Authors: Camilla Chafer
"You can't think like that," I told her. "We're going to find out who's doing this."
"I'm losing hope."
"I know."
"I just... I have no one to talk to except Rob; and he's worried sick, and I don't want to burden him anymore... and my friends. What exactly did they say?"
"They said you severed all contact with them." I glanced up, noticing Solomon filling the doorway, listening quietly. "Rose said she got strange texts from you. Rebecca said you told her where to go, and in no uncertain terms, and Chloe said you accused her of sleeping with Rob."
Juliet paled "Oh my gosh! I would never... never say those things! I don't... strange texts?" she asked, stuttering to a stop.
"Rose says she lost them when she got a new cell phone, so I never saw them to verify her claim."
"And Rebecca and Chloe?"
"Rebecca showed me the texts; and they are traced to your phone."
"I can show you my phone. I don't have any texts like that because I never sent them! Chloe too?"
"Chloe was too angry to talk any further," I said, recalling the door slamming in my face.
"I need to speak to them! They need to know I didn't send anything like that. I would never accuse Chloe of sleeping with Rob! Such a concept never even crossed my mind. And why would I tell Rose and Rebecca to get lost? We've been friends for years. Here, check my phone." Juliet pulled her cell phone from her pocket and pushed it into my hand.
I brushed the screen with my thumb and it flashed to life, the icons brightening the screen. "You don't use any pin protection?" I asked, meeting Solomon's eyes over her shoulder, who gave a disbelieving shake of his head.
"No, I never had to in the past."
I handed the phone back, without checking her text messages. "I don't need to look to believe you," I said, not bothering to add I would comb her phone records later. I expected to find a record of the damning texts, but still felt sure Juliet never sent them. Whoever did would most likely have deleted them as soon as they were sent. Juliet would have been none the wiser, thanks to her poor personal security. "There have been several other incidences of false texts and emails, which suggests someone is accessing your data," I told her, hoping she would feel some relief in my uncovering a trail.
"Someone's reading my emails and my texts?"
"I think so."
"Should I change my password?"
"Not yet," I advised. "It could be useful. We could use it as a vehicle to feed information through, you know, the stuff that we want to make them believe."
"Like a false trail?"
"Exactly! So far, the stalker doesn't know what we know; or that we know anything. Let's keep it that way."
"Is Penelope your only suspect?"
Once again, I glanced toward Solomon. I don’t know if I sought reassurance, or direction, but when he remained motionless, I continued talking. "Unfortunately, not. Our biggest concern is the access she has to your home and work life."
"Shouldn't she have a motive? Penelope is the only person who stood by us."
"That's exactly the problem. Your colleagues are suspicious of you, and your employers are investigating you. All your other friends feel alienated..."
"Penelope got weird texts from me too! We spoke about it, and later agreed that it must have been some kind of crossed text from another line."
"When did you speak about this last?"
"Last week. So you see? Penelope is a victim too," continued Juliet, determined to squelch our suspicions. If I were she, I wouldn't want to believe them either. We didn't give her any hard evidence, and even the motive was weak.
"Penelope didn't mention it when I spoke with her," I said, puzzled at that apparently forgotten morsel of information. Why wouldn't Penelope have mentioned it when I questioned her about the other incidents? It seemed too important to leave out.
"It could have slipped her mind, especially as we agreed it was probably a crossed text. I guess it could have been a nuisance one. All is fine between Penelope and me, and if it weren’t for her help and generosity, I don't know what we'd do. I think you need to look at someone else. Maybe a colleague from work. My assistant could be behind this. I told you she claimed I fired her."
"We spoke with her already. She has an alibi for the night you were broken into."
"But she could have accessed my emails."
"She could have, but I don't think she did."
"But you think Penelope would? She doesn't know my passwords! And how would she get my bank card?"
"Why don't you check your purse?" suggested Solomon. I jumped at the sound of his voice. I never heard him arrive.
"Why?" asked Juliet.
"Just check it. Tell me if anything is missing."
"Okay. I think it's in the kitchen." Juliet turned away with frown lines etched across her forehead as she walked towards the kitchen.
"What are you up to?" I asked Solomon.
He put a finger to his lips. "Wait and see."
Juliet returned with her purse in hand. She dropped onto the armchair and rifled through it. "I don't think anything is... wait! My credit cards are missing."
"These?" asked Solomon, leaning over to hand her two cards.
"Yes. How did you..." Juliet checked the cards. "These are mine."
"Anything else?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"I think twenty dollars is gone, but I'm not sure."
"Actually," grinned Delgado, producing a couple of crumpled bills, "it was thirty. Here."
Juliet took her cards and money, stuffing them into her purse. "I don't get it."
"I took your cards only minutes after we arrived and instructed Delgado to take something from your purse when he could. The point, Juliet, is to show you that even when you're in the house, your private things can be stolen, and even returned, without your knowing. Take another look in your purse."
We watched as Juliet opened her wallet, searching through the compartments. Finally, she unsnapped the middle money section and extracted a small piece of paper. "What's this?" she asked, unfolding it.
"Read it out loud," instructed Solomon.
"I can put things in your purse without you knowing too," Juliet read. She looked up as she snapped her wallet shut. "Okay, I get your point. You can take things and put them back without me knowing, so someone else could have too. That's what you mean, isn't it? That Penelope could have easily done the same?"
Solomon gave a curt nod. "Yes, and that includes anyone you trust to be inside your house. They could do the same thing when your back is turned."
"I still don't believe Penelope would do something like that. She's the mother of Rob's son! I had nothing to do with their breakup and we've been friends a long time."
"Were you always friends?"
"Not always. It was awkward at first. She used to give Rob a hard time about Robbie spending time with us both. She was super involved with his family and never gave us any space for our relationship to develop. Later, we started to talk, and Penelope came around; and it's been great ever since," she said, moving towards the front of the house, and leaving her purse behind.
As we entered the living room, a car door slammed outside and Juliet jumped, placing a hand on her heart while taking a deep breath. I looked toward the street. Penelope's car had returned and Robbie climbed out, racing towards the house, a balloon attached to a long string in his hand. Juliet moved over to the door, leaving Solomon, Delgado, and me to observe Penelope and Rob embracing before he too began to walk towards the house. From the doorway, unable to see the lingering hug, Juliet said, "What possible reason could she have to hate me?"
The supermarket aisles were full of people who didn't seem to understand how desperate my situation was. Never having cooked for so many people before, never mind shopping for the groceries, seeing aisle-after-aisle of produce left me confounded. Just what could one person cook for a huge family that could easily have eaten for the whole nation? That thought reminded me, did I have enough forks? And why didn't I
borrow
the menu from O'Grady's for inspiration when I had dinner there with Lily the previous night? Or do the grocery shopping earlier in the day? Instead, I was busy scouring Juliet's phone records, looking for connections.
Pushing the cart forwards, I frowned at the vegetables, anxiously waiting for creativity to strike. Instead of a smart recipe whirling together in my mind, the only image I had was the wounded expression on Juliet's face. After Solomon, Delgado, and I dropped the bombshell that we thought her best friend was behind all her recent calamities, and no, we had absolutely no proof, I wasn't eager to return. Of course, Juliet insisted that we look elsewhere for another suspect. Currently, I was still her best and only shot at proving her innocence and identifying the stalker. I hoped she realized that, and preferably, without firing me first.
Since my inspiration still wasn't available, and haute cuisine wasn't one of my strongest skills, I resorted to snatching a stem of baby cherry tomatoes, along with a couple bags of potatoes. I threw in a sprig of chives for a potato salad, adding carrots and cucumber for crudités as I moved past. Solomon was right; easy finger food was my best option. I just wasn't sure how much of it to buy. Thankfully, I did know an expert in large-scale cooking.
"Hi, Mom," I said, when she answered her phone.
"Alexandra, dear."
Uh-oh. I knew my full name meant trouble of some kind. "That's me," I said simply. "I'm at the market and I need your help."
"Really? Did you call 911?"
"No. Why?"
"You're not being held up?"
I looked around at the small array of people browsing the shelves. None of them looked armed. "Not right now," I told her.
My mother breathed a sigh of relief. "I wasn't sure. I assumed you were in trouble."
"Trouble doesn't follow me
everywhere
I go!"
"I think you send trouble an engraved invitation."
"Trouble never RSVPs. Actually, I need help with the dinner."
"Dinner? Are you cooking for Solomon? Enticing a man's stomach is the best way to his heart. Perhaps you should cook more often."
"No, and I cook plenty, but he cooks better. It's about our family dinner. I'm shopping and I don't know how much to buy. Or what ingredients."
"Ingredients?" My mother's voice came in a breathless whisper. "Did you hear that, honey? Ingredients! Lexi is buying ingredients!"
"Who's that?" I asked as a muffled voice spoke in the background. "Is that Dad?"
"No, it's your sister."
"I thought we'd order Chinese," said Serena, louder so I could hear her over the phone line. "Alexandra plans to cook? With ingredients?"
"We're not ordering Chinese," I told them.
"Serena wants to know if we should bring the takeout menu anyway?"
"No!"
"She also wants to know if you're done with Antonio yet?"
"I think he's on the surveillance shift, but she could have called him, herself, to ask. What's the rush?"
"We're having dinner together and we're waiting on him."
"I thought your kitchen was ruined?"
"It is. Serena is taking your father and me to Alessandro's."
"And the baby?"
"Victoria, too. She loves their spaghetti."
"Sounds nice."
"I have to go, but let me know if you need me to bring anything for dinner. You'll do fine. Bye, honey!" My mother hung up before I had a chance to quiz her on how many volumes to buy. Instead, I pulled a face at the lonely produce in the cart and pushed on.
An hour later, I had everything I could think of from brand new napkins to paper party plates and plastic forks for my nieces and nephews. I added a few bags of chips and rolled my cart to the clerk, trying hard not to wince as I handed over my card in return for several bags of food that wouldn't last more than an hour. I had to lean against the cart's handlebar to get it to roll out of the supermarket, pointing it towards my car while hoping the momentum would keep it going. I loaded it all into my trunk, returned the cart, and headed for home, wondering about the surveillance on Juliet and whether the new security cameras managed to catch anything yet.
I tried to find a solid connection between Penelope and the stalking incidents, but drew blanks at every turn. Same with the emails Juliet claimed she never sent to work colleagues, and the rude texts to her friends. Everything was circumstantial, at best. At worst, the evidence was non-existent. I even accessed Rob's emails (with his permission) and read through his messages with Penelope. There was nothing that indicated they were anything more than co-parents now; no suggestions or pleadings to get back together, no cruel jibes aimed at Juliet, or his relationship with her, nothing but pleasant exchanges about Robbie's schedule. A cursory check of the trash file didn't reveal any deleted messages from either of them. Not that it meant anything; even I knew verbal conversations could tell a different story, if one or both of them were being careful.
I hated the suspicions about Rob that entered my head once more. He seemed to dote on Juliet so much, and was so looking forward to having a family together. No, he didn't seem like the kind of man who’d want to go back to the ex. From what he claimed, Juliet fully provided the life he wanted with the woman he loved. It was hard not to feel envious of the couple who seemed to have it all.
As I turned onto my driveway, again I wondered if jealousy were the motive. Some people just hated seeing successful people who had something they couldn’t find or achieve. Fortunately, I didn't think I'd be the recipient of those kinds of feelings as I dragged my shopping bags into the house.
My refrigerator groaned with so much food, it took two good slams to close it shut properly. I breathed a sigh of relief that my shopping task was done. All I had to do now was cook the stuff, serve it, and clean up before I could consider my familial duty finished. At least, Garrett was bringing dessert so that was one thing off my mind. All I wanted to do now was kick off my boots, get in the shower, pull on my pajamas and curl up in front of a movie, calm in the knowledge that Juliet was being watched like a hawk.
I was just toeing off my boots in the entryway when my cell phone rang. Garrett's name flashed on the screen. "Yo, bro'," I said.
"Yo yourself. Sam has chicken pox so we can't make dinner."
"Are you kidding? Is he okay? Hey, is this like the time he used red marker all over his body and pretended to have chicken pox?"
"Nope, it's the real deal. I checked. The kid looks like a plague victim."
"That's too bad."
"I checked with Serena and Victoria hasn't had chicken pox yet, and we don't want to infect her, so we're keeping the kids home."
"What about Patrick and Chloe?"
"Patrick had it when he was six, but Chloe hasn't. We're hoping she'll catch it from Sam."
"Is that a good idea?"
"If we want to minimize sick leave from work, yeah."
"Let me know if you need any medicine picked up?"
"We have an entire pharmaceutical shelf devoted to not itching, so we're good. I'm really sorry we can't make it. Serena said you were ordering Chinese for everyone."
"I am not! I'm cooking."
"Oh, well, gee, that really is too bad."
"I can cook!"
"I know that. Let me know what happens; and again, I'm sorry we can't make it."
I promised I would, wished Sam well, and hung up, dropping my phone onto the small console. I jogged up the stairs, walking into the bathroom where I switched on the shower. Just as I pulled off my blouse, the phone rang again. I ignored it. It rang again. On the third call, deciding it must’ve been urgent, I jogged downstairs and answered it.
"Hi, Juliet," I said, with some trepidation as I held my breath. This was the termination call, I was sure. Juliet had, no doubt, lost faith in me after my evidence-less accusation. She and Rob probably had strong objections about my rooting through his emails. Also, hadn't I told her not to use her personal cell phone?
"Lexi!"
I was on alert the moment I heard her breathless voice.
"Juliet? What is it?"
"There's someone in the house." Her voice was thick and fast, and her breathing sounded hard.
"What do you mean? We have cameras watching you every second! We would have picked something up."
"There's someone in here, I swear. I saw them. I saw a shadow and I called out. I thought it was Rob, but they didn't answer so I came up to the bedroom and I called him and he's still out. Then I heard something downstairs."
"Did you call 911?"
"No. Why would they help me? They think I'm some kind of master criminal. They think I'm making all this up."
"Where are you now?"
"The bedroom."
"Does the door lock?"
"No... I think I hear the stairs creaking."
My heart thumped. "Does your bathroom have a lock?"
"The attached bathroom does."
"Go in there now! Take the phone and lock the door. Don't leave until I get there."
"Please hurry."
"I'm going to put you on hold, okay? But stay on the line. I need to call Solomon's team." I put Juliet on hold, and dialed Solomon. Two calls. He didn't pick up either time. I called Delgado, and my sister answered.
"What is it?" she hissed. "We're at dinner."
"I need to speak with Antonio."
"He just went to the bathroom."
"Can you get him to call me back?"
"Alexandra, we're at dinner and he needs time off from running around fixing your problems."
"He's not fixing my..."
"You need to get your job back with Solomon. Then you'll have a team instead of getting my boyfriend to bail you out."
"He's not bailing..."
"Our entrees are here."
"Can you ask Antonio to call me..." Click. The line went dead.
I tried Solomon again, but still got no answer. It was pointless calling Garrett because he was on chicken pox duty. I tried calling Jord, but there was no answer and Daniel 's phone went directly to voicemail. I had no one else to call, and I didn't know whom Delgado left in charge of watching over Juliet's cameras, nor did I know who Solomon had posted outside, watching the house. Feeling utterly inept, both at my lack of knowledge about Solomon's orders, and annoyed at myself for being so focused on racing to the supermarket that I didn't think to ask those crucial questions, I grabbed my jacket. I zipped it over my bra and stuck my feet in my boots before unlocking the drawer where I kept my gun. I checked it was loaded, and tucked it into my belt. Grabbing my keys, and with my cell phone still in hand, I ran for my car. I made one final call for backup as I fired up the engine.
"Hey."
"Maddox?" I looked over my shoulder as I threw the car into reverse, backing up onto the street.
"Lexi? Are you okay?"
"I need help. I think my client is in trouble."
"What happened?"
"She's alone in her house and someone else is in there with her."
Maddox was silent for a couple seconds. "This is someone bad?"
"I think it's her stalker and I think I know who it is. I need backup."
"Give me the address."
I did that quickly and hung up, switching to Juliet's line. "Are you still there?" I asked. "Are you locked in the bathroom?"
"Yes," whispered Juliet. "I locked it. What took you so long?"
"Don't worry about that. I'm on my way with backup."
"I think they're in my bedroom. I heard footsteps."
"Whatever you do, do not open your door."
"Okay."
"And stay on the line. Under no circumstances, do you hang up. Got it?"
"Got it?"
"Good. Stay quiet."
I drove as fast as I could. Juliet's house was quiet as I stopped outside, gradually rolling to a halt. I wanted to screech my announcement, but I didn't want whoever was inside — and Juliet assured me somebody was — to realize my presence.
"Do you hear anyone now?" I asked.
"No. Where are you?"
"I'm outside."
"I haven't heard footsteps for a few minutes."
"Do not open the door," I warned her.
"I won't. I promise."
"Stay on the line. Backup's here."
"You called the police?"