Rising Heat (68 page)

“No, I’ll explain in a minute. Let me finish.”

I nodded and pressed my lips together. Waited with bated breath for him to proceed even though more than anything, I
didn’t
want to hear what he had to say.

“Stalking is all about harassment, but the stalker doesn’t feel like his behavior is harassment. Stalkers, male or female, have few personal relationships. Most of them are of above average intelligence. They believe their victims love them.”

I understood that, well to a degree. “But?”

“Other than leaving notes, this stalker has not yet made any attempt to directly interact with you—”

“No, he just got into my house and put in a bunch of cameras!”

Knowing I’d been watched without even realizing it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Let me finish, Tracy. Most stalkers don’t think that their behavior is threatening or even overt. Leaving notes is their way of letting someone know how they feel about them.”

“But?” I prompted again.

He shook his head. “I don’t think you’re dealing with what I would term an ordinary stalker.”

“Then what?” I asked, wanting to know and not know at the same time. “What the hell does this guy want?”

He gestured toward the kitchen. “He said you belonged to him. He’s not saying he loves you. He’s not trying to get your attention as a potential mate. He’s saying he wants to possess you.”

My breath caught in my throat. It took everything I had not to start crying. I hadn’t done anything, at least as far as I was concerned, to capture the unwanted attention of anyone in the small, sleepy town of Seneca. At least I didn’t think so. All I did was run to the grocery store once in a while, the post office a couple of times, and the office supply store. I’d only lived here three months!

I was about to protest, to somehow deny the realization that I had unwittingly captured the attention of a… a what? If he wasn’t a stalker, then what was he? Where was Hawk going with this?

“Tracy, like I said, I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not trying to scare you.”

“Well, you are,” I said. “Just spit it out, Hawk. What are you thinking?”

He hesitated just a moment and then blurted it out. Words that I never in my life thought would be associated or linked to me in any way.

“I think you’re being taunted by a killer… maybe even a serial killer.”

I stared. If my heart was pounding before, I didn’t know how to describe what it was doing now. It was beating so hard I felt my pulse throbbing in my neck. I tried to speak, but nothing came out but a squeak. Was he serious?

I stared at him in dismay before I pulled my gaze away. They landed on the disabled cameras setting on the knick-knack shelf. A myriad of questions raced through my mind, but the only one that came out was quite simple.

“But why?”

He shook his head. “It’s hard to say, Tracy. I did a background check on Jeremy and found out that he’s no longer living in Boston. He moved to Oklahoma City a couple of months ago.”

I didn’t care about Jeremy. I knew that Hawk had looked at him just to eliminate him as a possible suspect. What I wanted to know—

“I talked to Detective Cutter earlier today. He allowed me a quick look at some of the files and crime scene photos of those two women murdered not too long ago. One of them up in Maple Grove, about an hour north of here.”

“That’s the woman found stabbed in her bedroom,” I said dully. “I thought the police assumed it was a domestic violence incident.”

“On the face of it, that’s what it looked like. The woman had gone through a rather nasty divorce. But the police investigated and located the ex-husband living down in North Carolina. He had a solid alibi.”

I remembered the image of the woman. She had brunette hair like me, the same build.

“The second woman was murdered, found stabbed in her bathroom.”

I nodded. I remembered that one too. I had seen her picture on the Internet. The woman from the wedding photo.

“Have the police linked those two?” I asked, my voice deceptively calm.

Hawk nodded. “Those and another one this past spring in southern New Hampshire. All brunettes, all died from stab wounds.”

I thought about the chances of that. Okay, three brunette women found murdered by stabbing this year in the northeast. That wasn’t so unusual, was it? “What makes the police think it’s the same killer?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“The rose with the skull and crossbones,” he finally said and held up a hand when I gasped. “Similar notes with the same signature were found in the victims’ homes.”

I couldn’t believe it.

I looked up at him. “But what did I do, Hawk? What did I do to catch this guy’s attention?”

I wanted to throw myself into his arms, to have him comfort me, but I knew that wouldn’t do any good. Well, it would, temporarily, but I had to be stronger than that. Was I afraid? Hell yes. I was terrified. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to die a horrible, gruesome death. I didn’t want the police to find me stabbed in my bathroom or anywhere else.

“What am I going to do?”

Hawk squeezed my hand again. “I think we need to relocate you until this guy is caught.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that the comment took me by surprise. Relocate? How could I relocate? “Hawk, I can’t just up and move. I have my business. I have clients. Deadlines.”

The words stuck in my throat. What were deadlines when my life was being threatened? Nevertheless, my rationale kicked in. “My business is my bread and butter, Hawk. If I don’t work, I don’t make money. It’s as simple as that.” I shook my head. “I can’t leave. My work… my computers—”

“Tracy, you’re not safe out here all by yourself. Those other women, they didn’t know what was out there. Only one note was found at each of their homes. You’ve gotten three now.”

Yes, I had gotten three. This last one telling me that I was going to pay. I looked up at him. “Does Detective Cutter know about all this?”

“I’m going to have to turn over the notes and the flower to the police. You realize that, don’t you?”

I began to nod and then realized. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Oh my God, the last note. The police would want to know what that was about. I felt my face flame with heat. Hawk saw it too.

“Tracy, I’m not going to apologize for what we did last night. I will apologize for the embarrassment it will cause you. For that, I am sorry.”

I stared at him, realized he was being sincere. I offered a slight shrug. Could things get any worse? Well, of course they could, I scolded myself. I could get killed.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, standing.

I looked up at him. “Hawk, I’m not leaving my house. I didn’t come up here only to be scared away. Yes, I’m scared. I’ll admit it. But I have nowhere else to go. I can’t afford to live in a motel. I can’t work in a motel.”

“I was referring to going to the firing range,” he said, holding out his hand.

Suddenly, the idea of learning how to shoot a gun didn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it had been last night. He was right. If someone meant to do me harm, I needed to defend myself.

“But what about Detective Cutter?”

“First, the firing range. Then we’ll deal with the police.”

I followed him out of the house, carefully locking and dead-bolting the door before I left. I wasn’t sure it would do any good. How long had those cameras been in my house? Before I had the locks changed or after?

Hawk held open the passenger side door of the Jeep and I climbed in. I don’t know what I was expecting. A mess, maybe. A man who practically lived out of his car. Went on long stakeouts. To my surprise, it was neat. Exceptionally neat. No sign of food wrappers anywhere, no mismatched gloves, no sweater tossed on the back seat or on the floor, like in my truck.

Under the dashboard was a CB radio. I hadn’t seen one of those in well, since I was a kid. Maybe it was a police scanner. I didn’t know. At the moment, I didn’t much care. I was worried about what was happening to me. I was worried about the interruption in my business. My clients. I was worried about protecting myself. How did you stop a stalker? I corrected myself — a serial killer. How was I supposed to protect myself against someone when I didn’t even know who that someone was?

I didn’t say a word while Hawk drove, making a turn here, and then one further down the street until he came to an old warehouse looking building on the edge of town. It looked dark and closed up. I glanced at him and despite my fear, couldn’t help but admire his profile in the dull glow of the dashboard lights.

“Is it open?”

He shook his head. “No, but I have a key.”

“How do you happen to have a key?”

“My cousin owns the place.”

He said nothing more as he parked the Jeep and turned off the engine and the headlights. We sat in darkness for several moments and then I heard a slight movement. Seconds later, the feel of his hand over mine.

“I know this is scary for you, Tracy,” he said. “I’m going to do my best to figure out who this is. The police will get involved.”

He squeezed my hand.

“We’re all going to be working on this.”

I couldn’t think as far ahead as tomorrow. What would tomorrow bring? Or the day after that? I said nothing. Moments later, Hawk opened the driver side door and stepped out. He closed the door softly, then moved around the front of the Jeep while my eyes followed his large shadow over to my side. It wasn’t like I was waiting for him to open my door for me. Not at all. The truth of the matter was… I was frozen. I was so frightened I was frozen. The door opened and his hand reached for mine.

“Come on, Tracy. At times like this, it’s better to be proactive. If you can keep yourself busy, do what you can to protect yourself, you’ll feel a little more empowered.”

“Empowered?” I shook my head. “How do I fight against something I can’t see?”

He said nothing, but gently tugged on my hand. I allowed him to lead me out of the car and to the door of the warehouse. It took him only a moment to unlock it and then we stepped inside. He closed the heavy metal door before he turned on the interior lights. It smelled like an ice skating rink, not that I had been ice skating in years.

“You know what this reminds me of?” I asked.

“I know, a skating rink. Actually, it used to be one. My cousin bought the place about eight years ago and turned it into a firing and archery range instead. Get a lot more hunters up this way than ice skaters. Still can’t get rid of the skating rink though… the old carpets, the rubber floors over there…”

I said nothing as he led the way through a small, rather dingy lobby with what looked like decades-old paneling. Posters about gun safety, rules and regulations, and state laws were posted on one wall, along with a bulletin board with dozens of scraps of paper listing things for sale, jobs available, or items wanted. Against the other wall stood a huge glass case inside of which stood a number of trophies, banners, and plaques.

I followed Hawk through another door and then turned down a narrow hallway to the left. At the end was another door. We walked through that and he turned on another light switch. Stalls filled one side of the room. At the far side, about the size of a basketball court, stood a number of paper targets. Some looked like traditional bulls-eye targets, others were larger with the outline of human figures.

Each stall belonged to one lane, separated from the others by a counter that ran the length of the building and walls between the counter and the ceiling in between. On the wall of each stall hung a set of ear protectors. Hawk walked toward the third stall down, gesturing for me to follow. I did. He handed me the ear protectors and then quickly stepped into the next stall and grabbed another set. He draped them around the back of his neck. I followed suit.

“You don’t have to be an expert shot,” he began. “The point is to fend off an attacker and give yourself a chance to get away. But you have to be willing to use it. If your stalker doesn’t think you have the intention to shoot, a gun won’t do you any good at all. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“When you aim a gun at someone, you’re not messing around. Never aim a gun at anyone if you’re not willing to use it.”

“I understand,” I said, swallowing. My heart pounded. We were at a firing range, but just being so close to Hawk and listening to his words sent a surge of emotion through me. It wasn’t only his proximity that was making my heart pound, but anxiety crawling its way through my system.

I stood next to him, learning how to shoot a gun. A gun! This was the last thing I expected when I moved to rural Vermont. I still couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I realized it was pointless to keep asking why.

“Come over here and stand in front of me,” he directed.

For an instant, I hesitated. The last time I stood in front of him, I had ended up… he stared at me with a look of expectation. I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and did as he directed. From behind me, he extended his right arm. In his huge hand he held the Ruger. It looked ridiculously small.

“Like I started to show you last night, you can hold it in one hand or use a two-handed grip.”

If he was thinking about last night, I got no indication. Then again, he wasn’t pressed up that close to me either. Just the memory of what we had done last night got my nerves tingling. Would we enjoy a repeat performance? I had to admit that—

“Are you listening to me?”

I stiffened. “What?”

Suddenly, I felt myself being turned around, his hands on my shoulders. Where had he put the gun? I glanced down at the counter and saw the Ruger laying there. All I could think about was how big and strong and warm his hands felt on my shoulders. So comforting. So protective.

“Tracy, you’ve got to pay attention.”

I glanced up at him. He was staring down at me with an earnest expression. I opened my mouth to reply, but then I noticed he wasn’t looking in my eyes. He was staring at my lips. Was he thinking the same thing I was?

“Tracy…”

I looked up at him, my chin nearly bumping into his chest. He was looking down at me when he spoke, so close I felt his warm breath on my lips. I couldn’t help it. I’d heard about people becoming infatuated or desperate, call it what you will, to experience physical closeness in times of stress. I had a feeling that I was reacting much the same way when it came to Hawk.