Shadow of Doubt (15 page)

“It's so cute,” she said. “Does that mean you two are back together again?”

“I don't know,” I said. I hadn't spoken to Ben since the coffee shop.

I was sure Morgan was going to ask if I'd heard from Nick, but she didn't. She also didn't tell me—
again
—what a great guy Ben was and how he was perfect for me. In fact, she surprised me by saying nothing at all. She just watched in silence as I tucked the key chain into my pocket.

As I watched the actors rehearsing the play onstage later that day, I could feel Nick's chain around my neck. I still hadn't decided what to do. It was obvious that Ben wasn't angry. He cared about me, and he kept going out of his way to let me know it. And Nick? What had he done? He still hadn't called me back.

I dug my phone out of my bag and stepped out of the auditorium to make a call. I returned to my seat in time to see Ms. Denholm flip her phone shut and turn to Ms. Rachlis, who was sitting beside her, overseeing the set-design team as they painted the play's big backdrop.

“That was Ted,” she said.

“I understand completely why you're staying with him,” Ms. Rachlis said. “But I sure miss you over there, Melissa. Mrs. Wyman is driving me crazy. She's been hammering on the ceiling almost nonstop since you left. I think she watches at the window until she sees my car. The moment I let myself into the apartment, she starts pounding. If I don't get down to her place right away, she hobbles up the stairs and pounds on the door. It wasn't so bad when there were two of us.”

“I wish this would end,” Ms. Denholm said wearily. “I want things to be back to normal—whatever that is.”

My phone rang. My hand trembled as I reached for it. But it wasn't the caller I'd been hoping for. It was Ted.

“I need a favor, Robyn,” he said. “I just called Melissa to let her know that I'm tied up in a meeting that I can't get out of. Would you go back to my place with her and stay until I get there? She's been so nervous lately.”

I knew my mom would be working late, so I said yes. When I told Ms. Denholm, she shook her head. “I think Ted is more nervous than I am.” But she didn't try to talk me out of going with her. “We'll have to take a taxi. I don't have my car with me.”

Although Ted had taken Ms. Denholm's car back to his place as she'd asked, he had insisted on driving her to and from school.

“I'll give you a lift,” Ms. Rachlis said.

“Are you sure? It's out of your way.”

Ms. Rachlis made a face. “Tough decision...should I take my best friend where she wants to go, or should I rush home and let Mrs. Wyman drive me crazy?” She laughed. “I'll meet you back here in fifteen. I need to get some things from my classroom.”

She was back when she said she would be, and we drove across town to Ted's place together.

“I've heard about this building,” Ms. Rachlis said as she pulled into the condo's driveway. “I've always wanted to see what it looks like inside. From the way you described it the other night—”

Ms. Denholm looked at me and blushed. “I called Nat to let her know where she could reach me. I told her about Ted's place.”

“It really is nice,” I agreed. “Ted has great taste.”

“You're more than welcome to come up and see, Nat,” Ms. Denholm said.

Ms. Rachlis parked in the visitors' area, and we took the elevator up to the main floor. Ms. Denholm led the way to the security desk where a guard—not Darren this time—greeted her with a smile. He became more formal when he asked Ms. Rachlis and me to sign the visitors' log. We rode the elevator up to the penthouse floor. Once again Ms. Denholm led the way, this time to Ted's door. She fished in her purse for her keys and unlocked the first deadbolt, then another. I didn't remember there being two deadbolts on Ted's door. He must have just had the second one installed. Ms. Denholm pushed open the door and stepped inside. I followed. Behind me I heard Ms. Rachlis say, “What's this?”

Ms. Denholm and I turned around and looked back at Ms. Rachlis, who was still out in the hall. She bent over to pick something up—an envelope. She frowned at it as she straightened up.

“It's for you, Melissa,” she said.

Ms. Denholm's name was typed on the front of it, but there was no address on it and no stamp.

“Where did it come from?” Ms. Denholm said.

“It was sticking out from under the mat,” Ms. Rachlis said, gesturing to the welcome mat in front of Ted's door.

Ms. Denholm's fingers trembled slightly as she opened the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Her face turned white as she read it.

“Melissa, are you all right?” Ms. Rachlis said.

Ms. Denholm handed her the note. As Ms. Rachlis read it, her expression grew grim.

“What's the matter?” I said. “What does it say?”

Ms. Rachlis handed it to me. It looked like it had come off a computer printer. It said,
If I can't have you, no one will
. There was no signature. I don't know what my dad would have thought, but the shattered look on Ms. Denholm's face convinced me.

“You have to call the police,” I said.

Ms. Denholm shook her head slowly. “They won't do anything. They won't be able to prove it was him. They won't be able to stop him. No one can stop him.”

“But he's threatening you,” I said. “You can't let him get away with it.”

Ms. Rachlis looked nervously up and down the hall.

“How did he get in here?” she said. “This is supposed to be a secure building. That guard downstairs must have been asleep on the job.”

Ms. Denholm's face turned a sickly shade of gray. If Mornov had got past the security guard....She glanced up and down the hall, her eyes wide. Then she slammed the door, locked both bolts, and attached the security chain.

“Please let me call the police,” I said.

Ms. Denholm didn't answer. She kicked off her boots and threw off her coat.

“How does he even know where you're staying?” Ms. Rachlis said.

“He must have followed me.”

“Or Ted,” I said. “I saw Mornov outside of school on Friday. I'm pretty sure he saw you and Ted leave together.”

I regretted my words as soon as they were out of my mouth. Ms. Denholm's face lost all of its color. She looked at the note again.

“He's telling me he knows where Ted lives,” she said. “He's never going to leave me alone.”

She walked quickly through the living room and down the hall that led to Ted's guest room. When she came back, she was holding a gun. I'm no expert, but I was pretty sure it was the same one that I'd seen in Ted's glove compartment. Ms. Rachlis did not look surprised when she saw it.

“What are you going to do with that, Melissa?” she said.

“Protect myself.”

“If you want protection, you should call the police,” I said.

“They never do anything,” Ms. Denholm said. She looked at Ms. Rachlis. “Remember all those phone calls?” Ms. Rachlis nodded. “He always called from a pay phone, always when he knew I was home. I hooked a recording device up to my phone—I have it hooked up again.” I had thought the machine that was attached to her phone was a voice-mail box like Ms. Rachlis had. I'd been wrong. “But he never says anything that I can play for the police. It's always dead air. Remember last time, Nat? I wrote down all the times he had called and I gave the police that information. They said that at least half the time he had an alibi—he was at work or with someone who swore that he hadn't been near a phone.”

Ms. Rachlis nodded.

“Usually it was a family member,” Ms. Denholm added. “The police always believed them.”

“And those things he used to leave at my door, or near my car—remember, Nat?” She shuddered. “Headless dolls. One time a doll with its chest ripped open, fake blood all over it. And a note that said,
Heartless
.”

“Just like the flowers you got at school,” I said.

She nodded. “Another time he left a dead cat at my door.”

Just like her stepfather had done to her mother.

“But there are never any fingerprints. Never anything that proves it was him.”

I kept staring at the gun. Ms. Rachlis caught the look on my face. She put out her hand.

“Give me that thing,” she said. “Let me put it away for you.”

The phone rang. Ms. Denholm jumped.

“It's probably Ted,” I said.

Ms. Denholm picked up the receiver and said hello. Her face turned gray again as she listened. Her voice was shrill as she shouted, “How did you get this number?” But before whoever it was could answer, she slammed down the receiver. Her hand was shaking. She was still gripping the gun.

“Melissa, what's wrong?” Ms. Rachlis said.

The phone rang again.

“Melissa?”

“It was him,” Ms. Denholm said. “Why doesn't he leave me alone?”

The phone stopped ringing, but just for a minute. Then it started again.

“You should get out of here,” Ms. Rachlis said.

“You should
call the police
,” I said.

“You should just go somewhere far away,” Ms. Rachlis said. “Ted can help you. He's well-off, Melissa. He can help you resettle far away from here. You can change your name again.”

“Just like my mother did,” Ms. Denholm said. She stared at some distant memory.

The phone rang again. I grabbed the receiver and said hello.

“Melissa?” said the voice at the other end of the phone.

“Melissa isn't here,” I said. “We're phoning the police. Don't call here again.”

“Please don't hang up,” the voice said. “Tell her I love her. Tell her that I just want to talk to her before she marries—”

I slammed down the receiver.

Ms. Denholm was trembling.

“What did he say?” she asked.

“That he loves you. That he—”

Her knees buckled. She grabbed the back of a chair for support. Ms. Rachlis put an arm around her to steady her.

“Melissa, you have to get away. You're not safe here anymore,” Ms. Rachlis said. She looked around nervously, as if she expected Mikhail Mornov to walk through the wall. “The sooner you leave and the farther away you go, the better. I'll pack your things and get them to Ted so that he can send them once you decide where to settle. I'll tell Patrick Wyman that you had a family emergency and had to leave town. I'm sure he won't have any trouble getting someone else to rent your apartment. I'll even help him.”

Ms. Denholm's eyes were glazed with tears. Slowly she straightened up and said, “You're right. I have to get out of here. But where can I go? I don't know anyone.”

“You can check into a motel for now,” Ms. Rachlis said.

Ms. Denholm shook her head. “Even if you pay cash, they take a credit-card number.”

“Melissa, he can't check every motel in the area. He won't find you—not before you've decided where you're going.”

“He always finds me,” Ms. Denholm said. “James”—Duguid, the man her mother had married—“always boasted how easy it was to find people. That's why my mother refused to have any credit cards. She didn't even have a bank account. It's even easier to track people now.”

Her voice was flat, as if she were resigned to the fact that there was no place for her to hide. If I'd had any doubts about Ms. Denholm's version of events, they had vanished.

Then I had an idea.

“We can go to my house,” I said. “He doesn't know where I live.”

“That's a good idea, Melissa,” Ms. Rachlis said.

Ms. Denholm shook her head. “He's been in the building,” she said. “What if he's down there somewhere, watching? What if he follows me?”

“Your car is here, isn't it?” Ms. Rachlis said.

Ms. Denholm nodded. “It's in the parking garage.”

“That's it, then. We'll make sure he doesn't,” Ms. Rachlis said firmly. She thought for a few moments. “You and Robyn will take your car. I'll take mine. You leave the garage first and I'll follow you. When you get to the street, turn right. I'll turn left and circle around the block so that if he's there—
if
, Melissa—he'll think that we've gone our separate ways. But I'll catch up with you and stay a safe distance behind you until we're sure no one's following. If someone
is
following you, I'll stay with you. If you're not being followed, I'll flash my headlights so that you can relax. Then I'll go back to the house and start getting your things together quietly. You and Ted can work out where you're going, and Ted can pick up your things. You don't even have to tell me if you don't want to. The important thing is that you'll be safe. Okay?”

Ms. Denholm drew in a deep breath. “Okay,” she said finally. “Just let me get my things.”

“I'll help,” Ms. Rachlis said. “And, please, put that gun away.”

Ms. Denholm nodded distractedly.

“Maybe I should call Ted,” I said.

But Ms. Denholm had already made up her mind. “We'll call him from the car,” she said.

She and Ms. Rachlis went to the guest room together. I heard their voices. They were arguing about the gun. Ms. Denholm wanted to take it with her. Ms. Rachlis wanted her to leave it. Finally Ms. Rachlis got her way, and they came back into the living room. Ms. Denholm was carrying the same small suitcase she had taken with her when Ted insisted that she stay with him.

We put on our coats and boots. Ms. Denholm hunted in her pocket for something but didn't find whatever she was looking for.

“My keys,” she said.

“I saw them in the bedroom,” Ms. Rachlis said.

Ms. Denholm ducked back through the living room and down the hall to the bedrooms. While we waited for her I said, “The first thing she should do is call Ted and the police. She can show them the note. They'll have to listen to her.”