Page 13 of Reckless Flames

you should be writing not cavorting around town with other men. Get busy

darling girl. I eagerly await your next book, and my patience tends to run thin.

All my love,

Wouldn’t you like to know who?

My first thought was to show this email to the police, but it might be a good idea for Ben to go with me, since he had seen the stalker, and I hadn’t. I hadn’t been super worried when he had told me about the person in the hoodie, but with the arrival of this email, nothing could be overlooked now.

I called Ben but got no answer, so I ran outside and checked to see if his car was parked next door. No Ben.

The only other thing I could think of to do was to drive by his house and see if he was at home by any chance and just not answering his phone for some reason, so I got into my car and headed for the outskirts of town.

When I reached Ben’s estate and saw the long driveway up to the four-car garage, I realized that I couldn’t expect to find his car in the driveway; it might very well be parked inside the garage. I had only been here once before and it had been late at night, so I guess I hadn’t remembered the layout accurately. I decided to park in the driveway and go knock on the front door to see if I could find him at home.

As soon as I got out of my car, I heard voices coming from the back of the house. Relieved that he was apparently at home, I took a path that headed back in that direction. The closer I got to the back of the house, it became clear that one of the voices was that of a child. That was curious, as Ben was a widower with no family, as far as I knew.

Rounding a corner of the house, I saw that an extensive covered patio extended from the back of the house with a large swimming pool beyond it. The pool was surrounded by concrete with plenty of space for lounge chairs. Beyond that, there was a very large area of mowed grass bordered by a wide strip of shrubs and flowers with a strip of grass right through the middle of it that extended all the way down to the river that runs through the valley. It was simply beautiful and would have held my attention but for the sight of Ben playing soccer with a young boy who could only be his son.

Granted that it hadn’t been that long since Ben and I began talking, but we had had hours of conversation over the course of the time I had spent with him. Why had he never once mentioned that he had a child? Why would any parent keep a secret like that? It was unfathomable. And, even worse, if hecould so easily keep a secret of that magnitude, what else was he hiding from me?

I turned around and went back to my car and left. I was stunned. So much so that I couldn’t deal with this development in addition to the email I had received. I resorted to a movie quote and told myself,I’ll think about it tomorrow,fully intending to do no such thing. I was done with Ben and would just give my time and attention to my family and my work until my visit ended.

I still needed to go to the police about the email, and now I would have to go alone. The Finch Valley Police Station was a block off Main Street. I parked in one of the slanted spaces in front of the station, pulled up the email on my phone, and went inside.

I’ve never needed to visit a police station in Manhattan, but I’m pretty sure that it’s a lot easier to get into the police station in town here and meet with a detective if you need to. I was seated at the desk of a middle-aged, female detective in next to no time at all. Detective Roberts was tall, slender, and struck me as professional but kind. She listened to my story and read the email I showed her, looking very serious as she did so. She questioned me thoroughly but in the end told me that she really wasn’t going to be able to do much about it.

“We look for a pattern in these kinds of cases. One email could just be a prank, but a series of emails like this one is a lot more likely to be a serious threat. Also, you didn’t see this person in the hoodie yourself, and the man who did isn’t here to give us adetailed description. I’m so sorry, but all I can do at this point is to have the officers on patrol swing by your parents’ house a lot more often, both day and night.”

“I understand. I’ll be sure to let you know if I receive any more emails like this or see anyone suspicious lurking around our house,” I said.

“Absolutely. It’s important that you do. Here’s my card. I hope that’s the end of it though,” the detective said.

By the time I got back to the house, everyone was home. I was exhausted by the stress and the events of the day, but I helped mom make dinner and managed to chat with my family over the meal as though I had spent a peaceful day writing. I wasn’t about to worry them unless I had more proof of a real threat against me, and I hoped to God that I never would.

I held it together until I got up to my room for the night, and then I cried myself to sleep.

Chapter eight

Ben

Ifound myself hurrying from my car into the house next to Sophie’s every time I had to go there, and even though I was hoping to avoid her, I was equally hoping to run into her. I tried to remind myself that this was undignified behavior for a grown man, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.

Then, when I did run into her, it was not a pleasant conversation—in the beginning, at least. But I’m so glad that we had it.

I hadn’t been able to get over to the house during the day, so I drove over there late in the evening to check on the progress of the work being done. I was more than satisfied with the evolving condition of the house.

The upstairs bedroom that had needed the most work looked so much better. The previous owners had boarded up a big rectangular hole in the wall leading to some attic space that was too small to be of any real use. Joe’s crew had had to remove that big piece of plywood and wall up the hole, plastering and painting the new section of wall to look as though the hole had never existed.

The floors throughout the house had been refinished and gleamed with a walnut shine. The walls had been painted a soft gray with white baseboards and white chair rail molding.

There was still some work to be done. A few windows needed to be replaced, and both the front and back yards needed some landscaping. But I could see that the house would soon be ready for its next occupants—whoever they might be.

I was just locking the front door behind me when Sophie’s car pulled into their driveway, and she got out. There was no way I was going to be so immature as to act like I didn’t see her.

“Hey,” I called out as she got out of her car.

She froze in place for a second as though she didn’t recognize my voice or didn’t want to speak to me. Then she turned toward me, and as I was walking in her direction to speak to her over the low fence dividing the properties, she asked me the question I most dreaded.

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