Vengeful Shadows

by Bronwyn Green

  He lay there actually considering the possibility of love. Worse, he suspected he’d been considering it for longer than he’d realized. Scrubbing his hand across his face, he sighed in frustration. The scent of her skin still lingered on his fingers. Tessa had blindsided him. He hadn’t planned on falling in love with her. Hell, he hadn’t planned on falling in love with anyone. Ever. He wasn’t even sure this was love, but he knew he wanted a hell of a lot more from her than he was getting.

  It wasn’t just the sex he was interested in. Oh, he wanted that too, but he wanted her to stop hiding from him. He wanted her honesty. Her trust. He wanted too much. Shifting in his too-empty bed, he dragged the pillow over his head.

  No. This thing with Tessa wasn’t love. He was sure of that. It was just that he’d wanted her for so long and they’d been friends before becoming intimate. He’d never had a strictly platonic relationship that had evolved to this place. He almost laughed aloud. The truth was he’d never had a real friendship with any woman. Adding sex, or at least near sex, to the mix had to be the source of his confusion. It was the only thing that made any sense.

  For a moment, he could almost hear Julia’s laughter when she’d told him someday love would hit him out of the blue. She’d said she wanted to be there to see his happily ever after. The memory of his brother’s grief-etched face smothered Julia’s laughter. Happily ever afters never lasted as long as they ought to.

  * * * *

  By the time Zander woke the next morning, Tessa had left. At this point, he planned on going to the awards banquet alone—if he went at all. He was more interested in discovering how to fix this rift with Tessa than in playing university politics.

  He rolled over and squinted at the clock. He should have been finished with his run and out of the shower already. So much for his morning workout.

  The shrill ring of his phone dragged him from his recriminations. He fumbled for the receiver on the bedside table. “Hello?”

  “You sound tired. Did I interrupt anything good?”

  “Go to hell, Aidan.”

  “And a good morning to you too, mate.”

  Zander yawned. “What’s up?”

  “I’m going to be out again today. Can you ask Kayla if she can monitor my eleven o’clock exam?”

  “Yeah. If she can’t, I’ll see if one of the other student workers can do it.” He didn’t know what they’d do when she graduated. He and Aidan were both convinced she was the only reason they both managed to stay somewhat organized.

  “Great—thanks.” After a pause, Aidan added, “I also wanted to make sure Tessa was okay. I feel terrible about what happened. I really didn’t mean to frighten her.”

  Zander would bet this had been eating at Aidan since it had happened. “She knows you didn’t. Honestly, I think she was more worried about you.”

  Aidan laughed. “Doesn’t that just figure? She gets scared half to death, and she’s worried about the person who frightened her.”

  Zander practically heard his friend shaking his head.

  “I’m not sure how you ended up with someone like her,” Aidan continued. “But she’s a good one. Don’t foul it up.”

  Zander grimaced. As much as he might want their relationship to be real, Tessa certainly didn’t.

  “Have you forgotten this is just for show?” he asked.

  “Well, the bit on the balcony wasn’t a public performance, now was it?”

  He still wasn’t sure what that was. She’d gone from terrified to provocative in the blink of an eye. “Do you have a point?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Women like Tessa don’t come along every day.”

  A fact Zander was painfully aware of.

  Aidan cleared his throat. “Don’t do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

  “Is this the voice of experience talking?” Zander asked, intrigued. He knew his friend had been married several years ago, but he strenuously avoided discussing his ex-wife.

  “This is the voice of your friend telling you not to be an arsehole.”

  * * * *

  Like the coward she was, Tessa had left early for work. Again. She’d see Zander tonight and by then hopefully, he would have forgotten all about her erratic behavior.

  Okay. Now, she was bordering on delusional. He wasn’t going to forget about it. He’d probably want to turn her into a case study.

  Entering her office at the shelter, Tessa stripped off her coat and hung it on the hook behind the door. Water dripped rhythmically to the floor from her umbrella, sounding almost eerie in the too quiet building.

  The residents were likely still sleeping, and she was one of the few staff members here. Maybe, leaving her house early would have another benefit besides avoiding Zander. She might be able to get caught up on her email and her filing.

  She turned on her computer, pulled out her chair to sit down and stopped. A manila envelope with her name written on it lay on the seat.

  For a moment, it felt as though her heart stopped in her chest. Hastily, she glanced around. The room was empty. Had the stalker been inside, or had one of the other employees found the envelope and delivered it to her office? Peering closer at the missive, she saw it had yesterday’s date along with the initials of one of the women who worked the front desk. It must have arrived after Tessa had left. Hopefully, she could get someone to check the surveillance cameras and see if they’d recorded someone dropping off the messages. Tessa shut the door and locked it. With determination, she lifted the packet and opened it.

  You’ve been a very bad girl.

  Tessa’s stomach plummeted to her feet and stayed there. In a bone-chilled daze, she lurched into her chair. The paper fluttered in her trembling hand. Someone knew. Someone had seen her and Zander. Maybe even watched them in her home.

  Who was it? She buried her head in her hands and tried to think. She’d told Detective Duritz about Weston, but she hadn’t remembered his roommate. Not until this moment. Amazing the things a person could repress. Not that it mattered much. She wasn’t sure if she ever knew the guy’s name. The rank memory of beer mixed with vomit wasn’t much to go on in terms of tracking someone down.

  Maybe, there was someone else she’d forgotten. Someone from the shelter or the library? But who?

  She dug out Detective Duritz’s card and dialed his extension at the precinct. It went straight to voicemail. Turning over the business card, she punched in his cell number.

  “Duritz,” a sleep-deprived voice answered.

  “I’m sorry, Detective. Did I wake you?”

  “Who is this?” he demanded.

  Great. Does he even remember me? “Tessa Maycroft. You said to call your cell if I couldn’t get a hold of you.”

  “Right. Right. Sorry. I’d forgotten I’d given you this number.”

  Tessa’s stomach twisted and turned as her breakfast made its presence known.

  “Has there been any additional contact?” he asked.

  A gust of wind knocked a tree branch against the office window, shaking the glass. The rattle shivered through her body, and she leapt to her feet.

  “Ms. Maycroft?”

  Her heart pounded in the back of her throat. Inching the slats of the blinds apart, she peered out. The street was empty. Relief weakened her knees, and she sank into her chair.

  “What’s going on?” Duritz barked. “Are you all right?”

  She swallowed the remains of her fear. “I found another note when I got to work today. It’s worse than the others.”

  She heard his partially muffled expletive. Her anxiety shuddered to life, beating panicked wings against her chest.

  “Can you meet me at the station?” he asked. “I want to compare it with the ones that you brought in yesterday.”

  “They all look alike. You haven’t found anything yet; I can’t imagine this will be any different.” She knew she sounded petulant but she didn’t care.

  “Are you willing to risk your life on that assumption? Look,” h
e added in a gentler voice. “I know this has got to be really hard for you. But if we’re going to catch this guy, I’m going to need your help.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, instantly contrite.

  “Don’t worry about it. How soon can you meet me at the station?”

  Twenty minutes later, she sat in Duritz’s hygienically questionable office and watched as he scanned the latest message. He raised his unblinking brown eyes.

  “Do you think this note is referring to anything specific?” he finally asked.

  Despite her attempt to remain calm and collected, Tessa felt her cheeks color. Duritz waited and stared.

  “I’ve been seeing someone lately…and…” she managed and tried to push away the memory of Zander’s warm skin and tender embrace. She couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense,” she said, forcing herself to focus on the detective. “I just don’t know how he could have seen anything.”

  “You’d be surprised the lengths some people will go.” He jotted notes in her rapidly growing file. “Cameras, other recording devices, night-vision goggles, binoculars…”

  She drew a shuddering breath. “I get the picture.”

  “Does anyone else have access to your home?”

  “I have an apartment in a converted house. My landlady and next door neighbor have keys.”

  “Names?” He clicked his pen.

  She shook her head. “It’s not them.”

  Duritz raised his eyebrows and waited. He was good at that.

  “I know it’s not them,” she repeated.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Mrs. Bartz is a little flighty, but she’s not a stalker. And my neighbor has been with me every night since this started.”

  “The whole time? All night, every night?”

  She maintained her outward sense of calm. “Well, no. But, I know it’s not him. We leave at the same time every day. He wouldn’t be able to get to the shelter or the library before me.”

  “Unless he left earlier and came back.” Duritz hadn’t looked up from the papers he studied. He just calmly tossed out hand grenades, blowing holes in her theories.

  Anger, swift and sharp, needled her. It wasn’t Zander. She refused to let herself fall into the trap of second guessing people she trusted. He might as well have suggested Cat had left the notes. “It’s not him.”

  Duritz studied her, but she refused to flinch. He finally nodded. “Anyone else?”

  “No.” She cleared her throat. “Were you able to turn up anything with the names I gave you earlier?”

  He sighed. “Nothing on the library patron, still looking into the rest. Of the names you gave me, three have moved from the area and one died.”

  She hoped it was him. Guilt prodded her, but she couldn’t bring herself to take back the thought. Because she hadn’t had the courage to report him all those years ago, who knew how many more women he’d hurt since then. That was one thing she’d learned. Perpetrators of sexual crimes rarely stopped at one victim.

  Duritz studied her file. “What about the other people you come into contact with at the shelter?” he asked, “Are any of them unstable enough to send these messages?”

  “You mean the clients?”

  “Yes.”

  Tessa clenched her hands into fists, trying to control her irritation. “Most of the people I mentor at the shelter,” she purposely enunciated, “are victims of sexual assault. The last thing they’re going to think about is stalking someone who’s trying to help them.”

  Duritz gave her the silent treatment and steepled his fingers under his chin.

  She flattened her hands against her thighs. “These girls and women are scared and vulnerable. Why would they do something that would likely intensify those feelings?”

  “To gain control over their environment?”

  “That’s cop thinking.” With another type of program, he might have a point, but she knew these people.

  “Not thinking like a cop could get you killed,” he countered.

  A memory tickled the edges of Tessa’s consciousness, as a parade of half remembered faces marched through her mind. Not all of the people who threatened shelter workers did it in writing.

  She met the detective’s gaze. “It’s been a while since I’ve had contact with any offenders. I honestly don’t remember all of the cases, but I’ll go through the shelter’s files again. Maybe there’s something I missed.” She stood and offered Duritz her hand. “I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”

  “Ms. Maycroft?” He hung onto her fingers for a moment, his deep brown eyes, serious. “Call me as soon as you’ve got someone you want me to check out.”

  She nodded and tried to ignore the anxiety that twisted her stomach into knots.

  Guilt surfaced as she realized that by giving the detective information, she might be further damaging lives of people who may have atoned for their crimes. A sharp pain throbbed behind her left eye as her stress level increased exponentially.

  * * * *

  Tessa checked the clock while she finished shelving books. She had a few hours to kill between the time she left work and when she needed to get ready to go to the awards banquet with Zander. She’d have to find something to do in the meanwhile. If she went home too early, Zander might want answers about the other night. No. It was better if she breezed over to his place at the last minute. It would be better yet, if she could avoid the whole evening, but she wouldn’t do that to him. No matter what, he was still her friend and she’d promised him her help.

  Her assistant, Emily, pushed a cart of returned books down the aisle. “Hey, boss-lady. Is it okay if I cut out half an hour early tonight?”

  Goosebumps rose on Tessa’s arms at the thought of being alone, but she squelched the worry. If her friendly neighborhood stalker made an appearance, she didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

  “Sure,” she answered. “Go for it.”

  “Thanks.” Emily grinned. “I’ve got a date.” She blushed under her matte-white makeup.

  For a moment, she looked unsure and Tessa’s warning instincts kicked into gear. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Her assistant shrugged. “I’m worried about my outfit. Do you think it says Confident-Alterna-Chick or Skeezy-Christina-Aguilera-Reject?”

  Suppressing her amusement, Tessa scanned the clothing Emily had just changed into. Scuffed, black combat boots, ratty fishnet stockings, leather miniskirt, skin-baring tank top with sequins that spelled out “Bad Kitty,” topped off by an oversized biker jacket that hung nearly to her knees.

  “Definitely, Alterna-Chick.”

  “Good.” Relief shone in Emily’s eyes. “I had no idea what my backup outfit was going to be.” She waved and headed outside.

  “Have fun,” Tessa called after her. She smiled, as she made her way to the information desk. The envelope waiting on the counter chased it away. Dialing 9-1-1 on her cell phone and holding her thumb over the send button she made a quick sweep of the building. She was alone. The sidewalk and street were practically deserted.

  With an outward show of calm she was far from feeling, Tessa slit open the envelope.

  I’m getting bored with the others.

  Instead of the black marker she’d grown accustomed to, the lettering looked as if it had been written in dried blood. Her stomach lurched at the implications. She dialed Duritz’s number. A computerized recording sounded in her ear saying she had no service. How could that be? She’d paid her bill online a week ago. With shaking hands, she picked up the desk phone and called Duritz then jumped at every little noise until he showed up.

  She’d handed the message to him as soon as he arrived.. His jaw tightened as he scanned it.

  “And it was right here on the front desk?” he asked.

  Tessa nodded.

  “Where do you keep your surveillance equipment?”

  “We don’t have any. Budgets cuts.”

  He sighed an
d scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m going to get this latest note to the lab. There may be DNA we can use.”

  “Is that blood?” she finally asked.

  “I can’t speculate on that, but I’ll be in touch as soon as we know anything.”

  The look on his face told her all she needed to know.

  “Why don’t you lock up, and I’ll walk you to your car.”

  An hour and a half after she’d called Duritz, she pulled into the parking lot of the cell phone store. It felt utterly surreal to be doing something as mundane as checking her phone service after getting a message written in what was likely blood.

  Wishing for aspirin and a nap, Tessa got out of the car. If she didn’t get her phone fixed, Duritz wouldn’t be able to reach her. Standing at the front desk of the cell phone service center, she pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stave off the pain.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it says here,” the clerk tapped a blue, manicured talon on the computer monitor. “Your account was canceled last night.”

  Anger warred with unease. “By whom?” she asked.

  She waited while the girl scrolled to another screen. “Your husband.”

  Tessa’s mouth fell open, but she managed to find her voice. “Beg your pardon?”

  “It says he was in here yesterday—right before close.”

  Maybe, it had been a mistake. Maybe someone had brought up the wrong account and accidentally canceled hers. Or maybe, the stalker was trying to cut her off from everyone.

  “I’m not married,” she choked out, trying to slow her rapid-fire heartbeat.

  The young woman’s eyes widened, and she glanced at the screen. “You’re Tessa Maycroft, right?”

  Tessa nodded and dug through her purse for identification. Handing it to the clerk, she peered over the counter to get a glimpse of the screen. Her stomach lurched. Zander York was listed as her husband.

  She gripped the counter to steady herself, refusing to believe he was responsible for this. But a little voice in her head taunted her, whispering, What if? What if?

  With forced composure, she addressed the clerk. “How did this happen? Don’t you need my permission to make changes?”