Darkness surrounded Amelia when she opened her eyes, and the dull ache of her head soon let her know that it was still early. The combination of a message from Myron, her nerves at starting a brand new book tour, and the rain that had only stopped in the early hours of the morning, had prevented her from getting much sleep.
With a groan, she glanced at the bedside clock. It was a few minutes before six, but she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Her mind already whirred through the many questions and worries she had.
After rubbing the dust from her eyes, she turned off her alarm and wrapped herself in her favourite dressing gown. She padded through to the rest of the ground floor flat and her large open-plan kitchen, dining area and living room. Off to the far corner, the front door stood like a silent green sentinel in the ochre walls.
Immediately her eyes were drawn to the large white envelope on the mat. With a raised eyebrow, she wandered over to it. The postman wouldn't come for several more hours yet, and only her name appeared on the outside in a blocky but neat script. Given Myron's message, she wondered if it might be from him, but it wasn't his handwriting, and when she flipped it over there was no familiar seal holding the envelope shut. She did notice three large splotches of what must have been rain water.
Still not opening it, she wandered to the window and peeked out of a gap in the curtain. It wasn't raining and didn't look like it had been for at least an hour or so. Whoever had delivered this letter had done it at a very early time of the morning. She searched her memory of the previous night while she'd been tossing and turning in bed, but she didn't think she'd heard the letterbox clatter shut after the envelope would have been pushed through. Given the lack of sleep, she was fairly certain she'd have noticed it, and that meant it had been posted some time between one and five-thirty that morning. She shivered, not sure she wanted to open it and find out why.
To put the moment off for a few minutes, she decided to make herself a cup of tea first. She took the envelope back towards the kitchen area and placed it on the counter while she boiled the kettle and prepared the teapot.
Once she had the warm mug of hot tea in her hands, she still couldn't quite bring herself to open the letter. She stared at it while leaning against the island behind her.
It wasn't the first time she'd had strange letters from fans, and it was probably just another of those, but it was the first to be delivered by hand to her door, and the first to arrive at such an odd time. That alone made her more wary of it.
Knowing she couldn't put it off any longer, Amelia put her drink to one side and lifted the envelope up. The publishers had given her advice the first time she'd had one, and she followed it now, keeping her fingers near the edges to help preserve any fingerprints the writer might have left. She turned it over and used a knife from the cutlery drawer to slice open the flap.
After covering her fingers with a piece of cling film and making an improvised glove, she pulled the letter out. It was folded in half with no writing on the back and no distinguishing features of any kind. She sniffed at it as she brought it slowly towards her, but no particular scent came off it either. With nothing else to do, she opened the paper to read the letter.
Amelia,
I've been a fan of yours for some time now and have had the pleasure of meeting you several times. You're far lovelier than any of the other authors I've met, and I'd love to get to know you better. I am just like your character, Dalton. It's like you already know me and the way I think, and I know you like him. You've said many times that he was your favourite character.
I know you'll remember me from your last book tour. I came to several of the places you visited and I keep the photos of us from the Waterstones in Trowbridge in my wallet. I'm so pleased that you're going on tour again. I've noticed you don't write in public places very often. It's a shame. If you did, I could join you sometimes and help. I know I'd make a great muse when you're writing about Dalton.
Your biggest fan.
Amelia exhaled. This wasn't quite as sweet as some of the others she'd received. After tucking it back into the envelope, she pulled off the cling film and hurried over to her laptop. Something like this would be best dealt with by her publishers. They'd know what she ought to do in response.
Her hands shook as she typed out a quick message to them, letting them know the rough details and that she had no idea who it could be. The last time she'd been in Trowbridge to sign books was several months ago, and no one came to mind that had stood out from the usual crowd. It was also fairly common for her fans to come to more than one of her signings when she did lots of stops in one area.
By the time she was done, she realised she needed to shower and dress or she'd be late for her first location of the day. Despite being on edge because of the letter, she couldn't let it put her off when the tour was only just beginning. It also might give her an opportunity to spot who this letter sender was. If he was too scary or obsessed, she could always tell Myron and Sebastian about it. Both of them would know what to do.
Comforted by the thought of her mentor and friend helping, she went about her morning routine as if nothing had happened. Only tiredness made her day any different, and she was a couple of minutes late walking into Bath's biggest bookshop.
Every time she started a tour she insisted it was her first location, and the fans were used to this. Despite it being early in the day, a long line of people wound inside the shop floor and then out the door and down the street. She smiled and waved as she normally would, apologising for being late to the fans nearest and the staff who were already helping organise the large queue.
It didn't take long for the manager, a greying, softly spoken man, to come over to her. They hugged and he kissed her cheek before guiding her to the familiar table in its usual location. She apologised for being late once more before stepping into her usual spot. Instantly, the normality of being in this shop made her feel better. Starting here always made it easier to go from being alone to being surrounded by people.
“Amelia!” a recognisable low voice called from near the door. She glanced in the direction of the heckle and saw two of her friends standing in the long line: James and David. They weren't too far back, but she knew it would take her quite a few minutes to get to them. With a grin, she tried to wave them over and start with them, but they wouldn't move from their position. It wouldn't be fair of her to give them preferential treatment, but she rarely let that stop her if she thought it was the right thing to do.
Instead, she had to work her way through to them, signing, making small talk and posing for photos until they were in front of her. James launched himself at her and gave her a bear-hug so tight it squeezed what little air her corseted waist-coat allowed into her lungs right back out again. She chuckled as he put her back down onto her feet, and his friend then repeated the same action.
“We know you get nervous about the first few days of signings, so we thought we'd come be moral support. We're totally your biggest fans,” James said, gushing the last sentence in an exaggerated manner.
“We even have books for you to sign.” David thrust a bag under her nose and opened it so she could see two newly purchased copies of her most recent release.
“You know you guys didn't have to buy them. I'd have given you signed copies if you'd said you wanted them.”
“But we're your biggest fans, remember?” James winked. “We have to pay for them.”
She laughed and hugged them both again.
“How are you both doing?” she asked as she took the books from them to sign.
“You know us, we're working hard.” David smiled “We've almost finished renovating the house. We'll have a proper welcome party when you're back.”
“You had better. I want to see what you've both been up to for the last few months.”
A cough from off to one side drew Amelia's attention from her friends. A guy in his thirties, wearing a large coat and thick-rimmed glasses, was looking expectantly at her. In his arms was what appeared to be most of her twelve published books, with several of the more recent ones in hardback. They looked heavy.
Pretending that nothing had caught her off stride, she grabbed her pen and scrawled her name across the inside title page of the books in front of her and passed them back to her friends.
“I'll let you both know when I'm back, and we'll go for drinks.”
They nodded and waved goodbye as they left the shop. Hoping she'd not annoyed the geek who appeared to be her next fan, she gave him her warmest smile.
“Sorry about keeping you waiting,” she said as she held out her hands for him to pass her all the books. He hesitated and passed them to her so awkwardly that their arms and hands tangled and the top book went thudding to the floor, narrowly missing her toes.
“Oh gosh, I'm so sorry,” he said, turning red.
“Don't worry, they must have been heavy for you to hold for so long.”
“And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurry you with your friends. I... I have to get back to my mother. She has multiple sclerosis. My brother's with her, but I said I wouldn't be long.”
Amelia nodded and picked up the book that was on the floor for him. In his awkward state he'd left it there, his hands wringing together in front of him. She placed the whole pile on the table she'd been provided with.
“Well, why don't I get these signed as swiftly as possible and then you can get back to her? Are they yours or hers?” She pointed to the books when he looked at her blankly.
“Oh, they're mine,” he said and grabbed one to open it to the right page for her. “I like to read when she has her afternoon nap. Your books are so exciting. I often imagine I'm Dalton.”
Amelia almost dropped the pen. The letter had mentioned the same character, and this fan definitely looked like the type to obsess over something.
“What's your name?” she asked, hoping he hadn't noticed her surprise.
“Thomas, uh, Guy. I'm Guy Thomas.” He blinked rapidly while he spoke and continued to rub his hands together in the same odd pattern, almost as if he was constantly washing them.
“Guy's a good name,” she replied, focusing on the books to give him time to recover from his embarrassment. He wasn't the first socially awkward person to come to a signing of hers, and she knew he wouldn't be the last.
A few minutes later she'd signed all of them and stacked them back up in a neat pile.
“Do you want a photo?” Amelia asked when he went to pick them up again.
“I... uh... my phone doesn't have a camera. It's one of the old ones,” he said and his cheeks coloured once more.
“Well, maybe another time then. Have a good day, Guy, and say hello to your mother from me.”
“I will, thank you. Thank you.” He backed away, a smile broadening across his face until he almost tripped over his own feet.
Not wanting to embarrass the poor man further, she quickly averted her eyes and homed in on the next person in the queue. A more elderly woman, with what appeared to be her daughter. Thankfully, they only had three books between them.
The rest of the morning flew by in a haze of faces and names she didn't have a hope of remembering. But one stuck in her mind. Guy was strange, and his allusion to Dalton put her on edge. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get his awkward meeting of her out of her head. It kept most of her focus over lunch, making it difficult for her to talk to the staff while they gave her an hour for lunch in the break room with them.
Whenever she spent so long in one shop she tried to give the workers some time to talk to her as well. It was a way she could thank them for their help in making the signings go well, but she was too preoccupied. She felt guilty for her behaviour when her hour was over and she'd barely said two words to the new guy, even after he'd introduced himself as a big fan. Her remorse grew even worse when she realised she couldn't remember his name either. It might have begun with a k, but even that wasn't a detail she was sure of.
The afternoon went better and was less of a blur by the time she stopped. Her wrist ached from spending so much time signing, but for the first time, there were people who were still waiting. Normally, she kept going until the queue ran out and then had a few slower hours when she signed books as people walked in with them, but she had to leave the store at four in the afternoon to get to Birmingham and check into her hotel on time.
Amelia frowned and tried to think of some way the people still waiting could get what they wanted. As an idea formed in her mind, she looked around for the manager.
“I've got to go, but could you collect the name and address of anyone who still hasn't had a book signed and keep the information for me. I'll have them all sent a signed bookplate when I get the opportunity to.”
“That's a wonderful idea. I'll get Kevin on it right away.”
“Brilliant. I'll pick it up when I'm home.”
She smiled and said goodbye to everyone within earshot before rushing towards the door. A tour company that specialised in arranging signings for authors had already sent around the car that would take her to Tamworth. With a sigh of relief, she slipped into the back and noticed the glass was tinted, to hide her from the watching eyes outside.
Sleepiness crept over her as the driver ate up the miles along the M5. She woke up with a start as the car pulled into the hotel parking lot.
“We're here, Miss Jones,” the driver said, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror.
“Wonderful, thank you. And please, call me Amelia,” she replied and stifled a yawn.
The driver helped her carry her bags to the foyer, where the hotel staff took over.
“See you tomorrow,” she said and smiled at the driver. He nodded and waved before walking away. Wherever he was going, he didn't seem to be staying in the hotel with her. She hoped that he wasn't sleeping in the car at his age. He didn't look to be more than a few years off retirement. The wedding ring on his finger had also told her that he was likely to have a family waiting for him somewhere. Sebastian would have been proud of her for noticing at least something about him.
“Oh,” she said aloud, remembering that Myron had told her stage two would begin sometime that day. There wasn't much of the day left. The receptionist raised her eyebrows at Amelia's outburst but she didn't explain and the woman didn't ask, handing her the keycard to her room instead.
Still feeling tired, Amelia didn't bother to go to the dining room and have dinner first, but went straight to her room. The publisher was picking up the bill, so they could pay the little bit extra it cost to have her evening meal in her room.
After ordering, she unpacked the few bits and pieces she'd need for the night and her clothes for the following day to hang them somewhere they wouldn't get creased. It helped keep her awake while she waited, something she found she needed more than she ought to.
A knock on the door let her know her room service was there.
“Come in,” she yelled, in the middle of putting her toiletries in the bathroom.
When she walked back into the bedroom with its small sitting area and couch by a medium sized television, the waiter was laying out what she'd ordered on the small table.
“A letter arrived for you as well, so I brought it up from reception.”
“Brilliant, thank you.” She handed him a few coins as he gave her the envelope. With a smile, he left her to her food and the letter she assumed would be from Myron, but as she bothered to look at the envelope, she realised the name wasn't in his handwriting. Just like the letter on her doormat that morning, this one had a blocky script that was nothing like her mentor's.
Amelia sat down heavily on the sofa and stared at it. A second letter in so short a space of time was a bad sign, especially given that her publisher hadn't replied to her email about the first one yet. She shivered and did her best to open this one without the ease of tools she'd had in her kitchen the previous time. She used the butter knife they'd given her to go with her bread roll and pulled the letter out, covering her fingers with her jacket sleeve. A small jewellery pouch came with it.
Amelia,
I'm sorry if I made you feel awkward today. I didn't mean the declarations of my affection towards you to make your day harder. It was strange that you pretended you didn't know me when we met again, but I know you must have been worried about showing favouritism in front of the others. Especially after those two men interrupted you and took up so much of your time.
I'm not sure I liked how familiar they were with you, even if they are gay. They hugged you like they were your lovers. I'm sure you wouldn't debase yourself with men like them, however. I can only say I was relieved when you moved on to the rest of your fans and got rid of them.
Let me know if you want to meet up some time soon and have coffee, or perhaps even dinner together while you're on tour. I've taken some time off to be able to meet up with you and I've also included a token of my affection. I remember you tweeting at some point that you liked penguins. Wear them sometime in the next few days and I'm sure I'll notice them.
Your devoted fan.
With trembling hands, Amelia put the letter down on the coffee table and turned her attention to the small blue velvet bag. She opened it with her sleeves again and tipped the contents onto the wooden surface. Two silver penguin earrings fell out.
Leaving them there, Amelia got to her feet and paced back and forth. Her whole body was shaking despite the warmth of the room. Given the content of the message, she was pleased she'd opted to have dinner in her room, but the writer had known where she was staying and sounded like he was going to follow her from place to place.
After fishing her phone from her handbag, Amelia navigated to her editor's number and started the call. This late it was possible that Shane had gone home, but she could hope he was working late. If not she'd leave him a message.
“Hello?” Shane said after only three rings.
“Hiya, it's Amelia. I think I may have a bit of a problem.”
“What's up? Are you all right?” Concern for her radiated out of every word and she could almost hear him sitting forward to listen. Under her breath, she thanked the room that she had such a caring editor.
“I had a bit of a strange letter posted through my letterbox in the early hours of this morning and I'm a bit concerned about the guy who wrote it.”
“Yeah, I got your email. I assumed it wouldn't be much to worry about with you not being there for a few weeks.”
“I just got another letter. And this time there was a gift with it. And it was hand-delivered, with details of my signing today. He says I saw him today and thinks I pretended not to know him.”
“Slow down, Amelia. Why don't you read me the letters?”
“I don't have the first one. I left it at home.”
“All right, tell me what you can remember and then read me this second one. Let's see if we can figure out a little more about this guy and if he's really a threat to you. It's not the first time you've had strange letters. We've dealt with them all in the past.” His voice remained calm and steady, and by the time Shane had finished speaking Amelia also felt calmer. She sat back down again and closed her eyes to picture the first letter.
“That doesn't sound too bad,” Shane said.
“No, it doesn't by itself.”
“All right, so read me this second one.”
She did as he asked and then waited for him to comment. Reading it again made her feel even worse, and it took all her composure to wait for Shane to speak.
“Okay, that does sound a little worse than normal. Why don't you take a photo of what you have there and email it to me along with all the other information you know. Things like when you got the letters. I'll look over everything and see if we can get you some extra security.”
“All right. What should I do in the meantime?”
“Get some sleep and try not to worry. You're safe in your room. I'll get the driver to come get you from your room in the morning, if you want.”
“Yes, please.” She shuddered again despite his reassurances. The room didn't feel safe.
“I'll speak to the hotel desk and let them know to keep an eye out. Do you want to let the police know too?”
“I...” She stopped speaking, unsure of the answer. She hadn't thought about going that far. It might make her feel safer, but it might just be more hassle than it was worth.
“Or you could get a friend to join you. We wouldn't mind paying for someone to be with you, so you're not alone, until you feel safe again.”
“No, I don't think that will be necessary. I know someone I can phone who can help.”
“That Sebastian Holmes guy?” Shane asked.
“Yes,” she replied, lying and following it with a goodbye. A few months back she would have phoned Sebastian, but not now she knew his elder brother. Who else would you phone when you had a stalker who wanted to be your controlling boyfriend but your mentor who was pretending to be your controlling boyfriend?