Vengeful Shadows (14 page)

She turned on her computer, pulled out her chair to sit down and stopped. A manila envelope with her name written on it lay on the seat.

For a moment, it felt as though her heart stopped in her chest. Hastily, she glanced around. The room was empty. Had the stalker been inside, or had one of the other employees found the envelope and delivered it to her office? Peering closer at the missive, she saw it had yesterday’s date along with the initials of one of the women who worked the front desk. It must have arrived after Tessa had left. Hopefully, she could get someone to check the surveillance cameras and see if they’d recorded someone dropping off the messages. Tessa shut the door and locked it. With determination, she lifted the packet and opened it.

You’ve been a very bad girl.

Tessa’s stomach plummeted to her feet and stayed there. In a bone-chilled daze, she lurched into her chair. The paper fluttered in her trembling hand. Someone knew. Someone had seen her and Zander. Maybe even watched them in her home.

Who was it? She buried her head in her hands and tried to think. She’d told Detective Duritz about Weston, but she hadn’t remembered his roommate. Not until this moment. Amazing the things a person could repress. Not that it mattered much. She wasn’t sure if she ever knew the guy’s name. The rank memory of beer mixed with vomit wasn’t much to go on in terms of tracking someone down.

Maybe, there was someone else she’d forgotten. Someone from the shelter or the library? But who?

She dug out Detective Duritz’s card and dialed his extension at the precinct. It went straight to voicemail. Turning over the business card, she punched in his cell number.

“Duritz,” a sleep-deprived voice answered.

“I’m sorry, Detective. Did I wake you?”

“Who is this?” he demanded.

Great. Does he even remember me? “Tessa Maycroft. You said to call your cell if I couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“Right. Right. Sorry. I’d forgotten I’d given you this number.”

Tessa’s stomach twisted and turned as her breakfast made its presence known.

“Has there been any additional contact?” he asked.

A gust of wind knocked a tree branch against the office window, shaking the glass. The rattle shivered through her body, and she leapt to her feet.

“Ms. Maycroft?”

Her heart pounded in the back of her throat. Inching the slats of the blinds apart, she peered out. The street was empty. Relief weakened her knees, and she sank into her chair.

“What’s going on?” Duritz barked. “Are you all right?”

She swallowed the remains of her fear. “I found another note when I got to work today. It’s worse than the others.”

She heard his partially muffled expletive. Her anxiety shuddered to life, beating panicked wings against her chest.

“Can you meet me at the station?” he asked. “I want to compare it with the ones that you brought in yesterday.”

“They all look alike. You haven’t found anything yet; I can’t imagine this will be any different.” She knew she sounded petulant but she didn’t care.

“Are you willing to risk your life on that assumption? Look,” he added in a gentler voice. “I know this has got to be really hard for you. But if we’re going to catch this guy, I’m going to need your help.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, instantly contrite.

“Don’t worry about it. How soon can you meet me at the station?”

Twenty minutes later, she sat in Duritz’s hygienically questionable office and watched as he scanned the latest message. He raised his unblinking brown eyes.

“Do you think this note is referring to anything specific?” he finally asked.

Despite her attempt to remain calm and collected, Tessa felt her cheeks color. Duritz waited and stared.

“I’ve been seeing someone lately…and…” she managed and tried to push away the memory of Zander’s warm skin and tender embrace. She couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense,” she said, forcing herself to focus on the detective. “I just don’t know how he could have seen anything.”

“You’d be surprised the lengths some people will go.” He jotted notes in her rapidly growing file. “Cameras, other recording devices, night-vision goggles, binoculars…”

She drew a shuddering breath. “I get the picture.”

“Does anyone else have access to your home?”

“I have an apartment in a converted house. My landlady and next door neighbor have keys.”

“Names?” He clicked his pen.

She shook her head. “It’s not them.”

Duritz raised his eyebrows and waited. He was good at that.

“I know it’s not them,” she repeated.

“How can you be sure?”

“Mrs. Bartz is a little flighty, but she’s not a stalker. And my neighbor has been with me every night since this started.”

“The whole time? All night, every night?”

She maintained her outward sense of calm. “Well, no. But, I know it’s not him. We leave at the same time every day. He wouldn’t be able to get to the shelter or the library before me.”

“Unless he left earlier and came back.” Duritz hadn’t looked up from the papers he studied. He just calmly tossed out hand grenades, blowing holes in her theories.

Anger, swift and sharp, needled her. It wasn’t Zander. She refused to let herself fall into the trap of second guessing people she trusted. He might as well have suggested Cat had left the notes. “It’s not him.”

Duritz studied her, but she refused to flinch. He finally nodded. “Anyone else?”

“No.” She cleared her throat. “Were you able to turn up anything with the names I gave you earlier?”

He sighed. “Nothing on the library patron, still looking into the rest. Of the names you gave me, three have moved from the area and one died.”

She hoped it was
him
. Guilt prodded her, but she couldn’t bring herself to take back the thought. Because she hadn’t had the courage to report him all those years ago, who knew how many more women he’d hurt since then. That was one thing she’d learned. Perpetrators of sexual crimes rarely stopped at one victim.

Duritz studied her file. “What about the other people you come into contact with at the shelter?” he asked, “Are any of them unstable enough to send these messages?”

“You mean the clients?”

“Yes.”

Tessa clenched her hands into fists, trying to control her irritation. “Most of the people I mentor at the shelter,” she purposely enunciated, “are victims of sexual assault. The last thing they’re going to think about is stalking someone who’s trying to help them.”

Duritz gave her the silent treatment and steepled his fingers under his chin.

She flattened her hands against her thighs. “These girls and women are scared and vulnerable. Why would they do something that would likely intensify those feelings?”

“To gain control over their environment?”

“That’s cop thinking.” With another type of program, he might have a point, but she knew these people.

“Not thinking like a cop could get you killed,” he countered.

A memory tickled the edges of Tessa’s consciousness, as a parade of half remembered faces marched through her mind. Not all of the people who threatened shelter workers did it in writing.

She met the detective’s gaze. “It’s been a while since I’ve had contact with any offenders. I honestly don’t remember all of the cases, but I’ll go through the shelter’s files again. Maybe there’s something I missed.” She stood and offered Duritz her hand. “I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”

“Ms. Maycroft?” He hung onto her fingers for a moment, his deep brown eyes, serious. “Call me as soon as you’ve got someone you want me to check out.”

She nodded and tried to ignore the anxiety that twisted her stomach into knots.

Guilt surfaced as she realized that by giving the detective information, she might be further damaging lives of people who may have atoned for their crimes. A sharp pain throbbed behind her left eye as her stress level increased exponentially.

* * * *

Tessa checked the clock while she finished shelving books. She had a few hours to kill between the time she left work and when she needed to get ready to go to the awards banquet with Zander. She’d have to find something to do in the meanwhile. If she went home too early, Zander might want answers about the other night. No. It was better if she breezed over to his place at the last minute. It would be better yet, if she could avoid the whole evening, but she wouldn’t do that to him. No matter what, he was still her friend and she’d promised him her help.

Her assistant, Emily, pushed a cart of returned books down the aisle. “Hey, boss-lady. Is it okay if I cut out half an hour early tonight?”

Goosebumps rose on Tessa’s arms at the thought of being alone, but she squelched the worry. If her friendly neighborhood stalker made an appearance, she didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

“Sure,” she answered. “Go for it.”

“Thanks.” Emily grinned. “I’ve got a date.” She blushed under her matte-white makeup.

For a moment, she looked unsure and Tessa’s warning instincts kicked into gear. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Her assistant shrugged. “I’m worried about my outfit. Do you think it says Confident-Alterna-Chick or Skeezy-Christina-Aguilera-Reject?”

Suppressing her amusement, Tessa scanned the clothing Emily had just changed into. Scuffed, black combat boots, ratty fishnet stockings, leather miniskirt, skin-baring tank top with sequins that spelled out “Bad Kitty,” topped off by an oversized biker jacket that hung nearly to her knees.

“Definitely, Alterna-Chick.”

“Good.” Relief shone in Emily’s eyes. “I had no idea what my backup outfit was going to be.” She waved and headed outside.

“Have fun,” Tessa called after her. She smiled, as she made her way to the information desk. The envelope waiting on the counter chased it away. Dialing 9-1-1 on her cell phone and holding her thumb over the send button she made a quick sweep of the building. She was alone. The sidewalk and street were practically deserted.

With an outward show of calm she was far from feeling, Tessa slit open the envelope.

I’m getting bored with the others.

Instead of the black marker she’d grown accustomed to, the lettering looked as if it had been written in dried blood. Her stomach lurched at the implications. She dialed Duritz’s number. A computerized recording sounded in her ear saying she had no service. How could that be? She’d paid her bill online a week ago. With shaking hands, she picked up the desk phone and called Duritz then jumped at every little noise until he showed up.

She’d handed the message to him as soon as he arrived.. His jaw tightened as he scanned it.

“And it was right here on the front desk?” he asked.

Tessa nodded.

“Where do you keep your surveillance equipment?”

“We don’t have any. Budgets cuts.”

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m going to get this latest note to the lab. There may be DNA we can use.”

“Is that blood?” she finally asked.

“I can’t speculate on that, but I’ll be in touch as soon as we know anything.”

The look on his face told her all she needed to know.

“Why don’t you lock up, and I’ll walk you to your car.”

An hour and a half after she’d called Duritz, she pulled into the parking lot of the cell phone store. It felt utterly surreal to be doing something as mundane as checking her phone service after getting a message written in what was likely blood.

Wishing for aspirin and a nap, Tessa got out of the car. If she didn’t get her phone fixed, Duritz wouldn’t be able to reach her. Standing at the front desk of the cell phone service center, she pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stave off the pain.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it says here,” the clerk tapped a blue, manicured talon on the computer monitor. “Your account was canceled last night.”

Anger warred with unease. “By whom?” she asked.

She waited while the girl scrolled to another screen. “Your husband.”

Tessa’s mouth fell open, but she managed to find her voice. “Beg your pardon?”

“It says he was in here yesterday—right before close.”

Maybe, it had been a mistake. Maybe someone had brought up the wrong account and accidentally canceled hers. Or maybe, the stalker was trying to cut her off from everyone.

“I’m not married,” she choked out, trying to slow her rapid-fire heartbeat.

The young woman’s eyes widened, and she glanced at the screen. “You’re Tessa Maycroft, right?”

Tessa nodded and dug through her purse for identification. Handing it to the clerk, she peered over the counter to get a glimpse of the screen. Her stomach lurched. Zander York was listed as her husband.

She gripped the counter to steady herself, refusing to believe he was responsible for this. But a little voice in her head taunted her, whispering,
What if? What if?

With forced composure, she addressed the clerk. “How did this happen? Don’t you need my permission to make changes?”

The woman looked troubled. “Hang on.” She crossed the room and spoke in hushed tones with an older woman. The manager, Tessa supposed, as they both headed toward her.

“This is Jerri, the manager. She talked with your husband yesterday.”

“I’m not married. And I never asked for my account to be canceled.”

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Jerri said. “A man came in here yesterday before close and asked to cancel his wife’s service. I explained that I couldn’t do that without her permission. So he called you—“ She glanced at Tessa’s tightly clenched fists and amended her statement. “He called someone. She gave me your privacy protection information. Your birth date and social security number.”

Cold fear seeped into Tessa’s bones as she tried to digest what the manager told her.

Jerri tapped the keyboard, rapidly entering information. “I’ll go ahead and reinstate your account, Ms. Maycroft.”

“What did he look like?” Tessa demanded.

Jerri paused in thought. “Slightly taller than you. He wore a brown, cowboy hat and a leather jacket.”

“What color was his hair?”