His Touch. Mary Baxter Lynn
harassed by some nutcase.”
Veronica coughed, obviously strangling on the liquid. When she sat the cup down on the coffee table, her eyes were wide and questioning. “Are you serious?” She flapped her hand impatiently. “Sorry, forget I asked that. Of course you’re serious. That’s not something to joke about, especially given your job.”
“You’re right. It’s been going on for some time now.”
“So why haven’t the police already caught the pervert?”
Jessica hesitated, looking away from Veronica’s direct stare. “Because I haven’t involved them.”
“That’s crazy,” Veronica said in a blustering tone. “They work for you, for heaven’s sake.”
“True, but—”
“What’s the deal, then?”
“You know what the deal is, Ronnie. Ever since I fired the police chief and suspended two popular officers, I’m not the most loved person around city hall.”
“Ah, for a second those minor points slipped my mind.” Though her voice held a slice of humor, Veronica’s features remained grave. “But surely there’s someone on the force you can depend on?”
Jessica didn’t respond. Instead, she gazed around the room, her eyes settling on the items that brought her comfort: photographs of her and Porter, her deceased husband, live plants she nurtured herself, and other mementos that had personal meaning. Once she had believed that her home in an upscale part of the city was indeed her safe haven.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. No longer did she feel that sense of security when she walked in, that feeling of peace. In fact, she felt the opposite, as if her privacy had been totally invaded, emotionally and physically.
If only Porter were here, he would know what to do. If her husband were still alive, she wouldn’t be in this precarious position to start with, she reminded herself. He would still be the mayor, and she would be the loving, supportive wife behind the scenes.
A deep sigh escaped Jessica when she felt Veronica’s piercing eyes on her once again.
“I want all the gory details,” her friend said. “And I’m not letting you off the hook until I hear them.”
Jessica plucked at a thread on the black silk slacks covering her long, slender legs. She knew her friend meant what she said. Veronica’s features were growing graver by the second.
“First off, I’ve been receiving phone calls on all my phones, cell included, mostly obscene. And irritating as hell. Even though I have caller ID, it’s failed to identify the caller. The screen either registers Out of Area or Unknown Name.”
“Go on.”
“E-mails, too. I’ve been unable to trace them, either. They’re obviously sent from different, untraceable locations, like public libraries and Internet cafés.”
“I can tell there’s more.”
“I’m being followed, or stalked, whatever term you want to give it.”
“And you’ve done nothing? Good grief, Jessica, that’s insane.”
Jessica bit down on her full lower lip. “You’re right. I can’t argue with you. Still…” Her voice faded.
“No excuse will hold water, so don’t waste your breath.” Veronica paused, pressing her lips together. “Anything else?”
“Not so far.”
Veronica gave her a look before she bounded off the sofa, walked to the fireplace and leaned against it. “What in the world is wrong with you? Your life could be in real danger—is in real danger. Yet you’ve done nothing.”
“I’ve taken some precautions,” Jessica said, her tone defensive.
“Such as?” Veronica countered, not bothering to mask her disbelief.
Jessica flushed, adding to the natural color in her cheeks. “I just kept thinking the harassment would come to an end, that whoever was behind it would get tired and move on.”
“Not if he, she or they have an agenda. If someone is out to harm you, they’re not likely to stop until that’s accomplished.”
“I did buy a gun.”
“But you can’t use it, right?”
“Right.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Jessica’s stark blue eyes narrowed on her friend. “You’re not making this any easier, you know?”
Veronica shrugged. “I know, and I’m sorry. But you’re scaring the you-know-what out of me.”
“I’ve had every intention of learning, but with things in such turmoil at the office, I just haven’t had the time.”
“Learning to fire a gun is fine, but you have to alert the police. You need round-the-clock protection.”
Jessica shook her head. “I’m not prepared to go that far. I still think this too shall pass.”
“That’s just wishful thinking, and you know that.”
Jessica released another pent-up sigh, her mind seeming to splinter off in a million different directions, which made her crazy. She was used to her life running according to plan and on schedule. Suddenly her well-oiled machine had careened off course, just like it had after Porter died, making her feel out of control, a feeling that didn’t sit well with her.
Since her father’s desertion at an early age, she had ceased to be a child. With her mother’s strong, albeit bitter, influence, she had become a savvy, self-assured person who had learned to care for herself, to protect herself, especially from emotional traumas. And while she had indeed relied on Porter for many things, she had never lost that fierce sense of self and independence.
“Jessie.”
Veronica’s use of her pet name drew her out of her musings, and Jessica swallowed hard.
“You were thinking about Porter, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“He’s been dead four years now,” Veronica pointed out gently. “He can’t take care of you any longer.”
“He never took care of me in the sense you mean,” Jessica said, feeling she had no choice but to defend herself. “He was just always there.” Jessica stood. “Hold your thought. I’m going to dash upstairs for a sec. I’ll be right back.”
The instant she strode into her bedroom, Jessica pulled up short. She just managed to clasp her hand on her mouth to smother the gasp. A dead rose lay across her pillow. For a long moment she was too dumbstruck to move. A sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach, she whirled and practically ran back downstairs.
“That was quick,” Veronica said, the twinkle back in her eyes, then suddenly turned sober. “What happened?”
“There’s…there’s a dead rose on my pillow.”
Without saying a word, Veronica tore toward the bedroom, then back with equal speed. “That does it. You can’t afford to mess with this sicko any longer, regardless of how he got in. The fact that someone did is all that counts.”
Jessica eased back onto the sofa, that sick feeling still churning her stomach. “You’re right. Push has come to shove.”
“So let’s start by pushing the police into action. Under the circumstances, I know you’re reluctant to do that, having clearly decided not to involve them. But now you have no choice.”
Jessica rose again. “I’ll make the call.”
A