Toss Up (The Toss Trilogy) (22 page)

She turned her back on him, slipped back into the living room, and closed the entryway door firmly behind her. The longer she thought about last night, the angrier she became.
At herself. At Jim. She wasn’t upset about the sex. That he had been driven by his own pain, had been less considerate, more rough than normal was not the issue—he hadn’t hurt her physically, despite the rage that had driven him. But the words he’d said as he turned away, the disgust in his eyes, and the way his voice had lashed at her… those things had left marks on her spirit. They had shredded her confidence in his love.

She refused to consider having him stay with her tonight. There were new locks on the doors—deadbolts. She and Tyler were safe.

Two hours later, Jim parked his truck on the East side of the shelter next to the kennel wing. If Sally happened to look over, she wouldn’t see it there, and the dogs would alert him if anyone came messing around. The frantic barking set off by his arrival didn’t worry him. Sally wasn’t likely to notice. It was early evening and the dogs barked every time a homebound commuter drove by on the road.

So here he was again. She’d tell him to leave if she knew, but he had to be here, regardless. He dumped a duffle on the reception counter and pulled out binoculars, a heavy metal flashlight and his service revolver. Leaving the flashlight where it lay, he pulled the comfortable purple chair from behind the desk over to the window and positioned a low table next to it. It would be a long, sleepless, and thankless night. Well, he’d earned it. Shrugging his shoulders, he moved behind the counter to the cabinets along the wall and started a pot of coffee brewing. She wouldn’t have him in her house, and he couldn’t blame her for that. He’d been worse than an idiot.

He picked up the binoculars and moved to the window to see if he could spot either Sally or Tyler. They were in the kitchen. Sally moved back and forth between the stove and counters. Tyler sat at the table with some books. He was looking from book to paper, pencil in hand, copying something.

Probably working on his math. I could help him, if I was there instead of here.
Jim sighed. No use dwelling on that.

The light began to fade as he sat watching the windows across the meadow. She might have loved him when she offered to marry him, but his behavior last night had destroyed any chance that she still did. Once again, he heard her voice through the door: ‘It’s safer than letting you in.’ His mouth compressed and he blinked, shaking his head at himself. Why didn’t I listen to her instead of jumping her like that?

The answer brought no comfort.
Because I didn’t believe her.
The about-face was too quick, too convenient. Since this afternoon, he’d given it a lot of thought, now that it was too late.

Three years ago, he’d chosen to be just a friend.
I meant it to be temporary.
But once Sally accepted him as friend, she’d simply ignored anything that didn’t mesh with that designation. Every nudge he gave her toward romance was ignored. He should have recognized what was happening. Sally could be incredibly single-minded and impervious to points of view other than her own. It was part of her strength and the root of her stubborn and headstrong ways. It’s why she could refuse to recognize she was being stalked.

B
ut it’s also why she picks herself up and goes on, time after time.

The first time he kissed her, he thought he’d made some headway at last. He should have realized she’d blame the effect on hormones instead of love. Leaning back in his chair, he let his body remember the feel of her yielding to him. He’d been felt so great the next morning… stealing a kiss and sure she was on her way to coming around. Damn it all, he wanted her. Feeling empty inside, he rose to pace the room, eyes trained on the house across the meadow.

Sally finished the dishes and glanced nervously out the window. It was dark. Tyler was still working on math at the kitchen table. She had decreed that homework was to be done tonight so he would have the rest of the holiday free. It sounded reasonable, but the truth was that she wanted him where she could see him. She walked to the back door and surreptitiously checked the locks. Then she went to the front door and did the same.

She turned on the lights in the living room, and drew the shades shut, checking to make sure there were no gaps. Walking down the hall to the bedrooms, she repeated the procedure. Back in the kitchen, she lowered the mini-blinds, angling them to block the view from outside. It should have made her feel better—no one could see in. Instead, she was uneasily aware that she could not see out.

She thought tonight would be better than last night’s sleepless fiasco, but it wasn’t turning out that way. Dead bolts or not, she was worried. She was alone and responsible for her son. She had to find a weapon of some kind. Once she had a way to protect him, just in case, she’d feel better.

She eyed the drawer that held cutlery—a knife under her pillow?

No. She didn’t think it was a good idea to choose something that might easily be used against her. Besides, the very idea of getting close enough to an intruder to use a knife gave her the willies.

Her eyes scanned the kitchen again, looking for inspiration.
A frying pan?

It was a classic choice, but hers were too lightweight to be effective.

A broom!

No, too unwieldy, but perhaps…

Glancing back at Tyler, who was still absorbed in his math, she walked to his room. There in the corner was her weapon. His baseball bat. Why hadn’t she thought of that right away? It, too, was a classic choice.

Quietly she removed the bat to her bedroom, laying it on the floor next to her bed.

Feeling more prepared, she returned to the kitchen.
Now what?

She could watch some television.

No, the sound of the set would interfere with her ability to hear what was going on outside the house.

She could cook something…but she hadn’t planned to, and didn’t r
eally feel like it anyway.

What was she thinking?
Her economics paper. She needed to work on that.

How could I have forgotten about my paper? That stupid stalker is really making a mess of my brain.

Going back into her bedroom, she hauled her books and notes to the kitchen table.
I should have brought the laptop home from the shelter. Tomorrow I’ll do that
. Tonight the old-fashioned way would work. And turning to a fresh sheet on her yellow legal pad, she began to write.

It wasn’t easy. Her brain wanted to spin in circles around the pro
blem of the stalker, but she persevered. Her heart tempted her to dwell on her troubles with Jim, but she refused. She worked steadily for hours, interrupting her writing only to brew more coffee and supervise Tyler’s bedtime routine. Once he was settled, she quietly retrieved the baseball bat from her bedside and brought it into the kitchen with her. She wished Jim was… No, they were secure. She was just nervous. Except for Tyler’s bedroom, every light in the house was on, and she meant to keep them that way. Maybe then she would sleep—unlike the night before.

Again and again she forced her mind back to the short and long term effects of unionization on the economy. Eventually, her brain began to cooperate. Words flew from pen to page and the only interruptions were to uncramp her hand.

At last, she wrote the final words of the paper’s conclusion. It was only a first draft, still needed polishing and typing, but it was complete. She checked the clock. Two in the morning. She was drooping with exhaustion. Her mind had pretty well gone south, but she knew she would toss and turn if she went to bed—she’d inhaled too much caffeine earlier. Her head hurt. She lay it on the table, pillowed by her arms, and shut her eyes.

It was very late. The moon had been directly overhead around mi
dnight, but now it was angling toward the horizon. Hours had passed since Sally closed the drapes and blinds. What was she doing? Had she gone to sleep? Despite her brave words, he knew she was frightened. She still had every light in the house on. Frustration filled him. He should be there with her, not here.

He should have believed her when she said she loved him. The way he had it figured, her breakdown after the stalker’s invasion had som
ehow opened her to admitting it was love between them, and not only friendship. Once she saw the light, the proposal was classic Sally. She lived in fast forward, why would he think she’d love any differently? But he hadn’t been sure, and he’d blown it.

Idiot
.

Jim allowed himself a few moments to brood on his stupidity.

Regardless of that, she still needed his protection, and she would have it. Whether she loved him or not, he would do whatever it took to keep her and Tyler safe. If he had to do without hope, so be it… ‘I give hope to men. I keep none for myself.’ For a moment, Jim basked in his own nobility. Then reality asserted itself.

Damn it, no! He was no Aragorn—not even a
Viggo Mortensen. He had to believe there was still a chance for him and Sally. If she had ever loved him, there
must
still be a chance.

It was warm in the shelter, and he had food and coffee. It was a lot better than the
stake-outs he’d done as a Marine. Safer, too. There’d been no evidence of any tampering with his truck, and he didn’t think there would be.

The bastard stalking Sally was a
wanna-be. Wanna be a Marine, wanna be powerful, wanna be a threat. He’d lay money that the guy was some pencil-necked geek with delusions of grandeur. Not that he would take any chances with Sally and Tyler’s safety, but he wasn’t worried about himself. He just wished he could get his hands on the man.

If ever someone deserved a beating… and I’d love to be the one to give it to him.

When they got this bastard out of the way, he’s start over with Sally. From the beginning, if need be. And this time he’d go about it differently. No more platonic friendship for him. No. Sally was a passionate woman—he could use that, and he would. Staring out into the night, Jim sat and watched… and planned.

The darkness in front of the house was broken as the porch light flicked on, then went out. Not for the first time. The abundant wildlife in the area—raccoon, fox,
possums—had triggered the movement sensor several times already.

Wait.

Jim’s brain snapped to full alert. The light had flicked on and gone out immediately. Adrenalin pumped through his veins. When an animal
set it off, the light remained on for several minutes. Someone had reached into the porch light and unscrewed the bulb. Again.

He shot to his feet. Picking up his service revolver, he reached into his pocket for the ammunition clip and snapped it into place. Automat
ically, he checked the safety. In seconds he was out the door, service revolver tucked at the small of his back, unlit flashlight in hand, heading silently toward Sally’s house.

chapter seventeen

Sally lifted her head. She’d been almost asleep. But there had been something… a sound.

There. The scrape of metal against metal, the snick of a lock. Her heart froze,
then leapt into staccato rhythm, pounding blood and adrenalin to her brain. Tyler! She grabbed the bat and moved swiftly toward his room. A flying glance over her shoulder stopped her. The handle of the dead bolt was moving, turning… She spun around, bat raised, ready to fight. Then the sound of metal slipping against metal, and the bolt thudded gently back into position. Her body trembled in relief, but sweat chilled her. He would try again.

Sally ran into Tyler’s room and pulled him bodily out of bed, silen
cing him with a fierce shush and a glare. She dragged the boy to the back door, and crouched with him, waiting. If someone came in the front, she and Tyler would go out the back, but she wasn’t leaving the house unless the lock was breached. Outside, no walls would stand between them and the invader. Heart racing, she refused to look at the terror in her son’s eyes. All her attention focused on the narrow strip of front door she could see, and the handle of the bolt as it began to turn again.

This time there was no slip, just a smooth twist. As the door began to open, Sally urged Tyler out into the cold. “Run. The shelter.” Pulling him by the hand, she raced across the frozen meadow.

Jim saw the rectangle of light as the back door of Sally’s house opened. Then Sally and Tyler came streaking across the grass toward him. The stalker must have entered the house.

Directly in their path, Jim rose from his crouch. Sally swung Tyler behind her and lifted the bat, braced for an attack. 

“It’s me—Jim.” He handed her the flashlight. “The shelter’s unlocked. Call the police.”

It took her less than a second to register what he’d said, grab the heavy torch, and set out again. She left the light off, but he saw her stop and hoist Tyler up,
piggy-back, to continue across the field.

Jim turned back to the house, sprinting for the open back door. He flattened himself against the kitchen wall and edged his face past the corner. The living room was empty, and the door stood open. A car e
ngine roared to life outside and Jim threw himself toward the front door, then skidded to a halt. The cold breeze from the open doorway carried the sound of gravel thrown by churning tires on the road. But his gaze remained riveted to the object on the floor of the entryway.

A silver box wrapped with black ribbon sat neatly centered on the braided rug. He looked at it for a moment. It would be stupid to touch it, but he wished he could. He wished he could hurl it at the retreating stalker and then pummel the man into insensibility. Frustrated, Jim backed silently away, not touching the package. He heard the rough c
acophony of barks from the kennel wing as Sally and Tyler entered the shelter. Senses alert for any sound or movement, he checked the other rooms in Sally’s home. Finding them apparently untouched, he left the house the way he had come.

Halfway across the field, he stopped to look back. Cold light from the entryway crashed through the open front door onto the cement porch. The contrasting shadows looked stark and broken. He stared a moment.

It’s like me, but I won’t be broken anymore. The love she can give me will be enough.
He turned his back on the house… turned his back on the past… and strode across the meadow to where light and warmth spilled into the night from the shelter windows. To Sally.

The entry was locked now, not open as he had left it, and he pulled out his key. A single damp line of footprints showed that Sally had ca
rried Tyler into the building. Jim ignored the racket coming from the kennel wing, and scanned the lobby before following the trail to the treatment room down the hall.

Through the open door, he saw Sally’s back as she knelt by the cot with her arms and a warm blanket wrapped around Tyler. She rocked back and forth, murmuring words too soft for Jim to catch, but he saw the glint of tears on the boy’s cheeks. He stepped back, out of sight, clo
sing his eyes for a moment. Everything that made his life worth living was inside that small room.

He retreated a short way down the hall and, mindful of male sensibi
lities, called out. “Sally. Tyler. Where are you?”

“We’re in here,” Sally answered. “In the treatment room.”

Jim stepped back into the doorway. The boy sniffed, quickly wiping his face with his hands. Jim’s heart stumbled a bit at the gesture. He came into the room, and eyed the bloodstained cot. Swallowing an unexpected lump in his throat, he spoke. “Looks like you got a little cut up, Tyler. That meadow is pretty rough on bare feet, huh?”

Tyler affected a nonchalant tone. “Yeah. I didn’t have my shoes on.” Sally turned from her examination of her son’s feet. “Jim…”

“It’s okay.”

The lines on her forehead smoothed, and she resumed working on Tyler.

Jim walked to the far side of the cot, grabbed the back of a handy chair and positioned it so he could see both their faces and the doorway. Sally had a small pan of water and was using a gauze pad to gently clean the scrapes on Tyler’s feet. Her brow furrowed in concentration as her long fingers delicately removed a bur from between the boy’s toes. Watching the strong, slender hands at work, he wished he had a bur, or maybe a splinter, stuck in his hand.

“Did you catch him?” Tyler’s voice was eager. He stayed still as his mother treated his feet, despite occasional flashes of discomfort marring his expression. His attention focused on Jim.

“No, he had his car on the road, out past the pine trees. He got away.”

Tyler frowned, looking at the top of his mom’s head. “Will he come back?”

Jim hesitated, looking at Sally for guidance. She shrugged at him and raised her eyebrows. It was too late to keep the stalker a secret now. He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked back at Tyler. “I don’t know. He might, but you won’t be here if he does. You’ll be somewhere safe.”

“What about Mom?”

Sally looked up from Tyler’s feet, and waited for Jim’s answer, her eyes steady on his. He searched her face, holding her gaze. “If I get my way, Tyler, your mom will be with me.”

Sally’s heart gave a little leap at his answer. Maybe they could straighten things out yet. But right now, Tyler was frowning. He looked at Jim.

“Was this the same burglar that came when it snowed?”

Jim hesitated, shooting her a glance. “I think it was the same man, Tyler.”

“Why did he come back?”

Jim looked at her, and raised his eyebrows with a nod.

Over to me, huh?
She took a deep breath and began. “Tyler, it’s hard to explain. This burglar, this person, is trying to scare me. On purpose. That’s why he came back.”

A furrow formed between Tyler’s brows. “Is he going to hurt you?”

“Probably not. He just wants me to do what he wants, and he’s trying to scare me to make me do it.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I know what he wants me to do because he’s left some notes in the mailbox and at the shelter. I was hoping he’d go away and I wouldn’t have to tell you about him.”

Tyler frowned as he digested this information.

Sally waited.

He looked up. “But why is he scaring you?”

“I guess because I’m not listening to him.”

“Why not? What does he want you to do?”

“Well, honey, he wants me to stay away from people that I like. And he wants me to stop being friends with Dr. Donovan. I don’t want to do that. So he’s trying to scare me—to scare us—into doing what he wants.”

Tyler leaned forward and
reached out to hold his mom’s arm. “You won’t do that, will you? We won’t stop being friends with Dr. Donovan, will we?”

Sally’s heart clutched at the concern in Tyler’s voice. She placed her hand over his, but it was Jim’s gaze that she caught and held. “No, honey, we won’t let him push us away from Dr. Donovan.” She shifted her eyes back toward Tyler. “But I don’t want this bad guy trying to scare you. I want you to stay with Grandma and Grandpa until the police catch him. We’ll pack your things, and when we go over for Thanksgiving tomo
rrow, you’ll get to stay for a while.”

“What about you? Will you stay with me?”

“No, honey. You don’t need me with you when you’re at Grandma’s. I’ll come back here.”

Tyler pulled his brows together, forming a deep furrow between them. “But the burglar might hurt you.”

“I won’t stay here by myself, Tyler. I’ll be with Dr. Donovan.” Reaching out, she took Jim’s hand.

Tyler turned to him. “Will you scare off the burglar?”

“If he comes back again, I will. But I might take your mom to stay at the loft.”

Tyler’s brow cleared. “That would be good. Are you coming to Grandma’s for Thanksgiving with us?”

“Please do.” Sally said.
Please let’s fix the mess we’ve made of things.

He smiled at them both.
“I just might do that.”

A loud pounding echoed from the lobby. The volume of barks and howls from the kennel wing escalated.

“That must be the police,” said Jim. “I’ll go let them in.”

A few minutes passed. Officer Demarco entered the treatment room with Jim on his heels. His sharp gaze took in the chair Jim had vacated, the boy sitting on the cot and the supplies Sally had used to clean Tyler’s feet; then it swung to Sally. “So, he tried to break in again, did he?”

“Tried nothing,” said Sally. “He picked the deadbolt—I didn’t think that could be done.”

“It can be done, but it’s not easy. And even if you’re good at it, it takes longer than picking a regular lock. Deadbolts offer good protection, but no lock is perfect. I’m surprised you don’t have a dog.”

“I have a hundred-some dogs. They just don’t live in my house.” Sally frowned at Demarco.

The officer continued, undeterred. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have one in the house. You’d be surprised how many, er, burglars will pass over a house with a barking dog inside.”

Sally smiled her thanks at the use of the word ‘burglar.’ Apparently Jim had clued Demarco in.

“Now,” Demarco continued, “tell me what happened.”

“I was in the kitchen when I heard someone messing with the door. I woke Tyler,” she nodded at the boy, “and we waited by the back door to see if he’d get in. When the front door began to open we ran out the back way, across the meadow to here.”

Demarco sent Tyler a friendly smile. “Ran across the meadow, did you? Looks like you forgot your slippers, Tyler.”

“Yeah, I did. I got cuts on my feet, but they aren’t bleeding anymore.” He sounded disappointed that he had no bloody wounds to show the officer.

“Yes, I see. Looks like your mom cleaned them up real well.” D
emarco turned to Jim. “Now, Dr. Donovan, you were here in the shelter?”

“Yes. I was watching the house, just to be safe. I didn’t see the burglar approach the house, but Sally’s motion-activated light came on. When it went off again right away, I knew something was wrong, so I ran across the meadow toward the house. I met Sally and Tyler halfway there, coming this way. I went in the back door, but he was gone. I heard him drive away. He must have had a car parked on the road.” Jim looked at the policeman and tilted his head toward Tyler. “Officer Demarco, do you mind if Mrs. Johnston and I step out for a moment while you take Tyler’s statement?”

Demarco nodded. “No, go right ahead. We won’t be too long, will we Tyler?”

“No sir,” said Tyler, nearly bursting with pride at having his stat
ement taken by the police.

“Now Tyler,” Demarco sat in the chair by the cot, as Jim and Sally stepped into the hallway. “What was the first thing that happened?”

As soon as they were out of sight of the doorway, Jim stopped and turned to Sally, his voice low and urgent. “He left a package in the entryway. Demarco called Mike to see if he’d bring the dog over. You won’t be able to go into the house until they’ve cleared it. I didn’t think you’d want Tyler to know.”

Once again, Sally was struck by the essential thoughtfulness of the man. “Thanks, you’re right. I’d rather he didn’t. Jim…”

As she hesitated, Jim spoke. “Sally, about last night—I am so sorry… there’s no excuse… can you forgive me?”

She held up a restraining hand. “Stop, please. Look, you hurt me a lot, not by what you did but by what you said and thought, and… ”

“I know.” His brows drew together as if in pain. “I kept seeing you with Smith, and yet I still wanted desperately for you to love me—I felt like a pathetic fool. It made me furious. Angry at you… disgusted with myself… But that’s no excuse for the way I treated you.”

“No, it’s not. But even angry as you were, you didn’t hurt me. And I’ve done some colossally stupid things myself, lately. Jim. I love you. I forgive you. Now tell me… can you forgive me for what I thought would solve my problem? Thank God I finally
woke up! I was wrong on so many counts. Will you believe me now, when I say I love you?”

“I love you, I believe you, and you’re forgiven, too…”