Stand (4 page)

Chapter 7

The mocking words on the screen made my blood run cold. I froze. Georgia, the woman behind the curtain. I suspected that Georgia Layeen had partnered with Lawrence Pheares on his killing spree –perhaps even that she was the dominant partner. She had just contacted me, threatened me. My mind wasn’t processing. It just kept circling the same thought, like water around a drain.

Georgia had found me.

My heart pounded in my chest and static filled my ears. My vision tunneled on the name typed at the end of the e-mail, Georgia, my own personal nightmare. I sat frozen for a minute and then my chest squeezed as reality hit. Georgia had found me. Suddenly, I bolted out of my chair.

“Max.” He came running. Together we went to my nightstand and took out the .38 concealed in the drawer there. With the loaded gun in hand we went to every window and door in my home and double checked every lock. I looked inside each closet and behind the shower curtain. It wasn’t paranoia, it was a precaution. My monster was staring out from my computer screen. After I was sure everything was secure, I retreated to my bedroom and called Jack.

______

When my doorbell rang at seven thirteen p.m., I was calmer. I fully intended to be rational and detached when I spoke with Jack. I walked calmly to the door. I opened the door intending to politely thank Jack for coming and apologize for taking his time. I swung open the door, started to say hello, and burst into tears.

Jack stepped inside the house and guided me back with his hands on my waist before shutting and locking the door. Then he hugged me. I know Jack. I know his voice, his smell. I know what his eyes look like when he’s in pain, and I know how he reacts to stress. I know him. We have not talked for a while, but that awkwardness vanished now. He was here when I needed him. That meant everything to me. My cheek rested on his shoulder and my hands fisted in his shirt. He didn’t say anything for a while. He just rubbed my back. I had no intention of moving. I don’t know how long we would have stood like that if Max had not whined. Jack is now one of Max’s favorite people. He doesn’t see him very often but when he does, Max is ecstatic. I was selfishly taking Max’s precious Jack time.

“Looks like someone missed me.”

I managed a tiny smile. “Yes, he did.”

We stepped into the living room and Jack sat on the sofa to pet Max. Kitty on the other hand hissed when Jack held his hand out. My calico girl only loves me. Is it wrong that it makes me happy? Anyway, once we were settled, Jack gave me that intense concerned look that had become so familiar.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ve been getting these e-mails from a fan. They were coming to my personal e-mail, which I thought was weird. Each e-mail kept getting more and more personal, until I got this one today.”

I showed him the e-mail from Georgia. It was really hard to stay quiet while he read it. It wasn’t a long e-mail but it seemed to take him forever to read it. He asked me a few questions about whether I had seen anything strange or noticed anyone strange. I had seen no one. With how paranoid I have been recently I am pretty sure I would have noticed if a strange bug was hanging around, let alone a person. He asked where my e-mail address might be posted and how fans usually contacted me. This was Jack the FBI agent at work now, all business. Our tense personal emotions had been set aside. After all his questions he got up and got ready to leave.

“I’ll talk to my supervisor about this and get him to open a case on Georgia. I’ll have my tech guy trace the e-mail.” He looked at me and smiled, “And yes I’ll let you know if I find out anything.” He answered the question I hadn’t asked. He knows me so well.

I walked him out, Max had to go outside for a walk anyway. Once Max was done and we were ready to go back inside, Jack stopped me with a hand to my arm.

“Be careful, Char. I kind of like seeing you around.”

I smiled and returned the sentiment. Jack left. Back inside the house I locked the door behind me and set the alarm for the night. I felt much calmer and safer knowing that Jack was involved. When I went to bed that night I didn’t expect a peaceful night’s sleep. I also didn’t expect what I got.

______

I sat in a café. My body went through the motions of sipping tea. Across the table sat a woman in an exceptional red suit with long brown hair. I couldn’t see her face. Manicured blood red finger nails tapped on the side of her tea cup.

I looked around the café. Every patron there was staring at my companion and I. Every patron was dead. I recognized faces. They were the twenty-three murdered girls. Emily and Pheares sat at the table closest to us.

My companion put her tea cup down with a gentle clack.

“Charlotte.”

I looked around for who spoke.

“Charlotte, Jack first.”

My attention snapped back to the person across the table.

“Jack first, then you.”

______

When I woke up I dismissed the dream as just another nightmare, a product of my wild imagination. My subconscious didn’t want to lose Jack. We may be awkward right now, but I really cared about him. I was paranoid that I might lose him, end of the story.

That thought carried me through the majority of the day. Every time I thought of Georgia I told myself that I didn’t have to worry. She couldn’t hurt me. She certainly couldn’t hurt Jack. After all, he was FBI. I practiced the art of denial. I didn’t have any training commitments that day so I had way too much time on my hands. I tried to write, but my thoughts were distracted. I couldn’t get more than a few words down at a time. Too much time to think can be a dangerous thing for me, and what I did next was colossally stupid.

I logged into my e-mail and sent Georgia a reply.

Georgia,

I guess you could say killing Pheares inspired me. I certainly sleep better at night. Catching you though, will bring me more than inspiration.

Sincerely,

Charlotte Marshall

It was not my wisest moment. It might have been the match that lit a fire.

Chapter 8

I spent the rest of the day alternating between writing and looking for Jimmy from the Find Me case. Erin forwarded me all the contact numbers on file. I made call after call trying to piece together his last twenty-four hours. I added a few more points of interest to Jimmy’s timeline. He was at work until six-thirty p.m. on April 8
th
. He drove straight home and had dinner with his family. He went for a run around the neighborhood at about eight-thirty. Then, according to his wife’s statement, he watched some TV and was in bed by eleven. The next morning he woke up at five-thirty and did all of those normal things you do to get ready: shower, breakfast
etc.
He left for the city at seven. He arrived at Johnson, Lewes, and Ferguson at a quarter to eight, according to the time stamp on his parking garage ticket. At twelve-thirty he went to lunch and was never seen again. The questions I had regarded what happened at work. His home life seemed pretty straight forward.

The last e-mail Erin sent contained the contact information for Jimmy’s assistant, Cindy Carter. I had sent her two e-mails and left her a voice-mail. No reply yet. I would try one more time, and then call the main line for the Johnson, Lewes, and Ferguson firm, and see what I could get from there. It might involve some lying.

For most of the day I managed to keep my mind off of Georgia. Every so often my thoughts would turn to her words about Pheares and the veiled threat behind it, the dream, and to Jack. If I allowed myself to dwell on what she might be capable of doing to us, the worry grew. I kept it bottled inside until I sat down to eat dinner. The tension cracked. I had to talk to Jack.

The phone rang several times before Jack answered. “Hello?”

“Hi Jack, its Charlotte.”

“Hey what’s up?”

Now that I was talking to him I was at a loss for words. Mostly I just wanted to hear his voice to know that he was safe.

“Charlotte?” His voice was quizzical and a little concerned. But then I had called him and not actually said anything. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“I’m fine. Are you?”

“I think so. Today was a long day. I just,” I hesitated, but this was Jack. “Do you really think Georgia is out there, that she’s really after me?”

His reply was deliberate. “I think that e-mail was something we should take seriously.”

“What about you, though? I mean, if she’s after me, isn’t she also after you? You have to be careful.” I could hear the fear in my voice. Jack was a rock to me, I couldn’t think of him being in danger again.

“I’ll be okay; we just have to be careful. When was the last time you were at the gun range?”

Ugh. I hate the gun range. But it was a while since I had been there. I had to confess the same to Jack.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

I didn’t like where this was going. “I have training in the morning.”

“What time do you finish?”

I really didn’t like where this was going. “Around eleven.”

My disgruntlement must have shown in my voice because I could hear the soft laughter in Jack’s reply when he told me he would see me then. We said our goodbyes and hung up.

Darn it, I was going to have to go to the range.

It’s not that I dislike shooting. I am actually not a bad shot. The first time I ever fired a gun I hit the man shaped target right in the eye. Don’t be too impressed, I was aiming for the chest. Generally I like target practice and I hit what I aim for. What I dislike about going to the range is the isolation and angry looks. Unlike the gym, there is no Moshe at the gun range. Generally the tough guys at the range don’t like it when a slim blonde woman shows up. It’s a man’s world. The fact that I am not a bad shot only compounds the problem.

When I get to the range I always have to force myself to go in. The first time I went with Jack was okay. But when I went by myself the other shooters all stopped and stared at me. It was torture. I felt like they were just waiting for me to mess up. As a result, I avoid the gun range. Clearly, Jack wasn’t going to let me avoid it much longer.

______

Before I went to bed I checked my e-mail again. Nothing from Georgia and nothing from Jimmy’s assistant. It looked like I needed to make some phone calls tomorrow afternoon.

______

At Joe’s Gym the next day I ran through my normal routine as Moshe watched my progress. Jack walked in early when I was sparring with Skeet. Apparently we still had a date at the shooting range. My glare didn’t deter him. He stood next to the mat watching us practice knife defense. Skeet gave me a questioning look. He could tell something was going on, but I hadn’t shared my Georgia experience. It was selfish of me to say nothing, especially after spilling my thoughts to him every day. But Moshe was listening too. I really didn’t want to deal with their concern.

Denial, it’s a friend of mine.

Now with Jack standing there I realized my silence was ending. Especially when Jack started talking.

He asked Skeet, “How are her gun defense moves coming along?”

Uh, excuse me. I am right here
.

Skeet glanced from me to Jack, assessing us. He addressed his sentence to Jack.
Traitor
.

“Why?”

Jack just arched one brow at me and folded both arms over his broad chest. I got the message. He expected me to tell them what was going on. But honestly what was going on? I got an e-mail. No big deal, right? While I debated to myself about what to say, all three men were watching me. Great. Three sets of eyes waited for me to explain.

When I started a torrent came out. I talked for a minute and half straight. Included with my explanation was several “it probably is nothing” and “it doesn’t mean anyone is after me,” but those three men were in less denial than I. Moshe looked stern and serious, and Skeet’s grunt seemed concerned. We switched to gun defense immediately and Moshe demanded I come back tomorrow. I protested, but deep down I can admit to feeling relieved. I was scared, but determined to remain strong. Doing something to stand up against Georgia made me feel better. Plus, they made it so I could blame them for practicing harder and not that I was giving into my fear. Perfect. Yes, denial is a wonderful place to live. Shut up.

______

Jack and I drove together in his dark blue sedan to the indoor/outdoor range north of Philadelphia in Bucks county. I had my .38 and Jack had a 9mm and a .45.

The drive over was focused. We talked mostly about training and Jack questioned me about the last time I had been to the shooting range. What distance I was shooting at. If I used my gun or rented other guns. It was an FBI inquisition.

When we got to the range my stomach was in knots. I carried my .38 and shooting gear in while Jack carried his. He had a lot more.

There was an older guy, tall and skinny with a hunting cap, sitting behind the counter as we approached to pay for a lane. It was far too cold to shoot outside. We would have to use the indoor range.

“One bay or two?” he rasped.

“One.” Jack answered.

The attendant smirked. “Going to teach the little lady how to shoot?”

I felt my spine stiffen and cheeks flush. This was why I hated the gun range. The automatic assumption that I was incompetent.

Jack’s tone was lazy. “She doesn’t need teaching. Just practice. She’s a great shot. I keep trying to get her to enter a competition with me.” He grinned at me over his shoulder as he paid.

I felt my outrage bleed away. The attendant laughed, but I didn’t hear what he said. All I could hear was Jack’s quiet confidence.

Once inside there was no time for conversation. The loud retorts of gunshots and the smell of hot lead filled the air. With our ear protection on we couldn’t hear each other unless we were shouting.

Jack mostly had me practice with close range shooting. The kind you would have to do if someone was in your home or attacking you. He also made me practice with every gun we had.

“You did well.” Jack’s words startled me. We were in his car heading back toward the gym where my SUV was parked.

“Thanks.”

“I’d like you to go with me again, though.”

Jack laughed as I slumped in my seat and groaned.

______

I drove home from the gun range starving. It was after one in the afternoon and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The very fact that I had an appetite struck me as a good thing. Despite the fear that lingered at the edges of my new reality, I was moving on, moving past. At the time though, I wasn’t really focused on all that. Mostly I thought about what I wanted for lunch.

I saw the package waiting on my front steps when I pulled into my driveway. I didn’t question it. My fear meant that I avoided shopping and going to public places if possible, so I frequently have things delivered. Once I was parked inside my garage I ran through my normal security checklist, then I went inside. After greeting Max and Kitty, I took Max out for a walk. When we returned from his bathroom break I brought the package inside with me, and carried it to the kitchen table. I felt happy to be home, put on some music, and began making a bowl of soup. While the soup heated I got the kitchen shears to open the box on the table.

I hummed along with Fall Out Boy and did a little dance around my kitchen, feeling pretty good, all things considered. A few quick cuts and the box was opened.

My breath stopped in my throat like a hand was slowly squeezing while my heart rabbited away, thudding in my ears. I didn’t hear the shears clang to the floor. I backed away from the box and its contents. Inside was a pile of clothing, a perfect match to what I stood there wearing. But it was stained with dark red blood and topped with bloody knife.

A strangled scream caught in my throat. Max jumped up from where he lay on the floor and ran to my side. I could hear him barking, but it seemed as though it came from a distance. I backed from the kitchen with a hand on Max’s head and sucked air into my starving lungs.

My shaking hands could barely function to take my phone off its lock screen. I had to take several deep breaths before I could calm enough to call Jack.

It was less than half an hour before I heard his knock on the door as he urgently rang the doorbell simultaneously. He got there in record time. He must have broken a few traffic laws in order to arrive so quickly.

I didn’t say anything when I answered the door. If I spoke, I would have cried, and that was something I refused to do. I just let him inside, locked the door again, and set the alarm behind him. We went to the kitchen. The box lay exactly as I had opened it. Jack slipped on a pair of gloves before touching the box. He picked up the knife and looked through the clothes underneath. As it had first appeared, the entire outfit was identical to what I was wearing today, and every single item was covered in blood. It seemed fairly obvious that I was being threatened. There was no more place for denial.

“My supervisor will definitely open a case now. I don’t know if he will let me take lead, but they’ll open a case. Are you going to be okay?”

He looked at me eye to eye. It took me a minute to answer.

“I am.” Now that I stood firm inside, I was surprised by how sure I felt. “She wants me scared, and I am not going to lie. I am scared, but … I won’t be forever. I won’t let her control me.” My words were mostly bravado, but I was determined to make them truth. It helped that Jack was taking the box with him. It was evidence now.

That night I dreamed of death. My own death.