Toss Up (The Toss Trilogy) (9 page)

Jim turned back toward Sally and saw the sick look on her face. His stomach dropped and guilt rolled through him. “Damn, Sally, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I should’ve known better.” He moved to take her into his arms.

She pulled away. “No, it’s okay. I didn’t like hearing it, but it’s true, isn’t it? Some creep out there thinks my life is something he can play with.” She looked into Jim’s eyes. “Well, he’s wrong. What do we do once we know where he’s watching from?”

Admiration for her swelled his heart. He’d seen how it tore her up each time the stalker played his game, but every time, she pulled
herself back together and went on. She refused to be a victim. A surge of possessiveness enveloped him.
Not your Sally, you faceless bastard. Mine.

“We go to the police with the information. Then, essentially, they watch him back. Find out who he is, and stop him from bothering you anymore.” Jim knew he was making stopping the stalker sound much easier than it was likely to be, but his heart told him Sally needed to be able to focus on an end to the games.

She sighed. “Will they listen, do you think? Officer Billings didn’t ask me anything about my past, or the things you just talked about.”

“Give the man a chance, Sal. He’ll probably have plenty to ask you when we go in later for fingerprinting. And we’ll have new information
for him as well. You know, the guy approached from the road to put the first note in the mailbox.”

At her raised eyebrow, he explained. “I did a little recon night before last. There was no evidence that he came across the grass to get to the box. But it’s always possible that he walked across the meadow to deliver the note last night. If so, his trail might point us toward the spot he’s spying on you from.”

Sally nodded. “Then let’s get moving. It’s almost time to get Tyler up, and I want a shower first.” Setting the afghan aside, she rose and walked from the room.

Jim watched her enter her bedroom. Tension still coiled in his gut. Damn it, she was distancing herself from him. Things had started out well. His big worry had been telling her about his black ops background. For many people, knowing a man had his kind of experience with death and killing tended to overshadow all other aspects of character. But she’d accepted that without hesitation.

Then to get shot down by simply admitting he’d served in the Corps. He shook his head in frustration. It wasn’t fair. Once again, he’d tripped over the bones of her dead husband. If he had a brain in his head, he’d give it up and move on.

Been there, tried that. It didn’t work.

Resigned to his own intransigence, he pulled the cell phone from his pocket. It looked like a good day for Smith to cover the clinic on his own.

Sally set her phone down on the dresser. Diana was confident she could get Nancy Attenburough to manage the clinic today, and for the weekend, too. Nancy was a trained veterinary technician with five children. Normally a stay-at-home mom and shelter volunteer, Nancy was also the best occasional shelter manager Sally and Diana had ever found, and with Christmas coming she’d jump at the chance for some extra cash.

Duty to the shelter satisfied, Sally stepped into the shower, still a
nnoyed that Jim had never told her he’d been in the Corps. He knew Trent had been a Marine. Why keep his own service a secret? She shook her head in disgust—had he thought it would remind her too much of Trent?
Shake it off. You know now. Move on.

Black ops. That explained a lot. The easy way he’d picked her up and carried her to her room, the speed of his movements, the way he could come up behind her without being heard… and that body. She knew a bit about the physical training he’d been through... a grueling mix of martial arts to hone both mind and body. From the look of him, he’d kept up those disciplines after coming home. She shook her head to ward off the tightening and heat between her thighs.
Mind out of the gutter, girl.

She liked Jim’s suggestion that they try to find the stalker’s vantage point. Even though she doubted they would make a major contribution to catching the creep, she was eager to do something. She couldn’t take much more of being some psycho’s play toy.

Going with Jim made the scheme feel sensible rather than reckless. Wasn’t that odd? She’d never have guessed that the old Jim had black ops experience, yet it wasn’t hard at all to accept that the guy in her living room—the one she thought of as the new Jim—was a professional warrior.

Why hadn’t it shown before? Or more accurately, how could she have missed it? Maybe she’d been too wrapped up in her own struggles, too emotionally attached to her past, to see
who Jim really was.

As she began to wash, the lilac scent of her soap brought back yeste
rday morning and the way the scent had clung to him—the way it had been altered by his male chemistry. What was she going to do about the desire—too mild a word—the lust that seemed constantly just beneath the surface when she was with him?

And she’d reacted much the same way to Daniel Smith as well. Thank goodness she’d felt no stirrings for Officer Billings or for any of the male volunteers at the shelter! Sally had always thought of herself as a one-man woman, and was uncomfortable enough with her apparent ability to want two men at once—more would have been disastrous. It was one more problem requiring thought and insight when, of course, she had too little time for either.

Which reminded her of her neglected Economics paper. She finished drying her hair and put on moisturizer and lip balm. Sometime in between the police station and the craft party at Diana’s—a party she’d forgotten until Diana reminded her of her promise to attend—she needed to get to the library.

Jim was still sitting on the couch when he heard Tyler’s door open. He slumped down, pretending to be asleep.

“Hey, Dr. Donovan. Why are you here on the couch instead of in my bed?” Tyler had never understood why one would leave a sleeping dog lie.

Jim opened his eyes.
“And good morning to you too, Tyler. I’m on the couch because your mom and I sat up a long time talking last night.”

“Where’s Matthew’s present? I have my sleeping bag and pajamas.” The fully clothed boy held up a loosely wrapped bedroll from which a pajama sleeve dangled.

Tyler’s sleepover.
“We must have forgotten to bring it in from the truck. Let’s run out and get it. Then I’ll get us some cereal so your mom will have time to wrap it.”

After setting the bag from Dollar Emporium like a monument in the middle of the kitchen table, Jim grabbed two bowls and a box of cereal. Tyler got the milk out, and in no time at all they were seated, eating and talking trash.

Tyler had issued a challenge: the new Mario game. “You won’t have a chance to beat me. I’m gonna beat you so fast, you won’t even believe it.”

“Never underestimate the advantages of age and wisdom, Tyler. I’ll
school you with that game. See if I don’t.” Jim rose and carried the empty bowls to the sink while Tyler set up for the contest.

Leaving the present for Sally to wrap, man and boy flopped onto the living room floor and the battle began.

Ten minutes later, the crinkle of paper sounded from the kitchen and Sally’s voice called out. “Tyler, did you brush your teeth? And is your hair combed?”

Jim raised his eyebrows and looked at Tyler, pushing the button to turn off power to the game as he did so. “She got you, Tyler. Go take care of it.”

As Tyler, grumbling, headed back to the bathroom, Jim walked into the kitchen. Sally, dressed in her usual jeans, tee and flannel shirt, but wearing hiking boots instead of athletic shoes, finished tying ribbon around a brightly wrapped package. He came up behind her. “About tonight—“

“I’ll be spending the night at Diana’s,” she interrupted. “There’s a craft party I promised to attend. I’d forgotten about it until she reminded me. You get the night off, warden.”

She smiled as she said it, but it still hurt. Did she think he wanted to play the jailer? He just wanted her safe. He smiled back. “Fine. I could use a night in a genuine adult bed.”

“I imagine you could,” Sally agreed. “I think it will be easiest if I change for the party before we leave for the police station. No point in having to come all the way back here.”

“Is the party at the condo?” The condo was in York.

“No, it’s at the farm, though I think Logan’s going over to the condo this evening—too many women messing about, he told Diana.”

The farm wasn’t far from Sally’s house. Jim had the feeling that Sally was trying to ditch him. Well, that was okay with him, as long as she wasn’t alone.

She looked up from emptying the dishwasher. “We should take both cars so I can get to the shelter easily tomorrow.”

“Fine.” She was definitely trying to ditch him. At least he didn’t feel hurt—no, he felt angry. He’d put himself out for her. Gone way out of his way to see that she and Tyler were safe. But did she appreciate it? No.
Warden, indeed.

“Mom, the bus!” Tyler grabbed Matthew’s present and flew down the drive dragging his backpack and the sleeping bag Jim had neatly re-rolled into a tight cylinder.

As Tyler climbed up the steps into the bus, Jim looked at Sally. “Let’s get moving,” he said brusquely, and started toward the mailbox, his eyes already scanning the ground.

chapter
eight

There was no trail in the grass going to or from the mailbox, so Jim led the way past the shelter and up the slope to the ridge. At the top, there was a deer trail, which would have made for easy walking. But Jim stayed to the left of it, in the taller grass, watching for any sign that the trail was being used by a man.

Sally followed behind, stepping where Jim had stepped, and watc
hing, as he had told her to, for broken branches or bits of fabric, hair or fuzz in the stubby bushes growing along the ridgeline. When the bushes gave way to scrub pine, he stopped.

“Where the trees are taller like this, you want to watch for sign all the way up to about six feet high, though between three and five feet up is where you’re most likely to actually find something. I haven’t seen anything yet, but he may have approached from the north, so stay sharp.”

He spoke in a cold, emotionless voice. It was almost as if he was angry—but what reason would he have for that? This was probably his working warrior persona, nothing more. Choosing not to take offense, Sally continued to follow Jim, and tried to ‘stay sharp.’

Watching him look for sign had been interesting at first, his face e
xpressionless, his eyes intent. But now she found herself wishing Jim wore a short bomber jacket like Daniel Smith’s instead of the longer ranch coat he preferred. It would have made for a much more interesting view as she followed him along.

Just as well he does
n’t.
She was supposed to be looking for stuff herself, though she was sure that if there was anything to see, Jim would spot it long before she did.

At last they came to the end of the pine and the ridge, having found nothing, and started down the hill toward the line of trees by the creek. Looking toward the shelter, Sally was surprised at how easily she could see what went on.

There was Nancy, taking a pack of dogs out to one of the rear paddocks. As she watched, Nancy looked right at her and waved. Apparently she and Jim were as easily visible to Nancy as she was to them. If the stalker had used the ridge, he would have had to approach it from the other side, or risk being seen by the volunteers at the shelter.

For the stalker to watch from the creek would make more sense. So why had Jim started with the ridge, when surely the advantage of the trees along the streambed had occurred to him long ago? She hurried down the slope to catch up with him.

“Why did we start with the ridge when the hemlock trees by the creek are easier to get into without being seen?”

“Simple,” he said, not sparing her a glance. “We need to check both. It’s easier to stay alert before you find something than after. When we get into the hemlock, we’ll slow down. Remember to scan from the ground up to about six feet high or higher. We don’t know anything about this guy yet, least of all how tall he is.”

Minutes later, they stepped into the shade of the thick grove of Eastern hemlock. Here it was cooler and the smell of spruce was sharp and clean. Sally’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she scanned the trees from bottom to top, as Jim had instructed. In the end, it was she who spotted it first—a bit of neon orange fuzz against the deep green of the branches, highlighted by a stray sunbeam a little over five feet up.

“Jim, look.” She pointed.

Jim nodded. “Good work.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and took a picture of the fluff in the tree. Eyes down to watch for other sign, he carefully moved toward the tree, then surprised Sally by pulling a pair of thin gloves out of his pocket, stretching them on and plucking the fuzz off the branch. He sealed it carefully in a small plastic bag, and pulled out his phone again.

“Who are you going to call?” asked Sally.

“No one.” He was looking at the phone. “GPS app.” He made a notation on the bag and slipped it back into his pocket, then stood still, his gaze scanning the ground around him. ‘There,” he said with satisfaction, and moved several paces north to take another photograph—of a broken branch tip this time.

Sally followed, intrigued, as Jim worked his way along. Then he stopped.

“This is the place.”

Yes, it was.
Even Sally could recognize that. The pine needles were compressed and driven into the damp earth. And some of the branches had been trimmed cleanly away, the fresh cuts showing pale against the rest of the tree.

Jim took more photos—of everything, it seemed—then called her to stand beside him. “Look through here.”

Sally peered through a flattened tunnel cut among the branches. She saw the back of her house, her kitchen door, and part of the driveway to her home. She could also see the path across the meadow that she took to the shelter every morning, and the back of the shelter with its dog runs and paddocks. Most of the shelter parking lot was obscured, and the front doors of her house and of the shelter were completely blocked from view. But thinking of her daily walks back and forth from kitchen to shelter, she shuddered. “Creepy.”

“See these depressions?” Jim squatted and pointed out three small i
ndentations where the bed of pine needles thinned to show the dirt below. “He had a tripod set up here. Probably for a spotting scope, maybe a camera.”

Sally shuddered again, crossing her arms over her chest as if to ward off a chill. “Should we be standing here? Won’t he know we’ve been here?”

“He probably won’t notice a thing. Look at this place. A ten-year-old could spot it. He’s got no skill in woodcraft. I can’t believe this guy was ever a Marine. More likely just a wanna-be. And if he does notice, that’s okay too.”

Not okay with me!
Was Jim minimizing in an attempt to ease her mind? It wasn’t working.

“Let him be nervous for a while,” Jim said. “Come on, let’s backtrack him to where he entered the trees.”

They walked side by side now, and even Sally could spot the trail as they moved west toward the road that ran along about a city block west of her home. They passed a spot where the creek widened into a small pond—the ‘fishing hole’ popular with kids from the surrounding area during the day, and teenagers looking for privacy at night.

Sal was glad it was cold. When the weather was nice, Tyler liked to play back here. She wondered if she would ever feel safe letting him do that again. A little further along, they came to the turnoff from the road. It was nothing more than a clearing in the weeds that owned the roa
dside. Heavy tires had packed the dirt down so that only the hardiest ground-hugging plants survived.

Jim looked at the spot dismissively. “The police might want to check tire prints here, but that isn’t likely to lead anywhere. We’ll leave it for them. Let’s take the road back to your house.”

As Sally and Jim walked down the road, going south, a black Camry passed them heading north. The man driving narrowed his eyes and frowned as he watched them in the rear-view mirror. 

How dare she?
She should have been shocked and shamed to realize the whole town had seen her dalliance with Donovan last night. Surely, his note should have brought her to her senses. Instead she and the veterinarian had invaded his private retreat, his vantage point. He was sure of it. They’d come out of the woods together as he was about to turn off the road. It would have shaken a lesser man, but in complete control, he merely drove on. Now, with cool deliberation, he turned west at the first road past Sally’s and began looking for a safe place to leave his car. He stayed calm, even though outraged by her impertinence. How dare she try to spy on him? She would pay. There was much about him she didn’t know, skills and abilities as yet untapped. He smiled to himself. Oh, yes, she would pay.

Thirty minutes later, Sally and Jim sat side by side at her kitchen t
able. She’d made coffee and scrambled a few eggs for a late breakfast. A yellow legal pad and a soft-tip pen lay nearby.

“How do you want to do this?” Jim asked. “If you want to dictate to me, I’ll write.”

“No thanks, I’ll write it myself.” Sally didn’t mind Jim knowing what had been in the notes, but she wouldn’t let the words filthy her mouth. Somehow, saying them would seem like accepting them. She picked up a pen and began.

‘Notes during college—began freshman year, ended early junior year:  I don’t remember the circumstances of each, Generally they were things like…You look pretty today, That was a great shot you made in the game last night, etc. They came through campus mail with my name on the outside. They were printed in pencil on ordinary lined paper.’

She paused, gathering her thoughts for the next section. Jim sat at her right side, reading as she wrote and supporting her simply by being there.
A true friend. Grateful for his support, she went on.

‘Notes at Pendleton—only came when Trent was deployed:  I don’t remember the exact details for these either, but they were things like…Trent is a good man, he will prevail, Don’t worry, soon Trent will be back, You are not alone, a friend is watching, etc. They came in the mail, posted Oceanside, CA. They were torn from a regular 8 ½ by 11 spiral notebook, printed in pencil, in plain long envelopes.’

She was beginning to feel uneasy. Had it been the same person watching her all this time? If she’d done something about it then, maybe it would be over and done with.
Whatever. Just get it all on paper and be finished.

‘When I moved here five years ago, I didn’t get any notes.’

With all the problems she’d faced after Trent died, it had been nice to have one problem left behind her.

‘
About six months ago, they began again.’

She should have called the police then. Why hadn’t she called them? She should have called.

‘
They were on lined paper torn from a spiral notebook, just like before. No envelopes, printed in pencil. They were left on the counter or desk of the shelter office with my name on the outside.

The first one said:  You do a good job here, Sally.’

It could have been from anyone. Lots of people printed notes in pencil. She’d tucked the encouragement in her desk drawer for a bad day, then forgot about it.

‘The next, about six weeks later, said:  Tyler is a fine boy. You’ve done well.’

I should have called when they mentioned Tyler. Why didn’t I call?

Sally shook her head to chase away the unwanted thoughts, and rolled her shoulders to release the tightness there. She set down the pen, stretched her fingers, then fisted her hand, stretched it out again and picked the pen back up. She took a shallow breath. Jim sat silent at her side.

‘About six weeks after that: 
Man’s Best Friend is lucky to have you.

About two months ago: 
Faithfulness is a great virtue.

Five weeks ago: 
Character shows when you think no one is looking.

Two weeks ago: 
Remember my eyes are on you.’

Sally could feel Jim watching her, strengthening her with his presence. He’d edged closer, his nearness warming her and his silence golden. She didn’t think she could have endured any commentary. Her breathing was shallow and she focused on making each breath slower and deeper. It didn’t help much.

‘Last Saturday, the Marine Hymn was playing on the computer at the shelter, and “Semper fi” was blinking on the screen. Jim Donovan saw and heard it.’

And saved me from disintegrating completely.
Like he’s doing now.

‘
Phil Cavalo at CompuCraft took the file off for me.’

Jim had taken care of that, too.

‘Monday there was a note in my home mailbox. It said:  Remember whose you are. Stay away from Donovan. Semper fi. It was on the same kind of paper as all the others, but didn’t have my name on the outside. No envelope. I burned it.’

So Tyler wouldn’t see. She had to burn it to protect Tyler. He was only a child. She flexed her fingers on the pen. Her stomach was starting to roll.

‘
Tuesday, another note in my mailbox:  You did well to send Donovan away last night. I was proud of you. I know that it is me that you want, my Sally, but that would be wrong, too. You belong to Trent. Remember that, be strong, and stay true. Semper fi.’

              She felt unclean, as if her skin had been soiled by the stalker’s gaze. And worse, by the touch of his mind when he called her ‘my Sally’. She shuddered, and Jim wrapped a warm, strong arm around her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. Once again she blessed him for his silence. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, but it was nearly done. She wiped her sweaty palm on her jeans, picked up the pen and went on.

‘Thursday, after Jim Donovan, Tyler and I went to dinner at Dragon King there was another note in my mailbox. It said:  I warned you, but you flaunt your sordid affair with Donovan in public. Everyone saw you with him at the Dragon King, in front of Trent’s son. You disgrace your husband, you cheating slut. Semper fi.’