the quiet as she cleared the kitchen counter in the adjoining room, speaking over the chopping blades of a tabletop fan. "I talked to Detective Pierce. Adam was fired from his job right after he lost Sink or Swim. A cashier ragged him about losing and Adam punched the guy. He’s had lots of free time to play psycho."
No one responded.
She deposited a couple empty juice glasses into the sink and turned back to her family. "The cops traced Adam’s car. He rented it in New York after he flew in for the last episode. He’s scheduled to return it Thursday to a rental agency out of Logan Airport."
Glenn mopped a handkerchief over his forehead. "Logan? Is he flying home?"
"I don’t know. The police will be waiting to question him. Detective Pierce says they don’t have evidence to arrest him, though." Cassidy sidled into the living room. "Getting back to while you’re all here. No."
Glenn and her mother exchanged uneasy glances over their son's head. Pepper laced her fingers in the lap of her yellow capris. Her matching sandals showed off her red-painted toenails.
"What do you mean?" her mother asked. "We haven't said anything."
"I'm not going to Vermont."
"Come on, Cass, it'd be fun," Bo said. "You can eat real maple syrup."
"I thought you wanted me to nail this guy," Cassidy said. "What happened?"
"Mom and Dad are right for once. This is getting dangerous."
"We've determined it's probably Adam. We've got the doors double-bolted. I-"
"We don't know for sure it's Adam," Glenn interrupted. "Whoever Miles is, he knows you’re staying here. That’s giving him the advantage. You'll be safer in Vermont with my cousin Rosemary and her husband."
"No one would find you there," her mother put in. "Who’d guess you were staying with the second cousins of your ex-stepfather?"
"I’m your ex-husband, Pepper, but I still consider myself Cassidy’s stepfather," Glenn said coldly.
"Maybe Adam will be arrested and spill his guts," Bo said. "It might just be for a few days. This could all be over before I go back to jail – I mean, school."
Cassidy skewered her family with the intensity of her gaze. Crammed together, they blinked at her like Three Blind Mice on hot coals. She knew they were worried about her, but they didn’t understand. Getting forced out of her apartment had been bad enough. Boltin
g her hometown was the equivalent of chickening out. Besides, how could she do detective work from Vermont?Not that Cassidy knew where to begin.
"I appreciate everyone's concern, but it's my decision," she said. "I’m staying right here."
Her mother jumped up. She ventured forward, one hand attached to her beehive. "You wouldn't be running away. You'd be going someplace safe. You're smart, honey. That's how you got excellent grades in school. Use your brains. Please."
"I repeat, it's my decision. I'm not hiding out. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
Her stepfather flung up his arms, and Bo ducked back, presumably to avoid an accidental blow to his face.
"You're making a mistake," Glenn said. "Do you want your stubbornness to get you killed?"
"Don’t tell me what to do," Cassidy snapped. "You're not my father."
It had blurted out before she could stop herself. Glenn's hurt expression pained her. He hadn't deserved that, but they had pushed her too hard. Didn’t they know by now that unsolicited advice only made her more stubborn?
"No, I'm not," he said. "But at least I stuck it out longer than he did, and I'm here now when you need someone most."
"Look, I'm-" Cassidy froze as a knock tapped on the door. Pulse accelerating, she started toward the kitchen. "It's probably Zach for our photo shoot," she said over her shoulder.
"Wait, it might not be him." Glenn strode to keep up with her.
Cassidy checked the peephole and blew out the breath she’d been holding. "It is Zach," she said, opening the door.
He patted his camera bag in the hallway. "Ready to take some last shots?"
"Not here." Cassidy snatched her purse off the kitchen table and withdrew her pepper spray. She had a point to prove, if only to herself. She'd risked money-making opportunities, quit her job and insulted her stepfather, all because of Miles.
She wouldn't remain a prisoner, too.
"What are you doing?" Glenn asked. "You’re not really continuing with this newspaper series, are you?"
Why not? Alison already had a completed story that needed photographs, and Cassidy could use a little air. Not to mention Zach’s company.
