This is the only place I want to be, she thought with a mixture of gratitude and despair. Her orgasm was so tight and hard Troy stopped breathing for a second. Then he slammed into her and pulsed with incredible power, making her come all over again.
They lay panting, clinging to each other. They were silent for a long time before Troy spoke. “That should help you sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” she said, gently stroking his back. “I just want this.”
“Do you now?” he asked with a chuckle. He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her again. “Sometimes you make me wonder if I have any control at all.”
“It seemed like you had plenty.”
“No, sweetheart. I definitely lost my head. Gracie, if we’re going to get ahead of this thing with the note, you’re going to have to be very brave. You’re going to have to get back some of that feisty girl. Like the little witch I met on Halloween night—full of attitude. You’re going to have to trust some people to help you.”
She was quiet for a moment. He had no idea how strong she’d had to be! Since she was just a little girl.
But then she remembered she had won the gold by being pissed off and single-minded. She had decided to give it everything she had. “You really haven’t seen me in action yet,” she finally said.
In the morning, they proceeded as planned. After showering and eating a light breakfast, Troy made sure she was secure in the shop behind locked doors. At midmorning, Seth rang the bell and she let him in.
“Well?” she asked.
“I hope you consider this good news because I do. Your stalker, Bruno, is safely monitored in a group home in Hillsboro County, Florida. He takes his meds and visits his sister regularly and has not been out of contact with his sponsors for even twenty-four hours since entering the group home. According to his sister, he has not had delusions about you for over a dozen years, thanks to his medication.”
“And that’s good news?” she asked. “Then who’s trying to drive me insane?”
“Easy, Grace. It’s a mean prank. But there was no threat.”
“What are you going to do about it?” she asked.
Seth frowned, she couldn’t miss it. “I’m going to be vigilant. I’m going to tell Gina, Carrie, Waylan and Dr. Grant that someone left an anonymous note that frightened you and we don’t know who or why. I’m going to ask them to watch for strange or suspicious persons. That’s about all I can do.”
“Can’t you do something more? Like check it for fingerprints or something?”
“No, Grace,” he said. “I know you feel vulnerable and I’m going to keep my eyes open for this joker, but there hasn’t been a crime. Your shop or residence hasn’t been broken into, no one has threatened you. I have no reason to think you’re in danger. I think you should be cautious and alert—definitely let me know if there’s further contact—but even though it’s suspicious and suggests a link to an old, resolved crime, at this point it’s nothing more than an innocuous note. In itself, the note isn’t even malicious. In fact, it could be a coincidence that the wording is the same.”
“It’s not a coincidence,” she said.
“Stick with the locked doors for the time being, all right?”
“And look over my shoulder a lot?” she asked.
“Look, Grace, when those notes were originally sent by your stalker he had a plan that put you in jeopardy. He hasn’t delivered this note. Do you have any reason to believe anyone means you harm?”
She thought for a moment before she shook her head.
“I think it’s mean, doing that to you. I’ll keep my eyes open. I’ll watch the shop when I’m in town. I’ll tell the other deputies to watch. But it just doesn’t follow that whoever did this wants to hurt you.”
“Of course you’re right,” she said. “But someone did do it to scare me. I can’t imagine why.”
“That’s the mystery, isn’t it?” he said. “You going to be all right?”
She shrugged. “I guess. I’m not going to let something like this beat me. It really pisses me off.”
“Good. It should. Call me if anything happens that worries you. Anything at all.”
“Thanks, Seth. I understand there’s nothing much more that can be done. I appreciate the time you put into this.”
He touched his forehead in a salute. “We’ll be on duty, Grace.”
When he left, she stepped out onto the sidewalk behind him. It was a sunny early April day, but the front of the shop wasn’t as exciting as usual. She hadn’t put out her sidewalk displays because some asshole had forced her in behind locked doors with a stupid little note. She turned, stomped back into the shop and dragged out her big wooden bunny for Easter. She cranked out her awning. Next, she pulled out a wicker basket filled with plastic daffodils and a sign that read Spring Sale! Then she unpacked her yellow, pink, mint-green and pale blue banner that read Easter Flowers! Order Now! She fixed it over the door. And finally she tore off the note over the doorbell.
Seth was right, she thought. It’s mean and creepy but it’s not an open threat. She would be cautious and safe. She refused to be insanely paranoid. If anyone crazy came at her, she’d beat him over the head with her ceramic tulip sculpture.
However, she did keep the back door locked, just to be sure.
* * *
Ray Anne painted her second bedroom, bought new linens for the bed and reupholstered the window cornices with matching fabric. She did it all herself, as she always had. Although she knew every handyman within a hundred-mile radius, she was also adept at home repairs and decorating. She knew how to hang wallpaper, install crown molding, replace wallboard and a dozen other things. In preparation for Ginger’s arrival, she removed all her clothes, shoes and purses from the closet in the guest room—she had used it for her overflow wardrobe.
There was a small bath and shower in her bedroom and a larger bathroom with tub and shower beside the guest room. She cleaned under the sink and stocked it with bath gels, bubble bath, scented soaps, lotions and sponges. She put candles on the back of the commode and on the side of the tub.
She was nervous as a cat, waiting for her Gingersnap. She didn’t know how she could help her get beyond this dark patch. How does anyone get past it? Poor Al had spent over thirty years trying to move beyond the death of his own baby son.
“I must have held on to that pain as stubbornly as an old bull,” Al told her.
Ginger was driving down from Portland on Monday. At noon she still hadn’t arrived and Ray Anne started to worry. She called her cousin and Dickie said she’d gotten an early start and should be there. Ginger didn’t answer her cell phone when her father called or when Ray Anne called. At two, just about the time Ray Anne was thinking of asking Seth to check with the state troopers to see if there’d been any accidents, Ginger pulled up in front of Ray Anne’s little house.
Ray Anne had seen Ginger four times in the months since the baby died. She hadn’t been looking good then. She wasn’t looking any better now. As Ray Anne walked toward Ginger, who was pulling her suitcase out of the trunk, she thought perhaps the girl was steadily deteriorating. She was far too thin, that was obvious even while she wore her coat. She was pale under her freckled complexion and her expression had become permanently downcast. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail; the beautiful strawberry blonde locks had gone dull and dark. She obviously hadn’t done a thing to it in months.
“There you are!” Ray Anne said cheerily. “I was starting to get worried!”
“I stopped to look at the ocean,” Ginger said.
“Well, of course! I should have thought of that! But now you’re here, let’s get your things inside.”
“I’ve got it,” Ginger said, snapping up the pull handle.
“Is that all you’ve got? One bag?”
“It’s all I need,” she said.
“Well, I guess you’ll be doing laundry then. Come on, let’s get you settled.” Ray Anne took the handle of the suitcase and pulled it up the walk and into the house. “I cleaned out the guest room and the bathroom, so it’s all yours. I put some pampering things in there for you—soaps, lotions, candles. Did you bring a hair dryer?”
“I don’t need one.”
No wonder her hair was so flat and thin looking. She must be washing it and letting it dry any which way. And she wasn’t using any product! “We can share mine. Or maybe we’ll get you a new one.”
“Really. I’m fine.”
“Right in here,” Ray Anne said briskly, pulling the suitcase into the newly painted and decorated bedroom. “Voilà!” she said, throwing an arm wide to showcase her decorating.
“Thanks,” Ginger said, not noticing how pretty it was. “I’ll just lay down for a while.”
“No, ma’am,” Ray Anne said, lifting the suitcase onto the bed. “We’re going to unpack, hang and put away your clothes.” She unzipped the suitcase and found the items inside had shifted because it wasn’t even full. Or maybe they hadn’t and Ginger had just haphazardly tossed them inside. She lifted out the first pair of wrinkled jeans. Then a second. Then a long-sleeved T-shirt. Then an old sweatshirt that she might have used when she painted something...years ago. And her underwear—pathetic.
“Oh, brother,” Ray Anne muttered.
Ginger just sat on the bed. She didn’t respond.
“Are we even related?” Ray Anne asked her. She lifted a dingy pair of granny panties and let them dangle from one finger. “Do we share any DNA at all?”
Ginger shrugged. “Just wasn’t a priority, Ray. Why bother?”
Ray Anne sat on the edge of the bed and took one of Ginger’s hands. “I’ll tell you why we bother. Because there are things you can do to try to get beyond devastating pain. They might be small, stupid things, but they actually help a little. Things like fixing yourself up so you look better than you feel. Getting out helps—you have to live in this world. Work helps. Meaningful work, if possible, and that’s something different for everyone, but keeping busy instead of lying in bed and making constant love to the hurt—that can help. Tell me something—are you taking anything?”
“Like what?”
“Like tranquilizers or antidepressants or anything?”
“Not anymore,” she said. “They weren’t working. And I kept thinking about swallowing the whole bottle.”
Ray Anne gasped. “Jesus,” she muttered. She wondered if she should hide all pills from Aspirin to hormones. And sharp objects. She stiffened her spine resolutely. “All right, I have to run a quick errand I put off while waiting for you to get here so you wouldn’t find me gone when you arrived. I want you to put away your clothes in this chest and the closet. Then put the empty suitcase in the closet. Do that before you lie down. From what your daddy tells me, you’ve perfected napping and I’m willing to bet you’re all caught up on sleep. I’ll be back in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“All right,” Ginger said, standing.
When Ginger hung her coat in the closet, Ray Anne noticed her jeans were sagging off her flat butt and her tennis shoes were beat-up. The girl was a complete mess. Her attire and body language were such a put off, holding back any well-intentioned person, it was as if she longed to go it alone and wallow in grief.
“Do you have my cell number?” Ray Anne asked.
“Probably,” she said.
“Where’s your phone?”
“I don’t know. Probably in my purse. It’s turned off.”
“Why is it turned off?”
Ginger flashed her an angry look. “Because no one’s going to call me! And there’s no one I want to talk to!”
“Is that so?” Ray Anne asked without flinching. “Well, your father and I were trying to reach you to see if you’d had a problem on your drive and we went straight to voice mail, worrying us even more. Now, I can understand if you’re avoiding calls, but is it either fair or kind to ignore people who love you and are concerned about you? If you want to do this to yourself forever, I don’t suppose anyone can convince you otherwise, but your parents suffered a painful loss, as well, and I don’t think they can deal with another one. I’m going to call them and tell them you arrived safely. Meanwhile, please turn on your phone. Charge it. Whatever. I’ll be back in twenty.”
Ray Anne, who never walked anywhere and was always seen in her little BMW, walked down the street, down the hill and into Carrie’s deli. Carrie and Rawley appeared to be cleaning up. Customer traffic was usually at its lowest in midafternoon, heaviest for lunch and dinner. When Ray Anne walked in, Rawley automatically disappeared into the kitchen in the back of the deli.
“Well, hello,” Carrie said.
“Call Lou and cancel dinner. Ginger just arrived and she’s not fit to go out.”
“Is she sick?” Carrie asked.
“She’s horribly depressed. She can barely speak. The only thing more depressing than her personality right now is her wardrobe. Apparently it feels better to dress in poorly fitting rags. It’s like sackcloth and ashes.” She shook her head in misery. “I should have listened to myself. I can’t help with this. She is way outside of my experience. I don’t know what to do with her.” She took a breath. “Can I please have a to-go dinner? Since we’re not able to go out?”
“Sure. Now tell me what happened.”
Ray Anne explained about Ginger’s gaunt appearance, horrible clothing, turned-off phone and so on. “I was already very sad for her and about the baby. Of course I held that baby—he was a perfect baby! But it’s been months and one look at her and you’d think it happened this morning. She’s in terrible pain. Just terrible.”
“She’ll have to work through it, Ray. Everyone’s grief time is different. Maybe you can get her into some kind of counseling or something.”
“We’ll look at that,” she said. “First, I have to clean her up and feed her.”
Carrie stood back from the deli case. Feeding people was her specialty. “What’s your pleasure?”
“Something with carbs. And a big salad for me. God knows, I don’t need fattening up. If my ass gets any bigger I won’t be able to stay up on these heels.”
Carrie laughed. “The chicken enchiladas are pretty irresistible. And I have some chips, salsa and guacamole.”
“Perfect. And a salad. I can eat a little Mexican food and plenty of salad and she can eat a lot of chips and enchiladas and a little salad. And listen. Would you ask Lou about counselors?”
“I can do better,” Carrie said. “When Ashley was on that downward spiral a couple of years ago, Lou found Gina a great counselor for Ashley. She specialized in young adults, but she might know someone to recommend for Ginger. Would you like me to ask Gina to give her a call?”
“Please,” Ray Anne said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince Ginger to go, but really—something has to be done to move forward. I don’t know what else to do. And her daddy is right—she hasn’t gotten any better.”
“What have you done so far?” Carrie asked as she dished dinner into containers.
“Not much. I told her she couldn’t take a nap until her clothes were unpacked and she’d better turn on her phone or else. And...” She looked down somewhat shyly.
“I bought some lotions and stuff for her bathroom. I always feel better if I’m a little nice to myself. Baby steps,” Ray Anne said.
Carrie smiled. “Just do what comes naturally to you, Ray. You’re not a professional grief counselor but you know a lot about managing your own grief. And you’re very sympathetic.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m trying not to mother Ginger, but I’m thirty years older than she is and even though I haven’t been a mother, it ki
nd of comes naturally.”
Carrie passed the food across the deli counter. “Be yourself. You’re a good woman and you love her.”
“I do love her. She was my little angel.” She dug around in her purse for money.
“Ah, on the house, Ray Anne. Tell her I’m sorry we’re not going out tonight, but this is my contribution.”
Eleven
Grace had always been capable of focus and discipline. She had amazing willpower and she thought with a clear head about what Seth had said. She reminded herself it was a note and not from the person who had threatened her fourteen years ago. She would be careful. Perhaps she’d be overly cautious for a while, but that was all right. She was not going to melt into a sniveling little girl.
In years past, when she was a teenager and the exhaustion or the other competitors or even her mother got the best of her, when she broke down, it got her nowhere. When that happened, when she cried, the abuse was even worse. The only thing that had ever worked for her was strength and grit. So she relied on that again. She focused on her abilities. She was small but very strong.
Troy was at the shop as soon as he was done with work. He had to knock on the back door because, feisty or not, she wasn’t an idiot.
“I called Coop and told him I couldn’t help at the bar this week because there’s stuff going on.”
“Let’s not do that,” she said. “Let’s not panic and run scared.”
He frowned. “You shook and had nightmares all night.”
“Yeah, I hope I don’t do that anymore. I’m much stronger and more sensible than that. Go help at the bar—I know how much you enjoy it. I think I’ll get something from Carrie to warm up for dinner. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll text or call you when I’ve closed the shop and gone upstairs. If you want to come by later, that’s okay, but really, you don’t have to. I think I’ll be fine. I’ll lock the back door and even slide a chair against it.”