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“People who stalk are not reasonable. Some of them have serious personality disorders. Some are mentally ill. All of them are obsessed. Colorado has an antistalking statute. It’s fairly new, though, and not always well implemented. Unless violence is involved, the courts tend to give stalkers probation with a stipulation of counseling. Repeated arrests often do more harm than good. The stalker goes through the court system and comes out feeling stronger for the experience. So I fight dirty.”
“You use violence?”
“On occasion. Most of the stalkers I deal with are angry men. Bullies who beat up women and children. I’m a tenth-degree black belt, and I’m qualified with weapons you’ve probably never heard of.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bullies don’t like the taste of their own medicine.”
“My stalker isn’t violent.”
“Stalking is violence. You must realize that on some level.”
Her slender throat worked with a hard swallow.
“Being nice does not work. Being polite but firm does not work. I have discovered, in many cases, that the judicious use of mayhem does work.”
“I see.” The softly hesitant words held volumes of skepticism.
“Have you gone to the police?”
“No.”
“Have you confronted your stalker?”
“I haven’t a clue as to who he is.”
He straightened on the chair, and the wheels squeaked. He’d wanted a challenged, and a doozy landed in his lap. He’d never dealt with an anonymous stalker before. They usually targeted celebrities or politicians.
“I don’t want anybody killed, Mr. Tucker.”
“I haven’t killed anybody.” He curled the corners of his mouth in a tight smile. “Yet.”
She lowered her gaze to the shopping bag as if it contained the secrets of the universe. Perhaps it did. “He’s threatened my family,” she said quietly. “I want him stopped.” She stroked the bag. Her hands were slim with long fingers. Clear polish on her nails had been buffed to a high shine.
Her vanity intrigued him. She knew damned well how gorgeous she was. He felt a connection. He was vain as hell, too.
“I’m at a loss. If I knew who he was, I’d talk to him. But he could walk into this room right now, and I wouldn’t have a clue as to his identity.”
“Anonymous stalkers need control as much as they need love. Anonymity helps maintain the control. You can’t reject him if you don’t know who he is. How has he threatened your family?”
She reached into the bag and rustled amongst papers. She brought out a pink envelope and placed it on the desk. “This came in the mail the day before yesterday. It’s why I called J.T. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did right to call him. Stalkers don’t go away by themselves.” He shook a folded sheet of paper from the envelope. He noticed the envelope bore no postmark. A bad sign. It could mean the envelope missed the marking machine in the postal service, or it could mean the envelope had been personally delivered. The letter consisted of three short paragraphs. The first two paragraphs extolled Janine’s virtue. The third paragraph chilled his blood.
It isn’t fair for him to keep us apart. He works you to death, taking up all your time, and now he is ruining the most romantic day of the year! Valentine’s Day is our day! I’ll help you, love. Your father is a tyrant. Death to all tyrants! I will make him go away. Then you and I can live together in the mountains forever, happily ever after.
It was signed, “Love you gobs and gobs and gobs, Pinky.”
“Am I paranoid?” she asked. “Or is he threatening my father?”
“Sounds like a threat to me. I always take threats seriously.”
Color drained from her cheeks.
“What’s the deal with Valentine’s Day?”
“It’s my parents’ wedding anniversary. Did J.T. tell you about Elk River Resort?”
“He said you’re the general manager. I looked it up on the Internet. Nice web site. Did you create it?”
A trace of pride shone in her eyes. “Actually, my sister does our on-line advertising. She’s very artistic. Elk River is a family operation. I cannot leave my job. My family depends on me. Not to mention I’m hosting a party for my parents. We’ll have guests from all over the world. It’s their fortieth anniversary.”
“Forty years of marriage, huh? My parents can’t make it to seven years no matter how many times they try.” In answer to her puzzled look, he added, “My mother gave up after five marriages. Dad is working on wife number six.” He laughed—making jokes beat feeling bitterness over his screwed-up family. “I ought to be in the Guinness Book of World Records for greatest number of stepparents.”
“I’m...sorry,” she said.
He waved a hand in dismissal. “But back to you. When did the stalking start?”
She lifted the shopping bag onto the desk and gestured for him to look inside. “A year ago. I was having lunch with a friend here in Colorado Springs. Pinky stole my Day-Timer.”
He peeked inside the bag. It contained envelopes, most of them pink, plus cassette tapes and bundles of cards in all shapes and sizes. An impressive collection for only a year’s time. “I take it you’re the type of lady who carries her life in a book?”
Her eyes narrowed and her full lips thinned. Her expressiveness startled him, enchanted him. No glamour magazine cutout she, but a living, breathing mortal.
“No offense intended. But some people are organizers and some aren’t. What was in the Day-Timer?”
“Everything.” A faint blush blossomed on her cheeks.
Daniel suppressed a sigh.
“Names, addresses, my schedule. It was right before Christmas, so it contained information about my entire year. The first letter arrived a week later. He sent a box of chocolates, too. I threw them away. The letters and gifts kept coming. When I realized he wouldn’t stop, I began saving them. I keep looking for clues. He knows all about me, but I know nothing about him.”
“What about the cassette tapes? You’re taping phone calls?”
She twisted a hank of hair around her fingers. “He’s never called me. The tapes are recordings of love songs, religious sermons and radio commercials. It’s a jumble of nonsense. I don’t know why he sends them.”
“Maybe he’s hearing messages from you. He’s letting you know he’s receiving them.”
“Please...”
“I’m serious. One stalker was convinced his victim sent him daily messages via the Geraldo Rivera show. He spent hours transcribing every word so he didn’t miss any messages.”
“That’s insane.”
“That’s delusion at work.”
She rolled her eyes. “At first I was angry because I was certain he stole my Day-Timer. Then I thought he would grow bored and give up. But the letters have grown increasingly personal. It’s as if he knows everything about my life. He knows everything I do.” She closed her eyes for a moment and sat perfectly still. When she looked at him, her expression held a tremulous plea that touched him deeply. “Very little frightens me, but Pinky scares me to death. I don’t like it. I won’t tolerate it. Can you help me, Mr. Tucker?”
“I’ll do my best.” He began emptying the bag, sorting the contents into stacks of letters, cards and cassette tapes. “You haven’t told anybody about Pinky? Your parents? Friends?”
“No, and I have no intention of doing so. My father is seventy-seven years old. He doesn’t need the stress. I want this problem solved with the least amount of fuss as possible.”
He suspected her need for privacy went much deeper than concern about her father’s age. He’d talk with her about it later.
“The party I’m giving for my parents is very important. We’re hosting a family reunion, plus, friends we haven’t seen in years will be attending. I can’t cancel the party just to make Pinky happy.”
“You’re right about that. It would only encourage him. Let me sort through this mess. I’ll see what I can pick up, maybe come up with a profile about his character. Then we’ll discuss strategy.”
A trace of a smile curved her luscious mouth. She opened her slim handbag and withdrew a leather-bound checkbook. “About your fee—”
“I don’t have a fee.”
“Pardon?”
He adored the way she said that. All snooty and refined, like a princess momentarily ruffled by the riffraff. “I have more money than I know what to do with.”
“I pay for whatever services I receive.”
“I don’t take cash from stalking victims.” He cocked his head, studying the gentle contours of her oval face and the sculpted lines of her cheekbones. He resisted examining her shoulders and breasts, but awareness of her alluring body heated his blood. He’d like to have her in his debt.
He’d really like to have her in his bed. Thaw the ice, rev her engine, goad her into calling him darling—and mean it. He pushed his tongue against his palate and kept his mouth shut. Now would definitely be a bad time to let her know what he was thinking. Especially since the frigid glare she gave him said she suspected exactly what he was thinking.
“How about a trade?”
She tilted her head to one side. “A trade?”
“I get rid of Pinky, you give me a honeymoon.”
“Pardon?” Her voice had risen slightly, and the corners of her mouth twitched.
Seeing her fight a smile convinced him that heat pulsed beneath her icy veneer. “You’ve got the Honeymoon Hideaway, right? Fancy cabins, room service, moonlight and romance. I could really go for that. Can you set up a honeymoon for me?”
“I could....” She relaxed—Daniel nearly melted into a puddle beneath the desk. “Are you engaged to be married?”
I’m going to marry you.
The thought shocked him. Still, the sheer rightness glowed in his being like a bright, white light. The last time intuition had struck so hard he’d impulsively purchased a lottery ticket and changed his life forever.
“Not yet. We’ll just keep it open ended.”
She lowered her gaze to the checkbook. “I’m going to have to think about this. Perhaps I haven’t explored all my options.”
He touched the stacks of pink envelopes and fancy cards. He knew he could help her. He needed to help her. One way or another he had to see her again. “If you give me twenty-four hours to study Pinky, I can outline a plan of attack. Then you can decide if you want my help.”
“I’d be more comfortable if this were strictly business.”
“Barter is as good as cash. So what do you say?” He extended a hand over the desk.
“Well...J.T. does highly recommend you.” She shook hands with him. Her skin was cool and silky. Luckily for Daniel the desk was between them, or he’d have drawn her hand to place over his heart.
“I’ll buy you dinner, then. Tomorrow, seven o’clock.”
She cast him a cutting glance that might have cowed a lesser man. Daniel was enchanted. Finding the key to unlock her icy heart might prove to be the most enjoyable challenge of his life.
“I doubt your girlfriend would approve.”
“Business, Ms. Duke, to discuss Pinky. How about we meet halfway, in Woodland Park? The Alpine, seven o’clock.”
Her eyes acquired a gleam as she gave him a long, considering look. With unconscious grace she slid one hand along the edge of her lapel. Those elegant fingers trailed tantalizingly over the rise of her bosom. Daniel’s heartbeat thudded heavily in his ears.
“Do you really think you can help me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Very well,” she said. “Seven o’clock, the Alpine. Don’t be late.” She glanced at the dart stuck in the door frame. A half smile appeared and stole the remainder of his heart. “Do leave your toys at home.” She strolled out the door.
Daniel stared at the tantalizing sway of her hips.
Pumped up by the prospect of becoming a hero in the enchanting Ms. Duke’s eyes, he tackled the contents of the Neiman Marcus bag. He didn’t know squat about anonymous stalkers, but he was a quick study.
He’d find a way to get rid of Pinky or die trying.
Chapter Two
Keys in hand, Janine studied the parking lot. Despite the bright sun shining over the mountains, the temperature hovered in the thirties. She shivered. Until Pinky entered her life she’d been as safety conscious as any reasonably intelligent woman should be. Nowadays she was downright paranoid.
Daniel Tucker hadn’t been what she expected. Her cousin had talked about him, claiming him more like family than an employer. She’d imagined an authority figure with a wall full of credentials and a serious demeanor. An ex-cop or an attorney, perhaps a Raymond Burr look-alike. Instead, Daniel had an impudent air and a smart-aleck mouth. Baskets of toys filled his reception area and his office looked like a big kid’s playground, full of desk toys, fancy electronic gadgetry, far too many house plants, and silly posters on the walls.
And handsome! She hadn’t expected him to be so ridiculously good-looking. Eye candy, her sister would dub him.
His reaction to her didn’t bother her. She was used to men fixating on her body parts. She didn’t like being treated like a bimbo, but she was used to it.
Her reaction to him, however...
His staring and open admiration hadn’t annoyed her the way such ogling usually did. She’d indulged in a bit of ogling herself. She’d even flirted; she never did that.
She pulled sunglasses from her handbag and jammed them on her face. Too old for silly flirtations and crushes, she wasn’t the least bit interested in him as an attractive man.
She hurried to the Jeep, unlocked the door and jumped inside, pulling the door shut with a slam. She hit the door locks. Windows on the second floor of the office building drew her gaze. In Daniel’s cluttered office she’d felt safe.
She’d dreaded the appointment and had almost chickened out. She’d expected a humiliating encounter, with Daniel patronizing her as if she were too stupid to handle Pinky by herself. Instead, she’d felt a kinship, a sense of not being so alone. By being so open about his own stalker, he’d made her feel comfortable enough to share her story. The connection and safety she’d felt accounted for his attractiveness.
She prayed Daniel could help her. She wanted her life back. She craved peace and privacy. If he could help her, let him flirt all he wanted.
SOFT KNOCKING broke Daniel’s concentration. When J.T. McKennon walked into the office, Daniel smiled in greeting. J.T. wore his work uniform, a red T-shirt with the Full Circle logo and black trousers. He plopped a briefcase on the desk.
“I saw the lights on when I was driving past. I figured you were still working. When are you going to get a life?”
“After I finish saving the world from evil. Should take me a few more weeks.” He glanced at his watch, surprised to see how late it was. No wonder his stomach growled. “Did you work late?”
“Shari has the flu. I took over her self-defense class.” He popped the latches on the briefcase. “I brought the payroll.”
