Page 16 of The Agent
The next morning, Pam helped Natalie clear the breakfast dishes. “We’ll take two cars,” the bodyguard said. “I’ll follow you. Don’t get out of your car until I’m there beside your door and give you the okay.”
“Got it,” Natalie said, loading the dishes in the dishwasher. She hated to admit it but she liked having the hypervigilant Pam around.
“I’m going to check the front porch for messages. Your security camera doesn’t cover low enough to see that.” Pam headed down the hallway, silent as always, and Natalie held her breath. “Nothing here,” the other woman called out.
Natalie exhaled in a whoosh. There’d been no email either. Maybe Pam’s presence had scared the stalker away.
When Natalie pulled into the small parking lot beside her salon, Pam’s big black SUV came right behind her, a comforting presence with its menacing size and color. Natalie felt a little foolish as she waited until Pam signaled she could get out. With the sun flickering through the spring leaves, the shoppers strolling along the brick-paved sidewalk, and the constant stream of passing cars, it seemed ridiculous to take such precautions.
Pam insisted on going first, her stride long and athletic as they walked around to the back entrance of the two-story Victorian that was home to the Mane Attraction. Natalie had painted the house a soft shade of lavender with butter-yellow trim to make it eye-catching. She got out the keys and unlocked the glossy purple back door, which led into a small back foyer with access to the stairs to the apartment and to the basement. Pam went in first, sweeping through the small space and checking the staircase. “It’s clear,” she said as she tried the door to the basement and found it locked.
Natalie stepped in and unlocked the door that led to the bright open kitchen, which the staff used to eat and relax in. She disarmed the alarm—placed inside the kitchen door so her upstairs tenant didn’t have to deal with it—and relocked the door while Pam prowled through the salon. There were a lot of rooms to check, so Natalie set up the coffee machine while she waited, tracking Pam’s progress by the sound of doors opening and closing.
“Shit!” Pam’s voice came from somewhere up front.
Natalie’s shoulders tensed. “What is it?”
“You’d better come to the front door,” the other woman called back.
Natalie walked quickly down the hall beside the front staircase with its ornately carved oak bannister. When she got to the reception desk that wrapped around the foot of the now-unused stairs, she saw Pam holding an unfolded sheet of paper by one corner. The woman looked up with a grim expression. “Another message.”
All the fear she’d thought was vanquished roared through Natalie again, and her stomach tried to force her breakfast back up her throat. She swallowed hard. “What does it say?”
“‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all? Pretty soon it won’t be you.’ It was on the hall floor, so I assume it was slipped under the front door.”
“I guess I need to put some weather stripping along there,” Natalie tried to joke until she realized something disturbing, and her breakfast started to rise again. “So my stalker must know that I come to the salon on Monday even though it’s closed.”
“It’s not uncommon for a stalker to be familiar with his victim’s daily routines,” Pam said in a soothing voice. “It doesn’t mean he’s going to interfere with you physically.”
“But it means he’s watching me.” A shudder ran through Natalie. “He’s like one of those indestructible masked killers from a slasher movie. A faceless bogeyman.”
“I have to admit that the anonymity isn’t typical. Most stalkers want your attention. That’s the point. This one is taking care not to be identified.” Pam laid the paper down on the reception desk. “I don’t want to leave you alone to go to my car to get an evidence bag. Do you have a plastic baggie I could use to protect the letter?”
Natalie fetched a bag and looked at the paper after Pam had carefully sealed it. It was exactly like the one from her front porch except for the words. Now that the shock was past, rage boiled through her veins. The stalker was playing with her, trying to make her afraid of her own shadow because she didn’t know whom the messages were coming from. “Damn it, I’m not going to curl up in a ball and shake with fear! I’m going to find out who this creep is.”
Pam shook her head. “Please don’t do anything to endanger yourself. That would get me in trouble with the boss. Let him do the investigating. He’s good at it.”
“I won’t be stupid but I’m going to contact my previous houseguests right now and find out what they told their ex-husbands. Even Tully said that was okay.”
An hour later, Natalie leaned back in her desk chair and let her gaze travel around the small, familiar room with its cream-painted desk and pale blue carpeting. It was feminine and restful—her retreat from the constant noise and movement of the salon.
Honestly, she found the Monday silence somewhat eerie, even when she wasn’t being stalked. The whir of blow-dryers and the continual twitter of voices represented life and success to her. Without them the salon felt a little desolate.
She looked at the legal pad with all the contact information she’d gathered about the ex-wives. She’d reached two of the women. Both had sworn—up, down, and sideways—that they hadn’t mentioned her name to anyone. She was inclined to believe them because they were grateful, and they didn’t want to screw things up for the next person who needed a safe place to stay. She’d left voice mails for the other two, just simple requests to call her back.
Regina Van Houten, her most recent refugee, was a problem, though. Her cell phone was no longer in service, and Natalie had no new address for her. However, Natalie would bet money Regina hadn’t told her husband where she’d taken refuge. The young woman was terrified of him, saying he’d threatened to throw her down the stairs and tell the police it was an accident. He’d convinced Regina that no one would believe her version of the story because he was the scion of a wealthy family who had been in the area for generations, while she was a newcomer he’d plucked off a farm in Nebraska and married a year before.
Natalie’s cell rang, making her jump. The fact that her cell phone could scare her pissed her off. She checked the caller ID to discover it was Tully, and her anger turned into an entirely different kind of heat. “Hello, Tully. Thanks for sending Pam. She’s not only a great bodyguard but good company too.”
“I figured you’d be more amenable to being protected if you liked your guard.” He sounded pleased. “I sure slept a lot better last night knowing Pam was with you.”
Oh, God! There was that image of Tully’s well-muscled body draped in nothing but bedsheets again. He needed to stop talking about his sleep. “Honestly, I slept better too.”
All softness drained from his voice. “Yeah, but Pam told me about the new message.”
“What did Leland find out about the emails?” Natalie asked.
Tully huffed out a breath. “Nothing useful. The stalker is paying cash at internet cafés without video cams to send his messages. And there were no prints on the letter.” His tone gentled. “But I didn’t really expect much this soon, so there’s no need for concern. We’ll catch him.”
