The Green-Eyed Doll (18 page)

“You go. I’ll pull the cart up front.” Susan grabbed the handles and deftly rolled the heavy load of supplies up the ramp. “If it’s a customer, seat them in my office.”

Catherine hurried when the impatient visitor hit the buzzer again. Peering through the glass door, the mailman had his finger poised when Catherine flipped the lock. He pushed the door open then passed her a couple of envelopes and a small box.

“Thanks. I’m running behind today.” He turned and jogged back to his Jeep.

Catherine glanced at the package. She tossed the mail on a table and ran into the parking lot waving the box in the air. “Wait,” she yelled. “Where did you get this?”

“It was there on the steps when I drove up.” He waved and drove off.

Catherine stood staring at the street. The package had her name printed on it. The urge to throw the damn thing or to stomp it to smithereens was overwhelming. Scanning the horizon, she looked for anyone watching.

“Damn you,” she exploded. “Come face me.” Who was doing this? Did he hide and watch? Hope for some kind of reaction? Her heart rate shot up, a rocket climbing into the stratosphere. Fury blurred her vision, darkness swirled and closed in, a nightmare she wanted to wake up from but couldn’t.

A cool hand touched her arm. She dropped the box, screamed, and whirled around. She delivered a blow to the chest with the heel of her hand.

Steve Abbott stumbled backward, his eyes and mouth open wide. His arms flailed like windmill blades for balance.

Susan rushed down the steps and got between them. “What happened?” Her gaze swung from Catherine, crouched and ready to strike again, to Steve who clutched his chest, his face distorted in fear. When he’d gathered his feet under him, he stared at her as if she were crazy.

“She hit me.” Steve’s lips thinned and his pale face went paler than usual. “She was out here yelling at the sky. I ran out to see what was wrong.” Steve glared at Catherine, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and turned away. “I won’t do it again.”

“Wait. Please.” Catherine took a tentative step in his direction. God, could things get any worse?

“I’ll be in the back if you need me.” Steve kept his gaze and comment directed at Susan.

“Steve, I’m sorry.” Catherine found herself talking to his back while he went inside.

“You’re acting crazy. Are you ill?” Susan put her hand on Catherine’s forehead.

“I’m upset, frightened, furious, all of those things. He startled me.” Catherine retrieved the box, following Susan to her office. “This wasn’t mailed. My name’s hand printed on the top.”

“Your stalker left this?” Susan’s face paled.

“On the front steps. Sneaky bastard must’ve dropped it off while we were in the back.” Catherine’s efforts to sound unafraid and flippant came out flat. She stopped. “God, I must sound insane.” She plopped the small package on the desk and dusted her hands.

“You’re a wreck. I’m calling the sheriff.”

“I’m mad as hell and scared of my own shadow, but I’m not a wreck.”

Susan pushed Catherine into a side room and onto a beige leather couch. “Sit. Rest. Humor me.”

Catherine sat alone in the small area used for family privacy. Whoever left the box had a lot of nerve to deliver it in broad daylight. Who was playing games at her expense? A memory slipped past her guard and an old fear clawed its way to the surface. Being afraid of the dark, afraid to walk to her car in a parking lot, afraid to go to sleep for fear of waking to find a hand on her throat—all those past remembrances sent her heart pounding painfully against her chest. Not again. She lowered her head and closed her eyes.

The wave of pain in her heart was crushing. Time to move on had arrived faster than she wanted. She’d allowed herself to believe she’d found a place to rest for a while. Perhaps it wasn’t to be.

****

Thursday, August 24th, noon

For a second time, Matt found himself racing across town, fear eating at his insides, while he pushed the cruiser’s speed as high as he dared. Even though Susan had assured him Catherine was okay, he needed to see for himself. He slid into a parking spot and bounded up the steps to the funeral home. Susan met him at the door.

“Catherine?”

“She’s in the family room.” Susan pointed down the hall.

Matt didn’t hesitate. In three strides, he’d opened the door and found Catherine looking like a lost child. He knelt in front of her, pulling her into his arms.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispered into his chest.

“Trust me. I’ll be there when you need me.” Matt leaned back, cupping her face with his hand. “You all right?”

“I’m not as fragile as you might think.”

The tremble he heard in her voice spread to a full body shiver. He covered her mouth with his. A warm, you’re-all-right-now kiss. He stroked her back until she settled.

“I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t and he knew it. He buried his face in her hair, his mind a jumble of anger and fear. He wanted her stalker in his grasp so badly his palms burned.

“Well, I’m not. When were you planning on telling me the rest?” Matt reached back and closed the door, never taking his gaze off Catherine.

Her eyes widened. She stared at him. Dammit. He saw fear.

“The rest?”

“What’s this about a fourth package? My count is three, unless you kept one from me. Did you?” He swallowed, needing to temper his cop’s voice, because her back had stiffened at his tone.

“So what if I did? There’s nothing you can do. How do you catch an invisible man? Stake out my home? My job? Assign a deputy to follow me around? No? Then what difference does it make?”

“The difference is keeping secrets.” He held a finger up to silence her protest. “I understand you can’t or won’t talk to me about certain parts of your life. But in this case keeping quiet is dangerous.” He ran that same finger down her jaw, trying to relax her. “I thought we’d established you could trust me. Secrets can ruin a relationship. Bury it alive. And if I have to explain...we haven’t connected like I thought we had.”

He sat back on his heels and waited. A myriad of emotions played across her face.

“There’s something I need to...”

A knock on the door ended their conversation. Susan stuck her head inside.

“I come bearing food and drink.”

“By all means, come in,” Catherine said.

“Where’s the box?” Matt couldn’t work up any interest in food.

“On Susan’s desk.”

“Let’s take a look.”

He wrapped his arm around Catherine’s waist, pleased that she leaned against him as they followed Susan down the hall to the main office.

“There.” Catherine pointed. “The mailman’s and my fingerprints are on it.”

“Anyone else touch it?” His gaze landed on Susan.

“Give me a little credit,” she said, setting down the tray of coffee and cookies. “I watch Criminal Minds.” She stopped at the door on her way out. “Take all the time you need. I’d better check on Steve.”

Matt’s eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong with Steve?”

****

“I sort of hit him.” Catherine’s mind replayed the surprised and angry look on Steve’s face.

“Sort of? As in you struck him?” Matt’s blue eyes shaded with confusion. His hand went to his temple and pressed.

“Do you have a headache?” Catherine tasted a cookie. Vanilla and almond flooded the inside of her mouth. All of a sudden, she was starving.

“Don’t change the subject. Did Steve provoke you?”

“No. He surprised me, and I tapped him on his chest. Scared both of us.”

“Tapped him? I’d hate for him to file assault charges.” Matt carefully removed the paper and box lid. With a low growl, he lay out a pair of pink lace panties and a picture of a tattoo of a woman’s lips.

“This is sick and getting sicker by the minute.” Catherine’s appetite vanished, and she tossed the unfinished cookie in the trash. “He’s sending me a message, isn’t he?”

“This is his way of being intimate,” Matt answered.

His statement hit her with the force of a right cross. Beginning now, she’d look at every man she met with questioning eyes. Until this stopped, she’d have no peace. Her efforts at not giving this stalker the upper hand slipped away. Chills raced up her arms. She paced, scrubbing at the goose bumps with her fingertips.

“I’ve read stories where these weirdo’s get more and more aggressive. Then they turn violent. Is this where he’s headed? Maybe it’s time I packed up and moved on.”

The words had popped out of her mouth. Instantly, she wanted to erase them. That she’d slipped back into her old behavior of running when things got the least bit sticky, surprised her.

The air left the room in a whoosh, silence roared in her ears. She felt his gaze, hot on her skin. Not one sound was made. She used to pretend she was invisible, now she wished for the ability in earnest. It was too late to salvage the moment.

Catherine sank down in the chair and studied her feet. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Running’s a reasonable reaction. But the idea of packing up and leaving, it rolled off your tongue with no effort. I think the thought has crossed your mind before. To be honest, it surprises me.”

“That’s me, okay? I’m full of surprises.” Her joke fell flat. She raised her head and met his gaze. Disappointment, blended with pain, darkened his eyes. Did the thought of losing her hurt? A flutter shot through her heart. She couldn’t allow herself to care too much. Moving on wasn’t a topic she wanted to consider, but it remained a viable option. “There’s not much chance of catching this jerk. Is there?”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try. You can help. I need you to think. Anything unusual happen lately? Anyone make you uncomfortable?”

She thought back over the past few days. Took him through her movements and told him about seeing JC. Not a glimmer of a smile crossed his face. “Steve’s not mad at me. I don’t think. And JC’s worried because you believe he’s capable of killing someone.”

“We’re all capable. Some of us control our urges. Others are criminals.”

Her heart imploded. She shouldn’t have been surprised by his comment. His strong belief in the law made him who he was.

“Other than Vince, anyone paying extra attention to you?”

“Just you.” She went back to studying her feet.

“I’ll send the box and picture to the lab. What was the third gift?”

“A pink diary and a picture of a man’s torso. The picture was signed, ‘Think of me.’”

“You should’ve called. When did you get the damn thing?”

“The day you hunted Julia until late. You were tired. I couldn’t disturb you.”

“You should’ve called,” he repeated, moving to stand beside her, his hand gripped her shoulder. “Look at me. You have to be extra careful.”

“I am. Every minute of the day. Maybe I need to sleep with the lights on. I’ll step up my exercise, concentrate on my self-defense moves. Come to think of it, I’ll stop on the way home and pick up some cheap weights. The cans of corn I’m using aren’t heavy enough.” She clamped her jaw shut to stop her babbling.

Matt slid his hand under her hair and massaged her neck. His fingers found a knot and bore down. “There’s one other thing you could do.”

“Hmm.” Her head lolled forward.
Please God, don’t let him bring up a gun. Not again.
“What’s that?”

“You could stay at my place.”

“What?” She whipped her head around. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m not?” He continued to apply pressure. His fingers dug deeper until the tension eased.

“I can’t.” Her nerves did that melting action again when he smiled. She fought to keep from stammering. “Besides, how would that make me safer?”

“Only a limited number of people would know you were there. Plus, there’s the bonus of me being around occasionally.”

“Thank you for asking, but I can’t.”

****

Matt opened the door and asked Susan for a paper sack while he considered what he’d done. Had he asked Catherine to move in with him? What if she’d said yes? His libido was doing his thinking for him. She’d been in his thoughts constantly since Monday night. Her raw passion and wide-eyed excitement at rediscovering her own sexuality had dominated his mind. But to ask her to move in?

“Then let me have your air conditioner fixed. At least you could keep your windows rolled up.”

“We’ve talked about this. He’s not going to stop because my windows are up. Is he?”

He wouldn’t lie to her. “No. I don’t think so. You should fill out a complaint. All these unwanted gifts should be on record.”

“You know about them and that’s enough.”

Matt bagged the latest gift and kissed his stubborn woman goodbye. Her refusal to file a complaint or walk inside a courthouse bugged the crap out of him.

The idea of googling Catherine sounded better all the time. Her lack of trust hurt like hell.

Chapter Fourteen

Thursday, August 24th, 3:00 p.m.

Matt recognized the sleek, convertible sports car parked in the reserved slot. Disappointment and relief warred for position. He’d missed Ash’s arrival, but Matt’s questions for ex-con Mel Hamilton took precedence.

“When’d Ash get here?” Matt asked while Jake descended the steps of the courthouse.

“Over an hour ago.” Jake’s normally stoic face wore the grin of a kid at a surprise party. “I damn near missed him.”

“Was it sweet?”

“Nothing like you expected. He must’ve figured something was up, because he never missed a step. Grabbed Sue up and hugged her like they were long lost relatives.”

“Should’ve known. It’s hard to run a game on him.”

“He’s set up in the conference room off your office with all the evidence. He wanted to get started. What’d you think about Hamilton?”

“I don’t make him for causing trouble. Period. Mel’s trying hard to please his new bride. Why else would he agree to live and work on her daddy’s ranch?”

“Did you meet her?” Jake’s grin took on a salacious cast.

“I did. Ash’s been here an hour, and he’s already turned you into a dirty old man.”

“That woman’s reason enough to stay out of trouble.” Jake glanced over his shoulder as if afraid someone overheard.