Toss Up (The Toss Trilogy) Read online

  Why did he suddenly look so good? Was it simply that she needed someone around for security? Sally visualized Diana in place of Jim.

  No, not the same. Try a man.

  She visualized Daniel Smith leaning against the counter. He looked good—really good—but… No. Her brows drew together slightly, and her head tilted a bit as she questioned why. Daniel certainly had the physique required… but visualizing him didn’t produce the same feeling she got from looking at Jim. They both looked hot, with the muscle to discourage an intruder, but seeing Jim made her feel more than just safe… she felt rooted somehow… grounded. Maybe because he was such a good friend?

  “Do I have peanut butter on my chin?” Ice blue eyes laughed at her.

  “What? No. No, I was thinking of something else.” She looked past him, out the window. “I see a car in the lot. If I grab my coat will you drop me off at the shelter on your way?”

  “Glad to.”

  They rode over in silence. Maggie Douglas, always sensible, sat in her warm car waiting for Sally to arrive and open the door. Good. Maggie could wait a moment more. There were things that needed to be said. As the truck rolled to a stop, she turned to look in Jim’s eyes.

  “I’m glad you’re staying with us. Thank you. Thanks for not letting my bad temper last night chase you away. I—Thanks.” She closed her mouth tightly, opened the door and slid off the seat. Without looking back, she swung the door shut behind her and hurried into the building.

  Maggie Douglas slipped into the shelter right behind her, already chattering away cheerfully. Sally responded automatically.

  Yes, it was cold out. No, she didn’t imagine the ‘poor puppies’ would want to stay out until it warmed up some. Yes, she’d love it if Maggie took care of feeding the ‘poor darlings.’ At last, as Maggie headed off toward the kennel wing, Sally sank into the chair facing her computer.

  I love you. She had nearly said, ‘I love you’ to Jim. Good grief! Where had that come from? She felt the shaky sweatiness she associated with nerves and reacted the way she had before shooting a free throw on the court—take a few deep breaths and focus. She shook her head to clear it. This stalker business was really throwing her off her game. Focus. She had a shelter to run.

  Sally booted up the computer and got to work. In her email was a copy of the new schedule Diana had set up for the volunteers. Embarrassed, she emailed back suggesting that daytime precautions were probably overkill. She didn’t like asking people to rearrange their routines to babysit her, but Diana was adamant. With her best friend and Jim united against her, Sally knew she had no choice but to give in. Fortunately, none of the shelter volunteers asked her for specifics as to why the schedules had changed. They knew how hard Sally worked, so the vague explanation accompanying Diana’s email to the group—that her manager needed a bit more help—had gone down easy.

  There was one extra benefit. With more volunteers around, she had some time to work on her Economics paper.

  By mid-afternoon, when she watched Tyler race toward the shelter from the school bus, Sally had completed an outline based on preliminary research. She gave herself a mental pat on the back. Good progress. I should celebrate.

  Tyler burst through the door. “Look, Mom.” He waved a blue envelope above his head. “Matthew is having a birthday party on Friday. A sleepover birthday party! I get to bring my sleeping bag to school, and a present, and my pajamas and Matthew says we’re going to eat pizza and watch movies and stay up all night!” Tyler beamed at his mother. “I can go, can’t I?”

  “Yes, of course you can go. We’ll go into town tonight and get a present.” And dinner out. Yes! “Get your homework done before it’s time to close the shelter, and we’ll stop by the Dragon King to eat.”

  That was all it took to send Tyler scurrying behind the counter to spread out his books and papers on the desk next to her own. As he bent to the task, Sally gave herself a mental thump on the forehead—Donovan. Well, he’d have to get used to going with the flow. She wasn’t going to deny Tyler what was clearly a big deal to him.

  True to their arrangement, Tyler was finished with homework, packed and ready to roll before the big red RAM pulled into the parking lot. “Mom, Dr. Donovan’s here!”

  “Go ahead out. I’ll be right there.” A few minutes later, she slid into the cab of the truck.

  “Tyler tells me we’re going into town for presents and Chinese food,” Jim said as she buckled up.

  “That’s right. His friend Matthew is having a birthday party Friday.”

  “It’s a sleepover,” bubbled Tyler. “I get to take my sleeping bag to school and everything.”

  “Sounds awesome. What kind of present will you bring for Matthew?” As Tyler rattled on about the merits of his various choices, Jim slanted a look toward Sally over the boy’s head. The question in his eyes stopped her diaphragm in mid-breath. How could she have overlooked it? With Tyler at a sleepover, they would be at the house alone. The very thought sent her blood pressure skyrocketing. Maybe she should go stay with Diana and Logan for the evening…or maybe not.

  “Okay.” She took control, stopping Tyler’s ramblings. “We’ll stop at the Dollar Emporium first, and if we don’t find anything there we’ll go to Sports Unlimited.”

  “The Dollar Emporium?” Jim sounded surprised.

  “Lots of fun, great variety, short life-span of both toys and clutter. Ideal.”

  “And Sports Unlimited?”

  “Fishing tackle—Matthew’s current obsession. But something the whole crew can play with immediately always trumps anything you have to wait to use.”

  Jim grinned. “It’s good that you know these things, Sally.”

  “All part of my job, Doc.” She winked and turned to Tyler as Jim pulled into a parking space at the brick storefront. “Let’s go, Squirt. And make it quick—I’m starving.”

  Less than an hour later they stood in line at Dragon King, waiting for a table to open up. The restaurant was crowded, and Tyler fidgeted as they waited for the small square tables to empty. Sally hadn’t been joking about her hunger. Her stomach rumbled as she shut her eyes and inhaled the fresh, spicy scent of the food. Jim made small talk with Tyler, helping to distract him till they were shown to a table. Once that happened, Tyler didn’t even sit, but rocketed off to the buffet, filling his plate with sweet and sour pork, fried dumplings, and, at her command, a small portion of stir-fried vegetables. She and Jim ordered more balanced fare from the menu.

  It felt good to be out, to feel relaxed and carefree. Since Tyler’s homework was finished, they lingered over the meal and let the fortune cookies sit on the plate while they talked. Tyler began to look tired.

  An accommodating waitress boxed Sally’s left-overs. Jim carried the bag to the truck while Sally chivvied a cranky Tyler along. It seemed a short time later that Jim shifted the sleeping child to lean against him so she could grab the day’s mail. Looking back at the picture they made in the truck, patient man and sleeping boy, she reached into the box. The rough edge of paper torn from a spiral coil brushed between her thumb and forefinger.

  At that touch, the night turned cold, and a chill ran up her spine. Her heart began to race. She clutched the mail in her sweating hand, refusing to look at it, and returned silently to the cab. Jim didn’t seem to notice. He ran the truck the rest of the way up the drive, and helped Tyler stumble out, walking the sleepy boy toward the porch.

  Sally followed close behind, casting nervous glances into the darkness on either side. The porch, which had a movement sensor on the overhead light, remained dark.

  “Bulb must be out,” muttered Jim, reaching toward Sally for the key, and unlocking the door.

  She stopped in the living room, body and voice tense. “Jim, put him down and come back.” Her chest felt tight, too rigid to manage more than short, shallow breaths.

  He nodded without turning.

  But Sally found herself following them down the hallway, feeling rather like an awkward toy
pulled by a fractious child. She stopped outside the door to Tyler’s room.

  It took Jim only a moment to remove her son’s outer clothes and tuck him into the warm sleeping bag. “Night, Ty,” he said softly. “Sleep well.”

  The only answer was an unintelligible murmur, as Tyler wriggled into a comfortable ball.

  Jim closed the door to the room, and didn’t look surprised to see Sally waiting in the hallway. Moving forward he touched her shoulder, turning her back toward the kitchen. “Where are your light bulbs?”

  With one cold hand she pointed out the appropriate cupboard, while the other still clutched the mail. The palm touching the notepaper felt violated, yet to let it go would be worse—as if the hidden words would somehow gain strength if released.

  “Come with me while I fix that light.”

  Nodding numbly, Sally followed Jim to the front door. He reached up into the decorative globe and touched the darkened bulb. Light cascaded through his fingers. A quick twist to screw the old bulb back in place, and the “repair” was complete. He pulled off his coat and hung it on the rack in the entryway. “Only a loose bulb, nothing more. Now, do you want to sit on the couch or in the kitchen?”

  “The kitchen.” Sally feared softness would cause her to disintegrate. Her backbone was barely holding her up as it was. She sat in one of the ladder-backed chairs, still in her parka, and Jim sat to her right, his face gentle and grave.

  “Let me see it.”

  She held out her right hand and he slid the mail from her grip, then opened the hand that had clutched it and pressed her palm to his. His strong fingers kept the contact close and somehow, his skin absorbed the vileness the notepaper had imparted. Her hand felt clean again—felt hers again. Still holding her right hand tightly in his left, he set the mail aside and used his free hand to pick up the notepaper by one corner, setting it on the table in front of them and smoothing it open with his sleeve. The note was printed in pencil with block letters, like the others. They read in silence.

  ‘I warned you, but you flaunt your sordid affair with Donovan in public. Everyone saw you with him at the Dragon King, in front of Trent’s son. You disgrace your husband, you cheating slut. Semper fi.’

  Sally felt sick. “Oh, my God. He was there. He was there and he came back here. He might be outside right now.”

  “Relax, love.” Jim’s voice was warm and calm. It seemed to Sally that just listening to it gave her strength. “If he is out there right now, let’s show him you know what to do.” Pulling out his cell phone, Jim called the police.

  The watcher stood in a stand of Eastern Hemlock growing by the creek at the base of the meadow, three hundred yards beyond Sally’s house. It was quiet. The stream that watered the evergreens lay silent and frozen in the November night. Despite the cold, his anger burned, rising like the molten rock in a volcano’s throat.

  She was foolish, so foolish, to trifle with a man like him, a man of honor and vengeance. She had sent Donovan away once. I had hoped she would remain true. Then she had tried to lead him on, but of course he had resisted. So she had gone back after Donovan. The veterinarian had no honor.

  Now Donovan was there again. Betraying your husband once wasn’t enough? Holding aside a needle-laden branch, he watched the police car pull up her drive, lights flashing. When the lights dimmed and the car door opened, the watcher leaned toward his night vision scope to see the slim figure exiting the cruiser—Officer Demarco, practically a rookie. Taking care of the cop—if he had to—would be no problem.

  The watcher checked the time—forty minutes from when the she had followed Donovan inside. When time came for retribution, he could count on having at least a full half-hour without interruption. Plenty. Trent would appreciate his loyalty. Trent would commend his attention to detail, his planning, and his execution.

  He hated her, now, for making a fool of Trent. She wasn’t worthy of a Marine. She must have used her hot body to suck Trent in, and for that she must be punished. Trent would understand. It might even make her realize how wrong she’d been. Yes, his discipline would give her a chance to prove her repentance. But she wasn’t ready yet. His chapped lips pulled back from his teeth. Getting her ready would be the fun part.

  “Sweet dreams, bitch. Dream of me.”

  The cold wind swirled around him, its chill biting through the worn leather jacket. He hitched his collar higher and looked at the sky. The snow wouldn’t hold off much longer. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, but soon. Turning his back on the house up the hill, he left.

  Officer Demarco looked worried as he listened to Sally’s account. Not what one hoped to see in those who serve and protect. Jim wondered when the last serious crime in York had been. Though he took meticulous notes, the officer had little else to offer. He said they would attempt to make a list of patrons and employees at the restaurant, but nothing was likely to come of that, with so little other information to go on.

  Jim didn’t mention his own scouting expedition the night before. He knew the stalker probably watched Sally from some nearby vantage point, and had hoped to backtrack to that spot from the mailbox. It wasn’t hard to track a man if you knew what you were doing, and he did. Even in the dead of night he would not have missed the trail, if there’d been a trail to find. But the stalker had come along the road to leave Tuesday’s threat. There was no reason to imagine that tonight had been different.

  “Well, Mrs. Johnston,” Officer Demarco was explaining, “We can dust your mailbox for prints if it will make you feel better, but a surface needs to be smooth and clean to be a likely place to find a recognizable print. Your box is old and rusty. Our only real hope for a clear print is the notepaper. We need you to come in and get fingerprinted, since you touched the paper. Dr. Donovan too. And please bring the information about the earlier notes that Officer Billings requested.”

  Jim spoke up. “I’ll drive in with Mrs. Johnston tomorrow and we’ll take care of all that.” He rose, hoping Officer Demarco was ready to go. Sally had asked more questions about the investigation tonight, and the answers had not been reassuring. Jim thought she was beginning to realize how little the police could do in a matter like this. She looked drained and discouraged.

  The patrolman paused at the doorway. “You have Officer Billings’ card, don’t you, Ma’am?”

  Sally nodded her head. “Yes, thanks.”

  At last the ordeal was over. As Sally closed the door behind Demarco, Jim put his hands on her shoulders and gave a squeeze. “Are you ready to take that coat off yet?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I was just so cold at first.”

  He slipped the jacket from her shoulders and hung it on the rack in the corner, then stood close behind her. “What do you need, Sal? What can I do to help?”

  She shrugged, and stepped away. Jim’s arms ached to hold her, but remained empty.

  “I don’t want to try to sleep yet. I’m exhausted, but not tired enough that my brain will settle.” She hesitated, then turned to him with an appeal in her eyes. “Could you sit up with me awhile? Maybe we could talk or something? I can’t lie down yet.”

  She was afraid to sleep. She wouldn’t admit it, but he was certain. She didn’t want to risk the terrors her imagination might create if she closed her eyes. He felt a white-hot rage toward the faceless man responsible. “Sure, Sal. Shall I build a fire?”

  “That would be nice.” Her voice was weak, vulnerable.

  Jim busied himself with wood and kindling, turning his back to be sure she wouldn’t see the emotion in his face. His Sally was a strong woman, a fighter. Hearing the helplessness in her voice, he recognized how much injury the unknown stalker was doing to her. It took a moment to banish the pain and anger from his expression. Then, with the fire blazing brightly, he sat next to her on the couch, stretching his legs over the braided rug toward the flames and threw a friendly arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.

  “So, I ran into Mrs. MacDonald from Green Thumb Nursery last week and she was te
lling me about some new cultivars they’re expecting in the spring. Seems they are really impressive…” He kept talking, using her interest in plants to coax occasional responses from her, drawing her mind away from the stalker and into less painful paths. He knew exactly what he was trying to accomplish, and was prepared to talk all night in order to give her mind a safe place to rest.

  After a while, she laid her head on his shoulder. Her responses became less strained, less frequent, and finally ceased altogether.

  Jim talked on for another hour—hoping to help her slide into peaceful dreams. Then he allowed himself to rest as well, staring into the dying fire. One-handed, he grabbed the afghan draped on the corner of the couch and arranged it over the two of them for warmth. He leaned his head against the cushions, but not to sleep.

  He’d called her ‘love’ when he’d been trying to help her deal with the sick fear he’d seen in her eyes after she read the second note. It had slipped out—inevitably, he thought, since that was how he thought of her in his mind. It was probably lucky that she didn’t notice.

  It felt good to finally say it aloud, to set free the reality he’d been keeping chained inside for so long. He was going to allow himself that freedom, he decided. Sally would have to get used to the idea sooner or later—she may as well start now. He was tired of waiting for a sign from her that might never come. It was past time to make a move, and not only with Sally.

  Staring into the fire with the steady eyes of a hunter, Jim went over every detail of the last five days, holding each up to his extensive knowledge of terrorism. Stalking was, of course, a personal form of terrorism, but many of the same principles would apply. He had never planned to play this game on defense. And he thought he had found a place to begin the offensive—with the stalker and with Sal.

  chapter seven

  Sally woke before dawn. After taking a moment to realize where she was, and why, she lifted her head. Cold crept in through the darkened windows, undiminished by the dying embers in the stone hearth. She turned her head and saw Jim in the orange glow, awake and watching her.