“What is it?” she asked immediately.

  “Kathy, I don’t want to mislead you, here. I would love to have lunch with you. You look absolutely stunning. But when I called, I needed to talk to you about something. I told you that.”

  She traced the rim of her glass with her index finger, watching the steam rise. “I know. But it is good to see you.” She paused, then looked up at him with a small, warm smile that deflated all the tension in his body.

  The waitress returned with his espresso as Jonathan grabbed Kathy’s hand from across the table. “Honey, I want you to take the girls and go to Eleanor’s.”

  “What?” Her forehead crinkled in surprise.

  “I know the girls still have a few more days in school before the break, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you at the house during the day.”

  Kathy removed her hand from his. “Why?”

  Jonathan drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the stark aroma of his espresso. His nostrils flared as he exhaled. “All right. This freak writer of my so-called biography has been to our house.”

  Kathy sat completely still.

  “To our house, not in our house,” Jonathan said slowly and with emphasis. “I found more pages on the windshield of my car this morning.” He downed his second espresso and then asked, “When you were up with Sophie last night, did you hear anything? Maybe a car? Or a strange noise?”

  Kathy swallowed hard and shook her head, her eyes staring at him.

  “Nothing, honey? Think hard.”

  She shook her head again.

  Jonathan scratched his head to give his shaky hands something to do. The espresso wasn’t helping to calm his frazzled nerves. “Okay . . . well, whatever. I still want you to go to Eleanor’s. I mean it, Kathy,” he said as she started a rebuttal. “I don’t know who this crazy is. And now we know he knows where we live, which shouldn’t be a surprise, since he knows every other thing about—” He stopped and looked up at Kathy. “Anyway, I think it’s best.”

  Kathy’s fingers circled her temples with hard pressure. “Fine, fine. I’ll talk to their teachers. See what I can arrange. But,” she added, her eyes flashing up at him defiantly, “I’m staying.”

  “What?”

  “I mean just what I said. I’ll send the girls to Eleanor’s. I’ll drive them myself. But I’m not leaving you alone.”

  Jonathan grabbed her hand again, though she resisted at first. “Listen to me, Kathy. I appreciate your concern. I really do. But this involves you now, too. You and the girls. And I would feel better if I knew you were all away from here. Just for a little while. I’ll join you next week for Thanksgiving, and I’m sure I’ll have it all cleared up by then.” Kathy started to say something, but Jonathan added, “I can take care of myself.”

  “As can I.” Kathy’s back was straight as a board, and her chin was lifted so high she was looking down her nose at him. “I’m not scared. And I’m not leaving you here by yourself. That’s final.”

  Jonathan paused, hoping she might show a little weakness and back off her stubbornness, but she sat erect like a statue, her body not so much as offering a slight nervous twitch.

  “All right. Fine. Fine. Stay,” Jonathan said with an irritation they both knew was not directed toward her. “But we’re getting a gun.”

  “A gun?” Kathy’s voice rose in astonishment. “A gun, Jonathan? Absolutely not! We talked about this years ago. We agreed to never have a weapon in the house.”

  “Yeah, well, that was before we had a stalker. Things have changed.”

  Kathy set her cup aside and leaned across the table. “Jonathan, do you really think your life is in danger?” she whispered.

  “How should I know?” Jonathan whispered back, suddenly aware that this “stalker” might be sitting at the table next to them. A gentleman with long red hair sat to their left, drinking coffee and reading a David Mamet play. To their right were two college-aged girls working on homework. Kathy noticed him looking around and did the same. “He could be in here, you know. Watching us. Close enough to hear our every word.”

  Obviously frustrated, Kathy twisted her lower lip between two fingers. Then she bit it and said, “Jonathan, do you think you’re overreacting?”

  “Am I?” he said in a loud voice that made a few heads turn. He hushed himself as he continued. “The last pages I received depicted my life this last week with remarkable accuracy, Kathy. Meetings with authors. Conversations with co-workers. Conversations we’ve had in our own home.” Jonathan’s voice was so strained it sounded as if he might begin to cry. Kathy’s whole expression changed and this time she grabbed his hand.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. This is . . . this is serious. Um, let’s just be careful. Let’s have our conversations about this in public places. Let’s go through our house tonight and check for . . . for . . . I don’t know. Just check it. Okay? But no guns. Promise me, Jonathan, no guns.”

  Jonathan wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that it didn’t matter where they went or how careful they were. The writer knew everything. He was everywhere, with no apparent explanation. But there was no sense in scaring Kathy. If she felt she had some control by “being careful,” as she put it, then that was fine. There was no need for both of them to be in hysterics.

  “Good idea,” he managed.

  She smiled and brushed the hair away from her face. “It’s going to be okay, honey. We’ll take the girls to a safe place, and we’ll figure out what’s going on here. And why. Like Clyde said. Maybe why is the more important question.”

  “Maybe,” he said with a forced smile. “Well, I’d better get back to the office.”

  As he stood, Kathy said, “Jonathan, what . . . um, what were in the last pages that you received?”

  Jonathan fumbled around for a few loose dollars and some change in his pocket. He tried not to act as if that were the one question he was dreading. “Just some more details about my day-to-day life.”

  Kathy grabbed her purse and stood as well. “Like what?”

  Finally looking her in the eye, Jonathan said forcefully, “Just stupid details about meetings with authors and co-workers and things like that.”

  “Things like that? That’s it? Just a bunch of details? Nothing significant?”

  Jonathan shook his head, his heart stinging with guilt. “That’s it. No ‘big twist,’ ” he said in a dry, joking manner. “Truthfully, this writer is just downright bad. Boring characters. A weak plot. Horrible dialogue. An editor’s worst nightmare.”

  “No kidding,” she said in response to his shallow laugh.

  “Yeah . . . well, talk to the girls when they get home this after­noon. And call Eleanor. I’m sure she won’t mind. And, Kathy, please reconsider going.”

  “Not a chance.”

  Jonathan sighed, threw a few dollars on the table, and began to move toward the door. His mind swam deliriously. His stomach felt as if acid were eating holes through it. As he scooted past a neighboring table, Kathy grabbed his arm.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “You seem very preoccupied. Very distant.”

  “I’m fine,” he said with a short smile. “Really. Cool as a cucumber.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t forget your briefcase,” she said, pointing back to their table, where his briefcase sat underneath.

  “Good grief!” He quickly retrieved it. “I guess I’m just tired,” he said, rejoining her to escort her outside.

  The cold north wind stung the warm skin on their faces, and they both shivered and gave a quick kiss before heading in opposite directions. Jonathan glanced back once to make sure Kathy had made it to her car. She was unlocking it as he rounded the corner to where his was parked.

  He hadn’t prayed in a long time. A very long time . . . since he was a child. And he hated to think he was a man who only prayed in desperation, but he hoped as the wind passed by him, it would pick up his softly spoken prayer and carry it to wherever God was at that moment. If doubt didn’t carry it away first.

  “Keep her safe,” he said and then briskly walked twenty more yards to his car. He pulled out of the parking lot without letting his car warm up and headed east on Markson, where he was certain he’d seen a gun shop once before.

  chapter 17

  It took Jonathan an hour and a half to finally find someone who would sell him a gun without going through the mandatory two-week background check. A small pawnshop forty minutes from work sold him a 9mm for a hefty price that would be worth their risk of doing an illegal gun sale.

  He watched his rearview mirror perhaps more than he watched the road, but he never saw anyone tailing him. Since this writer knew practically everything else, he figured the fact that he purchased a gun wouldn’t be hidden information, and he actually found comfort in the idea that whoever was writing this knew he wasn’t playing around anymore. Jonathan never imagined he would actually shoot anyone, however. So far the writer had remained harmless, in a sense, but the fact that he had the guts to show up at his house was more than enough reason for Jonathan to be on high alert.

  A dark cloud of despair quickly chased away his thoughts of security. A gun was useless to him and yet another reminder of how over the edge he was. This “writer” was changing him. He had never owned a gun in his entire life. He had never wanted to. And now the cold, shiny metal of the weapon was inches from his fingers. The entire thought sickened him.

  On the way back to the office, he turned the radio to his favorite talk show. He tried to rid his mind of the tremendous guilt he was feeling over purchasing the gun, and even more so the guilt he was still feeling over Sydney.

  His thoughts bounced back and forth between Kathy and Sydney. He couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful Kathy had looked at lunch and the amazing peace she brought in the familiarity they shared from their twenty years of marriage. That was something Sydney, with all her attributes, could never offer. He thought it so odd that it was that very familiarity that made him run from and to Kathy at the same time.

  The more he thought about the predicament he was in, the more Jonathan realized how much he was risking with Sydney, though he’d never “technically” done anything wrong. He wondered where all the guilt came from if he could justify that he hadn’t done anything wrong. The entire battle had been in his head, yet if he had to confess, he might as well have cheated on Kathy. His feelings had been so strong for Sydney, and his thoughts had been so consumed by her. Yet, when laid wide open for him to read, he realized what a high price he was paying for feeding his desires. The writer, however he knew, was planning on exposing his relationship with Sydney, and though Jonathan felt sure he could keep the information away from Kathy, just the fact that he would have to read about it was enough motivation for him to end whatever he did or didn’t have with Sydney.

  As he exited off the highway and turned onto Kryer Street, he decided that the best thing he could do would be to talk to Sydney and be honest with her. He hated the way their conversation had ended today, and he hoped there would be no ill feelings after he talked with her. The truth was he did care for her, and whether that emotion came from pure infatuation or a little sincerity, he wanted things to end well between them.

  The decision he made about Sydney lifted a large weight off his shoulders, and though he and Kathy were having problems, he felt they had a better chance of working things out if his mind was on the right track.

  Jonathan pulled into his reserved parking place, grabbed his briefcase, and walked briskly into the building and right into an open elevator. He checked his watch. His “lunch” had taken almost two hours and he loathed facing Edie’s questioning expression when he arrived at his office. Luckily he had gone to lunch with Kathy, so there wasn’t too much for Edie to be suspicious of.

  Just as the elevator doors opened on the tenth floor, Jonathan caught a glimpse of Sydney passing by in a nearby hallway and decided it best to take care of the situation immediately, before he lost his nerve.

  He rounded the corner and passed five or six cubicles before he came to hers. She was there, her back to the opening, filing something away. Jonathan waited a moment, hoping she would turn around and find him there but then felt self-conscious just standing and staring at her, so he tapped lightly on the metal frame and cleared his throat.

  Sydney turned around and immediately greeted him with a stiff posture and narrowed eyes. “What do you want? Aren’t you afraid of being seen with me?”

  Jonathan stepped in a couple of feet and said, “Is there someplace we can talk? I really want to clear some things up from before. I hated the way our conversation ended.”

  Sydney paused, lowered her eyes, and walked to her desk. She sat down and swiveled back and forth in her chair a few times before saying, “I’m the only one here today. Alice is at the doctor. Maria is sick. Joe’s on an errand. Nobody’s around but me. This is about as private as we’ll get.”

  Jonathan held his briefcase tightly across his chest to try to hide the fact that his heart might actually be pounding hard enough to be seen through his shirt. He inched toward a plastic chair sitting in the corner and set his briefcase down, too nervous to sit himself. Sydney carefully watched him with her red lips in a defiant pout. Even though the copiers, fax machines, and computers buzzed loudly enough to keep their conversation private, Jonathan still spoke softly.

  “Sydney, I want to apologize—”

  “For what?” she snapped.

  “For . . . for how I acted. I didn’t mean to upset you, and it was . . . it was completely unfair of me to, in a roundabout way, accuse you of saying things. I’m just . . . I just, well, it’s that—” Jonathan stumbled mercilessly over his words, trying to say everything he meant without actually having to come out and say it. After a few more fumbled attempts, he stopped himself and finally looked at her. “Can I just be honest with you?”

  She toyed with two paper clips on her desk. “I think that’s probably best.”

  Jonathan removed his briefcase from the chair and sat down, his body too big for the seat. He brushed his hair to one side and then began. “I’m so sorry for how I acted earlier. It was wrong of me to do that, and I want you to know I’m truly sorry.”

  Sydney offered a small smile of reassurance, but small enough that it was clear he should continue.

  “I . . . um, I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. I just . . .” He took a deep breath while listening to see if anyone was around. “I, well, I . . . I have some feelings for you, Sydney. Some strong feelings. Inappropriate feelings. You’re young and beautiful, and we sort of clicked the first time we met. I never intended to have these feelings for you, but nevertheless, they sort of just appeared. I know this is probably shocking to you, and that’s why I wanted to—”

  Sydney held up her hand and Jonathan stopped midsentence. She leaned forward on her desk, tossing the paper clips aside. “Well, I wasn’t very honest with you, either.”

  “What?”

  She lowered her voice and eyes all at once. “Before, in your office, when I got upset. I wasn’t honest then.”

  Jonathan scooted his chair closer to the desk as he asked, “So you have told someone? Who? I won’t be mad. I just need to know.”

  She paused, looked curiously at him, and said, “No, that’s not what I mean. I acted as if I had no idea what you were talking about when you mentioned ‘us.’ But the truth is that I’ve been having the same feelings.”

  Jonathan felt his Adam’s apple swell. “Oh. I, uh . . . well . . .”

  “I felt it from the beginning, too, Jonathan. That day I knocked over that whole stack of manuscripts in your office. I felt so silly, but you put me at ease. And then the more I got to know you, the more I liked you. And the more I got to know you, the more I realized I didn’t have to put up with someone like Jeremy. He treats me horribly. Tries to control me. When I don’t act the way he wants, he hits me. I guess I thought that was the best I was ever going to get. You showed me otherwise.”

  An awkward silence resounded around them, and Jonathan noticed that the small smile on Sydney’s lips never left, nor did she ever break eye contact with him. She continued after a moment. “The other thing I wasn’t honest about was that I have already ended it with Jeremy. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you before. It was just awkward for me. But I think I was pretty clear with him, and thankfully I was bold enough to mention there was another, better man in my life.” She grinned. “You.”

  Jonathan’s body shot out of his seat. “You . . . you mentioned me?”

  “Well, yes. I mean, you are the reason I had the nerve to break it off with Jeremy. And you can’t tell me now that those feelings we’re both experiencing weren’t real. You just said they were. I told Jeremy I’d met someone who wanted to treat me right. I really thought he was going to kill me right there. Luckily I had enough sense to do it in a public place. I’ve gotten all the locks changed on the doors at my apartment, and my roommate’s boyfriend has offered to stay over for a couple of weeks just to make sure he doesn’t try to break in. I’ll probably have to get a restraining order.”

  “You mentioned my name?” Jonathan’s voice rose with every word.

  She thought for a moment. “Well, I think I may have once or twice. I can’t remember. But the important thing is that I did it. And I did it because of you. I feel great.”

  Jonathan could hardly believe what he was hearing. He sat breathless until finally Sydney said, “Are you okay?”

  “Okay? No, I mean . . . I’m fine, it’s just that . . . you actually used my name? Did you go into detail? Like how we’ve been spending time together? Did you tell him we went to Naomi’s house?”