Jodie's Little Secrets Read online

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” She backed the stroller a few inches and maneuvered around him.

  Undaunted, he followed her up the hill. “How long are you going to be in town?”

  She looked up and faced his penetrating gaze, and her determination plummeted to the soles of her running shoes. “I’m not sure. Probably another week or so.”

  “Their dad must miss the boys.” His gaze slid over her again, his eyes saying way more than she wanted to hear. “And if he doesn’t miss their mom, he must be crazy.”

  She stepped to the side of the car and unlocked the door. “He can handle it,” she said, picking up a wriggling child and buckling him into the car seat.

  “Since we’re both in town for a while, how about dinner tomorrow night? For old times’ sake.”

  He smiled down at her, the same boyish grin that had devastated her at fourteen and seduced her much later.

  “I’m busy,” she answered, turning away from him while her mind was still ruling.

  “The next night then?”

  “I’m busy tomorrow night and the night after and the week after that.”

  “I’d hoped we were still friends.”

  Friends? A man who drove you wild with passion and then walked away as casually as if the week you thought was heaven had been a date for burgers and fries?

  “Friends usually return other friend’s phone calls,” she answered, her eyes on the stroller. “But I’m not mad, I’m busy, just like I’m sure you were. Besides, I’m not interested in reviving old times.”

  She quieted Blair with Cheerios as Ray bent and rescued Blake from the stroller. Wrapping his large hands about the small boy, he swept him into the air above his head. Blake, her usually slow-to-bond child, rewarded Ray’s efforts with soft baby chuckles. He’d apparently inherited her weakness for bad choices in his bonding habits.

  “The kid likes me,” he boasted.

  “He likes anyone who pays attention to him,” she lied, all but yanking him from Ray’s arms. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle on his car seat.

  “No, I think he just has his mother’s good taste. I can remember when she liked me.”

  “I still like you. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Then why is a friendly dinner out of the question?”

  “You have a short memory. I just told you that I’m very busy these days. I’m also married.”

  “Even busy, married women eat. Dinner and conversation. That’s all. I promise I won’t let you seduce me into any feelings unsuitable for dinner with a married woman.”

  “I don’t think so, Ray.”

  His tone swung from light to deadly serious. “It never hurts to have someone to talk to when times are rough. Free legal advice is hard to come by.”

  “So that’s what this is about. You didn’t just happen to be out running at daybreak, did you? My grandmother put you up to this.”

  “Your grandmother cares about you.”

  “I’m fine. Just fine. But if I need your services as a friend or a lawyer, I’ll let you know.”

  “Good. You call, and I’ll come running. Just like always.”

  Exactly. Just like always. Ray Kostner and the NYPD. If a few meaningless words and halfhearted efforts could solve her problems, they’d take care of her.

  “See you around,” she said, with a quick wave of her hand. Seconds later, she jerked the car into gear and sped out of his sight.

  JODIE WAS JUST beginning to relax again by the time Tuesday evening rolled around. There had been no visits or phone calls from Ray. Apparently he had taken her at her word that she had nothing to say to him.

  At least not now.

  One month ago, the story would have been different. She’d called him then, in the middle of the night, her hands shaking so badly she could barely dial the number that she knew as well as her own.

  A woman had answered, her voice heavy with sleep, but still soft and syrupy. And Jodie had hung up and dialed Detective Cappan instead. The lanky, gum-chewing cop had rushed right over, but that time he hadn’t been able to mask the anxiety that coated his empty reassurances.

  She’d told him her plan, and he’d agreed to help, all but guaranteeing her she wouldn’t be followed to Natchitoches if she covered her tracks the way he instructed. By all accounts, she was in California now, lost in the Wild, Wild West, a suitable backdrop for her world of lies.

  First, a mad stalker in New York. Now Ray Kostner in Louisiana. A trip down the Amazon was beginning to sound easy.

  Stooping, she rescued the last dripping, rubber duck from the tub. The twins were already bathed and fed and in the kitchen doing their final bit of entertaining for the night.

  “What would you like for dinner tonight, dear?” Grams’s voice echoed down the long hall.

  “Whatever you’d like.” A salad would have been fine with Jodie, but that would not be one of the choices. Full-course dinners were the way of the old South, and Grams was a bonafide follower of tradition. Words like calories, fat content, fiber and cholesterol were not in her vocabulary. Maybe at eighty-three, Jodie would drop them from hers, too.

  Eighty-three. What a nice age. There had been several long nights during the last few weeks when her chance at winning the lottery had seemed a safer bet than reaching her next birthday. A sudden prickle of gooseflesh dotted her arms, and she massaged it away. The nightmare was behind her.

  With quick steps she joined Grams and the boys in the kitchen.

  “Okay, Grams, what can I help you do?” she asked, grabbing a flowered apron from the hook by the door.

  “You could you get that bowl of purple hull peas from the refrigerator.”

  “Will do.” She settled in for what was sure to be a monumental task.

  Her grandmother saved everything, ladling spoonfuls of leftovers into plastic containers with colorful tops and tucking them haphazardly into every available corner of the fridge. Locating a particular item was similar to finding your size at an end-of-year clearance. You usually settled for close and were glad to get it.

  The nearest thing to close this time was corn, cabbage or yellow squash. “Could you give me a clue, like what day you cooked these peas?”

  “Don’t you remember? We had peas and pork chops.” Grams rubbed her temple, streaking it with flour. “It must have been Saturday. No, let me see, was it Friday?”

  Jodie gave up the search. They’d had pork chops on Tuesday a week ago, with green beans and sweet potatoes. The cleaning woman had undoubtedly trashed the remains on Wednesday, but no use to burden Grams with details.

  She never seemed to remember them in their exact state anyway. Her memory was fading with her eyes, in contrast to her desire to manipulate, which was keener than ever. The incident with Ray at the jogging trail had proven that.

  “I must have accidentally thrown the peas out, but I’ll open a jar of the ones you and Selda canned this summer,” Jodie offered. She opened the perfectly preserved legumes, dumped them into a saucepan and placed them on a back burner.

  “How was your run this morning?” Grams asked, patting out a doughy biscuit.

  “Fast, hot and tiring, like always.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “It’s good for me.”

  “It’s bad for your knees. I heard that on ‘Oprah,’ or was it that new show with Rosie something?” She flipped a biscuit into a baking pan. “I guess you didn’t see that Kost-ner boy again.”

  The question was thrown out as if it had just popped into her grandmother’s mind. Jodie wasn’t fooled. Grams had probably been searching all day for a way to bring Ray into the conversation.

  But boy? The man was four years older than Jodie’s twenty-seven, at least six foot two and reeked of power and manhood. “I didn’t see him,” she said, shaking a quick dash of salt and pepper into the peas. “I guess it was my lucky day.”

  “I reckon it was. You don’t want to go getting mixed up with the likes of him
. Confounded, money-grubbing lawyers. I don’t trust a one of them.”

  “Ray’s dad’s a lawyer, and you like him.”

  “That’s different. Ray’s too big for his britches, running off to New Orleans when there’s plenty of work for decent folks right here at home.”

  “You said the same thing about me when I moved to New York.”

  “Hmmph. I was right about that, too.” She muttered the words under her breath, but not so low she didn’t mean for Jodie to hear them.

  “So is that why you had Ray look me up Sunday, so he could tell me I should move back to Natchitoches for good?”

  “I didn’t do any such of a thing. You know I gave up trying to mind your business for you years ago.”

  “Yeah, right.” Jodie reached an arm around the bent and bony shoulders and gave her grandmother a quick hug. “I know you mean well, Grams, but I don’t want or need Ray’s help. I just have a few issues I need to work through.”

  Grams kept right on working. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want That’s what families are for. The fact is, I’m going to miss you and the boys like crazy when you leave. But don’t let that influence you.”

  “We’ll miss you, too. Next time we won’t wait so long between visits.”

  “That’s just why I’m concerned about you.” She slapped a biscuit into the baking pan and wagged a finger at Jodie. “First, you don’t visit me for nigh to two years, putting me off with all kinds of flimsy excuses, even with me begging to see my new great-grandsons. Then you show up on my doorstep unannounced and tell me you’re going to be here for a while. And as far as I can tell, you haven’t had one phone call from that husband of yours.”

  “I told you. We’ve agreed to an amicable separation until we decide what to do.”

  “It doesn’t sound too amicable to me. Doesn’t sound a bit natural, either. You didn’t take his name when you married him, and what kind of father don’t give a gosh darn about two wonderful sons?”

  What kind indeed? The kind who didn’t want a wife or children to start with. “You don’t have to worry about me, Grams. This is the nineties. The boys and I will be just fine on our own.” Jodie grabbed two stoneware plates from the shelf and started toward the kitchen table, praying she was telling the truth.

  “I thought we might sit at the dining room table tonight,” Grams said, taking the plates from her. “It’ll be a pleasant change. And we’ll use the good china, the crystal, too. No use to let it go to ruin just keeping the shelf occupied.” Her words were almost drowned in the melodic chime of the doorbell.

  “Are you expecting someone, Grams?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? Ray Kostner’s joining us for dinner.”

  “You most certainly did not tell me. I would have made plans to be somewhere else. I just told you, I don’t need his advice.”

  “Well, then it doesn’t matter that I forgot to mention it. He’s coming over to give me a little advice tonight.”

  “How convenient You need help from the confounded money grubber. Sometimes you’ll have to share with me how you choose your dinner guests and your advisors.”

  The doorbell jangled persistently this time, and both Blair and Blake joined in the excitement, one clapping, the other swinging his pudgy fists and babbling.

  “Now are you going to get that or do I have to do it myself?” Grams said, dusting her flour-covered hands over the sink.

  Shaking her head in surrender, Jodie answered the bell and ushered Ray inside.

  “What a pleasant surprise,” he said, stepping over the threshold. “I was afraid you might already be away doing whatever it is that keeps you so busy.”

  She shot him an icy stare. “My plans changed.”

  “Good, I’m looking forward to catching up on your life. You’ve apparently been making a few changes since I saw you last. A new husband, twin boys.”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “Yeah. I guess it has.” He leaned closer. “But that was one thing about us. We could go months, years even, without seeing each other, and still fall back into each other’s lives like we’d never been apart.”

  “We’re older now, I’ve changed. I don’t fall into things anymore.” Especially things like strong arms that belonged to a man who had the power to tear the heart right out of her if she gave him half a chance.

  Ray started to follow her back to the kitchen. They both stopped when the doorbell rang again. “More guests?” he asked. “I didn’t dress for a party.”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t on the guest list committee.”

  “Lucky for me.” He sniffed appreciatively. “And that smells like Miss Emily’s pot roast. I’d have driven up from New Orleans for that.”

  Jodie walked back to the front door and peeked through the peephole. Roses, yellow ones, tucked in and between baby’s breath and asparagus fern stared back at her. Her stomach took an unexpected lurch. Shaking, she eased the door open.

  “Delivery for Jodie Gahagen.” The teenager stepped from the shadows into the illumination of the porch light.

  “Who sent them?” she demanded.

  He backed up half a step and gave her a sideways glance. Frowning, he slipped the acknowledgment card from the pronged holder and placed it in her hands.

  She ripped the envelope open and yanked out the card. An admirer. The words jumped at her like a vampire, sinking sharp teeth into the jugular and draining the blood from her body.

  “Is something wrong?” Ray moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She didn’t pull away. Trembling, she stared at the card, turning it over in her hand.

  “See, I told you they were for you.” The delivery boy stuck the flowers at her.

  “I can’t accept them unless I know who sent them.”

  “Well, ma’am, if you’re Jodie Gahagen, they’re for you, no matter who sent them. But I guess I could take them back to the shop if you don’t want ‘em.” He flashed Ray a pleading look. “Miss Gloria won’t like my bringing the delivery back though, not after she made me work overtime to get it to you tonight.”

  Ray fished in his pocket and pressed a couple of bills into the teenager’s hand. “We’ll keep the flowers,” he said, taking the bouquet from him, “but tell Miss Gloria that in the future, Miss Gahagen likes her admirers identified.”

  Jodie heard the voices, heard the door close, heard Ray asking her what was wrong. She couldn’t respond. The fear was overpowering, churning inside her with hurricane force, choking her breath away. Weak and disoriented she slumped against the wall.

  “Hey, they’re only flowers. We can toss them in the trash if they’re going to upset you like that.”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “Then you’re a damn good actress. You’re white as a ghost and trembling like a kid on his first Halloween.”

  Still shaking, Jodie continued to stare at the card, letting one finger trace the row of red hearts peeking from a border of roses. Red hearts, the unmistakable signature of a man who’d vowed to have her for himself or see her dead.

  “Is someone harassing you, Jodie? Is that what this is about?”

  “Yes.” The whispered response worked its way through the cottony dryness that clogged her throat and lungs. Her mind swirled in fear and confusion. Still, one truth hammered through the whirlwind. She couldn’t protect her boys by herself, not now that the stalker had found her.

  Ray wrapped his hands about her waist and pulled her to him. “Just tell me who’s bothering you. If it’s your husband—” His face pulled into hard lines, and his muscles strained at the sleeves of his shirt.

  “No. It’s not my husband. But I didn’t come to Natchitoches just to visit.”

  “Your grandmother told me you were having marital problems. It’s none of my business, but if the man is threatening you, I can make it my business.”

  “Just listen, Ray. My grandmother doesn’t know the real story, and I don’t want her finding out. Promise me
you won’t tell her a thing about this.”

  “You have my word. Now, what is it I’m not telling?”

  “Someone was stalking me in New York. I’ve never met him, at least not that I know of. But he left me flowers and gifts and frightening notes.”

  “You surely must have some idea who it is.”

  “No. I only know he knows me too well. He knows the color of the towels in my bathroom, the pattern of the sheets on my bed, the label in my nightgown.”

  “That son of a…” Ray’s words trailed off and he gathered Jodie in his arms, gently rocking her against his chest. “No wonder the flowers frightened you. But chances are they aren’t even from him. And even if they are, he’ll never follow you to Louisiana. Stalkers are almost always cowards who—”

  Jodie’s nerves tightened into frayed knots, and she jerked away from him. “Don’t give me statistics. I know them all, and none of them apply in this case. This is no ordinary stalker.”

  “Ordinary or not, he won’t get away with his perverted tricks in Natchitoches. The police will have him behind bars before his feet get southern dirt between his toes. You couldn’t be safer.”

  “Don’t humor me, and don’t fool yourself. I know better than anyone what the police can and can’t do. It’s myself I have to depend on now, but I need your help.”

  “You name it.”

  “I want you to take Blake and Blair and keep them safe.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me right.”

  “I’ll fight a madman for you, two if necessary, but no kids. I’m not the man for that.” He stepped backward, a hand up as if to ward off blows.

  “I know. You’re a no-ties kind of guy. That’s the way you’ve always wanted things, but this time you don’t get a choice.”

  “There’s always choices. The boys need you. And they need their father, not some stranger they’ve never seen before this week. No matter how you feel about your husband, no matter what’s happened between the two of you, you have to let him know his sons are in danger.”