To Love and Protect (29 page)

"Thanks, Joan."

"Don't thank me. Just know that we're all here for you."

Shelley smiled and Joan quickly followed suit, but her eyes remained heavy. In some ways she seemed as stressed as Shelley, but then again, everyone at the clinic had been feeling the weight of Shelley's stalker dilemma these days. It was too close-knit of a group not to react to her situation.

Matt's SUV was in Shelley's driveway when she pulled in a little while later.

"I picked up a couple of movies for you on the way over," she said as they got out of their vehicles.

"Really?" he asked, breaking into a grin. "You did that?"

"Don't look so surprised. I
can
do nice things, you know."

Matt's face softened. "Believe me, I know. So what did you get me?"

Shelley pulled the DVDs out from under her arm. "Let's see. A three-hour romantic drama and..."

"No you didn't."

She laughed. "All right. I got you some Bruce Willis shoot-em-all-up thing and a Jackie Chan  karate-kick-em-all-up thing."

"What do you think I am, some kind of weapons freak or something?"

"Yup.”

He grinned. "Actually, those are just the kind of movies I like."

Shelley smiled back. "Surprise, surprise."

He walked over closer, her heart quickening with each step. "Thanks. That was really sweet of you."

"You're welcome−" Shelley stopped in mid-sentence and gasped. "What did you just say?" 

Matt looked puzzled. "I said, 'Thanks. That was sweet of you.'"

"Oh my God."

Matt now looked downright dumbfounded. "I didn't mean it in a bad way …"

“It's not that," she said breathlessly. “I think I know who's been threatening me all along."

“You do?"

“Yes − and it's not Geri!"

FIFTEEN

Shelley grabbed the sleeve of Matt's shirt to pull him towards the house, then quickly apologized for tugging on his still-healing body.

"Can you call the station and ask them do a background check on someone?"

"Sure. Let's go − I'll call inside."

Fifteen minutes later, Matt put down the phone and turned to Shelley. "Unbelievable," he said slowly. "I think you're right."

Shelley sat on the edge of the couch, the dogs anxiously pacing at her feet as if absorbing her nervous tension. They certainly had a lot of practice with that lately, she thought. "So what do we do now?"  

"Sergeant Rinaldi's meeting us at the clinic."

Shelley jumped from the couch as though a loaded spring were sewn into the bottom of her pants. Matt caught her arm, and the jolt of his grip brought her to a standstill. She looked into his eyes, her earlier determination to steer clear of further closeness melting away with his gaze. As he pulled her against him, she felt powerless to resist. Their kiss, hungry yet anything but rushed, left her limp as a ragdoll in his arms.

“What are you doing,” she said quietly, her mixed emotions conveyed in the hesitant tone of voice.

“Kissing the woman I love,” Matt said softly, refusing to loosen his grip around her.

“No − I can’t …”

“I think you just did.”

She closed her eyes, feeling almost unsteady on her feet. “You know what I mean.”

Matt sighed. “Like I’ve said before – you’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

“This isn’t about me being stubborn–”

Matt silenced her with a kiss, this one even longer and deeper than the first. 

It took several moments to regain her breath. “Wait, you can’t–”

“Let’s go,” he said, suddenly shifting gears. “Sergeant Rinaldi’s waiting for us.”

Slightly stunned by his changed demeanor, Shelley caught a flash of satisfaction in Matt’s eyes, and she knew it wasn’t just from their kiss. If he had been trying to point out that she was still crazy about him, then he succeeded with flying colors.

"Well, I'll be damned if your hunch wasn't right," Sergeant Rinaldi said as he stepped out of his car in the back parking lot of the clinic.

Shelley wasn't sure whether to be glad or further disillusioned. One just never knew what another person was really like inside, she thought. Or maybe some people just kept their inner demons better hidden than others.

"What are you going to do?" Shelley asked.

"Hold a cattle prod to her till she confesses," Sergeant Rinaldi said straight-faced.

"Dan...”

He chuckled. "Don't worry. I would never do something like that. I prefer to elicit confessions the old-fashioned way."

"I thought that
was
the old-fashioned way," Matt observed wryly.

"Yeah, but they made us stop that practice ten years ago."

Shelley couldn't be certain whether Sergeant Rinaldi was kidding or not, but she had greater concerns at the moment.

Joan looked up from a cage she was cleaning as the threesome entered the back room.

"Miss Evans?" Sergeant Rinaldi asked, gentlemanly as always.

She glanced at Shelley, then back to the sergeant. "Yes?"

"Could we speak to you for a moment in private?"

Joan dropped the plastic bag of shavings that she had been holding. Slowly, she stooped down to pick them up. "You want to talk to me?" she finally replied, her voice faltering slowly.

"Yes, M'am."

"I suppose if I must."

Matt closed the door behind them as they sat down in the break room.

"What's this all about?" Joan asked, pokerfaced.

"Do you remember what you said to me after I got off the phone this morning?" Shelley asked.

Joan shrugged slightly. "I think I said something about feeling bad that you found another threat written to you."

"Right.”

“And when you repeated it, you mentioned how the person who wrote it called me ‘Sweetie.’"

Joan's expressionless face still wasn't giving much away. "I was only repeating what Dave and Jack told me."

"That's just it," Shelley explained. "They
didn't
tell you the note called me Sweetie, because I didn't mention that part to them."

"Maybe you did, but you just forgot. I know what I heard."

"No," Shelley replied adamantly. "I think you know what you wrote."

Joan leaned back in her chair as if the extra three inches could put a significant distance between her and Shelley. "Are you accusing me of being the person who's been leaving you notes?"

Shelley turned to Sergeant Rinaldi, waiting for him to jump in with what he now knew.

"Does Krenshaw Psychriatic Hospital ring a bell with you?" he asked.

Joan's lower lip trembled. "It might."

Sergeant Rinaldi pulled a slip of folded paper from his pocket, then opened it up. "Says here you were a patient from July 2008 to January 2010." He looked up. "Is that so?"

"Where did you get that?" Joan asked, her voice rising.

Matt reached over and rested his hand on Shelley's leg. Up to this point she had been holding her breath, but now she nearly choked as she released her lungs.

"This little ol’ thing called a computer. In fact, it spit out quite a few interesting tidbits. Would you like to hear some of them?" Without giving Joan a chance to answer, Sergeant Rinaldi looked back down at the paper and continued. "Your son, Mark, was killed during an armed robbery in Fairfax two and a half years ago."

Joan let out a wounded cry, dropping her arms to the table and momentarily burying her head.

"Miss Evans," Sergeant Rinaldi continued softly. "It's not my intention to add to your pain by saying these things. But I have reason to believe you're responsible for some very serious actions."

An eerie silence filled the room as Joan struggled to compose herself and Sergeant Rinaldi allowed a few more moments to pass before continuing. "Your husband, Ralph. He took your son's death hard."

Joan nodded. Sergeant Rinaldi's non-confrontational approach to the questioning seemed to be working in his favor.

"He couldn't accept Mark's death," Joan said hoarsely. "I told him to go talk to someone about it, but he was a proud man. Mark was our only child."

A few more moments passed in silence.

"So he took his own life," Sergeant Rinaldi said gently.

Joan choked on her tears. "He shot himself. I found him in the bathroom, his head blown to bits−"

She stopped, then turned to Shelley with a fierce glare that made Darth Vadar seem on par with the Pillsbury doughboy. "Do you know what it's like to find your husband's brains splattered on the wall?" she raged.

Matt tightened his hold on Shelley's knee as she trembled. She felt the room move around her, with Joan's deathly stare in magnified focus. "No," Shelley said, her voice shaking as she tried hard to push down her own rage that was building. "I don't. When my husband was shot and killed by your son, he was left to die alone on the sidewalk."

Joan pushed her chair back and stood up from the table. Her five-foot stature suddenly seemed six-foot-plus. "My son was a good person! I know he got in with the wrong kids and got into some trouble, but he wasn't a murderer! He wouldn't have shot your husband first! He was just acting in self-defense, and your husband killed him!"

"I can't listen to this," Shelley said numbly as she tried to get up from her chair and stumbled back. Matt jumped up and held onto her. "Why?" she finally whispered as she dared herself to look back at Joan. "Why would you do this?"

Joan was wide-eye with fury, but her voice was an icy controlled whisper. "Because I wanted you to suffer like I've suffered ever since the day your husband killed my son."

"Don't you think she suffered enough?" Matt said angrily, his eyes equally fierce.

"Matt," Sergeant Rinaldi began. "Why don't you take Shelley outside and let her get some air. I'll finish up questioning Miss Evans."

Joan collapsed back into her chair. "I wasn't going to hurt her," she mumbled to no one in particular. "I just wanted her life to be turned upside down for a while like mine has been."

"Come on, Shelley," Matt said gently as he led her out of the room and into the back parking lot.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," she said as she clutched her stomach outside. Only the chill autumn wind kept her from melting under the pressure of the earlier revelations.

"It's okay," he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug.

"Maybe you don't want to be this close to me right now," Shelley joked weakly as she felt the blood drain further from her already ashen face.

"Too bad. You're stuck with me."

"I don't know how it went this far without my realizing Joan was behind everything."