Joanna spent all day Saturday shut up in her loft, reading and rereading the script Freddy had sent her. The more she thought about it, the more desperately she wanted it. She was about to pull a diva-like move that might end a friendship and land her in legal hot water, but she saw no way around it. It not only solved her problems with Gordon, but it also might rejuvenate her waning movie career. She couldn’t wait to sign on the dotted line.
Jane had called early on Sunday morning, waking Joanna from a sound sleep. She explained that she and David had changed their plans. They were staying another day in Nebraska. Joanna asked to talk to David, but apparently he was out riding with Jane’s new girlfriend, having one hell of a grand time. Well, good for him, thought Joanna. Her life was coming apart, but at least David was enjoying himself.
Joanna spent a good part of the afternoon standing at the windows in the living room, gazing longingly at the windy fall day on the other side of the glass. She wanted to go window-shopping down Hennepin Avenue, but she couldn’t bring herself to call the bodyguard service and ask for a man to be sent out to escort her around town. The loft was big and comfortable enough, but after nearly four days cooped up inside, she simply had to get out, even if it was just for a few minutes.
Tomorrow she would need to go to the theater, put up a good show until the details of the film got sorted out, so this afternoon would be a trial run.
After pinning back her hair and donning a hat and a pair of dark glasses, she tossed on a jacket, grabbed her purse and her keys, and headed downstairs. She felt strong in the elevator, as if the act of movement itself was somehow a show of defiance. When she stepped off on the first floor, she nodded to a man standing next to the elevator door. His arms were folded over his chest and he was wearing a uniform—brown slacks, tan shirt, official-looking hat, with a two-way radio pinned on his shoulder. Just the sight of him gave her courage a boost.
She walked through the main floor with her head held high. Nobody seemed to recognize her, or if they did, they let her pass without comment. When she pushed through the front door out into the gray autumn day, she breathed in deeply. She knew it was half car exhaust, but she didn’t care. It was the smell of freedom.
Looking both ways down the street, she headed south. There was a deli halfway down on the other side of the street. After her short stroll, a cup of coffee sounded good. She walked along slowly, her eyes darting in every direction. The area around the Linden Building reminded her of SoHo in New York twenty years ago. What had once been a microcosm of inner-city blight was now in the process of being gentrified. The area still had some of the rawness of street life about it, but it was on its way toward respectability.
Entering the deli a few minutes later, she ordered a coffee and waited by the counter as the young man stepped back to the press pot and filled the paper cup. She picked out a lemon bar to go with it and paid cash at the register. Then, turning to survey the room, she decided on a table by the windows. It was an odd sensation, this newfound confidence. She felt like an adult again, something that had evaporated inside her the moment she received that first bouquet in Sandpoint. The short walk had brought her back to herself. She realized that she did have power—options.
As she sipped her coffee, she looked out the window, watching the
cars, the people, content just to be out of the loft. And that’s when she saw him. He was striding along the sidewalk a few hundred feet to the north of the Linden Building. As he approached the front door, he dashed across the street. Joanna couldn’t see him now, but she knew he was out there. And she knew why. He was watching her, like he used to. And waiting.
Opening her purse, she removed her cell phone. She searched through the numbers she’d recently called until she found Gordon’s. She hit redial and then waited. One ring. Two. Finally, he picked up.
“Out for an afternoon walk?” she asked conversationally. “You’re a long way from home.”
Silence. Then, “What do you want?”
“You’re losing your edge, Gordon. You think you’re watching me, but actually, I’m watching you. The prey is hunting the hunter. Ain’t it a crazy world?”
“What the hell are you up to?”
“Me? Well, how about a little payback?”
“You fuck with me, Joanna, and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.”
“You do like to make threats.”
“And, if you remember correctly, you can trust me to carry them out.”
The comment made a dent in her resolve, but she forged on. She couldn’t stop the hate spewing out of her mouth. It had been locked up for too many years. “But you’re an old man now, Gordo. You look to me like a heart attack waiting to happen. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.” She laughed. It felt so good. “God, Gordo, you’re a tub of lard. What happened to your discipline? Your ideals? I assume you eat most of your supersized meals alone now. I mean, who’d date a gross-looking blimp like you? Kind of hard up in the date department, are we, Gordo?”
For some reason, she had the sense that she wasn’t succeeding at making him mad, that instead, he was smiling at her.
“You have no idea what my life is like now, Jo. I’m truly a lucky man. I’ve been blessed with the love of many fine women.”
“The ones you murdered? You think I don’t know? The police are on to you. It’s just a matter of time until they nail you.”
“My my, how you do go on.”
“I’ll bet those women dumped you because you can’t get it up anymore. One too many Krispy Kremes?”
“Sounds like you wanna find out, Jo. That can be arranged.”
Just the sound of his voice was enough to send a needle through her heart. She needed to end the call before her confidence completely died.
“Joanna, you still there?”
“I’m here, I’m there, I’m all over, Gordon. You never know when I might pop up.”
“Shit, woman! What do you want?”
Maybe she had touched a nerve after all. “What do you want? Why the hell don’t you leave me alone!”
A long pause. When he finally spoke this time, his voice had taken on a warm, conspiratorial edge. “I want to finish what I started all those years ago. You’ll like it, Jo, what I’ve got planned for you. You may beg me to stop, but I know it’s what you want. I can still see into your soul, Jo. It’s even blacker than it used to be.”
“You … you—”
“Think about me tonight when you go to sleep. I’ll be there, waiting for you in your dreams.”