moment.”
“There are a couple of things we can do. You’ve already reported the calls, the notes and the break-in to the police. So far, they haven’t been much help. That leaves the phone company. First thing Monday, arrange to get caller ID. You might get lucky and we’ll be able to track another call backward if one comes in. Or if the caller number is blocked, which it probably would be, you can figure it’s him, let it ring and not pick up.”
“All right.”
“Also, there’s a thing they can do called a trap. Once it’s set up, the phone company can figure out where any harassing calls are coming from. The bad news is you’ll have to be here when the call comes in, and you’ll have to log the time and date. Once the phone company finds the caller’s number, they give it to the police, who track it from there.”
“What if the police won’t do it?”
“I’ve got a friend in the department. It shouldn’t be a problem. The trouble is, if the guy was careful enough not to leave his fingerprints, he’s probably smart enough to use a disposable phone. Even if we get a number, it might not lead us anywhere.” There were a couple other alternatives, but the trap seemed to be the best option.
Maggie looked up at Trace. “I think we should try it, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. I do a lot of work with the phone company. I’ll talk to them, set things up.”
He glanced at the clock. It was nearly 2:00 a.m. “Whydon’t you get some sleep? We can talk again in the morning.”
“I’ll try.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “I feel better now that I’ve talked to you.”
So did he, he realized. He hadn’t been able to stop worrying since he’d left her last weekend. She might still be in danger, but now he was around to make sure she stayed safe.
He stifled a groan. That he cared so much did not sit well with him.
“Lock the dead bolt and activate the alarm. Call me when you get up in the morning.”
Maggie walked him to the door. She paused for an instant and looked up at him. “Thanks for coming.”
He reached out and gently cupped her cheek. “I won’t let him hurt you, Maggie.”
She managed to smile as his hand fell away. He wanted to reach for her again, ease her back into his arms. He wanted to kiss her, strip off her clothes and make love to her.
She’s the last thing you need, he told himself, as he turned and walked out the door.
Nine
M aggie set the alarm, then climbed the stairs, trying not to think of Trace, and failing miserably. She was ridiculously attracted to him, more every time she was with him. And the heat in those golden-brown eyes said the feeling was mutual. The problem was, though apparently he was going to help her, Trace didn’t really trust her.
Which was hardly the framework for any sort of relationship.
It’s just about sex, she told herself. Just chemistry. Pheromones did strange things to people.
Maggie walked into her bedroom and flipped on the light switch. She changed out of her clothes, pulled on an oversize pink T-shirt she’d been given at a breast cancer fundraiser and climbed into bed. But sleep remained elusive.
Instead she stared at the ceiling, her mind going over the notes the stalker had left, and the eerie message on her phone.
Who was he?
Someone she had met at one of her shows? Who hadpurchased one of her photos? Or maybe it was someone she had been introduced to by friends. His words hinted that he knew her in some way. She went over the last few months, the places she had been, the gallery shows where her work had been shown and sold.
Nothing stood out. There’d been a few men who had expressed an interest in her personally, even a couple of guys who had asked her out, but none had pursued the matter once she’d turned them down.
She was exhausted by the time the sun began to creep over the horizon, tired enough that she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.
It was after nine when a knock at her door jolted her eyes
“There are a couple of things we can do. You’ve already reported the calls, the notes and the break-in to the police. So far, they haven’t been much help. That leaves the phone company. First thing Monday, arrange to get caller ID. You might get lucky and we’ll be able to track another call backward if one comes in. Or if the caller number is blocked, which it probably would be, you can figure it’s him, let it ring and not pick up.”
“All right.”
“Also, there’s a thing they can do called a trap. Once it’s set up, the phone company can figure out where any harassing calls are coming from. The bad news is you’ll have to be here when the call comes in, and you’ll have to log the time and date. Once the phone company finds the caller’s number, they give it to the police, who track it from there.”
“What if the police won’t do it?”
“I’ve got a friend in the department. It shouldn’t be a problem. The trouble is, if the guy was careful enough not to leave his fingerprints, he’s probably smart enough to use a disposable phone. Even if we get a number, it might not lead us anywhere.” There were a couple other alternatives, but the trap seemed to be the best option.
Maggie looked up at Trace. “I think we should try it, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. I do a lot of work with the phone company. I’ll talk to them, set things up.”
He glanced at the clock. It was nearly 2:00 a.m. “Whydon’t you get some sleep? We can talk again in the morning.”
“I’ll try.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “I feel better now that I’ve talked to you.”
So did he, he realized. He hadn’t been able to stop worrying since he’d left her last weekend. She might still be in danger, but now he was around to make sure she stayed safe.
He stifled a groan. That he cared so much did not sit well with him.
“Lock the dead bolt and activate the alarm. Call me when you get up in the morning.”
Maggie walked him to the door. She paused for an instant and looked up at him. “Thanks for coming.”
He reached out and gently cupped her cheek. “I won’t let him hurt you, Maggie.”
She managed to smile as his hand fell away. He wanted to reach for her again, ease her back into his arms. He wanted to kiss her, strip off her clothes and make love to her.
She’s the last thing you need, he told himself, as he turned and walked out the door.
Nine
M aggie set the alarm, then climbed the stairs, trying not to think of Trace, and failing miserably. She was ridiculously attracted to him, more every time she was with him. And the heat in those golden-brown eyes said the feeling was mutual. The problem was, though apparently he was going to help her, Trace didn’t really trust her.
Which was hardly the framework for any sort of relationship.
It’s just about sex, she told herself. Just chemistry. Pheromones did strange things to people.
Maggie walked into her bedroom and flipped on the light switch. She changed out of her clothes, pulled on an oversize pink T-shirt she’d been given at a breast cancer fundraiser and climbed into bed. But sleep remained elusive.
Instead she stared at the ceiling, her mind going over the notes the stalker had left, and the eerie message on her phone.
Who was he?
Someone she had met at one of her shows? Who hadpurchased one of her photos? Or maybe it was someone she had been introduced to by friends. His words hinted that he knew her in some way. She went over the last few months, the places she had been, the gallery shows where her work had been shown and sold.
Nothing stood out. There’d been a few men who had expressed an interest in her personally, even a couple of guys who had asked her out, but none had pursued the matter once she’d turned them down.
She was exhausted by the time the sun began to creep over the horizon, tired enough that she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.
It was after nine when a knock at her door jolted her eyes
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