On the legal front, there was mixed activity. Officer Romanello had come by the week before and talked to both of them; she got their story and said not to hesitate to call her if anything out of the ordinary happened again. That made Julie feel better; Mike felt better for it, too, but so far, they hadn't had reason to call. On another front, the district attorney had declined to press charges, and though he held open the possibility that they might be reinstated at a later date, Mike was off the hook for the time being. He'd done this, he said, not because he felt Mike was justified, but because Richard hadn't shown up to give his formal statement. Nor had they been able to contact him.
Strange, she thought when she heard about it.
But eight days of nothing, absolutely nothing, had emboldened Julie. Not that she was dumb enough to forget the possible risk-I will never be one of those abused guests on morning talk shows that everyone in the audience considered an idiot for not seeing it coming, she told herself-but a subtle change had taken place, without her particularly being aware of it. The week before, she'd expected to see Richard. She'd expected to see him lurking everywhere, and she'd been prepared for it. What she'd do exactly depended on the circumstances, of course, but she had no qualms about screaming or running or setting Singer loose on the guy if she had to. I'm ready for anything, she repeated to herself, just make your move. Any inkling of trouble and you'll be sorry, Mr. Franklin.
But a thousand moments of looking and listening and not finding a trace of him had slowly nicked away at her resolve. Now, though she still felt a heightened sense of wariness, she'd reached the point where she didn't expect to see him. So when Mike mentioned that Steven Sides had left a message, asking him to swing by for a brief meeting after work, Julie told him that she was tired and was going to head on home alone.
"Just come on over when you're done," she said. "And if you're going to be late, give me a call, okay?"
Singer bounded out of the Jeep as soon as she parked and circled the yard, moving farther and farther from her, his nose to the ground, when she called for him. Raising his head, he looked at her from across the yard.
Aw, c'mon, he seemed to be saying. You haven't taken me for a walk in ages.
Julie got out of the car.
"No, we can't go now," she said. "Maybe later, when Mike gets here."
Singer stayed where he was.
"I'm sorry, but I don't really want to head out there, you know?"
Even from a distance, she saw his ears droop. Aw, c'mon.
Julie crossed her arms and glanced around. She didn't see Richard's car, nor had she seen it while she was driving. Unless he was planning to hike in a couple of miles, he wasn't here. The only car parked on her street bore the name of the realty company that was offering the lots for sale, along with the name of the lady who was selling them, Edna Farley.
Edna was a regular at the shop. Though Mabel did her hair, over the years Julie had gotten to know Edna. Plump and middle-aged, she was nice in the way that all Realtors were-cheerful and enthusiastic, with a tendency to leave her business cards around the salon-but also a little scatterbrained. When she was excited, which was practically all the time, she seemed to miss the obvious and was always one step behind in the conversation. While others had moved on to other subjects, Edna would continue to discuss the previous one. Occasionally Julie found it annoying, but she tolerated her in an "I'm glad it's Mabel and not me" kind of way.
Singer's tail moved back and forth, like a wave. Pleeeease?
Julie didn't want to go, but she hadn't taken Singer for a walk in ages.
She looked up the street again. Nothing.
Would he walk a couple of miles on the off chance she'd take her dog for a walk?
No, she decided, he wouldn't. Besides, Singer was with her, and Singer wasn't a Chihuahua. All she had to do was yelp and he would come charging like a Samurai warrior on steroids.
But she still didn't like it. The woods scared her now. There were too many places to hide. Too many places to watch and be watched. Too many opportunities for Richard to hide behind a tree and wait until she'd passed and then creep up behind her, twigs cracking beneath his weight. . . .
Julie felt panic clawing at her again, and she forced it away. Nothing was going to happen, she repeated. Not with Singer nearby, not with Edna pacing the lots. Not without his car in the area. Richard wasn't here.
So why not take the dog for a walk?
Singer barked as if to get her attention. Well?
"Okay," she finally said. "But we can't stay long. It looks like there might be a storm coming."
Even before she finished speaking, Singer had turned and wandered into the woods, vanishing behind a clump of trees.
It took five minutes before she realized she was whispering to herself.
"Nothing is going to happen," she was saying. "It's perfectly safe out here."
And it was, she thought, it had to be, but let's go over the reasons again, shall we? Because this just doesn't feel right for some reason. So she did and again came up with the logical conclusion that Richard wasn't lurking nearby. But it still didn't help. She began to hyperventilate.
So much for a relaxing walk in the woods.
Julie crept along the trail, pushing at overgrown branches. The foliage had thickened since she'd last been out here, or at least it seemed that way. In the past, she could see tendrils of light breaking through the cover, but because the sun was low and the clouds above were charcoal gray, the woods seemed unusually dark.
This was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If they had her phone number, those morning talk shows would probably be calling tomorrow.
Why weren't you more careful? the host would ask.
Because, she would answer, dabbing at her eyes, I'm a twit.
She stopped to listen; she heard nothing except the faraway chirping of a magpie. She turned from side to side, looked up and down the trail, and saw nothing unusual. Nothing. "Of course it's safe," she whispered.
Okay, girl, she thought, you got yourself into this, and let's stay calm here. I may not see Singer, but he's around. I'll just let Singer wander, and in a few minutes we'll head back home and everything will be back to normal. Might take a glass of wine to restore order, but hey, I'm only human. And Singer loves this, after all. . . .
In the distance she heard Singer bark, and her heart hammered in her chest with enough force to make her eyes go black at the corners. All righty, then, she thought, changing her mind, I think that's a pretty clear message. . . .
"Singer! C'mon," she shouted. "Let's go back! Time to go!"
She waited and listened, but Singer didn't come. Instead, he barked again, but it wasn't an angry bark. It sounded like a bark of greeting, a friendly bark.
Julie took a step in the direction of the sound and stopped. Don't go, she thought, until she recognized another sound. A voice. Someone was talking to Singer, and when she recognized it, she heaved a sigh of relief. Edna Farley . . .
She walked quickly then, following the curving path until she could see the water of the Intracoastal. Here, the forest cleared and she saw Edna patting Singer on the head. He was sitting on his haunches, his mouth open. When he heard Julie enter the clearing, he turned his head.
This is the life, he seemed to be saying. A little walk, a little love . . . What could be better?
Edna, too, had turned.
"Julie!" she called out. "I thought you might be heading this way. How are you?"
Julie started toward her. "Hey, Edna. I'm fine. Just taking a walk."
"It's a nice day for it. Or it was when we got out here. But now it looks like it might start to rain in a little while."
By then, Julie had drawn near.
"We?" she asked.
"Yeah, my client is looking over a couple of the far lots. They've been on the market for a while, but he seems pretty interested, so keep your fingers crossed for me."
It was as she was speaking that Singer suddenly stood and mov
ed to Julie's side, the hair on the back of his neck bristling. He started to growl. Julie felt her heart begin to pound as she turned in the direction in which Singer was staring. Her eyes took a moment to adjust, and she drew a labored breath. In the background, she could hear Edna going on.
"Oh, here he is now," Edna was saying.
Before Julie could move, before she could think to do anything other than stare, Richard was standing beside Edna. He wiped his brow and smiled at her, making Edna flush a little.
"You were right," Richard said. "Those lots were nice, too, but I think I like the ones on this side a little better."
"Oh, yes. You're absolutely right," Edna said. "And the view of the water on this side is priceless. They're not making any more waterfront, you know. It's a wonderful investment." She laughed, but neither one of them was listening to Edna now. "Oh, where are my manners? I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. . . ."
"Hello, Julie," Richard said. "What a nice surprise."
Julie said nothing; it was all she could do to remain standing. Singer continued to growl, his lips curling up to reveal his teeth. Edna stopped in midsentence. "Oh, you two know each other?" she inquired.
"You could say that," Richard said. "Isn't that right, Julie?"
Julie tried to steady herself. You . . . bastard, she thought. How did you know I'd be here? How did you know?
"Hey, Julie, what's with Singer?" Edna asked. "Why's he acting so upset?"
Before she could answer, Richard glanced toward Edna.
"Edna-did you bring the information about the dimensions of the lots like I asked? And the prices? I think I should take a look at the prospectus while I'm out here."
At the word prices, Edna's eyes lit up.
"Of course I did. It's all in the car," she said. "Let me go get it. I'm sure you'll be pleased-they're very reasonably priced. I'll be back in just a few minutes."
"Take your time," he said, shrugging. "I'm in no hurry."
A moment later she was tottering toward the path, like a bowling pin about to fall. When she was gone, Richard turned his smile on Julie.
"You look wonderful," he said. "I've missed you. How've you been?"
It was then that Julie realized with a sudden, sinking urgency that they were alone, and the realization was enough to jolt her to her senses. She took a step backward, thanking God in heaven that Singer was between them.
"What are you doing here, Richard?"
Richard shrugged, as if he'd known she would ask. "It's a great investment. I'm thinking that this might be a good place for me to put down some roots. A man needs a place to call home, and this way, we could be neighbors."
Julie paled.
He smiled. "Would you like that, Julie? Me living right next to you? . . . No? Then maybe I just wanted to talk to you. You changed your phone number, you won't go anywhere alone. What else could I do?"
She backed away another step; Singer stayed in place, as if daring Richard to approach her, his rear legs shaking as if ready to pounce.
"I don't want to talk to you," she said, hating her plaintive tone. "Why can't you get that through your head?"
"Don't you remember our dates?" Richard said, his voice soft. He looked almost wistful, and the whole scene suddenly struck Julie as surreal. "Our time together was special. Why don't you want to admit that?"
"There's nothing to admit." She took another step away.
"Why are you acting this way?" He sounded wounded, puzzled. "Mike's not here now-it's just us."
Julie's eyes darted sideways, to the entrance of the path. Time to get out of here.
"If you make one move toward me or try to follow me, I'll scream-and this time, I won't pull Singer off."
He offered a gentle smile, as if patiently trying to explain something to a child.
"There's no reason to be scared. You know I'd never hurt you. I love you."
She blinked. He loves me?
"What the hell are you talking about?" she finally said, the words coming out with more force than she'd anticipated.
"I love you," he said again. "And we can start over now. We'll go to the theater again-I know you liked that. Or if you don't want to do that, we can go anywhere you want. It doesn't matter. And we'll just chalk up this infatuation with Mike as a mistake, okay? I forgive you."
As he spoke, Julie continued backing away, her eyes growing wider with every word. But it wasn't simply his words that scared her, it was the look of utter sincerity on his face.
He gave a sly smile. "I'll bet that you haven't even told him that you let me spend the night at your house. How do you think he'd feel about that?"
His words struck her with almost physical force. Richard saw her reaction and, seeing that he was right, held out his hand.
"Now come on, let's go someplace quiet and get a bite to eat."
Julie backed away, stumbling on an exposed root and almost losing her balance. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she hissed.
"Don't be this way. Please. I'll make you happy, Jessica."
For a second, Julie wondered if she had heard Richard correctly, but she knew she had.
"You . . . are . . . insane," she sputtered.
This time, her words stopped him.
"You shouldn't say that," Richard said, his voice acquiring an ugly edge. "You shouldn't say things you don't mean."
From the corner of her eye, Julie saw Edna reentering the clearing again.
"I'm coming," she called out cheerfully. "I'm coming. . . ."
Richard was still staring at Julie when Edna reached them. She looked from one to the other.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
Richard finally turned away from Julie's gaze. "No," he said, "not at all. We were just trying to figure out how many homes there might eventually be. I think Julie likes her privacy."
Julie barely heard him answer. "I've got to go," she said suddenly, starting to back away again.
Richard smiled. "Bye, Julie. See you around."
Julie turned and started out of the clearing. Singer stayed for a moment as if making sure Richard wouldn't follow, then went after her.
Once out of their sight, she started to run, then began running faster. She crashed through branches along the path, her breath heavy and fast. She fell once and got up quickly, ignoring the pain in her knee. Hearing noise, she glanced behind her; there was no sign of Richard behind her. She started to run again, forcing her legs to keep moving, feeling the branches sting her face as she plowed ahead. Almost there, she prayed, almost there. . . .
Minutes later, she was choking back tears when Mike entered the house. He held her while she cried. After telling him what had happened, she finally gathered her senses enough to ask why he was home so soon.
Mike's face had gone white. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper.
"My lawyer wasn't the one who left the message."
Thirty
Officer Jennifer Romanello was seated at the kitchen table half an hour later, her eyes on Julie as she recounted her story.
It hadn't taken long for Julie to tell her everything. Though the words were important, it was the look on Julie's face that confirmed she was telling the truth. Despite the outer calm she was trying to maintain, it was clear she was pretty much a wreck. Even Jennifer got a major case of the willies; goose pimples rose on her skin when Julie recounted how Richard had called her Jessica.
"I don't like the sound of this," she said when Julie was finished.
Though she knew it was an understatement worthy of someone with Pete Gandy's intelligence, what else was she supposed to say? Holy cow! Buy a gun and lock the doors-this guy's a nut! Mike and Julie were so shaken, they needed someone to keep her cool. Besides, it's exactly what her dad would have said. Her dad was the master at keeping people calm in tense situations. He always said it was the single most important thing an officer could do if he wanted to live long enough to draw a pension.
"What do we do?" Mike asked.
"I'm not sure yet," Jennifer said. "But can I go over a couple of things again, just to make certain I have them right?"
Julie was vacantly chewing on her nails, thinking about the one part of the story she'd left out.
I'll bet that you haven't even told him that you let me spend the night at your house. How do you think he'd feel about that?
Mike probably wouldn't care, since nothing happened. It wasn't anything like Sarah had done to him. And it wasn't important to the story, right? So why couldn't she say it?
Lost in thought, she didn't realize at first that Jennifer had just asked a question.
"Do you have any idea how he knew you were out there?" Jennifer repeated.
"No," she said.
"But he was there before you were?"
"I guess he rode with Edna. I don't know how long he was there, but he definitely arrived before I got there. I saw her car by the side of the road, and I didn't see them walking in."
Jennifer turned to Mike. "And you thought you had a meeting with your lawyer?" she asked.
"There was a message at the garage that I was supposed to meet him at five. One of the other guys at the garage took the message, but when I got to the lawyer's office, he didn't seem to know anything about a meeting, so I came straight to Julie's."
Mike looked almost sick. And angry.
Jennifer turned to Julie again. "Can I ask why you went out there in the first place?"
"I'm a twit," Julie mumbled.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing." She took a deep breath. "I hadn't seen or heard from Richard in a week, and I guess I hoped it was over."
"I don't think that you should do that in the future. Public places are fine, but try to avoid places where he might find you alone, okay?"
Julie snorted. "I don't think you have to worry about that anymore."
"And what do you know about Jessica?"
"Nothing, really. He said he was married to her for a few years and that it didn't work out. He didn't say any more than that. We never talked about her."
"And he's from Denver?"
"That's what he told me."
"And again, he didn't threaten you specifically?"
"No. But he didn't have to say anything. He's crazy."
No argument there, Jennifer thought. Sounds crazy to me.
"And he's never suggested what he might do next?" Jennifer asked.