Vengeful Shadows (7 page)

Tessa sensed layers of pain beneath the little bit of information Zander had revealed. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him that whatever it was, it would be okay. But that wasn’t the way life worked. Not everything turned out fine in the end.

“So what about you?” he asked, turning the tables. “What’s your family like?”

She shrugged. “It’s just me and my parents. I was very close to my grandmother, but she died a few years ago.”

“Are you close with your parents?”

A bitter laugh escaped.

“I’m guessing that’s a big no.”

“You’d be guessing right.”

Cocooned in the quiet dark with her thoughts, she barely heard the radio playing. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, though. She felt like a teenager on her first date. Of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy who would have been allowed in the house. The Maycrofts and Zander in the same room—wouldn’t that be a joke? Her mother would probably faint at the sight of him.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked.

“Offering up your therapy services?”

“Being your friend,” he shot back.

What would it hurt to tell him? It wasn’t as if he’d ever be faced with the unfortunate prospect of meeting her parents. “Really, there’s not a lot to tell. It’s the classic You’re-a-Huge-Disappointment Syndrome.”

He frowned. “In what way?

“You know, the standard stuff. They hate my career choice. They hate that I help out at the shelter. They hate that I haven’t married any of the fine corporate specimens they’ve introduced me to and started popping out the next generation of perfect children.”

She felt his gaze on her.

“I think that about covers it,” she said.

“I’m not sure where to start. They hate that you work at a library and the shelter?”

“Yep. It’s beneath me.”

Zander had stopped the car at a red light, and he stared at her in open-mouthed incredulity. “You’re not kidding, are you?” Anger and disbelief mixed in his voice.

“Nope. It’s degrading.”

“Really.”

He sounded pissed. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than Annie or Cat had gotten angry on her behalf. Ted and Bitsy Maycroft never had much emotion to spare for their only child. Even when she’d tried to tell her mother the real reason she and her college boyfriend had broken up, Bitsy had stated that Tessa hadn’t done enough to keep hold of a prime catch like him.

“What about the men?” Zander asked.

“What about them?”

“What do your parents do? Line up men for you to meet?”

She laughed. It sounded harsh to her own ears. “Only the suitable ones.”

The soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminated his features and threw them into sharp relief. His hair was tousled from the breeze, and she had to fight the urge to drag her fingers through it. Distractedly, she wondered how it looked mussed from sleep. Or other things.

He had high cheekbones and firm, sensual lips. Tessa couldn’t help but imagine what they’d feel like against hers. She needed to stop thinking like this. She was supposed to be doing a favor for a friend, not doing a friend. Her gaze drifted to his lips again, and she slid her hand under her thigh to keep from reaching out to touch him.

For a brief moment, she imagined introducing him to her parents. Maybe, they’d stop trying to dredge up a husband for her.

And maybe, hell would freeze over. They still mourned her break-up with—
him
—their handpicked candidate for son-in-law. If they only knew.

“What constitutes ‘suitable’?” Zander asked.

“Let’s see, old money. Works in medicine, finance or law,” she ticked items off on her fingers. “Member of the club. And most importantly, a willingness to keep the misbehaving child in line.”

“Jesus, Tessa! This isn’t the Middle Ages.”

“You asked.” She tried to smile but found she couldn’t quite manage it.

“Are you sure you weren’t adopted?”

“I used to pretend I was.” She looked out the window, away from the comfort in his eyes.

“Have you tried to talk to them about this?”

“Gosh, Zander. I hadn’t thought of that. What a novel idea. I bet that would fix everything!”

He glanced at her, his eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Touchy subject.”

“No worries.” Zander steered the jeep around a curve. Tessa shifted to keep from sliding into him. The last thing she needed to do was give in to her longing to touch him.

“Just out of curiosity, have you ever given any of the guys they’ve introduced a chance?”

“Yeah.” She’d given
him
a chance, and he’d given her nightmares and flashbacks. “Didn’t work out.”

* * * *

Tessa parked in front of the police station and vaguely wondered if her stalker had followed her. She glanced around. If he had, it wouldn’t really matter since she had no clue who it was. Resentment surged, tasting bitter. She hadn’t felt helpless since her freshman year in college, and she refused to succumb to it again. Squaring her shoulders, she marched up the walk and entered the Oakdale Police Department.

A young man with buzzed hair sat behind the front desk. He looked barely old enough to shave. The fact that he was a cop taxed her sense of reality.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

Ma’am? “Yes, I need to file a report.” She withdrew the stack of envelopes from her bag and laid them on the desk along with the baggie she’d used to hold the ribbon from her coat pocket. “I’ve been receiving unsettling mail.”

“Threats?” he asked, pulling a form from a filing cabinet.

She shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Let me take your information, and I’ll see who’s available to speak with you.”

Afterward, he directed her to a cramped waiting room, filled with uncomfortable chairs. Sunlight beamed through windows, highlighting the dust motes that floated through the air.

She stifled a yawn. Memories and the conversation with Zander in the car had followed her to bed and kept her up most of the night. As a result, she’d overslept and arrived late to work. The morning had gotten worse when she’d found another message shoved under the front door of the library.

You didn’t wear it.

The simple declaration had stopped the breath in her throat. When she’d left for the day, she’d found another on the windshield of her car.

I’m very disappointed in you, Tessa but I’ll give you another chance.

Inside the envelope, she’d found a pair of sheer, white panties.

She swallowed hard against the tide of panic that rose in her throat. It’s just a scrap of fabric, she reminded herself and tried to calm her breathing. She was in a police station. She couldn’t get much safer. However, she’d felt far less vulnerable with Zander last night.

Sighing, she shifted on the hard plastic chair. She needed to stop thinking about him and figure out who was behind the messages and gifts.

She desperately tried to think of someone,
anyone
, who would want to frighten her.
He
immediately sprang to mind, but she dismissed the thought. She hadn’t had any real contact with him in years. Besides, she reminded herself, anonymous wasn’t his style. He preferred his intimidation and abuse to be up close and personal. He got off on watching a woman’s worry turn to fear. He liked to be close enough to smell it, taste it. For a moment, she felt his whiskey-scented breath against her neck. Her senses clouded with the memory of designer cologne mixed with sweat and sex and, later, blood.

Forcing herself to think about anything else, she shook off the past and watched the people wandering through the police department. Several of them looked as dazed and exhausted as she felt. Nearly half an hour later, someone directed her to Detective Duritz’s office, waiting while he scanned through the pages of forms the desk officer had completed.

She glanced around his cubicle while he read. It looked like a bad set for every cop show she’d ever seen. Piles of grease-stained papers warred with empty cups and half eaten Danishes. The main décor theme seemed to be week-old coffee. He poured a cup from the grungy pot behind his desk and offered it to her.

“No thanks.” Why mix stalking with food poisoning?

He rubbed a big hand across his face and turned to the second page of her report. Without looking, he grabbed a pastry took a bite and winced. The Danish hit the bottom of the trashcan next to her with a hollow thud, and Tessa jumped.

Detective Duritz eyed her over the top of the paper before focusing on the page again. She studied him as he read. He was handsome in a rugged sort of Neanderthal, Me-Tarzan-You-Jane kind of way, but he was no Zander.

A sense of peace wrapped around her at the thought of the man who lived next door, and she considered telling him about the notes. She dismissed the idea quickly. Zander was a good man, the kind who’d feel obligated to protect her. It was bad enough their friendship was getting complicated by feelings she barely wanted to examine, let alone admit. She didn’t need the added difficulty of Zander somehow feeling responsible for her safety.

She watched as the detective placed the envelopes and her documentation on the cleanest spot on his desk. With latex gloves and a long metal tweezers, he sifted through the pages, examining them and the ribbon. To his credit, his expression didn’t change when he pulled out the panties.

He cleared his throat. “Well, Ms. Maycroft, it appears you have a stalker.”

Ya think?
She kept the thought to herself. It probably wasn’t in her best interest to antagonize the police. She settled for nodding.

“Do you have any idea who it might be?”

She’d been trying to figure it out for days and still had no clue. “No.”

“Do you know anyone who would wish you harm?”

Tessa shook her head.

“Ex-boyfriends? Ex-lovers? Co-workers? Family members? Neighbors?”

Mr. McFeely creeped her out a little, but she couldn’t believe he’d written the messages. But, she supposed, an incompetent moron could also be a stalker. And, of course,
him
. She sincerely doubted he was involved, but she couldn’t afford to dismiss him out of hand.

“There was a guy in college,” she began, “but I don’t think it could be him. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“We need to investigate all possibilities.”

Tessa took a deep breath and met Detective Duritz’s gaze. She insisted to the women she counseled that no woman asks to be raped. But now, she couldn’t keep that tendril of shame from again trying to take root in her soul.

“We dated—until he assaulted me. But, like I said, I don’t think he’s responsible for this.”

“Do you want to take that chance?”

She shook her head, registering the concern in his eyes.

“What’s his name?”

“Weston Bridger.” She’d half-expected her voice to shake, but it remained strong and steady.

“We’ll run a check on him. Any other ideas?”

“I volunteer at a women’s shelter, and we sometimes get threatening notes there. I can get you a list if you want.”

He picked up the baggie with the ribbon and scanned her notes. “You say this found its way into your coat pocket last night?”

“Yes. I was at a gallery opening—Gallery Sixty-Seven.”

The detective made some notes. “I’ll check out the guest list. Anyone else?” He tapped the pen against his chin while he waited,

Frustration clawed at her senses. She gave him McFeely’s name. “Other than that, I can’t think of anyone who would send these.”

He shoved everything into a large file folder and opened his desk drawer.

“Aren’t you going to try to get prints off those or something?”

“Contrary to what you see on cop shows and movies, it’s nearly impossible to get prints off paper. And fabric? Forget it.”

Her heart sank. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it. She thought the police would
attempt
to find the person responsible.

“Continue documenting anything else you receive,” he said as he removed the latex gloves. “Remain alert at all times especially near your place of employment and your house. Always be aware of your surroundings.”

“That’s it? No pepper spray? No ‘get a big dog’?”

“You can get those things if you think they’ll help, but the most important thing is to be alert and aware.”

Although she’d known what sort of advice to expect, the lack of concrete assistance still surprised her.

“We’ll be in touch as soon as we run a check on those names.” He stood and offered his hand, her signal to leave.

Tessa hadn’t really expected him to take one look at the notes and be able to tell her who had sent them, but disappointment twisted her stomach. “Thank you.”

“Ms. Maycroft?”

The tone of his voice held her motionless. “Yes?”

“Be careful.”

Chapter Five

Tessa climbed the stairs to her apartment, glad to be home. Outside, she felt too vulnerable. Too much like a target.

The moan of creaking wood above her slowed her progress. Either Zander was home or her stalker was waiting for her.

“Hello?” she called, willing her voice not to shake.

Zander stepped into the stairwell, and her worry fled.

“Hey, angel. How was work?”

“Fine. You know, the usual boring Saturday.” She didn’t think it was wise to mention the extracurricular trip to the police station.

He waited by her door, seeming on edge, almost anticipatory. Her pace slowed further, and a shadow of unease crept into the back of her mind. He could have easily placed the ribbon in her coat pocket last night.

She shook her head. Stress was making her paranoid. She knew without a doubt Zander wouldn’t stalk her. He was probably waiting for her to get home in order to talk her into another insane idea. Reaching the top step, she skirted him and slid her key into the deadbolt. He followed her, and she turned to face him, sandwiched between the door and his body.

There were worse places to be.

His chestnut hair drooped across his forehead, and she imagined sliding her fingers through the silky strands. She met his gaze, and his focused concentration held her immobile.