In This Life (8 page)

“So what does this all mean?” I asked.

David paused. “It means that this guy’s been spooked and will probably change tactics now.”

“Tactics?”

Lori set plates, forks, knives and napkins on the large coffee table between us and went back to the kitchen. David’s eyes tracked her as she walked away and I wondered what caught his attention.

“Tactics designed to continue to get your attention or scare you,” he said, turning back to me.

“Or something more,” Nat said.

“We don’t know that, Nat.”

“I don’t understand.” I got up, went to the slider and leaned my head against the glass so I could look outside. It was another beautiful July day, bright and sunny and warm, but I couldn’t enjoy it. I felt trapped and scared and I wanted answers. Now.

I inhaled and exhaled long and slow, trying to calm down, but it wasn’t working. Someone was out there, watching me. For all I knew, they were in the backyard, watching me right now.

Movement near the deep end of the in-ground pool drew my attention away from the conversation. The tall, wild grasses that framed the diving board and waterfall moved, went still, then moved again. My heart stopped. A breeze blew past and the lofty yellow and green stalks quivered, and then someone with blonde hair slipped deeper inside the shrubs.

Another breeze blew through, this one strong enough to bend the grasses at a sharp angle. No one was there. I’d only imagined it.

“I’ll try it another way,” David said. “A telecommunication line can — ”

“That’s not what I mean,” I said. “What I mean is, why me?”

“I’m going for blunt here,” Nat said, “but if we knew that answer we’d probably already have this solved, wouldn’t we?”

I closed my eyes, disappointed.

I felt David’s warmth move in from behind, and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close. “What is it I always say to you when things get tough?” His voice was just above a whisper but he sounded strong and sure and confident and everything I wanted to be at that moment.

I sighed. “This situation is more than just tough, David. I’m a psychologist and even I don’t have any words to explain this.”

“Humor me.”

I turned and looked up at him. “Fine,” I said, reciting David’s words from memory, which was easy enough to do because I’d heard them so often I’d lost count. “If your enemy is in superior strength, evade him. If your opponent is temperamental, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant.”

“Ah,” Nat said. “Sun Tzu’s
The Art of War
. I love that book.”

“That and the
Kama Sutra
,” Lori said.

David shook his head and smiled but I could see the edginess behind it. “And the point of all that is?”

“To prepare.”

“And to be clever.” He tapped a finger to my forehead. “And to remember that once a plan is set in motion, you have to expect to change it once you engage.”

I eased out of David’s embrace and watched Lori set dinner on the coffee table. “You make it sound simple, David.”

“In some ways it
is
simple. Preparation and practicality are two things that make a difference, Lottie.”

“That,” Nat said, holding up a forkful of lasagna to make his point, “and knowing when to fight.”

Lori settled down on the floor next to her husband. “But this isn’t war.”

“Isn’t it?” Nat asked.

“Not even close!” Lori stared at Nat like he’d lost all sense of reality. “Does it look like Lottie’s in a battlefield and dressed in camouflage? Is she aiming a gun or throwing a grenade?”

“Wars and battles come in all shapes and sizes.”

“If there’s an opponent of any kind,” David said, “then it’s a war.”

Not to me it wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to argue the point because this was the one big difference between David and me. He saw life as a series of battles to be fought in order to grow stronger intellectually and physically. I saw life as a learning experience so that you grew stronger emotionally and spiritually.

Lori scooped out three helpings of dinner for herself, David, and me. Nat dug in for seconds. I sank into the sofa, cross-legged, and toyed with my food.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Lori asked.

“I guess.” But eating wasn’t really on my mind anymore. My stomach was in knots and seeing David so preoccupied bothered me. He commanded ops in far more threatening situations than this, but this was new territory even for him.

“Something just occurred to me,” he said. “I don’t think the guy who called yesterday morning knew about your dream. No one can read minds, much as many people like to think they can. Now that I know our phone’s been tapped, I’m thinking that this guy heard our conversation and twisted it in his favor to make it seem like he did.”

“Meaning what?” I asked. “Someone’s eavesdropping?”

“One step ahead of you, D-Man, and that’s gonna be a big fat no.” Nat downed another forkful of lasagna. “When I found out about the phone tap, I got two men from PROs to sweep the house and your cars this morning. Seemed to make sense to do it, given what we knew. Anyway, we didn’t do a complete job but we were pretty thorough, and what we searched came up a big nada.”

“You think our house was bugged?”

“Yep. But far as I can tell, it wasn’t.”

And we were back to square one. “Then how did the caller know what I’d been dreaming about? It doesn’t make any sense.”

David went back to studying the yard, and I wondered if he was searching the trees and bushes for a stalker like I’d been. “Good question,” he said.

I pushed my plate away. “I’m with you on this one, David. People can’t read minds. We
must
be missing something.”

Lori picked up my plate and handed it back, daring me to deny myself a good meal. I took a bite but, like the beautiful day outdoors, just couldn’t enjoy it.

“I saw a man on one of those morning shows that could do it,” Lori said, serving Nat his third plateful. “Read minds, that is. This is going back a few months and I don’t remember details, but I do remember that he was really good at it.”

The rest of us paused and stared at her.

“I swear,” she said. “It’s true. He’s some big shot in the mind-reading world.”

“They have a
world
?” Nat asked.

Lori slapped Nat with a napkin. “You know what I mean. It’s not like he’s the only one who does it. But he’s an expert at it.”

“Mind reading is a farce, just like tarot cards and fortunetelling. It’s a means for people to fraud money off other people.” David joined us at the table and sat down. “I’m sure the guy was entertaining, but all you need is a little experience with people and some psychology to make it look like you can do those things.”

Lori made a face like she didn’t agree. “He knew things about the audience, David. Personal things that no one else could possibly know, and it was scary to watch. If that’s not mind reading, I don’t know what is.”

“Lottie’s a psychologist and she’s experienced with people,” Nat said. “Do you think you could mind read?”

Once, I went to a mind reader with friends at a college carnival. And she’d gotten everything about me all wrong. “That isn’t what this conversation is about,” I said. “This is about finding out how someone could know what I dreamt about. Or why someone would tap my phone.”

“And how he got access,” David added.

“Well,” Lori said, “he knows you from somewhere, obviously. People don’t do things like this unless there’s a reason. Or a connection.”

“Crap.” Nat wiped his hands with a napkin and dropped it onto his empty plate. “I almost forgot. I shipped the envelope and hair off to our buddies in forensics this morning. Put a rush on it, too.”

“Good.” David dug into his meal. “Maybe that’ll start giving us what we need.”

“It’s still going to take some time to get results,” Nat said. “But at least we’ve got it moving.”

The doorbell rang as David scooped up another forkful. He looked at me and hesitated. “You expecting anyone?”

“No.”

“Neither am I.”

He went to the foyer and the front door, and another man’s voice answered David’s. David returned with a large bouquet of unusual, light blue flowers nestled in a clear vase and tied with a white bow.

“They’re for you.”

David set the bouquet on the coffee table in front of me and stared at it, hands on hips.

“Oh wow. They’re beautiful!” I leaned in and inhaled, and found them as fragrant as they were striking. Warm and sweet and earthy. “Thank you, David. These are so lovely.”

“They’re not from me.”

I looked up at David, a little too quickly, and for a moment felt woozy. David tugged off the card and read out loud what had been written.

I was very worried when I heard you went to the hospital. But you should be more careful next time. Next time, someone might not be there to help you.

He checked for a signature and didn’t find one. “No name. No nothing.”

“Except for this,” Nat said.

He reached into the flowers and pulled out more strands of my hair.

“I’m calling the police.”

Before I could pick up the phone, David had my hand. “Think this through, first.”

“What’s to think about?” I tugged away from him, filled with a sudden, compelling urge to smell the flowers again. I should have felt revolted by them but they had captured and held my attention and I couldn’t let go. They seemed familiar and I wanted to remember from where.

Nat stood up and joined us. “David’s right about this.” He took me by the shoulders and I pulled away from him, too. “The cops are going to fire questions at you, and you need to be prepared to answer them, Lottie.”

“So let them ask questions,” I said. “Isn’t that the point?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” I sank into the sofa and toyed with the delightful, blue and white blooms. In a deeper part of my mind, I remembered wearing them in my hair, and seeing them strewn across blue and green and yellow tiled floors and festively ribboned over massive granite columns.

And I remembered them floating in a cup of red wine.

“We’re not trying to belittle you,” David said. “And we’re not trying to tell you what to do. It’s just that — “ He pushed the flowers away from me. “Are you even listening?”

“Of course I am.”

But I couldn’t break away from the bouquet. I pulled out one single stem and held it to my nose. Something about the scent made me breathless and aroused.

“What’s with you?” David asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “These smell wonderful. Want to try?”

I held the bloom to David’s nose but he pulled away. “Have you been hitting the wine or my mother’s brownies again?”

“Oh come on, David.”

“Those flowers may be beautiful, Lottie,” Lori said, “but they’re creepy. And they need attention.”

I shrugged. “Maybe a little water.”

“I meant that they need the
police’s
attention.” The three of us turned to find Lori holding up her cell phone. “I called my uncle’s precinct and a car’s on its way.”

“Why?” Nat asked.

Lori looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “We need professionals to handle this situation.”

“We
are
professionals.”

“Police,” she reminded him. “We need the police.”

“They’re going to do jack,” Nat fired back.

“Maybe, maybe not, but what happened should be on record.” Lori picked up a couple of dishes and handed them to Nat. “So get over it and start cleaning up.”

Nat’s face reddened but he took the dishes and headed into the kitchen. David hesitated but followed Nat’s lead, cleaning up what remained. I smiled as I watched them both load the dishwasher, recognizing that although she wasn’t the aggressive type, Lori had managed to pull David’s and Nat’s need for control right out from under them. When they were out of earshot she leaned to whisper in my ear.

“They’re pretty ticked at me right now.”

“I know,” I said. “And I love it.” I twirled the fine, pointed petals against my nose, and Lori hovered a little longer.

“What’s the deal with you and those flowers, anyway?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” I inhaled the bloom and sighed. “They just smell really good.” I offered the flower to Lori but she shook her head, too.

“You don’t know where they came from,” she said. “Don’t you think the way you’re handling them is a little weird?”

“They just seem familiar to me,” I told her. “And I’m trying to remember from where.”

Lori grinned. “An old boyfriend?”

I grinned back. “Maybe.”

“Who?”

I kept twirling the petals, thinking.

Lori leaned in closer. “Come on, Lottie. Who?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I whispered, “but the memory’s a hot one.”

With mischief in her eyes, Lori glanced at David storing leftovers in the freezer. “I’m guessing it’s not him.”

I shook my head and laughed.

When the doorbell rang, I slipped the bloom back into the vase. David greeted the police and ushered them inside. Officer Jim McKarren, Lori’s uncle, strode in first. He was a fit man in his late forties with a wide forehead, brown hair, and eyes as blue as the flowers. A blonde officer who looked twenty years his junior followed. His brass tag read Llewellyn.

“I understand there’s been a situation?” Jim looked to Lori for direction and Lori gestured toward me.

“Yes,” I said.

David shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the counter that separated the kitchen from the den, shoulders squared and eyes alert.

Jim McKarren sent him a cursory glance and bypassed him in favor of one of the leather chairs near me, taking a quick visual inventory of the den. I wondered if his appraisal came from personal curiosity to see what had changed since his visit last year or from professional training to find something out of place. His eyes never went to the flowers. Llewellyn remained near the fireplace and I had a swift and vivid image of a soldier standing sentry, prepared to defend. Or attack.

“Tell me what happened,” Jim said. “Lori claimed that someone was being threatened.”

I pointed to the flowers and showed him the card and my hair. “These arrived about a half hour ago, and I don’t know who sent them to me.”