RAINEY DAYS (4 page)

She pulled into the driveway, but did not follow it around the house. She made another note on the pad to ask if the Wilson’s had an outdoor dog. If they did not, she would recommend they get a big one, with a loud, intimidating bark. That was usually enough to scare off all but the most serious kinds of criminals. The serious criminals knew how to get around the dog, the alarm and most any other deterrents, because they were patient. Patient and cunning criminals were the most dangerous. They waited, planned, and struck at the optimum time of their choosing. She hoped the guy tracking JW’s wife was not one of them, as she backed out of the driveway.

The next address was a Literacy Center in downtown Durham. JW noted that Katie spent most of her evenings at the Center, teaching reading. Rainey could not believe JW let his wife go alone to the run down area of Durham, where the Center was located. It took her about twenty minutes to get there from JW’s house. When she pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall, she found the Center occupying an old furniture store on the end.

Trash flew around the parking lot. The street lamps all appeared to have been shot out. Teenagers and old men hung out in front of the few open stores. The liquor store on the other end of the strip seemed to have the most loiterers. The place gave Rainey the creeps, and she was armed. She had a newfound respect for any woman who would venture down here at night, alone. Katie Wilson must be a saint to risk her life, in a place like this, to help other people learn to read. Rainey made another note; this one to ask JW to make sure Katie carried mace with her all the time, especially when she came to the Literacy Center.

There were a few more addresses on her list. Mostly where Katie shopped for groceries, the doctors’ offices they went to, the malls and stores she liked to visit, and JW’s office in Raleigh. She checked the time on the car dashboard and decided she would visit some of them tomorrow while Mrs. Wilson led her minions in their pursuit of knowledge. Right now, she thought she should head back to the school and get a parking place before the parents descended on the area, blocking every outlet.

She arrived at the school just before the onslaught of over protective, frenzied, yuppie moms’ arrival. Rainey watched as children poured out of every exit in her view. They were all dressed in the school uniform of white polo or short-sleeved shirts and blue shorts or skirts. She watched them scamper across the grass until a blonde teacher caught her eye. It was Mrs. Wilson waving goodbye and granting last minute hugs to students. Rainey was not sure what grade she taught, but judging by the variety of the student’s ages, Mrs. Wilson was beloved by all.

Katie Wilson looked as fresh as she would have when the morning bell rang. She was much more striking in person than the photographs Rainey had seen. Katie’s light ash-blonde hair glistened with sun bleached highlights of almost white. She was tanned, but not unnaturally so. She wore a simple cotton dress that was patterned after the bib overalls train engineers used to wear, gathered at the waist, with a white tank top underneath. Rainey was sure the designer had Katie in mind when it was created. It hung on her body in just the right way, accenting her long, thinly muscular, arms and legs. It was a conservative dress, but on Katie, the simple seemed to match her natural beauty, making conservative sexy, in a way Rainey had never thought of.

Rainey watched as Katie reentered the school and then called Ernie back at the office. A package containing the original notes and pictures had been delivered from JW’s office. Rainey asked Ernie to scan the contents and email it to her, and then asked her to lock the package in the office safe. After hanging up with Ernie, she gave her time to scan the documents, using the time to scan the horizon for anything unusual. After a few minutes, Rainey checked her email and read the notes from the stalker.

The notes appeared to have all been typed on regular computer paper, just a single line across the middle of the page. Someone had hand-written dates, in the top right corner of each note. The notes had begun in late January, arriving once a month after that. The language was not outwardly threatening, just creepy, at first glance. The January note simply said, “Do you realize how lucky you are?” A note like this would have probably been dismissed and thrown away had it not accompanied a picture of Katie lying in a hospital bed. JW had mentioned an accident and losing a child. The picture had obviously been taken by someone in the room with her. If it was not JW behind the camera, Rainey could see why this correspondence had gotten his attention.

The note dated February twenty-second asked, “Do you believe in fate?” The picture with this one was of Katie inside the Literacy Center, leaning over a young Hispanic boy, pointing at something on the page of the book in front of him. This time Rainey could tell the picture had been taken through the front window of the Center, because the dust on the storefront glass distorted the image slightly. It had been taken at night. The picture in March showed Katie in what Rainey surmised must be the backyard of her home, judging by the familiar shrubs in the background. The attending note asked another question, “Should one laugh in the face of providence?” This guy was warming up to something, but Rainey was not sure where he was going with the questioning.

The note from April was more alarming, due to it indicating possible thoughts of action. The single line read, “Is a second chance worth taking?” This time, in the picture, Katie was standing outside of her car with two bags of groceries perched precariously, in one arm, while she fumbled with her keyless remote. The expression on Katie’s face made Rainey laugh. She quickly looked at the next month’s picture, which captured Katie alone on an isolated beach, her pants rolled up, carrying her tennis shoes in one hand and a bucket in the other. She appeared to be looking for shells, as the ocean wind whipped her light blue jacket out like a cape behind her. The note with this picture wanted to know, “Is it not a matter of fate rather than choice?”

Rainey was beginning to see a pattern in the wording of the notes. All of the questions contained words like luck, chance, destiny or fate. The stalker believed something must be done; it was out of his control. He was bound by fate, but to do what? The latest note was dated just two weeks ago, June twenty-fifth, which happened to be Rainey’s birthday. The picture was unsettling in itself. Rainey must have overlooked it when she had gone through the envelope earlier. The angle of view suggested the person holding the camera had gotten very close to a sleeping Katie, lying on a lounge chair, wearing a black one piece bathing suit. An open book lay across her chest, her eyes covered by large dark sunglasses. She looked so vulnerable and absolutely stunning as she lay there, not suspecting that evil was so nearby.

Then Rainey read the last note. “Is it now the time when destiny is ours to hold?” A cold shiver crept up her spine. It was a primitive warning sign Rainey had grown to trust. This guy was probably going to make his move soon. JW had a right to be concerned. The stalker might only be getting his nerve up to bring Katie flowers, or innocently introduce himself as an admirer, and simply disappear back into the woodwork. All this talk about fate and destiny indicated he felt he had been given a quest. Rainey knew he could not stop himself; he had to complete the task. His psychosis would prevent him from veering off course; it was driving him toward his goal, pushing him like a steam engine and soon it would blow.

Movement in the parking lot, in front of the school, broke her attention away from the computer screen. A woman opened the rear of her van, loading a heavy milk crate full of what looked like papers the poor woman would probably have to grade tonight. As she shut the van’s rear door, she turned to wave at someone coming out of the school. It was Katie, with a large purse hanging from her right shoulder and a canvas bag dangling from the other hand, also stuffed with papers. Mrs. Wilson appeared to have a long night ahead of her as well. Rainey cranked her car and prepared to trail Katie, moving slowly out of her observation spot toward the main road. Katie climbed into her car and was on the move in seconds. Rainey pulled out two cars behind her and the stalking of the stalker began.

 

Rainey made mental notes of the vehicles around her as she followed the blue sedan through the late afternoon traffic. From the route Katie was taking, Rainey assumed that she was going home. Katie wound her way toward Franklin Street, through the throngs of students going to and from the University campus, which was located practically in her backyard. There was always the possibility that one of those crazed students had seen Katie around her house and taken a liking to her. Rainey would need to check the taller buildings, on this side of campus, to see if Katie’s house was viewable with a telephoto lens. The canopy of old growth trees made that unlikely, but the utility companies cut back growth at certain times of the year, opening holes where none had been before.

She was glancing up at the trees when her personal cell phone rang. She touched the hands free button on the rearview mirror and answered, “Rainey Bell.”

“Fine. I’m following Mrs. Wilson home right now,” Rainey said, while stopping to allow a car to back out of a driveway in front of her. Since she knew where Katie was going, she decided to blend back into the traffic, to avoid being noticed. There were plenty of black Chargers on the road, but if one followed Katie everywhere, she would probably notice.

“That’s why I called you. Mr. Wilson would like your private cell phone number. I told him I could patch him through, but he wanted to call direct,” Ernie said, adding, “He’s a little paranoid, don’t you think?”

“Ernie, he’s a politician. They’re all paranoid,” Rainey said, laughing into the phone.

“Well, can he have your number?” Ernie asked.

Rainey kept her personal cell phone number a secret from all but her most trusted associates. Her business card listed the office number and no address. She did not have a landline in the cottage. Ernie set the business line to ring through to Rainey’s second cell, a business phone, when she left in the evenings. The business line had a permanent trap and trace put in place by the FBI, just in case the man who tried to kill her decided to call. Rainey wanted to be able to answer her private cell knowing it would not be him on the end of the line.

Rainey took other precautionary measures against that freak ever getting to her again. Besides the alarm systems, and the fact that she was always armed, Rainey had installed GPS locaters in her cell phones that Ernie could track on the office computer. Her car was Lojacked. Someone always knew her location. If Rainey could help it, she would never again feel the absolute aloneness of knowing that no one knew where she was. Rainey really wanted an implantable GPS for humans and would be the first to buy one, if the technology reached the consumer outside of the military. Of course, the technology existed; it was just too expensive for the average person.

All the property she owned, including her car, was in the business name, William Bell Enterprises. All her credit cards and bank accounts ran through the business. Her Social Security number was listed under Caroline Marie Herndon, and only a handful of people knew her by that name, since she had not used it in thirty years. She moved to Charlottesville, Virginia when she was eighteen and had not lived in the Chapel Hill area, until moving back last July. She gave Quantico as a forwarding address when she left Virginia. Rainey rarely saw anyone she knew, since she mostly chased criminals, and did not travel in the golf club circuit anymore.

If this guy wanted to find her, he would. She was not naïve enough to think he was finished. Rainey only hoped he had gotten caught doing something else, and was locked up or, better yet, dead. After the attack, he had simply stopped killing or moved far away. The Bureau kept a watch out for crimes matching his particular proclivities, but so far, the man who almost took her life had gone to ground.

“Yes, go ahead and give him the number,” Rainey said, although she felt uncomfortable doing it. “Make sure he understands he isn’t to give that number to anyone else.”

“Oh, I think he understands how private it is. I argued with him for fifteen minutes before I called you, but I’ll explain it again, in plain language even a politician could understand,” Ernie said sternly, gearing up for her next round with JW.

“Well, go easy on him. Don’t use big words,” Rainey said, teasing the older woman.

“Do you think he’ll understand if I tell him Mackie will hunt him down, if that number gets out?”

Rainey appreciated Ernie’s mother bear protectiveness. She smiled as she said, “Yeah, I think he’ll get that. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye,” Ernie said, just before the phone clicked off.

Rainey touched the hands free button, terminating the call and watched as Katie’s car turned into her driveway and disappeared around the house. At this time of day, there was a lot of foot traffic in the area. Frat houses, sorority houses, and rental properties were interspersed amongst the residences, making for a steady flow of people in and out of the neighborhood, until well into the evening. Rainey parked the car on the next street, deciding this would be a good time to explore on foot. No one would notice a woman with a camera taking pictures of the houses. It was a common occurrence on these picturesque streets.

The July heat had not released its grasp on the day. Even at five o’clock, it was eighty-eight degrees, but the weather on her laptop said it felt like ninety-four. The sweltering air hit her in the face, as if she had opened a broiler, instead of the car door. Deciding the jacket was just too hot; Rainey took it off and removed the shoulder holster. She took the Glock out of its holster and placed it in the side pocket of her camera bag. Her camera bag looked like a backpack, which would also allow her to blend in with the college crowd. The pad full of notes and a water bottle from the cooler went into the big zippered pocket. She put her personal cell phone back on her hip and dropped the business cell into the front of the bag. Finally ready, she stepped out on the brick walkway, and began her canvas of the block where JW and Katie Wilson lived, just as her phone rang.