Page 28 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Jake nodded, not entirely convinced. “Well, if she’s going to catch up on work then we can too. Maybe it’ll be good for her to be out from underfoot for the week. We can finish the kitchen and the master suite this week. She’s been in that trailer long enough.”
“The kitchen’s nearly ready for appliances,” George said. “We can have it done in a week. The master bedroom will take longer with all that trim work.”
“I can do it,” he said. “I want her to have a finished space when she gets home.”
“You must be in love,” George said with a sigh. “Never seen such a pitiful thing.”
“Let’s get to work.”
* * *
Faith settled into her hotel room in New York, kicking off her heels with a sigh of relief. The radio conference had been exhausting—a full day of panels, networking, and fending off acquisition offers from media conglomerates. All she wanted was a hot bath and room service.
As she moved toward the bathroom, she noticed something on the bed that hadn’t been there when she left that morning. A rectangular gift box, wrapped in glossy black paper with a red ribbon.
Her blood ran cold. With trembling fingers, she approached the package. After Chicago and Boston, she’d hoped the unsettling gifts would stop. The roses delivered to her Chicago hotel. The poetry book left in her Boston conference bag, with certain verses highlighted and annotated in precise handwriting.
“Not again,” she whispered, her voice unsteady in the silent room.
Faith untied the ribbon carefully. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, lay a delicate diamond bracelet. She knew it was high quality and expensive just by looking at it.
Attached to the bracelet was a small card with a handwritten message:
I’ll be waiting when you return home. We belong together.
Faith dropped the bracelet as if it had burned her. She rushed to the door, checking that it was still locked and latched. Then she returned to the bed, staring at the bracelet as if it might suddenly animate.
It was time to take matters into her own hands. She sent Lucy a text to keep her up to date, and then dialed the number for Hollow Elm Police Department.
Dispatch had got her connected to Officer O’Malley.
“This is O’Malley,” he said.
Faith introduced herself and made mention of the radio show so he’d have a point of reference. “I believe I have a stalker. Someone’s been leaving gifts in my hotel rooms. I’m traveling, but they’ve followed me from Chicago to Boston, and now to New York.”
“Have there been any explicit threats?”
“No, just…unsettling messages. Implications that we have some kind of relationship. I let my producer, Lucy, know I was contacting you. She’s got the digital recordings of when he called into the station. Assuming it’s the same guy.”
“Does this happen often?” O’Malley asked.
“Not too often,” she said. “But it does happen. My number and residence aren’t listed. I try to keep my private life private because of things like this.”
O’Malley grunted. “When do you return to Hollow Elm?”
“Tomorrow.”
“We can increase patrols near your home,” he promised. “Do you have security? Cameras?”
“Yes,” she said. “They should’ve been installed while I was away this week.”
After hanging up, Faith sank onto the edge of the bed. She was supposed to be using this trip to sort through her feelings about Jake, to decide if she was ready to risk her heart again. Instead, she found herself longing for the safety she felt in his presence.
“What are you going to do, Faith?” she asked her reflection in the mirror. “Run away from him or run toward him?”
CHAPTERTEN
November in Texasbrought a gentle crispness to the air, the trees along Faith’s street displaying the last of their autumn glory before surrendering to winter. Thanksgiving decorations had replaced Halloween’s spooky fare on neighboring porches—cornucopias, wreaths of dried wheat, and the occasional early Christmas light tester making an appearance.
