Page 34 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Putting a burner phone in her letterbox? Telling her to keep me as her dirty secret? Christ! No wonder she thought I was planning on murdering her!

Thank God, I’d paid cash for the phone and not put in any of my details. This could destroy my career. I could be arrested. Gran would be rolling around in her urn right about now, wondering why the fuck I’d done something so stupid!

She called the police.

If I wasn’t so shit terrified, I would’ve been so damn proud of her.

I’d heard stories from Melody that Sailor had a sharp tongue, inappropriate sense of humour, and could give back as good as she got, but I’d never been on the receiving end of such a conversation. Whenever we’d talked, it’d never gone past the common pleasantries of strangers.

I hadn’t been prepared for the kick in my gut as her replies vibrated in my palm. I’d been wrong that she was broken from what Milton did to her. She wasn’t. She might be a little banged up and choking on things she didn’t want to voice, but she wasn’t broken, and that…that gave me decidedly mixed feelings.

I no longer just felt responsible for her but was alsointriguedby her.

And that wasn’t gonna work because I couldn’t be intrigued.

I didn’t havetimeto be intrigued. Intrigued led to…other feelings.

Feelings I’d done my best to convince myself were never there.

Feelings I definitely had no business feeling: that tightening in my chest. That rush of endorphins and surge of testosterone snarling with unpermitted possession.

For God’s sake, I’d only had one conversation with the woman, and I was already contemplating going over there and telling her everything.

I’d always known I was a goody-two shoes. I’d never been able to lie or steal or break even the smallest of rules. But it wasn’t just the well-behaved doctor inside me needing to confess what I’d done but the very real, suddenly very protective part of me that didn’t want anyone else to know just how incredible she was.

Goddammit, this is bad.

Nursing my small icy glass of Johnny Walker, I watched from my living room window as the two police officers stepped out of Sailor’s front door and headed toward their cruiser parked across her driveway.

At the last second, they cut down the footpath, onto my property, and rang my doorbell.

Christ, could this get any worse?

What gave me away?

How had they figured it was me so fast?

Should I call a lawyer?

Throwing the rest of my drink down my throat, I hoped like hell I didn’t smell like alcohol at two o’clock in the afternoon. Raking my hands through unruly red hair, I straightened my glasses, smoothed my grey t-shirt, and strolled to the door as if I wasn’t about to explode inside.

“Can I help you, officers?” I pinned a polite smile on my lips as I swung my door wide and employed every trick I’d ever been taught to hide my true feelings. I’d gotten enough practice delivering bad news in the waiting room. I’d learned how to block myself as a person and become nothing more than the stoic, compassionate doctor my patients needed.

I didn’t move a muscle as the two officers, one man with receding brown hair and one with a beer belly, returned my smile and rested their hands on their hips. The bulk of their tool belts full of weapons and walkie-talkies made my mouth go dry.

“Do you know your neighbour Sailor Rose?” the balding one asked.

“Of course. Our grandparents were best friends. We’ve grown up together.”

“Oh, so you know her well?” Beer Belly perked up.

“I wouldn’t say that. We’re acquaintances. Why, did something happen?”

Be cool. Be cool.

“Did you see a strange man drop a cell phone into her letterbox, either yesterday or today?”

I shrugged with as much innocence as possible. “I’m sorry, no. I work at the local hospital, and my shifts are long. I didn’t get home until nine thirty last night and slept in for my shift later tonight.” I grinned. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to do much else than work these days.”

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