Page 11 of The Agent
He shook his head. “I’d like to see the emails you received.”
She led the way to the kitchen island, where her laptop sat. He stood beside her, close enough that when she shifted to touch the trackpad, her elbow brushed against his arm, the brief contact sending a ripple of awareness across her skin.
She focused on the screen, bringing up the succession of messages that she’d saved in a folder she’d labeled “Crazy,” in reference to both the emails and how they made her feel.
“May I?” Tully gestured toward the keyboard and she shuffled sideways to give him access.
He scrolled through the messages, his brows drawn down so deeply that a line formed between them. Pulling his cell phone from his back pocket, he tapped it and brought it to his ear. “Leland, I’ve got a problem I’d like you to take a look at ASAP. I’m sending you some email messages that Natalie received this past week. Let me know what you can find out about them.” He listened a moment. “Yeah, this is clearly cyberstalking, but it escalated today with a letter on her front porch.” Another pause on his end. “I plan to discuss that with her. Keep me posted.”
She almost voiced her objection to roping Leland into her problem on a Sunday when she remembered that it was Tully’s day off as well, yet here he was. She pressed her lips together.
Tully pulled a pair of thin rubber gloves and a plastic bag from his duffel and gestured toward the sheet of paper lying on the other side of the counter. “I assume that’s the message you found under your doormat.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Yes.”
He snapped on the gloves before he picked up the sheet, handling it by the corners as he examined it. “I’m going to send this to a lab to check for fingerprints and analyze the paper, ink, and printer.” He looked up at her. “Honestly, I don’t think we’ll get anything useful, but it’s worth a try.” He inserted the single sheet into the plastic bag and peeled the gloves off.
“Myfingerprints will be on it,” she said apologetically.
He scooped up his phone and swiped a few times before holding it out to her. “If you just press your fingers on here, we can eliminate your prints. I promise to erase them immediately after we establish which are yours on the paper.”
“No promises necessary. I trust you.” She placed her fingers on the squares glowing on the phone screen, surprised that she’d given him her trust so easily.
“Okay, now we need to talk,” Tully said.
Natalie headed for the sectional. “I’ve been trying to figure out who might be doing this.” She perched on the edge of a cushion while Tully settled into an armchair, his elbows braced on his knees as he focused on her face.
“It’s most likely a man,” he said. “The majority of stalkers are male, particularly when a woman is being targeted.” His gaze gentled. “I don’t like to bring this up, but it’s often an ex-husband.”
There it was. All the ugliness in her past. “I know. I read that online. So I’ve been thinking about my ex.” She hated to share the details of her private hell, but since Tully was here to help her, she needed to be honest with him. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I can see Matt playing this kind of cruel mind game because frankly, that’s what he did to me in our marriage. He manipulated my thoughts and emotions until I reached a point where I ... I could no longer recognize myself.” She fought the sense of failure that still lingered from those bleak, destructive years. “So psychological torture is right up his alley.”
Tully’s hands curled into fists. “Did he ever hit you?”
“No.” She stared down at her fingers, which were twisted in her lap. “Sometimes I wish hehad. That would have made it crystal clear to me that I was in an abusive relationship.” She might have left before so much damage had been done to her soul.
“He was clever. He knew that would make you leave.” Tully flexed his fingers open. “So we need to take a long hard look at Matt. What’s his full name?”
“Matthew Walter Stevens.” Natalie shook her head. “But it doesn’t make sense. We’ve been divorced for three years. He’s got a live-in girlfriend who’s fifteen years younger than he is, which gives his ego the strokes he needs. He has no reason to suddenly come after me.”
“You can never tell what will trigger someone. Maybe the girlfriend dumped him. Or she’s pressuring him to get married. Maybe he lost his job or someone got promoted over him.”
“But what would be the point of tormentingme? I have no contact with him anymore. Frankly, I think he’s done his best to erase me from his life because he feels he was the loser in that situation.”
“Okay, what about anyone you’ve dated since the divorce? Or turned down?”
She shook her head. “No dates. No rejected suitors.”
He sat up straight, shock written on his face. “In three years you haven’t even beenaskedon a date? That’s unbelievable.”
She smiled while she tried to decide if he meant it or was just being polite. “I’m not interested and guys pick up on that ... for the most part.”
“So someonehasasked?”
“It never gets that far.” She gave him a wry look. “There are ways to stop the conversation before it reaches an actual invitation.”
One corner of his mouth twitched upward for a moment before he asked, “Anyone who seemed especially unhappy that you halted the conversation?”
“I’ve tried to come up with someone who gave off that kind of ... I don’t know ... obsessive vibe, but no one sticks out.”
