Toss Up (The Toss Trilogy) Read online

  I’m no closer to where I want to be than I was at the start.

  Jim closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his forehead.

  The movement caught Sally’s eye. “Long day?”

  “What?” He pulled his thoughts back to the present. “Oh, yeah. There’s more work here than one man can handle, but that problem at least is solved. I’ve taken on a partner.”

  “A partner?”

  “A guy named Daniel Smith. Graduated top of his class from vet school. I was surprised to get his application—he could have gone anywhere.”

  “Why would he come here?” Sally pushed the last slice of pizza toward Jim. “I mean, York’s a great place, but it’s not exactly the Mecca of veterinary medicine.”

  “Don’t really know.” Jim took a bit of pizza. It was still warm enough that a single bite spread the spicy flavor across his tongue. “Smith’s pretty quiet.”

  “So this is a done deal?”

  He shook his head. “We’ve agreed to a six month trial period. If everything works out, he’ll buy into the practice when that time’s up. If not—no harm, no foul. And I’ll find somebody else.”

  “When will he get here?”

  “He’s here already. Came about a week and a half ago. He found a place to stay, and he’s getting settled in—he’ll start work next week.” Jim shifted to lean back in his seat. “I’ll bring him by and introduce him to you.” More concerned about her than about the new vet, he looked at Sally. “Are you going to be okay tonight, Sal? You were pretty upset earlier.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I guess it was bad luck—that stunt with the computer hitting a nerve the way it did. It was a really busy day today, and I was worn out. I’m glad you suggested pizza.” She smiled at him. “Tired as I was, Tyler would probably have had to settle for hot dogs and microwave popcorn if we hadn’t come here.” Sally grinned and shook her head slightly. “Not that he minds hot dogs and popcorn—not a fussy eater at all.”

  Jim grinned back. “It’s the age. There’s not a fussy eater in the whole Ranger troop. You wouldn’t believe the combinations I’ve seen those guys put together when we go camping. Of course, it does cover any slipups I make in the meal-planning department.”

  Sally laughed. “Don’t play pathetic with me. You do a great job as Head Ranger and they’re lucky to have you.” She studied him for a moment, then spoke in a quieter voice. “I’m lucky to have you, too. You’re a wonderful friend, Jim. You always seem to be there when I need you.”

  He smiled and nodded his thanks. Friend. Great. His eyes shifted to look down at the table. Will she ever realize I’m ready to be a whole lot more than that?

  chapter two

  “No virus. You’re sure, Phil?”

  Phil Cavalo, owner and operator of CompuCraft, nodded at Jim from behind his cluttered desk in the even more cluttered storefront. Computers and computer components littered every available surface. How the kid could find anything in his tiny shop was beyond Jim—but he did good work at a reasonable price, so no one was inclined to quibble about how he kept his workspace.

  “Absolutely, Dr. Donovan. “ His voice was high for a man, and nasal. “I checked everything, everywhere. The shelter’s laptop is clean. I found the file responsible. It was a simple slide show loop—could have played on ninety-eight percent of the laptops out there. All someone would have to do is copy the file onto this machine from a USB drive. It’d take less than a minute, including booting up the computer. If you don’t want anyone to be able to do it again, you should put a password on. There’s no log-in security at all right now.”

  “Yes, I’ll tell Sally you said to do that. Did you delete the file?”

  “No, but I can. It’s this one, see?”

  Jim moved to stand behind the younger man’s shoulder.

  “You’re sure you want it gone?” Phil tilted his head backwards, causing his sparse brown hair to flop away from his high forehead. He looked at Jim through his oversized black-framed eyeglasses.

  “Would keeping it help me find out who stuck it on there?”

  “No way that I can see.”

  “Then get rid of it.”

  Phil’s narrow fingers flew over the keyboard. “Okay, done. Anything else I can do for you today?”

  “No. Thanks, Phil. What do I owe you?”

  “Not a thing, Doc. Mrs. Carmichael called and said to bill it to the shelter.”

  She would. The shelter was Diana Carmichael’s private project, and when it came to financial matters, she was a stickler. He’d have liked feeling he was doing something to help Sally, but there was no point in getting into a money argument with her boss.

  “All right then, I’m on my way.” Leaving the smell of plastic behind, he stepped out into the fresh, crisp air of a New England autumn day.

  As he walked past the narrow brick stores with their high false fronts, Jim’s thoughts raced ahead. Saturday night, Sally had thought she was alone when she turned the computer off. But someone else turned it back on, downloaded the file and set the program running. Did the intruder leave then, or did he hide in the building, waiting for Sally to come and investigate? Jim’s jaw clenched at the thought of someone enjoying her pain. Thank God I saw that light.

  Too bad it couldn’t really be a virus. Too bad I have to tell her. Saturday night hadn’t been random.

  Jim shook his head as he approached his truck, parked outside the Corner Restaurant where he’d had lunch. There would be more trouble to come—he knew the pattern. During his own stint in the Corps, he’d worked counter-terrorism with an elite Special Operations Capable unit. Saturday night’s incident had been targeted cruelty, and despite the lack of violence it reminded him of things he’d rather forget. Setting the laptop on the passenger seat, he fastened his seatbelt and pulled the truck onto the road. He might be reading more into the incident than was there. He didn’t care. Someone was messing with Sally. He planned to make damn sure she was protected, with or without her cooperation.

  Jim lifted a hand to massage the back of his neck. There was no point in putting it off. He’d return the computer right away and they would talk. And dear God, please wake the woman up soon—my patience is running out.

  Sally’s home, a brick ranch-style house built in the early sixties, sat on an acre and a half lot, more deep than wide, bounded by the animal shelter on the east and a hill to the north. A creek ran along the base of the hill, heading toward the road that marked the western boundary. Jim liked the way Sally had planted shrub and trees to cluster around the lean, low structure. Even now, when trees in the front yard had dropped their leaves and stood bare, seed pods and winter-pale grasses still swayed against a backdrop of dark green spruce, tying the house to the land. He pulled his truck all the way up the concrete driveway and parked. Grabbing the laptop, he stepped up onto the cement porch to ring the bell.

  The door jerked open before he touched the button. Sally stood there, her green eyes wide and frightened, and her mouth trembling as if she was about to cry. She reached toward him.

  He stepped forward to take her in his arms and comfort her, hope rising in his heart, but she transformed her motion into a gesture that invited him into the house, and he stopped himself before his own arms reached out.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, tight-voiced. She led him to the left, through the living room, where Tyler was sprawled in front of the stone fireplace doing homework. “Honey, Dr. Donovan and I are going to have a cup of coffee. If you need help with the math, give a holler and I’ll come in, okay?” Her voice was full of forced cheerfulness. She hurried on into the kitchen, with Jim following.

  Through the window, he saw the cold shadow of the house stretching toward the meadow beyond. The walls of the room were gray in the dimness. Sally didn’t seem to notice when he switched on the light, returning them to a warm yellow. He stopped midway across the room, pretty sure he knew the reason for her strange behavior, but wanting to hear it from her. She turned
to face him.

  “Something else has happened, hasn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He noticed her hands were shaking. “Sit down, Sally. I’ll get the coffee.”

  She jerked her head in assent and pulled out a chair at the sturdy oak table. Not a good sign. Sally was not normally a woman who took kindly to being told what to do. Setting the laptop down, he stepped up to the worn counter, filled two mugs with coffee, and opened the cupboard to add a liberal dose of mocha creamer to her portion. Handing her the mug, he sat across from her with his own. “Now take a drink, and then tell me what happened.”

  Again, she obeyed. When she spoke her voice was soft and ragged on the edges. “I went out to get the mail. I brought it into the living room and started to go through it. There was a paper torn from a spiral notebook. Tyler noticed me reading it.” She took a sip of coffee. “I didn’t want him to know, so I told him it was only a reminder from Diana and tossed it into the fireplace. Then I heard the truck come up the drive. For a second I thought… I was afraid…”

  “You thought it might be whoever sent you the note?”

  She nodded, shivering.

  “Did you read it?

  Again, a nod.

  “What did it say, Sal?”

  Her eyes shifted to the table between them. “It said, ‘Remember whose you are. Stay away from Donovan.’ And it was signed ‘Semper fi’.”

  “It named me?” said Jim, shocked.

  The bastard knows me. He was in the shelter with us that night. Little shards of ice filled his veins at the thought—if he hadn’t come in, anything could have happened. He looked at Sally. “What do you think he meant by ‘Remember whose you are’?”

  Sally shrugged. Her mouth, usually wide, generous and smiling, looked small and pinched. “It must mean Trent. Who else could it be?”

  Jim’s stomach dropped like lead, but he pushed his feelings aside. “Right, who else could it be? Sally, you know you have to call the police, don’t you? This isn’t going to go away on its own. And it’s not random. There was no computer virus. It was a message for you.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I don’t want to call the police. I don’t have any proof. The computer is fixed isn’t it? And the note is gone.”

  “Don’t worry, they’ll listen. The problem is, there may not be much they can do yet, except file the report.”

  “No. I don’t want Tyler to know.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. Wait until he’s in bed, then call. In the meantime…” He stretched out the word. “…aren’t you going to invite me to stay for dinner?”

  She sighed, but he was glad to see the small smile appear. “Sure, why not. Tell you what, I’ll even let you help me fix it.”

  Tyler made the salad and Jim the grilled cheese, leaving Sally to warm up tomato soup. Around her son, Sally did a great job of pretending everything was fine. After he was in bed, she came back to the living room where Jim sat in front of the fire. There was a stubborn jut to her chin. “Jim, thanks for your support—”

  “You have to call the police.”

  “No, I’m not calling the police. Nothing really happened. I just got the jitters for a bit. I’m fine now.”

  He grimaced—this is what he’d been afraid of. Sally was nothing if not stubborn. “You have to call the police. This is a stalker you’ve got yourself. They don’t just go away.”

  “Yes, they do.” She was getting his jacket from the entry way and holding it out toward him. “Trust me. I have experience with this. Ignore it, and it will go away.”

  He rose and took the jacket out of her hands. Walking to the entryway, he hung it back on the coat rack and turned, prepared for a fight. “It will not go away. And what do you mean you have experience with this?”

  Sally sighed. “You want a cup of coffee? I’m too tired to argue with you standing up.” She led the way to the kitchen table.

  Tired or not, he knew he had trouble on his hands now. He followed and sat, holding up a hand to refuse the mug she waved toward him. She filled hers from the coffeemaker carafe, added creamer and joined him at the table. “So, okay. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten anonymous notes.”

  He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

  “Off and on in college I would get the odd note from some guy saying how well I played in a game, or how pretty I was, or whatever. No big deal. Same handwriting each time. No signature. So I threw them away. My junior year, the notes stopped. I ignored him, and he finally quit.

  God save him from women who thought they knew what they were dealing with—she had no idea. “But this isn’t college. This is no bashful kid sending you compliments—”

  “You didn’t let me finish. There’s more.”

  Great. “Okay, so finish.”

  She finished her coffee and set the mug down. “When Trent and I were living on base at Pendleton, the same thing happened. I ignored the notes, and eventually they stopped coming. If this guy gets no response, he’ll lose interest, trust me.”

  Jim stared at her calm green eyes, keeping his expression bland. Behind his impassive facade, incredulity warred with anger. She was telling him someone—maybe the same person—had been stalking her off and on for the last fourteen years, and she insisted it was no big deal. He kept his tone neutral. “Tell me more about the time in California. What did your husband say?”

  “Oh, I didn’t bother Trent with it. The notes were anonymous, but they were friendly, not sexy or scary. Besides, they only came when he was deployed, and I never kept them.”

  Jim opened his mouth to speak.

  “Don’t look at me like that. Everyone on base knew who was deployed and where, there was nothing sinister about it. I sometimes wondered if Trent had asked a friend to keep an eye out for me when he was away. I would have asked him about it eventually...” Jim saw the ghost of pain in her eyes. “…but he died. And obviously I couldn’t ask him while he was deployed.” She gave him a look that said, “Don’t be dense.”

  Jim took a deep breath and released it, praying for patience. “You couldn’t tell him while he was away because you knew it would worry him. Because you knew it wasn’t really ‘no big deal.’ You were fortunate not to have the situation escalate in college, and again in California. This time you might not be so lucky.”

  Sally gave him an unyielding stare. “Look, I know you mean well. You’re a good friend and I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to call the police. This is no different than before, and I am going to go with what works—ignoring it. Now, please go home. I’m tired and I have a busy day tomorrow.”

  Jim rubbed his forehead. No matter how much he didn’t like her decision, their friendship didn’t give him the right to force her to call the police. “Right. I’m gone.” He’d just have to keep an eye on her himself.

  chapter three

  No way she needed this. Not now.

  Sally sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands, the day’s second mug of coffee cooling untouched, the laptop Jim had returned the day before sitting unopened before her. Tyler was off to school. She had half an hour before walking over to the shelter, and she was irrationally afraid to go.

  Get your head on straight, Sal. You’ve handled this kind of thing before. Shake it off. She had a research paper to work on for her Economics class, and instead she was sitting here wasting time, letting her thoughts spin in circles like water running down a drain. Like her plans were going down the drain.

  If she was ever going to finish college, now was the time. She’d quit school a semester’s worth of credits shy of her degree, so she could marry Trent before he went into basic training. She was supposed to finish up while he was deployed, but Tyler came along, so she put it off. Then, just when Tyler was ready to start school, Trent had been killed and she’d had to build a new life. Last January, she’d resolved to complete the blasted degree and found to her consternation that some of her credits would soon expire.


  She began taking the last few classes, keeping an eye on the calendar. Her online Economics course would complete the program. She had to pass. If she didn’t, her science credits would expire, and she’d have to start re-taking things like Chemistry. She shuddered—Chemistry had nearly killed her the first time.

  No. This paper was fifty percent of her grade. She had to get it done. She had to pass the class. It was now or never, and never wasn’t an option—it would set a bad example for Tyler.

  Come on, brain. Focus!

  But it was no use. Her fearful thoughts continued to circle around the stalker and the things Jim had said. Darn it! It was his fault she was so nervous about this. She’d always been able to handle it before. Well, it’s time to go to the shelter. Put your game face on and let’s do this thing.

  Sally dumped the cold coffee down the drain and rinsed the mug with numb fingers. Reluctantly, she prepared to go out into the cold. Parka, gloves, boots… it seemed that the more she bundled up, the safer she felt. She switched out the hip-skimming parka for a knee-length wool coat and added a long woolen scarf. Then, bringing the shelter’s laptop along, she pulled her van out of the garage and, contrary to her usual pattern, drove the two hundred yards from her drive to the shelter parking lot. She slid the van into the slot nearest the shelter entrance. The usual chorus of welcoming barks rang like alarm bells in her brain this morning. After a quick internal debate, she left the doors unlocked—ready for a quick retreat if needed.

  Stop this. There’s no one here. It’s just like normal.

  “Normal day, normal sounds, normal routine.” Repeating the words to herself like a mantra, she settled her shoulders and unlocked the entryway. Gloves into pockets, coat onto hook. She pushed open the heavy wooden door leading to the lobby.

  “Normal day, normal sounds, normal routine.”

  She set the laptop on her desk and marched through the lobby and to the far end of the kennel wing to begin her morning chores. The racket the dogs were making while waiting to be fed masked any other sounds in the building—she might as well be deaf—anyone could come into the shelter unheard. Slamming the door on that line of thought, she focused on her work.