Stalker in the Shadows. Camy Tang
at the kitchen table. Dad and Mr. O’Neill were in the library, finally having their discussion about the spa’s expansion into a hotel, and Shaun was outside talking to Detective Carter about what he’d seen through the binoculars. Edward had left because of an emergency at the greenhouses, but Rachel had stayed with her sister.
“I think so.” Her gaze fell on the pot of tamales, forgotten on the table. “Be sure to tell Julio’s mother thanks.”
“I will. Julio’s doing great.”
“He should have gone to the E.R., Rach. He’s lucky that gash to his leg hadn’t been worse.”
“I know, but it was his father’s call. And at least you looked at him rather than no one at all.”
What kind of world was it when a man couldn’t take his son to the hospital because he couldn’t afford it? The frustration welled up in her, buzzing in her ears. “It’s not right.”
Rachel looked at her in confusion. “What?”
“This area needs adequate medical facilities especially for the migrant workers and the farmhands. If my free children’s clinic had been up and running, Julio’s father could have taken him there and not had to pay anything.” How could she abandon her plans for the clinic?
Monica wasn’t the headstrong, gutsy one—that was her sister Naomi. But she also wasn’t the logical, gentle sister like Rachel. She was the emotional one, the one who always thought with her heart and relied on her instincts. Were her emotions only getting her in trouble now?
And it wasn’t just her desire to help children like Julio that drove her. She knew that, deep in her heart of hearts, she wanted this clinic because it would make her feel like she had accomplished something, that she was more than just an E.R. nurse. She wanted to help more people. Dad’s insistence that she become a resident nurse at the spa would be her agreeing to fade away to insignificance, and she couldn’t willingly do that when she had a chance to really make a difference in someone’s life. In lots of children’s lives.
“I don’t like hiding,” Monica told her sister. “I don’t like waiting around and giving this man permission to keep leaving dead snakes everywhere I turn. I don’t like putting my life on hold while I wait for someone to capture him. Even though I know it’s dangerous, I’d rather fight him off than let him win.”
“Is this clinic more important than your safety?”
“If I did stop work on this clinic, would you feel easy knowing this stalker was still out there, maybe still watching me?” Monica demanded. “Would you be okay knowing he would be out there terrorizing some other woman? At least while he’s after me, there’s a better chance he’ll be caught by the police.” Or by Shaun, she realized. She could already predict what he was going to do, and it wasn’t apply to the Sonoma PD. Not yet.
“But this man might have killed Shaun’s sister.”
“But I’m not Shaun’s sister, and since I already know what he’s done before, I can be prepared.”
“Prepared? How? He’s leaving gruesome gifts, he was watching you…”
“I can’t stop him from watching me.” Monica couldn’t suppress a shiver that raced through her. It made her feel slimy. “But I can be smart about all this. I can hire protection.”
“Like a bodyguard?”
“I’d rather have a bodyguard than be afraid of what some lunatic is going to do to me. And I know just the person to ask.”
THREE
The O’Neills stayed for dinner, although the conversation and atmosphere were a bit subdued after the events of the afternoon. Evita, the Grants’ housekeeper and cook, whipped up a cheese soufflé which was apparently the Grant sisters’ favorite dish, but it left Shaun feeling a bit unfulfilled. He didn’t say anything since his father enjoyed the airy concoction.
After dinner, Patrick O’Neill and Augustus Grant headed into the library for further discussions about the spa hotel, and Monica caught Shaun’s eye. She motioned toward the kitchen with her head.
Evita had gone home right after serving the dessert, a rich chocolate cake. Monica went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of tortillas. “Chicken quesadilla?” she asked him.
“Are you still hungry?”
“No, but I know you are.”
Shaun’s cheeks burned. “Uh… Thanks.”
She turned on the heat under a cast-iron skillet on the stove. “So are you still going to apply to the Sonoma Police Department?”
He wasn’t sure how to answer that, then decided to be honest. “Not yet.” Then he fired back at her, “Are you going to abandon your plans for the clinic?”
She hesitated before dropping a thin stream of oil on the cast-iron skillet, and her chin firmed. “No.”
He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it was safer for her if she stopped her plans so that the stalker wouldn’t hurt her. On the other hand, her continuing her plans for the clinic would keep the stalker in Sonoma, would keep him near her. Would enable Shaun to catch the psycho.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I’ve thought it over.” She lay a tortilla on the hot skillet. “I won’t back down and be a victim. I won’t let him think he can make some threats and people will obey him. This clinic is important.”
“How does your family feel about that?”
“They’re not happy. Dad’s still trying to get me to stop.” She shredded some cooked chicken breast onto the tortilla, then topped it with cheese and another tortilla.
“It’s dangerous.” He didn’t want her putting herself in danger and he couldn’t get himself to encourage her to make herself a target just so he could catch the stalker.
She gave him a significant glance. “That’s where you come in.”
“Me?”
“Since you haven’t applied to the Sonoma PD yet, how about working for me as a bodyguard?”
Shaun stared hard at her. “You want me?”
“You can’t do it?”
“Of course I can do it.”
“So what’s the problem?”
He hesitated, then finally said, “Following you day after day will take me away from my investigation into the stalker.”
“I figured you’d be doing your own investigation,” she said.
Shaun didn’t admit that another problem would be being near Monica day after day. She made him feel both comfortable to be around her, bantering like this, and yet on edge because he was so attracted to her. He didn’t want that attraction distracting him. He didn’t want any romance in his life, he didn’t want any women in his life.
Monica flipped the quesadilla with a spatula, and it sizzled on the skillet. “Did you consider that since I’m the target, you being with me would draw the stalker out?”
“You being a target isn’t something to take lightly.”
“I’m not, but I also trust you to be able to protect me.”
Her words kicked him in the gut, and he turned away from her to look out the kitchen window at the side yard.
Why did she trust him when he didn’t even trust himself? He had failed to protect his sister. He’d failed the people who died at the coyote’s hands in that accident down at the border—no, he couldn’t think about it. If he thought about it, the guilt would burn in his stomach and he’d see their faces in front of his eyes.