I took the folder and looked through it. "Where did you get this?"

She bit her lip, then looked at me sheepishly. "There are some things, Phil, that it is better off not inquiring too deeply into. I didn't ask any questions of the person who sent me this, several years ago, because I simply didn't want to know."

"I see ... What aren't you telling me, Al?"

"Listen to the calls. Then listen to the tape of the calls that I've received in the past. The background noises are too close to identical. They may be identical. The words are about the same. The whole situation reeks of some sort of weird 'deja vu'. It seems too much of a coincidence that the calls are so similar. Entirely too much of a coincidence, if you ask me."

"As though someone had taken the original tape and duplicated it?"

"That has to be one possibility. But, if it is true, it means that he's been in my house. I don't want to even think about that."

"I understand how you feel, Al. Let's see if the calls continue since your number has been changed. If they do, we can put a tap and a trace on the line."

She pressed her lips together firmly. "Is that the best that you can do?"

"I'm afraid so. You have my home number and the station is connected on the 911 system. Call me if you need someone to talk to. Call 911 if the situation warrants it. Someone will be there directly."

"Well, thanks for nothing, Philip!" She rose from the old wooden chair. "I really thought that there was something that you all could do. I guess that until you have a corpse on your hands that you won't be able to do anything. I only hope that the dead person isn't me. Just know that there isn't a doubt in my mind that if ... if I'm pushed far enough that I can and will kill to protect myself. I have before. I'm certainly capable of it."

My mouth twisted into a wry acceptance of her words. "Yeah. I understand that," I said as I absentmindedly fingered the scar on the side of my face, the only physical sign of the one time that I had found it necessary to kill, aside from my Army years.

*Chapter 5*

'Alicia'

By the time that I had left the station, I was already regretting losing my temper with Phil. After all, it was a wild story I had told him. If someone had come to me with an unsupported tale of that nature, I would have been hard pressed to believe it. So, I really couldn't blame Phil for not wanting to believe me.

Or, at least, that was what the rational part of my mind said. Still, the less rational part of me was disappointed.

I had told him my biggest, darkest, secret and he had reacted predictably. Somehow, I had expected more of him. That hope had not been rational.

But, then again, is hope ever truly rational? I wasn't the best person to contemplate that question. Hope and I had not been on a speaking basis in a dozen years.

I got into my vintage Chevy and drove away. Somehow, this car always cheered me. I don't know what it was about it. But, I knew, from the first moment that I saw it that I had to have it, even though it had needed ma.s.sive amounts of work. That, in itself, is grossly uncharacteristic of me. Possessions have not been all that important to me since childhood. Of course, with a childhood like mine, that's understandable.

"Dwelling on the past, again, Alicia Marie? For shame," I said to myself. "Leave it behind, and concentrate on the future." Those words were almost a litany for me. Leave the past behind. That could have been my motto. The problem was that I couldn't leave it behind. And I wondered if anyone ever could.

*Chapter 6*

'Phil'

I sat thinking for several minutes after Al left. Why did I feel so disappointed with myself for letting her down? What did she expect anyway? That I would issue an APB on the man? Lord, there was no indication that the calls were even being made locally. There was a reasonable doubt in my mind the calls were even being placed by the same man.

What a mess!

Still, I had to admire her. It wasn't often that a person met a real live hero. Real live hero? That was a bad choice of words, given the situation. She was afraid of becoming a real dead hero. I doubted seriously that she saw herself as anything or anyone special, definitely not as a hero.

In the previous forty-five minutes, I knew that I had learned far more about her than she was comfortable letting anyone know. That glimpse of the real Al Jenkins just re-enforced my liking of the woman who was soon to marry my best friend.

I filled out a complete report on the telephone calls. Then I left the building and walked the five blocks down to the city library. It was time to refresh my memory on the subject. After all, it was my lunch hour and if I wanted to skip lunch to spend time in the library, that was certainly my prerogative.

I wasn't particularly surprised when Al telephoned late that evening. I had just finished re-reading the book she had written about her experience. If Al had been in the room with me, best friend's fiancee or not, I would have taken her in my arms and held her tightly until the pain stopped. Just then, though, I wasn't certain whose pain the holding would have a.s.suaged.

"Phil, he's still calling," she said with preamble.

"Has the number change gone through?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Who has been told of your new number?"

"The answering service, Geoff's secretary, and the attorney that I have acting as a go-between between Sarah Quinn and myself."

"Sarah Quinn? Not the girl from the shelter?"

"Yes."

"Easy, Alicia. What do you mean that you have an attorney acting as a go-between between you and Sarah?"

"Sarah needed a hand to get her life together. I gave that to her. She's doing her Master's degree in Nursing. She's twenty-six now. Sarah doesn't know it, but I am paying for her tuition. She thinks that it is a full scholarship, which she had won. I've set it up so that she can't contact me directly, as a way to protect both of us. Anyone finding one of us would have no good way of tracking back to the other one. That way both of us are protected, somewhat."

"I see..."

That was the kind of thing that Al would have done. She was always generous with her time and money when it came to helping youngsters and advancing women's causes. There was certainly evidence of that given the amount of her spare time she spent volunteering as a youth advocate at the local youth attention center. And the time she spent acting as an advocate for the crisis center. Then there were the self-defense cla.s.ses she taught to the girls at the local high schools, both parochial and public. Al had provided the start-up costs and the initial two years' funding for the local women's crisis center. Yes, I thought, I could definitely believe that Al was paying for Sarah Quinn's graduate school tuition.

"So, what are you going to do about this, Phil?" she demanded. Her fear put a harsh edge on her voice.

"I'll get the paperwork started to put a tap on your phone. And I'll see what I can do to speed up the caller id service order."

After we hung up, I did a little investigating via the telephone.

"Jencomp. This is the answering service..." a female voice said answering on the fourth ring of the phone.

"Yes, I was trying to reach someone. It is urgent that I get in touch. Every last copy of the Graphics Interface I bought for my store is defective. None of them will boot. It's a disaster. I need to talk with someone there, immediately."

"I can take a message and have her call you."

"No, I need to reach her immediately. I've tried her home number, but I get a message that the number has been changed."

"Yes, sir. Just a minute..." there was the distinct sound of papers being shuffled. Then the answering service read off the new number. "You do need for me to read that back to you?"

"No. Thank you. I believe that will be enough."

d.a.m.n!, I thought as I hung up the phone. There goes my nice narrow list of suspects. I dialed Al's number.

She answered quickly in a flat tone by reading off her number.

"Al. This is Phil."

"Thank G.o.d that it is you. I thought that it might be Hernandez calling again."

"Not this time. First thing tomorrow morning change your personal phone number, again. This time make certain that you tell the answering service not to give it out because it is unlisted. Or better yet, don't give them your home number at all. Not until we have a better handle on this."

"Fantastic ... I see that I'm going to have to have a long talk with the service."

"Any more calls since you called me?"

"Yes..." Her voice cracked. "I'm scared..."

"I know that you are. Is Geoff with you?"

"He's at my office, working. You know how lawyers are. They are all workaholics,"

she said. "Geoff's probably more dedicated than others."

"Have you told him about the calls?"

"Not yet. There isn't any sense in worrying him, right now. He has enough things on

his mind with trying to straighten out the mess concerning the Apple Acres project."

"Al! If my fiancee were getting threatening phone calls, I'd definitely want to know about them. I know that Geoff would want to know."

"And just what do you think that Geoff can do about this? What good would it do to worry him over this?"

This was not the voice of a woman in love, I thought. Not want to worry him? What sort of marriage are they going to have if she can't share her worries with Geoff? Although those were my thoughts, I kept them to myself. Instead, I asked, "Geoff's working? Do you want some company?"

"That's okay, Phil. You don't have to hold my hand. I'm sorry to bother you..."

"You aren't bothering me," I denied, lying through my teeth. If she had any idea of just how much or how she bothered me, she would never confide in me again. But, she was my best friend's fiancee. She was completely off limits to me. And I knew it. However, that didn't stop me from thinking about her.

Funny, until she had walked into the station earlier in the day, I had thought of her as Geoff's lady. Period. But, now that I had a glimpse of her as the vulnerable woman behind the facade, I had to admit that I was growing more and more fascinated by her. And that was an emotion that I couldn't afford to have where she was concerned.

"Do you think that I could get by with leaving the phone off the hook?"

"I wouldn't. Just turn off the ringer and leave your answering machine to handle the calls. And try to get some sleep, you sound tired."

"I am. When is this nightmare ever going to end?"

"I don't know, Al, but I'm going to make certain that nothing happens to you."

She sniffled, as she tried to choke back the tears threatening to form. "Is that a promise, Phil?"

"You have my word on it, Alicia."

"Can you keep that promise?"

"I will, or I will die trying."

"No," she answered in a strained voice. "There's been too much death already. Far too much death. Promise me that if there is a choice between your life and mine, you will choose your own. Promise me."

"You know that I can't do that, Al. Protecting people is my job."

"To quote a line from an old Clint Eastwood movie, 'Dying ain't much of a living, boy'" "'The Outlaw Josie Wales'. I didn't think that you were an Eastwood fan."

"There are a lot of things that you don't know about me, Philip."

"I can believe that. Why don't you make yourself a hot toddy or something and try to rest."

She made a derogatory sound. "Rest. How can I rest? Hernandez is out there and wants me dead. Would you be able to rest in a similar situation?"

"If you don't sleep, you will be an easier target. I doubt you really want to make this too easy for him."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have the makings of a first cla.s.s nag?" she responded with a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt, a faint hint, in her voice.

"Sweet talking officers of the law will do you no good. Try to rest, Al. I'll have patrols pa.s.s your way more frequently."

"Thanks, Phil. I appreciate it."

Something just didn't jell about this, I thought after I hung up the telephone. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. If the man wanted to hurt her, why was he terrorizing her with those calls? Why didn't he just act, unless the antic.i.p.ation of the act of revenge was giving him some sort of psychological thrill? Or maybe, he was trying to scare her enough and wear down her resistance to the point that she would be jumping at shadows?

Was the goal to do her physical harm, or was someone trying to drive her crazy? There just wasn't enough evidence to say one way or the other. The only thing that I knew for certain was that if I caught the person or persons behind this, I would definitely take deep personal pleasure in seeing him/them convicted. Provided, of course, that I could keep myself under enough control so that I didn't beat the perp senseless before charges could be brought.

I hadn't felt this protective of any woman since Rachel had died. Those feelings surprised and disconcerted me. I had never been one to poach on marked territory. Al was Geoff's girl. The vulnerable woman whom she had shown herself to be had touched me in a way that no woman had reached me in the all the years since Rachel had died.