The Guardian

by Nicholas Sparks

  No way, nohow. There was nothing he could do to surprise her anymore.

  At least, that's what she thought.

  On the phone with Casey Ferguson of J. D. Blanchard, Jennifer held her pen over her pad.

  "Yes, of course," Ferguson said, continuing to stall, "but we're not supposed to release this information. Personnel files are confidential."

  "I understand that," Jennifer said, shifting in her chair, doing her best to sound as serious as possible. "But as I said, we're in the middle of an investigation."

  "We have strict confidentiality agreements. The states require them for us when we contract with them."

  "I understand," Jennifer said again, "but if we have to, we'll subpoena the files. I just didn't want your company to be accused of obstructing an investigation."

  "Is that a threat?"

  "No, of course not," Jennifer said, but she knew she'd overplayed her hand when Ferguson spoke again.

  "I'm sorry I can't help," Casey Ferguson finally said. "If there is a subpoena, then of course we'll be happy to cooperate."

  A moment later, he clicked off and Jennifer swore under her breath as she hung up the phone, wondering what she was going to do next.

  That night at Julie's, Mike took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

  They hadn't made love since the night before they'd encountered Richard in the bar. Despite that, neither of them felt any sense of urgency. Their lovemaking was slow and tender, filled with gentle kisses. Afterward Mike held Julie close for a long time, his lips brushing against the skin between her shoulder blades. Julie drifted off until Mike's movement roused her from sleep. It was dark but early, not yet ten, and Mike was pulling on his jeans.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I have to take Singer out. I think he's gotta go."

  Julie stretched. "How long did I sleep?"

  "Not long-an hour or so."

  "Sorry."

  "I liked it. It was nice listening to the way you were breathing. You must have been really tired."

  Julie smiled. "I still am. But I'm going to grab a bite to eat. Do you want anything?"

  "Just an apple."

  "That's it? No cheese or crackers or anything?"

  "No. I'm not all that hungry tonight. Just beat."

  He slipped out of the room as Julie sat up and turned on the lamp, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light. She rose and went to the chest of drawers to pull out a long T-shirt. Pulling the shirt over her head, she walked down the hall.

  Mike was standing in the doorway, waiting for Singer, and he glanced at her as she passed him on the way to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a yogurt and a couple of chocolate-chip cookies, then grabbed an apple on her way back out.

  It was while passing through the living room that she saw the locket, and she froze. It was on the desk near her calendar, partially hidden by a stack of catalogs, and the sight of it made her suddenly queasy. The locket brought with it images of Richard: how he'd looked as he'd given it to her, Richard suddenly grabbing for the door, Richard in the woods, waiting for her. She didn't want it in the house, but in all that had happened, she'd forgotten it was there.

  Now it was on the desk, and she'd spotted it easily, without looking for it. Without wanting to see it. Why hadn't she seen it before now?

  Behind her, she could hear the clock ticking. From the corner of her eye, she could see Mike leaning against the door. The locket was reflecting the light from the lamp on the end table, its glow somehow sinister. She realized her hands were shaking.

  The mail, she suddenly thought. Yes, that's it. When I put the stack of mail on the desk, it must have moved the locket somehow. She swallowed. Right?

  She didn't know. All she knew was that she didn't want it in the house anymore. As ridiculous as she knew it was, it seemed evil to her now, as if touching it would somehow make Richard appear. But she had no choice.

  Forcing herself to move toward it, she reached over and slid it out from under the catalogs. It's just a locket, she told herself. Nothing more. She considered throwing it in the garbage, but instead she decided to stash it in her drawers and sell it at one of the local pawnshops later, when all this was settled. It wouldn't be worth much with her initials inside, but she'd get something for it, and she'd put that money into the church basket on Sunday. She wasn't about to profit from the thing, and the money would go to a good cause.

  She carried it with her to the bedroom and glanced at it as she was opening the drawer. The floral designs on the outside looked as if they'd taken weeks to craft by someone who obviously cared a great deal about his work.

  Too bad, she thought. She'd be lucky if she got $50 for the thing.

  As she began moving her clothes to the side, she found her eyes drawn back to it again. The locket itself was the same, but something was different. Something . . .

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  No, she thought. Please . . . no . . .

  She unclasped the chain, knowing it was the only way to be certain. Moving toward the mirror in the bathroom, she drew both ends around the back of her neck, holding it in place where it would clasp.

  Then, looking into the mirror, she tried to steel herself for what was already obvious. The locket, which once nestled between the upper part of her breasts, now rested two inches higher on her chest.

  I'll get you a shorter chain, he'd said. That way you can wear it whenever you want.

  Julie suddenly felt dizzy, and she backed away from the mirror, letting go of the chain as if it had scalded her fingers. The locket tumbled down her blouse before bouncing against the tile floor with a metallic ping.

  Still, she hadn't screamed.

  No, the scream didn't come for another couple of seconds, when she looked down at the locket.

  It had popped open in the fall.

  And from both sides, in pictures he'd chosen especially for her, Richard was smiling back at her.

  This time, Jennifer Romanello wasn't alone when she came to Julie's home. Officer Pete Gandy was sitting at the kitchen table, looking across at them, not bothering to hide the dubious expression on his face. The locket was on the table, and Pete reached out to pick it up.

  "So let me get this straight," he said while opening the locket, "you beat the guy up, and as payback, he gives Julie a couple of pictures of himself. I don't get it."

  Mike clenched his hands beneath the table to keep from exploding.

  "I told you already. He's been stalking her."

  Pete nodded but kept staring at the pictures. "Yeah, I know. You keep saying that, but I'm just trying to see if there are any other possible angles here."

  "Possible angles?" Mike asked. "Can't you see that this is proof right here? That he's been in the house? That's breaking and entering."

  "But nothing seems to be missing. There were no signs of a breakin. All the doors were locked when you got home and the windows were closed. You said so yourself."

  "We're not saying he took anything! And I don't know how he did it, but he did. All you have to do is open your eyes!"

  Pete held up his hands. "Now take it easy, Mike. No reason to get upset. I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this."

  Both Jennifer and Julie were as steamed as Mike, but Pete had told Jennifer that he was going to handle this once and for all and that she shouldn't say a word. Her expression was a mixture of horror and morbid fascination, especially after her own investigation this morning. Was it possible he could be this blind?

  "Get to the bottom of this?"

  "Yeah," Pete said. He leaned forward and put the locket on the table again. "Now I'm not saying that this doesn't seem a little fishy, because it does. And if Julie's telling the truth, then Richard Franklin has a little problem that's gonna require a visit from me."

  Mike's face tightened. "She's telling the truth," he said through gritted teeth.

  Pete ignored the comment and looked across the table at Julie. "Are you sure ab
out everything? You're certain that the only way Richard could have put these pictures in here is by breaking into your house?"

  She nodded.

  "And you said you hadn't so much as touched this necklace in the last few weeks?"

  "No," she said. "It was buried under some magazines on the desk."

  "C'mon, Pete," Mike cut in, "what's that got to do with anything?"

  Pete ignored the comment, his skeptical gaze still focused on Julie.

  "There's no other time that he could possibly have put those pictures in there?" he persisted. "No other time at all?"

  In the aftermath of his questions, the kitchen was strangely silent. Pete continued to stare, and under his knowing gaze, Julie finally realized what he knew. She felt her stomach clench.

  "When did he tell you?" she asked.

  "Tell him what?" Mike asked. When Julie finally answered, her voice was quiet but filled with loathing.

  "Did he give you a call and tell you he forgot to mention something?" she asked. "Is that it? Or did he happen to run into you somewhere and bring it up then?"

  Pete said nothing, but he didn't have to. A sudden, almost imperceptible jerk of his head told her one of her guesses had been correct. Probably the latter, she thought. Richard would have wanted to tell him in person, so Pete could see him. So Pete could be fooled.

  Mike, meanwhile, was looking back and forth between Pete and Julie, trying to figure out what she was talking about. They had some sort of hidden communication going, one that left him feeling as if the whole situation were spinning out of control.

  "Could you please just answer the question?" Pete persisted.

  But Julie didn't answer right away. She continued to lock eyes with Pete.

  "She did answer the question!" Mike finally interjected. "No, there's no way-"

  Julie barely heard him. Instead, she turned toward the window, staring blankly at the drawn curtains.

  "Yes," she said flatly. "There was one time he could have done it."

  Pete leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. "When he spent the night, you mean," he said.

  "What?" Jennifer cried, her jaw dropping.

  "What?" Mike echoed.

  Julie turned to face him.

  "Nothing happened between us, Mike," she said evenly. "Nothing at all. His mom had died and he was upset, and we talked. Just talked. He fell asleep on the couch. That's what Pete is talking about."

  Though everything she had said was absolutely true, when she looked at Pete again, his expression confirmed that Richard had already implied something different.

  And Mike, Julie noticed, saw it, too.

  Richard lowered the camera. Equipped with a telephoto lens, the camera served as a makeshift set of binoculars, and he'd been watching Mike and Julie since they'd come home that evening. Or rather, what he could see of them through the gauzy curtains. During the day, it was impossible to make out anything, but at night, when the lights blazed from inside, he could make out shadows, and that was all he needed.

  This was the night she would find it. He'd had to move the locket into better position after his meeting with Pete Gandy, of course, but he'd known she would see it on the desk.

  It would be nasty business, he knew, but there was no other way. It was time to end her little infatuation with Mike once and for all.

  After Mike had closed the door behind the officers, he leaned against it using both hands for support, as if he were about to be frisked. His head was bowed, and Julie could hear his long, deep breaths. Singer stood off to the side, gazing at him curiously, as if wondering whether this were some new type of game. Mike couldn't meet her eyes.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" he said, raising his chin.

  Still standing in the kitchen, Julie looked away. "I knew you'd be mad . . ."

  Mike snorted, but she went on as if she hadn't heard him.

  "But more than that, I knew it would hurt your feelings, and there was no reason to do that. I swear to you-nothing happened at all. All he did was talk."

  Mike stood up straighter, then finally turned around, his expression angry. Hard.

  "That was the night of our first date, wasn't it?" It was also, he remembered, the night he'd first tried to kiss her but she hadn't let him.

  Julie nodded. "Nice timing, huh?"

  It wasn't the time for jokes, and she regretted it immediately. She took a step forward. "I didn't know he was going to stop by. I was just thinking of heading to bed when he came to the door."

  "And what? You just let him in?"

  "It wasn't like that. We had an argument because I told him I didn't want to see him anymore. It got kind of heated, and then Singer . . ."

  She paused. She didn't want to go into this. She didn't want to go into this at all, because it seemed so pointless.

  "Singer what?"

  Julie crossed her arms and shrugged. "Singer bit him. When I tried to close the door, he stopped it with his hand and Singer went after him."

  Mike stared at her. "And you didn't think any of this was important enough to tell me? Even after everything that's happened?"

  "That's just it," she pleaded. "It wasn't important. I told him I didn't want to see him and he got upset."

  Mike crossed his arms. "So let me get this straight," he said. "He comes to the door, you have a fight, Singer goes after him, and then you invite him in to spend the night. Correct me if I'm wrong, but your story doesn't seem to make a lot of sense."

  "Don't be like this, Mike. Please . . ."

  "Be like what? Someone who's a little upset that you lied to me?"

  "I didn't lie to you."

  "No? Then what do you call it?"

  "I didn't tell you because it didn't matter. It meant nothing, and nothing happened. It's not like all this is happening because of that night."

  "How do you know? Maybe that's what set him off in this direction."

  "But I didn't do anything but listen to him!"

  Mike said nothing, and Julie saw the accusation in his eyes.

  "You don't believe me?" she asked. "What? Do you think I slept with him?"

  Mike let the question hang for a long moment. "I don't know what to think anymore."

  Julie flinched. Part of her wanted to lash out immediately, to scream at him or demand that he leave, but she resisted those instincts, Richard's words echoing through her mind.

  I'll bet that you haven't even told him that you let me spend the night at your house. How do you think he'd feel about that?

  She suddenly knew that this, too, was part of Richard's plan. He was playing them, just as he'd played Pete Gandy. The way he had at the Clipper. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her voice steady, without anger.

  "Is that what you think of me, Mike? That I'd sleep with a man I barely know on the same day I told him I didn't want to see him anymore? After I'd told you that I didn't even like the guy? After all the years you've known me, do you really believe I'd do something like that?"

  Mike stared at Julie. "I don't know."

  The words stung, and Julie felt her eyes tear. "I didn't sleep with him."

  "Maybe not," Mike finally said. He reached for the door. "But it still hurts to think you didn't trust me with this. Especially after all this stuff started happening."

  "I do trust you. But I didn't want to hurt you."

  "You just did, Julie," he said. "You just did."

  With that, he reached for the door and opened it, and for the first time, Julie realized that he was going to leave.

  "Wait-where are you going?"

  Mike raised his hands. "I need some time with this, okay?"

  "Please," she said. "Don't go. I don't want to be alone tonight."

  Mike paused and took a deep breath. But a moment later, with a shake of his head, he was gone.

  Richard watched Mike make his way down the walk and slam the door as he got in his truck.

  He smiled, knowing that Julie would finally understand the truth about M
ike. That she couldn't rely on him. That Mike was a person who acted on impulse and emotion, not reason. That Mike wasn't worthy of her, nor ever was. That she deserved someone stronger, smarter, someone equal to her love.

  In the tree, Richard couldn't wait for the moment until he led her out of this house, this town, this life she had let herself become trapped in. Raising the camera again, he watched Julie's shadow through the curtains in the living room.

  Even her shadow was beautiful.

  Thirty-three

  "She did what?" Henry asked.

  "You heard me," Mike answered. "She let him spend the night."

  In the fifteen minutes it took to reach Henry's house, Mike had only grown angrier. They were standing in the front yard. Emma had opened the door once to ask what was going on, but Mike had stopped in midsentence and stared at her, certain that she already knew what Julie had done. Henry raised his hand.

  "Just give me a second, will you, Em? Mike's pretty upset right now."

  Before going back into the house, Emma gave Henry a look that clearly said, I'll close the door, but I expect a full report later. Henry turned back to his brother.

  "She told you that?" Henry asked.

  "Yeah, when the police were there. . . ."

  "Hold on," Henry said, "the police were there?"

  "They just left."

  "Why were the police there?"

  "Because of the locket. Richard put his pictures in there. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

  Henry tried to follow along but was only getting more and more confused. He finally reached for Mike's arm.

  "Now calm down, Mike. Maybe you better start from the beginning."

  "So how long are you going to keep up the silent treatment?" Pete Gandy asked.

  They were cruising slowly through downtown in the squad car, and Jennifer Romanello hadn't said a word to him since they'd left Julie's house.

  Jennifer turned toward the window at the sound of his voice.

  "You still mad about that Mike Harris thing?" he asked. "Because if you are, you gotta learn to get over stuff like that. Our job isn't always easy."

  Jennifer glanced at him with an expression of distaste. "It might not be easy," she said, "but you don't have to be a jerk, either."