Young Ladies of Mystery Boxed Set

by Stacy Juba

  "I wasn’t. Keep talking." His brusqueness had lessened.

  "I've received letters and threats from a stalker. He followed me to my hometown, although I don’t know what he looks like or whether he’s using his real name." She filled him in on the background, starting with Miles and ending with Mrs. Elliott’s conviction that Reggie and Felicia shared the same murderer.

  Mr. Fowler interrupted with questions, and tapered into silence as Cassidy finished her story.

  "I don't have an answer," he finally said. "Felicia was close-mouthed about her personal life. We lived in the same house, but some days we never saw each other. Will you fax me copies of your letters? I can discuss it with my wife."

  "Of course. I’ll have the local police do that" Cassidy scribbled his fax number in the margin of her notebook page.

  "Felicia never would have gone on that show if her fiancé hadn't died of leukemia a couple years back. She was never into show business before. I’ve always tried to keep her away from it. After she lost Brian, my daughter was never the same. It was like Felicia was trying to become another person."

  "Was that why she got involved with the telethon?"

  "She saw how Brian suffered and wanted to do whatever she could to help others."

  Cassidy's stomach dropped. If only she’d taken the time to see past Felicia’s tough exterior and get to know her better. Perhaps they could have been friends. Something clicked in Cassidy’s mind.

  "Was her fiancé's picture in her locket?" she asked. "It seemed important to her. I noticed that Felicia hardly ever took it off."

  "Yes. Now that's gone, too."

  "Gone?"

  "Her mother couldn't find it in our house and it wasn't recovered at the crime scene. We're sure she was wearing it. She always did. It wasn't worth much, except to Felicia. I don't know why her killer would take it, but he must have." Despite his renowned film director status, Mr. Fowler sounded like nothing more than a devastated father. "For the life of me, I don't understand why someone would murder my daughter and then steal her locket."

  "Neither do I," Cassidy murmured.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Three days later, Cassidy piled mounds of clothes into a suitcase, her hands too jittery to bother with folding. She was going home.

  Detective Pierce had called with good news, from her perspective. He sounded reluctant to bear the message that her firearm application was approved. Whether he’d pushed the process along, he hadn’t specified.

  She stuffed her makeup kit into the suitcase and checked the clock. Glenn should be there within the next hour or two, against his will. Like Detective Pierce, he wanted her to continue staying with Rosemary and Donald.

  Cassidy surveyed the bedroom one last time. Jeans, books, curling iron, travel exercise gear, all packed. She slid the suitcase zipper down its metal path and gulped. This was it. She wouldn’t sleep in the safety of that bed again, not on this trip anyway.

  Cassidy struggled to convince herself that she was making the right decision. She deserved her life back, and if she had to fight for it, so be it.

  Once Detective Pierce realized she wasn’t backing down, he offered to plant surveillance cameras outside her apartment. If the cameras detected anyone lurking, the police chief would station officers outside her building, which at least provided minor comfort. Unless the lurker got to her before the cops did.

  That’s why you’ll have a gun, Cassidy reminded herself.

  Rosemary slipped into the room, dark chocolate beads dotting the collar of her sweatshirt. She'd busied herself baking brownies after she heard Cassidy was leaving. "Honey, if you think you're putting us out, you couldn't be more wrong. We love having you here. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

  "I appreciate that." Cassidy planted the suitcase upright on the floor and smiled at Rosemary. "You've both been generous, but it’s time for me to go home."

  "What if that lunatic finds you?"

  "I'm counting on it." Cassidy hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. Finally she plunged ahead, overcome by a strong urge to voice her internal plan aloud.

  "I haven’t clued in the police or my family yet, but I'm accepting an invitation to speak at Garrett State College. If the stalker’s around, hopefully the publicity will tempt him to show up. I’ll have someone take crowd pictures and I’ll request an undercover cop to sit in the audience. If this appearance doesn’t draw him out, I’ll arrange a larger one."

  Detective Pierce would give her an earful when he heard about the plan, which was why Cassidy had postponed telling him. She needed all the kinks ironed out before involving the police.

  The color departed from Rosemary's face and she interlocked her fingers at her waist. "This sounds dangerous. The stalker might not try anything until you're alone. You'll be advertising that you're back in town."

  "Exactly. I'd rather have a confrontation now than be surprised in six months, after I’ve let down my guard."

  "If you wait, maybe he'll get arrested or lose interest."

  "What if he doesn't? Besides, my location isn’t secret anymore. Josh knows where I am, so he could mention it to someone. Anyway, I'll have a gun."

  Of course, Cassidy hadn’t fired one in weeks. She moistened her dry lips. As soon as she had a weapon in her possession, Cassidy would take it home and dry fire the unloaded pistol against the wall. That would help perfect her sight alignment and trigger squeeze, but only practice on the range would fine-tune her technique. She had a lot of work to do.

  Rosemary tucked her into the shelter of a chocolate-fragrant hug. "I hate guns," she said, patting Cassidy’s back. "Are you a good shot, at least?"

  "Pretty good." Cassidy encircled her arms around the older woman's middle. She never would have believed it a week ago, but Cassidy didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay here, shielded from the outside world, with Rosemary hovering over her like a loving aunt.

  As she drew back, Cassidy marshaled her strength from its deepest reserves. "Once this is over, I'll be back for a real visit," she promised. "You can take me skiing in all that snow you claim to have."

  "That's a deal," Rosemary said.

  Shortly after seven o’clock, Glenn's car coasted into the driveway. Cassidy's spirits vaulted as her mother and brother emerged from the station wagon. She hadn’t expected them, but it made sense that they would surprise her. Since it was the weekend, Bo wouldn’t have to wake up early for school the next morning.

  Cassidy hurriedly turned from the window and finished loading the dishwasher, small repayment for Rosemary’s hospitality. Coffee dripped into a glass carafe, ready to serve with the nut brownies cooling in a pan. She couldn’t wait to sit down and pretend for a few moments that everything was all right.

  Voices echoed in the living room as Rosemary and Donald greeted their visitors. Before Cassidy could join the others, Bo stomped into the kitchen and glowered at her over the counter.

  He stabbed a finger through his unruly spiked hair. "Are you crazy? You can't go home like nothing's happened. You could get killed like Felicia Fowler."

  Cassidy closed the dishwasher door and turned to face her brother. He was growing up too fast, witnessing too much hardship, first with his parents’ divorce, now with her stalker. She tried to reassure him. "The police will have a camera outside my apartment. They’re running extra patrols. I'll have a weapon. I don't want you worrying about this."

  "Someone should. You sure don't worry about yourself."

  "He's right," her mother Pepper agreed from the doorway, bracelets tinkling on her wrists. "We'd feel much better if you were in hiding."

  "That's what I don't want," Cassidy said. "For any of us to feel better. He'll strike when our guard is down. I've got to stay a step ahead."

  "By being reckless?" Glenn challenged, elbowing past her mother.

  "By being strong," Cassidy corrected.

  "You're an adult, entitled to make your own decisions, but this is a foolish one. I hope you'll at
least stay with me."

  "Just until I get the gun. I’m going to the store Monday." Cassidy sponged the counter with quick strokes, finding it impossible to stand still, adrenaline spiking through her as she fended off her family’s arguments.

  "Fine. If you have a death wish, then live with the consequences. I don't want you taking your brother anywhere alone or inviting him to your apartment. I won't have my son placed in danger." Glenn paced the kitchen, madder than Cassidy had ever seen him. He’d never exploded like this during his worst fights with Pepper, at least not when Cassidy or her brother were around.

  Bo scuffed his sneaker into the floor, a flush seeping over his acne. "Come on, Dad. I'm not a kid."

  "What kind of person do you think I am?" Cassidy paused with the sponge in her hand. "I don't want Bo around me, either. I don't want any of you in danger."

  "Then you admit you're putting yourself in jeopardy?" Glenn asked.

  Wait till he heard about her public appearance strategy, but Cassidy would save that for another day. Sure she was behaving recklessly, but it beat chickening out.

  "You can support me, or you can tell me I'm an idiot," she said. "I’m not changing my mind."

  "If you did, no one would think less of you," Glenn said more gently. "We want you to know that."

  She couldn't look at him, couldn't look at any of them lest they notice the fear in her eyes. Cassidy continued wiping invisible spots on the counter. "Thanks, but that won't happen."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cassidy crossed the parking lot, her new nine millimeter Sig enclosed in her purse and a safety lockbox in her arms. She had made the gun purchase with little trouble, her background check clearing within minutes.

  As cars clipped past the plaza and through the traffic lights, her strides automatically lengthened. She couldn't be in a more visible location, with a jewelry store, supermarket and pizzeria clustered in the same strip mall as the firearms dealer. Cassidy had thought owning a weapon would boost her confidence, but she still felt equally exposed.

  She climbed behind the wheel of her Saturn and jammed her key in the ignition, debating where to go. Her lonely apartment didn't beckon to her. Cassidy had stopped home over the weekend to find the place stuffy and the refrigerator reeking of sour milk. She'd piled clothes on her bed, dumped the milk and checked her messages. Most were from reporters, or hang-ups, except for one that made her heart rate soar.

  "I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Zach had said. "I'm sorry about the story my paper ran. I really care about you, Cassidy. Call me."

  Cassidy backed out of her parking space, her heart knowing where she was headed even if her mind resonated with doubts.

  She had to see Zach. He had sounded remorseful, flat. She'd heard longing in that message. She could use her public appearance plan as an excuse to visit and ask him to take crowd pictures. Cassidy had spoken to the college public relations contact and arranged a date for next week.

  At 10:30 a.m., Zach could be at the paper or on assignment, but she'd try the motel first in case he didn’t go on duty until evening. Photographers worked even weirder hours than personal trainers.

  Cassidy arrived a few minutes later, her pulse rocketing when she recognized Zach’s red Honda outside the shoddy white building. Below the overhang, dead flowers crumbled inside a grime-streaked pot. She halted at the scarred door, images of her last visit gluing her Nikes to the pavement. Cassidy had humiliated herself once, but something spurred her forward.

  Zach answered her brisk knock in a blue shirt and jeans. He stared at her, shock flooding his unshaven face and rejuvenating his dull eyes.

  Her throat tightened. It seemed so long since she’d last seen him. "Howdy, cowboy."

  "I don’t believe it, what are you doing here?" Zach ushered her inside and clapped the door shut behind them. He paced to the dresser, littered with stacks of papers. He had set up a laptop on the dresser, a list of e-mail messages scrolling down the screen.

  Zach scratched his head. "I don't know whether to kiss you, or yell at you. Aren’t you supposed to be hiding out?"

  "I've been hiding long enough. I wanted to talk to you." Standing awkwardly in the cramped entranceway, Cassidy explained about the Garrett State College lecture. "Could you get your paper to run an advance story? I'll contact the local TV and radio stations, too."

  "I don't like this," he said, lines appearing at the corners of his mouth. "I wish you’d stayed put."

  "I’m not helpless, you know. If you won't take the pictures and help me out with your paper, then-"

  Zach caught her by the wrist and kissed her. Cassidy fell into his fiery embrace, passion igniting as her lips reacted to his, their bodies pressed against each other, molding together. His kisses rained down her neck.

  "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you," he whispered. "Selfishly glad."

  "Yeah, well, I can see that," she said, relieved. Very relieved.

  Abruptly, Zach released her and moved to the window. He had drawn back the drapes to reveal the smudged glass underneath. Gold sunlight bathed the floating dust specks and worn patches of wallpaper. "I'm just worried. This guy is obsessed. Remember that night in the woods? The next day, my tires were slashed. I think he was jealous."

  Horror numbed the heat coursing through her veins. The person who’d followed her must have been her stalker after all. Thanks to her, Zach had been in danger. Lucky for him, his tires were all that was slashed, the way her acquaintances were dropping dead.

  Cassidy sagged onto the bed and rested her elbows on her knees. "I'm sorry you got in the middle of this. Maybe I should go."

  "No, don’t. Tell me what's been happening. Anything more on Adam?" Zach bent over the dresser and shut down his laptop. As he stuffed loose papers into a manila folder, Cassidy updated him on Adam’s alibi, her conversations with Reggie’s mother and Felicia’s father, and the police investigation.

  "Man, if one person is behind all this, he must be pretty busy," Zach said, snapping the folder shut and tossing it back on the dresser. "That’s a lot of traveling between coasts."

  Cassidy frowned, his observation sparking an idea. She instantly rejected the ludicrous thought.

  "What?" he asked.

  "It’s just ... do you remember Josh from SOS? He lives in California and he travels for his job. He came to see me in Vermont. He was probably back in LA by the time Felicia was murdered."

  "You told him where you were? When you were in hiding?"

  Cassidy squared her shoulders against Zach’s disapproving voice. "I trusted him. We were friends."

  "I watched the show," Zach said dryly. "I know you guys flirted, but since the guy was attached, I assumed it didn’t go anywhere."

  Her cheeks warmed as he joined her on the bed, partly a physical reaction to his body heat, partly embarrassment over her pathetic crush on Josh.

  "It didn’t," Cassidy said sharply. "Like I told you, we were friends, but he wanted to be more. In Vermont, Josh suggested cheating on his fiancée and keeping me on the side. Obviously, I sent him packing."

  "So he’s infatuated," Zach muttered, the mattress creaking under his weight. "You know, I've read up on stalkers. They can pursue celebrities they've never met ... but it's more common for them to choose someone they know, even if they've just had slight personal contact. Was he still on SOS when your first letter was postmarked?"

  "Probably not. It was dated toward the end." Cassidy kneaded the bedspread, ringed with an ancient stain she'd rather not identify. Josh did have a violent past. In essence, his father had been a stalker.

  Yet Josh earned his living as a domestic violence speaker. He wanted to educate women and prove they had a choice.

  And of course, make money along the way. A breath shuddered between her lips. Felicia had angered him when they watched her on the talk show.

  Now Felicia was dead.

  Josh hadn’t liked Reggie much, either.

  "Okay, maybe I ought to have the po
lice check out his alibis," Cassidy admitted. "I’m just confused. If it is him, I don’t get how it all relates."

  "I’m sorry you’re going through this, Cass. I really am." Zach slipped an arm around her waist and tilted her head down to his shoulder. She rested it against his shirt, their closeness kindling deep arousal within her, making the outside world far away.

  There was nothing but this motel room. She moved her head to his chest, heard his steady heartbeat. Zach’s lips parted as he crushed her with the ferocity of his kiss. Never breaking contact, he laid her back on the bed, his fingertips hot against her skin. They shared a long passionate kiss that lasted forever yet wasn't long enough.

  Her nerve endings on fire, Cassidy forced herself to roll away from him and lean upright against the wooden headboard. She’d been weak with Josh, almost allowing emotions to override logic. She would be strong now.

  "You were right to stop things last time," she said. "If I’m walking around in a cloud daydreaming about you, I might not be on guard. And if Miles sees us getting too cozy, we’re toast. We’ve got to stay platonic till this is over."

  "I hate it when I’m right." Zach wilted his head into a pillow and offered her a sheepish smile as he glanced up at her. "Sorry, I know now isn’t the time for a distraction. I just wanted you to know how I felt."

  "Rain check, okay?" she asked, trailing a thumb along his jaw line.

  His cell phone shrilled on the dresser. Zach kissed her cheek and lifted himself off the bed. "I’ll hold you to that, lady. I’ll be back. I get better reception outside."

  As he disappeared out the door to the sidewalk, Cassidy got up and smoothed the disheveled covers. She smiled, strangely giddy. A romance with Zach would be the proverbial light at the end of a long miserable tunnel. She’d been beginning to believe she would never have anything to look forward to again.