by Naomi Kryske
“Would you want to try?”
She paused. “I can’t answer that without talking about Colin,” she said, wondering if that would offend him.
He gave a slight nod. “Let’s hear it then.”
“When we married, I thought I couldn’t possibly love him any more than I did at that moment. But I was wrong, because our love grew. Each experience we shared, each issue we faced, brought us closer. I thought that having his baby would give me a way to love more of him, even though you know in your mind that the baby will grow to be his own person. But he or she will have characteristics of the person you love.” She paused. “Colin’s love made me feel like a new person. Love is healing and powerful. It’s so powerful it really can create a new person. I wanted to experience that. I think I might feel that way again, but I’m afraid of the medical part. I’d hate to have to go through all that again.”
“Afraid of anything else?” he asked, hoping for an issue he could resolve.
“The stalker, of course,” she admitted, “but only when I’m not with you. I used to be afraid of anger, but you taught me that anger is a normal human thing and that it doesn’t have to be destructive. Colin and I had disagreements, but when we worked them out, we felt stronger, like nothing could come between us for very long. And then he died.”
“Nothing to be afraid of in disagreements,” he agreed, choosing to focus on the positive and not on Sinclair’s death. “Just something to be sorted.”
“Yes, and I read something recently that gave me hope: ‘No heart is as whole as a broken heart, and no faith is as solid as a wounded faith.’ I hope it’s true.”
“You’re certainly stronger than you used to be.”
“Simon, could I tell you something? Something else serious?” She put her hand on his thigh. “Because I feel really close to you right now.”
“If you’ll keep your hand there,” he said with a smile.
It was a moment before she spoke. “I believe in God now,” she said quietly.
“Because of Davies’ baby?”
“Partly, because people can’t make anything that perfect by themselves. None of the things people make last. Cars, trains, planes, they all depreciate. Deteriorate.”
“Sometimes relationships last, Jenny.”
She snuggled closer. “Simon, what do you think love is?”
“Commitment.”
She thought so too. “Are you committed to me?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Jenny, what else made you believe in God?”
“Father Goodwyn, because he’s so sure, but mostly because Colin’s spirit is alive, and if that’s true, there has to be a God.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I felt it, one afternoon on the Heath. It wasn’t the breeze or something gone haywire with my nerve endings. It was his caress on my cheek, it was feeling suddenly warm on a cold day, it was feeling inside the way I always did when he touched me.”
He was silent, trying not to feel jealous of a dead man.
“Do you think I’m weird?”
“Jenny, I – ” He struggled to find the right words, knowing she had told him something very close to her heart and the wrong response could drive her away. “I think you’ve experienced something most people haven’t. If it brought you comfort, I’m glad.”
“Simon, I wish you weren’t driving right now, because I want to kiss you.”
“I’ll collect that kiss when we get home,” he smiled, his envy gone. “And Jenny – I’m inclined to agree with you where Davies’ baby is concerned. He’s perfect. Perfetto.”
CHAPTER 31
Simon’s third week on operations began, and Jenny, following his recommendation to vary the times she left the flat, prepared to take Bear for a late morning walk. Bear was always excited by the prospect of going out; he ran toward the door as soon as he saw the leash in her hand. When she opened it, he bounded onto the porch and into a pile of broken glass. Pieces flew everywhere. He yelped and whined, becoming agitated and slipping as he tried to escape the pain in his paws. She stepped toward him, crying, trying to lift him off the glass, wondering if it would cut through her shoes. He was heavy and in motion, and when she finally got her arms around him, she sat down in the doorway with him in her lap and sobbed from shock and fear.
“Get a grip!” she said aloud to force herself to focus. “You’re not hurt, but he is.” She laid him down just inside the door and knelt next to him to inspect him, talking to him in a soft voice to soothe him. Glass was imbedded in his fur, and the blood on his paws kept her from seeing clearly how badly he was hurt. “Stay,” she said and opened her cell phone to call for a cab. “It’s an emergency!” she wailed to the dispatcher. “I need to take my dog to the vet immediately. Please send someone strong enough to help me lift him.” She couldn’t get to the cab unless she cleared at least some of the glass from the porch, so she pushed it to one side with her foot. Then she waited, stroking Bear’s ears and hoping the action would calm them both.
The cab driver, an older man with an obvious affinity for beer, took a blanket from his trunk and placed Bear gently on top.
“Are you all right, Madam?” he asked, and Jenny realized her clothes were stained with Bear’s blood.
“Yes, yes, let’s go,” she urged.
When they arrived at the veterinarian’s office, he carried Bear from the car inside. “Shall I wait for you?”
“No – I don’t know – it could be awhile,” she answered.
“I’ll park nearby then until another call comes through,” he said.
The vet, a round bearded man with gentle hands, cleansed and examined Bear’s paws. “Some of these cuts are rather deep,” he said. “I’ll need to anaesthetise him while I suture them. Perhaps you’ll wait outside? I’ll call you in when I’m done.”
When one of his staff brought Jenny a cup of tea, she stopped pacing and sipped the warm liquid. Then she called Detective Sergeant Wyrick to report the incident, giving him her phone number and location.
The wait seemed interminable, and the news, when the vet returned, was not good. “We’d like to keep him overnight,” he said. “I’ve sutured and dressed the wounds, but he’s in a good deal of pain, and his movements must be restricted. Injuries of this sort can take a month or more to heal. Would you like to see him?”
Jenny thought she had never seen anything more pitiful. Bear was too groggy even to twitch his tail, and all four paws were heavily bandaged, three of them also with splints. The fur with the glass in it had been shaved away, his cuts had been dressed, and he wore a wide plastic collar around his neck.
“The Elizabethan collar will prevent him from licking his paws,” the vet explained. “The splints keep his foot pads from spreading and reopening the cuts under his weight. Of course, he’ll be off his feet entirely while he’s here. When you take him home tomorrow, you’ll need to clean and dress his paws. We’ll instruct you. He should be on his feet as little as possible – only when he goes outside – and then with a sandwich bag taped in place over each foot. That should reduce the possibility of infection.”
“May I sit with him for a few minutes?”
“Most certainly.”
She leaned over to rest her head against his fur, whispering in his ear to tell him what a good dog he was and how much she’d miss him even though it was only for one night. When he licked her hand, she began to cry from the unfairness of it all. Was the broken glass meant for her? Who could be so cruel as to injure an innocent animal? “You didn’t sign on for this, did you, Bear? I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She was surprised to see DC Mackeson waiting for her in the reception area. “I’ve come from your flat,” he said. “Wyrick and I thought you might need some transportation home. We’d rather you not walk by yourself. And I’ll give you a hand cleaning up the glass.”
It struck her then how vulnerable she was and how determined her stalker was. This attack had required careful planning
and the willingness to inflict pain. It would be a long time before Bear could accompany her on any outdoor errands. She was either grounded or exposed.
“Thank you,” she said, glad it wasn’t Sergeant Wyrick, even though her attitude toward him had moderated to some extent. “I’ll tell the cab driver he can go.”
When Simon called late that evening, she told him what had happened and how guilty she felt. “I wasn’t paying attention,” she confessed. “I should have restrained him, made sure it was safe, but I wasn’t expecting anything like that, and I was thinking about you.”
“I don’t want you going out alone.”
“When I pick him up tomorrow, I’ll call a cab again. There’s a wagon in the garage I can line with towels and use for a bed. Then I can wheel him from room to room so he can be with me.”
“I’ll be with you in forty-eight hours,” he promised.
“That can’t come too soon, Simon. I need you. I don’t mind admitting that I’m scared.”
He was apprehensive also. Now that the stalker had taken out her dog, she was next. Any weapon she carried could be used against her, and there was no meaningful way he could protect her while he was on duty.
CHAPTER 32
Alcina carefully sharpened her knives. She needed the stone only for the knives, because her anger had honed her. She stroked each blade against the oiled block, first one side, then the other. It didn’t produce a loud sound, nor would there be a sound when the knife of her choice split her target’s skin. She hadn’t yet decided which one to use. Each had its assets.
Keeping her knives sharp would make them more effective. Sharp. She let her mind caress the word and felt strong. For knives, of course, sharp meant cutting or piercing, but even her tongue could have a cutting edge. Her mother had chided her for it. Not her fault; entirely the fault of her sisters, because she had learnt it from them. Her father, on the other hand, had complimented what he called her sharp wit, which she took to mean, superior.
Sharp. Sharpshooters had sharp eyes. Tony had been called sharp because he was quick to understand and take advantage in a situation. Therefore, to be sharp was to be successful. In prison, however, he had lost his edge. He was dull, and she had cut him out of her life.
She was now the successful one. She and her knives.
CHAPTER 33
The argument between Jenny and Simon began Friday night as soon as he arrived.
“Jenny, I want you to go away for a while,” he said, reaching down to pat Bear but not taking the time to sit.
She stared at him. “I’ve been waiting all week to see you and you want me to leave?”
“You could visit your parents, perhaps.”
“I don’t want to go to Texas,” she objected. “With such short notice, they’d ask questions. I told them I had some problems with vandalism, but not about the stalker. And even if I could get a flight, it would cost an arm and a leg.”
“Kent, then,” he pressed, still standing and facing her.
She shook her head in frustration. “Why? It won’t do any good. When I come back, the threat will still be there.”
“Jenny, I want you safe. Out of harm’s way.”
“Then get me a gun!”
“Jenny, no. We’ve been through this.”
“How about a knife? A combat knife.”
“Out of the question,” he insisted. “You’ve not been trained in combat.”
“Then what? More self-defense drills? I know I’m not very good at them, but leaving Hampstead isn’t the answer. Besides, Bear needs me.” She moved away from him and sat on the sofa.
He followed and sat beside her. “I need you as well, Jenny.”
She raised her chin in defiance. “That’s not fair! I need you, too, and you’re never here! And you’re asking me to choose, and I won’t.”
“You’re already choosing. Just tell me how getting yourself hurt is going to help either of us.”
“I won’t get hurt,” she protested. “I’ll stay indoors. Honest.”
“Dammit, Jenny! I wish you weren’t so bloody stubborn!”
Her throat tightened. Was he mad enough at her to leave her? She wanted him in her life but not running her life. She raised her voice to his level and forced the words out. “I could say the same about you! Just stop it! Stop acting like a policeman! Taking over! Why do you always have to win?”
“Because I’m fighting for your safety! If I lose, you lose.”
“What are you trying to say? If I get hurt, what will you lose?”
“Don’t turn the subject, Jenny.”
Why didn’t he tell her that he wanted her safe because he loved her? Those words would have changed everything.
He leant forward. “Jenny, we have to sort this out. Get it over and done with.”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “There’s nothing more to say.”
Her brow tightened in anger, she was still lovely. Her shoulders were hunched forward, her face pale. She’s afraid as well as angry, he thought. He sighed. “I’ll make some tea.” He returned in a few minutes with the teapot and two cups on the tray. “I’ve sweetened yours for you,” he said, “but you’ll have to unclench your teeth to drink it.”
“I realize tea is good for a lot of things, but do you really think it will help end this argument?”
He wanted to kiss her mouth open, but the tea would have to do the job. “Unfold your arms and have a swallow.” He waited until she had taken a few tentative sips. “How did you feel when Bear got hurt?”
“Guilty. Frightened.”
“And when DC Mackeson took you home from the vet’s: Why do you think he did that?”
She hated the patient tone he used when he had to explain the obvious. “He didn’t want me to walk home by myself.”
“Think this through with me, Jenny. Why would an overworked copper take the time to drive you?”
She lifted the teapot to refill her cup, but it was still almost full. She replaced the teapot. Her shoulders slumped. She had no way to defend herself against his inexorable logic. “He thought I was in danger,” she said in a small voice.
“Right. Jenny, when the stalker damaged your property, I was concerned. But when he injured your dog, your risk rose to a new level. If he truly wants to harm you, taking out Bear is a necessary step. And it’s another two weeks before my next leave.” He had her bang to rights, and she had to know it. “Jenny, there are two ways to deal with a threat: direct action, which means eliminating the threat, or indirect, which means lessening it. We can’t take direct action because we don’t know who’s behind this. As for the indirect – why do you think I wanted you to memorise those confidence phrases? Be unpredictable? Be aware of what’s around you? Be trained in self-defence? A threat can be minimised by mental and physical preparation.”
Her hand was trembling as she reached for her cup. She changed her mind about picking it up. “Simon, are you too mad at me to hold me?” she asked.
He moved closer to her and put his arms around her. “I’d not like anything to happen to you, love.”
She leaned into him. “You think it will, don’t you?”
“I’m trained to plan for the worst case.”
“Could – could we compromise?”
“Tell me what you have in mind,” he answered, relaxing his embrace slightly.
“Could I wait until Sunday to go to Kent? And come back next weekend? And will you call me while I’m there?” She searched his eyes.
He would be with her at the weekend, but the following week she would be unprotected. Unless – “Didn’t Sinclair have a retired copper look after you that time you were in Kent? When you were still in danger from Scott?”
She leaned back and looked at him, nodding. “Yes. His name was MacKenna, I think. I remember how trim he was: his beard, his mustache, his movements, even his speech. I could never engage him in a regular conversation, and he never looked at me directly. He was always watching everything around me.�
��
Alert to any threat: good. “Then we’ll take Bear to the vet tomorrow. I’ll put you on the train to Kent on Sunday. And while you’re gone, I’ll contact MacKenna and arrange for a meet. He could shadow you when you go out. Provide a bit of security for you and some peace of mind for me.” Her face was still tense. “Sorted?”
“Yes, but – Simon, I wish I had something of yours to hold onto. I don’t even have a picture of you.”
“I’ve one of you,” he admitted. “A wedding snap. Davies brought it to me.”
“But – that was – ”
“A long while ago, yes. I wasn’t lying when I told you I’d fancied you for a long time.” He paused. “You have – ” He stopped again. It came out as a whisper. “My heart.”
She couldn’t speak. She rested her head against his chest and listened to his heart. Beating for her.
CHAPTER 34
Jenny had mixed feelings about her time in Kent. Once she arrived safely, she’d been relieved, happy to leave her fearful feelings behind her. During the daylight hours, she was glad to be there. Colin’s mother, Joanne, drew Jenny into her flurry of activities, and the time passed quickly. They spent a day shopping in Ashford, although fortunately not together, because while Joanne bought clothes for her grandchildren, Jenny tried on lingerie, following Dr. Knowles’ suggestion that she pamper herself a little. Her new lace bras and panties felt soft against her skin, and she wondered what Simon would do about the delicate fabric when he discovered it. Returning to the house, they searched through the attic for items to place in the rummage sale to be held at Joanne’s church. She helped Joanne pick flowers for the Thursday evening vespers service and cook for the weekend bake sale.
At night Jenny was lonely. Joanne’s house was much larger than Jenny’s flat, and their voices seemed to echo through the empty rooms. Despite being an early riser, Joanne preferred dining somewhat late and then retiring to bed shortly afterward, leaving Jenny, the night owl, to spend the rest of her waking hours alone. She curled up in the leather recliner in the library and read excerpts of poetry from the numerous volumes there. Reflecting one evening about Wordsworth’s “Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood,” she agreed that only children considered themselves and their worlds immortal; adults learned that everything died save truth. Yet Wordsworth’s verses weren’t depressing. On the contrary, several lines summed up what she felt: “What though the radiance which was once so bright / Be now for ever taken from my sight, / …We will grieve not, rather find / Strength in what remains behind…” Wordsworth had used what he learned from grief to love life more. She hoped that her grief workbook, although nowhere as eloquent as the poet’s lines, could encourage others to move forward from suffering to faith in whatever life still held.
