Breaking All My Rules (13 page)

Chapter 14

W
hen Erica finally arrived home, she went straight to her bedroom, undressed, pulled on her soft terry-cloth robe, and then walked back downstairs to make a hot cup of herbal tea before she called Ashley.

“Hey, girlie,” Ashley answered in a playful voice on the first ring. “What'cha up to?”

“I just got home. How about you?”

“I'm in Baltimore. I had a late meeting with a client, and now I'm in my car, headed home. I'm glad you called to keep me company on my ride back. How did your first day of court go?”

“It was great!” Erica said, taking a small sip of tea as she walked back upstairs to her bedroom. “And I can't wait to get back tomorrow.”

“Hold up. Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend, Erica Stanford?”

Erica let out a laugh. “I know, right? Who would've thought I'd be anxiously awaiting another day of jury duty?”

“Not me, that's for sure. What brought about your change of heart?”

Erica quickly told Ashley about Jerome. She started with seeing him for the first time last week and went up to their impromptu lunch today. “Ash, this man is so handsome and sexy and . . .
mmm,
girl! I could just gobble him up!”

“Thank goodness! It's about time you met someone who piques your interest. See, I told you jury duty might be more fascinating than you thought. And a fine-ass man definitely raises things up a notch.”

“Not only is he fine, but he's kind and thoughtful. He has this reserved strength and rugged edge that just make me want to melt.”

“You're such a hopeless romantic.”

“I know. Always have been and always will be.”

Erica had always loved fairy tales. Growing up, she and Ashley could never watch the same movies together. Erica's choice always involved princesses and enchanted kingdoms, whereas Ashley's involved car chases and explosions. But that was one of the things that made their friendship click into place like building blocks. Erica's softness smoothed out Ashley's sharp edge. And Ashley's pragmatism saved Erica from floating into the clouds.

Ashley chuckled. “He sounds really nice, Erica. And I have to admit, I've never heard you sound so geeked up over a guy you just met.”

“I guess it's because I've never met anyone quite like him,” Erica said. “Jerome is the first man who has ever really listened to me. With most of the guys I've dated, it's always been about their résumés, who they know, what clubs or organizations they're members of, what kind of house they live in and car they drive. But with him it's different. We spent our entire lunch break with me as the center of attention.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. He made me feel so special. He wanted to know everything about me . . . all about my life, my business, and my family and friends.”

“Uh-oh.”

“What do you mean,
uh-oh?
”

Ashley cleared her throat. “Girl, it sounds to me like you just might've found yourself a stalker.”

“You're such a prosecutor.”

“I'm a realist.”

Erica sat her teacup on the side of her vanity table, took a seat in the chair, and looked in the mirror as she dabbed night cream on her face. “I think I'd know if he was a stalker. I've had enough experience dating lunatics to spot one.”

“You've dated some assholes, but trust me, you don't know what real crazy looks like.”

“Jerome's not crazy.”

“How do you know? You just met him.”

“I have a good feeling about him, and I always trust my gut.”

“My dear, sweet, trusting friend.” Ashley sighed. “You're really too nice sometimes and, dare I say, a bit naive.”

“Just because I don't automatically assume the worse about everyone doesn't mean I'm naive.”

“Okay, where is this guy from?”

“I'm not sure.”

“What does he do for a living?”

Erica thought for a moment. She didn't know what he did, but she knew where he was employed. “He works for the city.”

“Doing what?”

“Um, I don't know. But he told me that he's trying to start his own business. He does side projects at night and on the weekends. As a matter of fact, he was on his way to finish up a project this afternoon, when we left court.”

“What kind of business is he trying to start?”

Erica paused for a second. “He didn't say. But I'll find out tomorrow, when we have lunch again.”

“So for all you know, his fine ass could indeed be a stalker, or at the very least, a little crazy.”

“Why does a man who shows a genuine interest in me have to be a crazy stalker?” Erica's voice cranked up a slight octave.

“Calm down. I didn't say he was. I merely suggested that he could be.”

Erica rose from the soft chair at her vanity table, picked up her now lukewarm cup of tea, and walked over to her bed. “Aren't you the one who told me that I needed to meet someone and start dating again?”

“Yes, but I didn't mean just anybody.”

“Jerome isn't just anybody.”

“Erica, beyond his name, you don't know
who
he is.”

Erica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew Ashley would be skeptical because that was the cut-and-try, practical, no-nonsense type of person her friend had always been. But she hadn't anticipated such a negative response to her good news. “I don't understand why you're being such a Debbie Downer.”

“Because this is real life. I deal with the criminal element in my line of work, and I see it all, and right now I don't like what I'm hearing.”

“What you're hearing?” Erica balked. “I've been telling you how happy I am and how wonderful Jerome is since we started this conversation. What's there not to like about that?”

“I'm looking at the other side of it.”

“What side?”

“The dark side of life, which you never seem to want to admit exists. Erica, you spent practically all day with this man and you don't know a thing about him, yet he knows everything about you, down to who your friends are. Don't you find that strange?”

Erica had to admit that she thought it was odd, too. But she'd been so caught up in her conversation with Jerome and the giddy way he made her feel that she'd glossed over it, figuring she'd find out all she needed to know in due time. Now Ashley was beginning to make her doubtful.

“Did you ask him any questions?” Ashley continued.

“No, well . . . yes, I did. I told him that we'd talked enough about me and that I wanted to know about him. But he said he found me really interesting, and somehow the conversation never got back around to him.”

“See, that's what I'm talking about. Sweetie, in my experience, people who don't talk about themselves have something to hide.”

Erica closed her eyes tight and thought for a minute. “The fact that he's able to serve on a jury in a court of law has got to mean something. If he was crazy or had a criminal past or something, they'd never let him serve on a criminal trial jury, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Ashley responded. “Only people who have a pending felony criminal charge or who've been convicted of certain types of felonies are rejected. And as far as the crazy part, unless the court has documented papers that state he's got a mental disability, he's free to serve.”

“So you're saying a person can be a crazy criminal and still make the cut?”

“Unfortunately, yes. My uncle Maynard has stabbed at least two people that I know of, and he's crazier than hell. But he had jury duty last year, and he got on my last freakin' nerve, asking me so many questions about ‘the system.' ”

By now, Erica was under her warm comforter, with the sheets pulled up to her chest. Her whimsical thoughts of a romance with Jerome were sinking faster than a makeshift raft. She hated to admit it, but Ashley was right. “So you think he's a crazy stalker?”

“Like I said, he could be. I just don't like the fact that he knows so much about you and you don't know a thing about him. You didn't tell him where you live, did you?”

“Of course not.” Then a thought came rushing to Erica's mind. “Damn!”

“What?”

“Ash, he knows where I work. I gave him an Opulence flyer.”

“Then he knows where you live, too. One Google search in the public records of deeds will link your name to both your business and home addresses. He's probably on his computer, doing a search, as we speak.”

“I'm gonna do one, too.” Erica hopped out of bed and walked down the hall to her home office. “I'm Googling him right now.”

Erica typed in Jerome's name, but nothing appeared. She hit the back space key and attempted several different spellings, but still, nothing on Jerome Kimbrough came up on her screen.

“Did you find anything?” Ashley asked.

“Nothing,” Erica answered. “It's like he doesn't exist. Nowadays, who doesn't have a presence on the Internet?”

“Somebody who doesn't want to be found.”

Erica put her hand to her head, felling a dull ache play at her right temple. After she told Ashley her exciting news about Jerome, she'd planned to let her know about the beautiful design for Paradise, but now all she wanted to do was go back to her bed and hide under her fluffy sheets. But she knew she couldn't do that. She quickly jumped up from her desk chair and headed downstairs.

“You're breathing hard,” Ashley said. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure my alarm is on. I don't think I set it before I came upstairs.”

“Erica, I didn't mean to scare you. I just want you to be aware.”

“I know. And you're right. All the things you said make perfect sense. I feel like such an idiot. I mean, who falls for someone they don't even know? And to think, he got me to tell him all my business.”

Erica pressed a button to activate the alarm system's “no entry delay” feature. She looked out her back kitchen window, peering as far as she could beyond her covered garage. “You always hear stories about unsuspecting victims who never thought a terrible crime could happen to them. Well, I'm not going to be one of them.”

Ashley shifted her voice to a gentler tone. “All I'm saying is that I want you to be careful with this guy. If you're still interested in him, find out everything you can about his background. But if he clams up or won't tell you anything, stop your communication immediately.”

“I definitely will.” Erica sighed heavily and bit her lower lip. “You know, ever since my dad was shot all those years ago, I've always made a conscious effort to fight against the feeling of being scared of my own shadow. I don't want to live in fear. That's why I give people the benefit of the doubt and look at the bright side of life, because trust me, despite what you think, I do know about the dark side. I've seen it.”

“I know you have, sweetie,” Ashley said softly. “In the meantime, I'll run a background check on him when I get in my office in the morning. What's his last name?”

“Kimbrough.”

“And he works for the city, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, if he has a criminal record, it should come up in our database. But sometimes, things can be expunged or can drop off for a variety of reasons, so I'll get my guy Sam to run an under-the-table check on him. Sam's good at what he does, and if this guy has any dirt on him, Sam will find it.”

Erica breathed with a combination of anxiety and relief. “Thanks, Ash. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime. That's what I'm here for.”

Later that night, as Erica lay awake in bed, she trembled inside. But unlike earlier today, the sensation wasn't a result of butterflies and wistful fantasies of love. It was a punch in the gut, rooted in the fear of what she hadn't seen coming.

Chapter 15

E
rica quickened her pace as she turned the corner in the opposite direction of the courthouse, headed toward the parking garage several blocks in the distance. The rain had begun to pour, but she knew if she could just make it to the building, the parking attendant would be able to help her. She was almost there, but her breathing went shallow and the soft hairs on her arms rose when she realized that the foot traffic on the street was unusually sparse, with not another soul in sight. She swallowed hard, knowing what that meant.

She looked from side to side, walking as fast as her three-and-a-half-inch Jimmy Choos would allow under the conditions. The cold rain poured heavily as she took quick but measured steps, crunching the uneven pavement under her heels with a determined force of stride.

Then she heard him! His hard-bottom shoes made a
click-clack
noise behind her as he advanced.

Erica was too frightened to look back, and she knew if she did, it would only slow her down, and perhaps cause her to stumble on the slick sidewalk running under her feet. She tried not to panic as she soldiered on, increasing her speed. The sound of the footsteps was growing closer. Her heartbeat accelerated as the hard
click-clacking
of his shoes thundered in her ears, louder than the falling rain.

She could see the garage less than a hundred feet away, but she could also hear him gaining on her, advancing at a pace that would seal her fate in the next five seconds. She knew this was do or die. She had to make a move. With a determined focus, Erica breathed in and out, pumped her arms, and lifted her legs high into the wind as she dashed ahead.

But it was too late.

With a crushing force, she felt a hand the size of a baseball mitt wrap itself around the middle of her slender waist, while the other gripped her throat, at the base of her larynx, in a vicious death hold. It took only a few seconds to silence her. The scream she wanted to make became lodged deep in her trachea, unable to fight its way past her quivering lips.

She kicked and pulled and jerked and wrestled and clawed and fought. But her efforts only proved to rob her of precious energy, making her weaker as she expended the last traces of oxygen left in her lungs.

His hold became tighter. Her body began to grow limp. Erica could see death standing at the end of the deserted street, where the garage had been only moments ago. It was patiently waiting for her arrival. It beckoned her. It wanted her. So she stopped resisting.

She closed her eyes, letting her head drop against the pair of broad shoulders behind her. Listless and defeated, she opened her mouth, tasted the last drop of life upon her tongue, and waited for the end as the heavy rain stopped falling.

“
Nooooo!
” Erica screamed. She bolted straight up, wide awake, drenched in sweat, sitting in the middle of her tousled bed. Her chest heaved violently, her eyes were wet with saltwater tears, and her body quaked like an aftershock. She tried to remember her exercise, tried to breathe in and out to calm herself. But it wouldn't work this time. She couldn't focus, and she didn't care to. All she wanted to do was hide and make her nightmares go away.

Finally, she concentrated, slowing her breathing with controlled silence until she was no longer gasping for air. She reached over to her nightstand and turned off her alarm clock, which had yet to reach the hour of its sound. With slow and heavy steps, Erica pushed herself toward her bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.

Looking at herself in the beautifully appointed French provincial–style mirror hanging over her vessel sink, all Erica could think about was the change she wanted, and the fear that it might never come.