Present Danger (30 page)

“This is Bell,” a clipped voice answered.

“Detective Bell, my name is Aunie Franklin,” she
identified herself in a barely audible voice. She cleared her throat. “Uh, you left a message for me to call you?” She clutched the receiver in slippery palms.

“Franklin, Franklin. Oh, yeah, here it is. Miss Franklin, I called to let you know we’ve apprehended the person responsible for the rash of harrassment calls that you and several other students from your college have been receiving. According to the time and date sheets you submitted to the telephone company a few weeks ago, the number of origin on several of your calls tallies with that of the woman whose list finally nailed him.”

“Oh, my God,” Aunie whispered in shock. “Who was it?”

The answer was anticlimatic as she didn’t recognize the name. Perhaps Mary would. Almost to herself she murmured, “I don’t understand this. I’ve heard about the calls he’d made to other students. Why were my calls so different?”

“Interesting you should ask that,” Detective Bell replied. “Ordinarily the answer would probably remain one of life’s little mysteries, but this guy turned out to be one of those chatty little individuals who likes to brag about his deeds. Your name was mentioned specifically.” Aunie’s stomach turned over.

“He gained access to his victims’ telephone numbers through a part-time job he held with Ma Bell,” the detective explained. “And, miss, he took it quite to heart when your unlisted number was virtually the only information he could get on you.

“Physically, he’s fairly nondescript,” the detective continued, “average build, average coloring, nothing outstanding about him. He found it simple enough to blend into just about any crowd, where he’d glean
details of his victims’ lives through overheard gossip and conversations. Apparently, though, you don’t talk about yourself at school. He was rather put out that although there is some gossip about you, no one seemed to possess any concrete facts. There was no personal knowledge available, none of the little details that he used to unnerve his victims. Rather than leave you alone entirely, he settled for calling and hanging up; but apparently the message on your machine took a great deal of fun out of even that. I approve of that message, by the way. He also mentioned something about bodyguards?”

Aunie gave him a thumbnail sketch of James’s escort service, including a brief description of the physical characteristics of her sentries, and the detective laughed. They talked for a short while longer and then disconnected. The instant Aunie replaced the receiver, she was out the door and down the hall, pounding on James’s door.

He opened it and she launched herself at his chest.

His arms tightened around her convulsively. “Aunie?” Holding her, he stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. To say he was surprised to see her was an understatement.

Somehow, though, he intuitively knew her being here now was something separate from the fight they’d had earlier. Trying to see her face, he asked, “What? What is it, baby? Are you all right?” At least her instincts still had her running to him with whatever it was, instead of taking it to Otis or Lola.

“It wasn’t Wesley, James,” she said into his chest. “It was some boy I don’t even know.”

“What wasn’t Wesley, baby?” Then it clicked. “The phone calls? They caught the caller?” When she nodded, he picked her up and carried her down the hall
to her apartment. Once inside, he set her on her feet and held her at arm’s length so he could see her face. “Tell me.”

She looked around with some confusion. Hadn’t they been in front of his apartment? Why were they in hers when his had been closer?

“
Tell
me, Aunie.”

She shook her head to clear it and then told him. “Detective Bell said it took longer to track him than it usually would because he used public phones almost exclusively. They would get a number on the trace, but they didn’t have the manpower to stake out all the various phone booths he used. Then, two or three weeks ago, he began placing the calls from his home. They picked him up today.”

“Christ.” James tugged on his ponytail. “This is kind of hard to take in. After assuming all this time it was Cunningham.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But this is good,” he said, rapidly assimilating and shifting facts in his fertile brain. A slow smile slashed lines from the corners of his eyes, deepened the three shallow grooves next to his mouth. “It’s excellent, in fact. Y know what this means, Magnolia?”

She wasn’t thinking as speedily as he, but the facts were slowly sinking in nevertheless. “It’s all over, isn’t it, James?”

“Yes.” He looked down at her and noticed signs that she’d been crying. His smile slowly faded. “Yes,” he repeated. “It’s really all over.”

It was doubtful much work was accomplished on campus the following day. It was abuzz with news of the arrest as bands of students formed and broke up … constantly shifting and rearranging themselves into new groups as they milled about dissecting every snippet of information available. Voices rose and fell as everyone vied to relate their individual reactions to the news. A party atmosphere pervaded the halls, classrooms, and grounds.

As Aunie had suspected she might, Mary had a working knowledge of the young man arrested. She described him to Aunie, but no matter how descriptive or how many instances she could cite when he’d been on the periphery of their lunch group, Aunie was unable to pin a face to the name.

Oddly enough, for a short while as they milled out on the herringbone brick plaza fronting the building, Aunie thought she felt someone watching her. The
fine hairs on her nape stood up, just as they’d been doing for the past week. Her head whipped around and she automatically scanned the crowd … but saw no one who seemed to be paying her undue attention.

Then she felt slightly ridiculous. Talk about an inflated sense of her own importance. In view of yesterday’s arrest, it hardly seemed likely that anyone was watching her now; and in truth the sensation had only lasted for a brief instant. For all she knew, some guy had thought she was cute … for about fifteen seconds. She smiled slightly at the ego-puncturing thought. Nevertheless, she made a mental note to mention the impression to James—provided she saw him—and then she put it out of her mind.

She was slightly embarrassed to admit it, even to herself, but she was every bit as greedy for information about the caller as any other student present today. She liked to believe she was above the sort of gossip and conjecture that tended to run rampant around the campus, but she found herself willfully absorbing every particle of intelligence that made the rounds, be it real or speculation. If it pertained to the young man who’d managed to turn so many lives upside down, she listened.

It was still a struggle to assimilate the knowledge that it was a stranger and not Wesley who’d been calling her.

It was drizzling by the time her last class let out and Mary offered her a ride home. Aunie declined, wanting to savor the freedom of her first unattended walk in several weeks. She took her time, window-shopping along Broadway, stopping to purchase a few toiletries she’d been meaning to replace for some time. By the time she fit her key into the outdoor lock of the apartment building, she was nearly soaked
to the skin, but she didn’t care. It appeared that finally her life was being returned to her. And rain or no rain, she had enjoyed herself immensely.

The young man trailed more than a block behind her on the opposite side of the street. He found keeping her in sight along Broadway as easy as pie. When she turned off into the residential district and he lost the convenient camouflage of sidewalks congested with students and shoppers, it was a little trickier, but not much. She hadn’t spared so much as a single glance behind her, and not for the first time that day he blessed the poor chump who’d gotten himself arrested yesterday. No doubt he was a degenerate little jerk-off, but his timing couldn’t be faulted.

And timing was all, the young man thought. It was no skin off his teeth to admit he’d been starting to feel the pinch of desperation. He’d lucked onto Franklin’s registration for college several weeks back and thought he’d had it made. As it happened, however, that was the last piece of luck he’d had. The address on the registration turned out to be a post office box she never visited. She hadn’t applied for a Washington state driver’s license; she hadn’t registered a car. No one knew anything about her except that blond bitch, Holloman, and when he’d approached her, she’d refused to give him the time of day. He was not her type obviously. Either that or she didn’t appreciate a good old-fashioned pickup. Some women were like that.

The primary problem, of course, was that Franklin was surrounded by men whom he for one didn’t care to encounter up close. Without their vigilance, he could have followed her home the first day, but their
presence made trailing her a sticky proposition. He hadn’t missed how cautious and observant they were when they escorted her to and from the vehicles they’d parked illegally right in front of the college. And they clearly knew the town well. He didn’t believe they’d ever spotted a tail, but they drove as if they assumed one and they’d lost him every time. Who the hell were these people?

Then, just to make matters about as dismal as they could possibly get, tomorrow, from everything he’d been able to determine, Franklin was taking her last final. After that, of course, she’d be gone for the summer. So God bless the deviate. Two days later and he would have been shit out of luck.

Protected beneath the leafy branches of a tree one block south, he leaned against the rough-barked trunk, picked his teeth with a matchbook cover, and grinned in satisfaction when she turned up a short walkway and let herself into an old, well-maintained apartment building. Bingo. Yes sir, this beat hell out of waiting for the DMV to cough up the addresses on the Harley, Thunderbird, and Jeep registrations he’d requested. Especially since he hadn’t a clue if they’d lead him anywhere. He had sweated bullets this past week worrying that the three beefeaters who owned those vehicles were simply the babe’s hired talent. Now he didn’t have to give a rat’s ass.

He leaned against the tree and smoked a cigarette. Anyone peeking out from behind a curtain would assume he was sheltering from the rain for five minutes. Then, whistling, he flicked the butt away and strolled up the street. Pulling a notebook from the breast pocket of his flannel shirt as he passed the apartment house, he breezed on by without a pause, scribbling down the address as he went.

His bonus for being the one to locate Mrs. Wesley Cunningham was in the bag.

The Jacksons’ door opened as Aunie was closing the entrance door behind her and Otis stuck his head out into the hallway. “I’m glad you’re home,” he said. “You got any plans for this afternoon?”

“Just goin’ to the gym,” she replied. “But it’s not something I have to do; I can easily put it off.” She studied him. “You look kind of frazzled, Otis. What’s the matter … baby keep you up all night?”

“I’ve gotta leave for work and Lola’s got the flu or something. She’s feeling lousy … can’t seem to hold anything down this afternoon.” He gave her a beleaguered look, his big shoulders twitching. “Aunie, could you do us an enormous favor and watch Greta-Leigh for a few hours? My sister can take her at six; and if Lola’s still feeling under the weather later tonight, I can probably get the next couple days off. I know it’s an imposition—”

“Don’t be silly,” she interrupted him. “I’d love to take care of her.”

“Thanks, Aunie. I appreciate this more than I can say. Jimmy’s nowhere around, and I was coming to the end of my rope trying to figure out what to do.” He gave his wristwatch a hurried glance and then rubbed his long fingers over his hard skull. “Come on in. I’ll get her bottles and diapers together.”

Between the two of them, they located and packed all the baby’s essentials and brought her diaper bag and the infant up to Aunie’s apartment. Aunie ran in to change out of her wet clothes while Otis said goodbye to his daughter.

“Daddy’s gotta go to work now, honeybunch,” he murmured, chin tucked into his neck as he gazed lovingly at the baby sprawled on his massive shoulder. Big, dark eyes stared up at him and the plastic clown-smile of her pacifier bobbed as she worked the nipple. “You be a good girl for Auntie Aunie and I’ll see you in a couple of days.” He looked up at Aunie as she walked into the room, towel-drying her hair. “Or sooner, if Lola doesn’t feel better. You got my work number?”

Aunie grinned at him and recited it. “James made me memorize
everyone’s
number. Don’t you worry about a thing now. We’ll be just fine—won’t we, sugar?—and I’ll take real good care of her.” She tossed the towel aside and held up her hands for the infant.

Otis reluctantly peeled Greta-Leigh off his shoulder, pressed a kiss on her forehead, and handed her to Aunie. His white teeth flashed in a smile. “Thanks again, Aunie. I owe you one.”

“Oh, yeah, this is a real hardship,” she replied and gave him a cocky smile. “I just hate having to play with this little ol’ sweetie pie all afternoon. Go on now; get to work.” She walked him to the door, smiling tolerantly as he told her the time of Greta-Leigh’s nap and last bottle, and gave her more information
than
she needed concerning the various supplies they had toted up to her apartment.

“I thought he’d never leave, didn’t you, sugar?” Aunie asked the baby when the door had closed behind Otis’s back. She nuzzled the incredibly soft skin in Greta-Leigh’s neck. “It’s just you and me now, kid.”

* * *

Wesley concluded his conversation with the detective, recradled the receiver, and went into action. He buzzed his secretary and gave her crisp instructions; he called his maid and ordered her to pack.

When he was finished giving the commands that would smooth the way for his trip, he leaned back in his chair and smiled in satisfaction.

The little slut’s time had come.

Aunie played with the baby for a while and then put her on a blanket on the floor and stretched out on her stomach next to her, ankles crossed in the air, to study for finals.

Half an hour later, she decided it was a good thing she already knew this stuff, because her heart just wasn’t into cramming. Now that the euphoria of her walk home was wearing off, she couldn’t stop reliving the same memory she’d been reliving every unguarded moment since yesterday afternoon: her fight with James, and the angry, unprotected lovemaking that had followed it.

Last night had been pretty miserable. Her emotions had fluctuated wildly and she hadn’t attained even a fraction of the stability she usually received from being with James. He’d talked too much about all the wrong things, and she hadn’t talked very much at all.

Why hadn’t he once mentioned their fight? She’d instinctively run to him in spite of it the moment she’d found out about the caller, but it had never been far from her mind. Hadn’t it occurred to him yet that they hadn’t used any birth control? Didn’t
he care? She’d badly needed his comfort; yet all the while she’d been receiving it, she’d also been harboring a lot of unaddressed anger. When it came right down to it, she still was.

Okay, perhaps it was childish of her not to have broached the subject herself; there was too much at stake here not to clear the air. But last night she’d kept waiting for him to say something, and when he hadn’t, she’d turned stubborn. Damned if
she
was going to be the first one to bring it up when he’d been the one to instigate the whole affair. Disgracefully, childishly, she still felt that way.

And would somebody please tell her just what the deal was with his apartment? Her name might not be Einstein, but she wasn’t a total lackwit. It was slowly dawning on her that apparently she was not welcome in it.

Teeth clenched, stomach knotted, she knew she had to redirect her thoughts. The last thing she needed was additional anger; she was already nursing more than she could handle. With renewed determination, she applied herself to her books; and when James arrived a short while later, she put extra effort into behaving normally. She would not give him an excuse to accuse her of sulking.

He closed the door quietly behind him and walked into the living room. Shooting Aunie a quick, wary glance, he then gazed down at Greta-Leigh.

She lay on her back on a baby blanket on the floor next to Aunie, surrounded by toys but staring unblinkingly at a lighted lightbulb over her head. From her position on the floor, she had a straight view up the shade of the lamp on the end table.

“Hey little darlin’.” He crouched down next to them and waved a tentative finger in front of the
baby’s face to get her attention. He glanced over at Aunie. “Won’t that wreck her eyes?”

“Apparently not,” Aunie replied, “although I can’t shake the feeling it’s goin’ to blind the child.” She stuck a finger in her book to mark her place and looked up at him. “And this is after I was forewarned. Lola told me about Greta-Leigh’s little kilowatt habit yesterday. I guess babies this age are naturally attracted to bright lights. The pediatrician at the hospital told Lola it wouldn’t harm her.”

“Huh. Spooky.”

Greta-Leigh noticed the big finger waving in front of her face and reached for it. James nudged it into her soft little palm and then grunted in surprise when she clamped down on it with unexpected strength. Experimentally, he pulled his hand in toward his body and the baby came with it, still clinging.

“Support her head, James,” Aunie cautioned, smiling at Greta-Leigh, who was faithfully adhering to his finger even though her head lagged behind
the
rest of her body. “Her neck’s not very strong yet and she lets go as abruptly as she grabs on, don’t you, sugar? Put your other hand under her like this.”

James complied. “You can sure tell she’s Otis’s kid. She’s got a championship grip. Uh-oh.” He wrinkled his nose. “Oh, God, Magnolia, I think she’s fillin’ up her pants.” He gingerly pried the tiny fist from his knuckle, scooped the baby up in his big hands, and extended her to Aunie. “Here.”

Aunie experienced a spurt of good humor. “Here, yourself,” she replied, reaching for the diaper bag and shoving it over to him. “You are a big, strong man. I’m sure you can change one little ol’ diaper.”

“Isn’t it time for her to go home, yet?” James held
her as far away from his body as his long arms would stretch.

“We’ve got her until six. Lola’s sick.” Aunie smirked at the expression on his face. “Everything you need is right here,” she said, giving the diaper bag another nudge. “Wipes, cornstarch powder, clean diapers … even clean rubber pants if she’s overflowed the ones she has on.”

“Now there’s an appealing thought. Why don’t I just take her out back and hose her down?”

“James.”

“Okay, okay. But I’m warnin’ you, Magnolia, I’ve got a weak stomach. If I get sick, it’s gonna be up to you to clean up after both of us.”