Innocent Secret. Josie Metcalfe
before Vicky caught sight of the time.
‘Oh, Joe, I’m sorry. I’ve kept you up and you’ve got to be at the surgery early tomorrow.’ She couldn’t be sorry about the time they’d spent together, even if it had been at opposite ends of the telephone.
‘I’m hardly so old and decrepit that I’ll fall apart if I miss an hour’s sleep,’ he objected. ‘Anyway, I don’t mind. It’s worth it to hear you sounding more relaxed. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
It sounded almost like a promise and Vicky’s heart was feeling immeasurably lighter when she finally put the phone down.
It wasn’t that she needed a man in her life to validate it. She had grown strong and self-reliant in the years that she’d pined hopelessly after Nick, concentrating on her career and making her own way in the world.
That didn’t mean that she couldn’t appreciate the fact that Joe was concerned for her safety. As he’d suggested, she made a point of checking around the cottage to make sure that all bolts and locks were fastened securely.
‘Tomorrow, I’ll change my number,’ she muttered decisively. ‘And I’ll make some enquiries about the new laws about stalking.’
Part of her didn’t want to believe that it was really happening. That same part was trying to tell her that by simply changing her number she would put whoever-it-was off, and she’d never hear from him again.
Unfortunately, the more rational half knew that this was unlikely. The calls had started several days ago and had already escalated from silent calls at the hospital to a verbal one at her home. It might only be one word, just her name, but there was something about the tone of the man’s voice that made her feel uneasy.
Remembered scraps from a programme she’d glimpsed on television told her that many stalkers were satisfied just to observe. It was the ones whose observations grew into a need to make contact and from thence into total obsession that had her listening for noises outside her cottage.
It was a good job she’d already eaten her meal. The nervous cramping of her stomach would have left her with little appetite now. The trouble was, with nothing urgent to do and a busy day ahead, the only logical thing was to go to bed.
A leisurely bath was out of the question. She would feel far too vulnerable to relax. Even climbing into bed and pulling the covers right up to her nose didn’t make her feel totally safe, no matter that the cottage was securely locked.
It was only when she remembered Joe’s final words—a promise that all she needed to do was phone him and he would come to her—that she was able to unwind enough to fall asleep.
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