Regrets Only by M. J. Pullen Page A

live
alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well,
try not to get too worked up about it. Use common sense—don’t walk alone at
night, stay in touch with your family and friends, lock your doors. Don’t open the
door to anyone you’re not expecting. Two-thirds of stalkers are someone you
know, the other third are strangers. Either way, awareness is your best weapon.
    “I’d
suggest keeping a small camera with you to take pictures if anything happens or
you see a suspicious car. You can call us with the license plate. We’ll file a
report and that will help, if you get a protective order later.”
    “Protective
order?” Suzanne couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. “Will that
help?”
    The
officer’s tone was professional, emotionless. “Sometimes it does, if whoever
did this to you is afraid of being arrested. Of course, it doesn’t matter until
you know who it is.”
    “So
there’s nothing you can do?” Marci demanded.
    “I’m
sorry, ma’am, there’s not. Not until we have more information.” He turned to
Suzanne, and her face must have looked as colorless as it felt, because he
softened a bit. He put a large, rough hand on her shoulder. “Make your list.
Keep your eyes and ears open. If you get any evidence of who might have done
this to you, call us.”

 
    Chapter 10
    Three
hours later, Suzanne and Marci sat in the kitchen of Suzanne’s large Buckhead
condo, waiting for brownies to finish baking. From the adjacent living room,
they could hear Jake snoring on the couch. He had fallen asleep watching
basketball.
    “I
don’t think anyone will bother you tonight,” Marci said. “Jake snores like a
bear with hay fever. That should scare people away.”
    Suzanne
was silent, washing out the bowl of brownie batter in the sink.
    “They
smell amazing. It was a good idea to make them,” Marci went on. “Remember when
we used to do this in high school? And we’d add all those weird ingredients?
Basically anything we could find at my house.”
     Suzanne
laughed. “I remember. You always wanted to add cherries to everything .”
    “Hey!”
Marci said defensively. “Maraschino cherries are good! Besides, they’re fruit,
so they’re healthy. Mmm…you don’t have any, do you?”
    “Yes,
I do,” Suzanne said. “I keep them right next to the giant pack of hot dogs and
frozen chicken nuggets I always have on hand in case an elementary school takes
a field trip to my apartment.”
    “No
need for sarcasm,” Marci said. She rubbed her belly thoughtfully. “I probably
will have that stuff on hand before long.”
    Suzanne
could see that Marci’s already soft waist was beginning to thicken and protrude
more than usual. She felt wistful, wishing she could feel more excited for her
best friend about the new baby. She wanted to reach out to her, but she knew
nothing about pregnancy and even less about babies. What could she possibly
offer?
    “Just
don’t bake those horrible Dr. Pepper brownies for your kids. Remember those?”
    “Oh
my God! What were we thinking?” Marci rolled her eyes. “Didn’t we put vanilla
pudding in those, too?”
    Suzanne
nodded grimly. The results had been disastrous—a soupy, frothy mess that had
been completely inedible, even with spoons and teenage determination. Mrs.
Thompson had sent them to the grocery store early the next morning to replace
all the ingredients they’d wasted, and gently suggested that they find a hobby
other than baking to occupy themselves on Friday nights.
    “So
should I go through what we have so far?” Marci suggested. On the kitchen
island lay a legal pad covered with names and notes.
    “Sure,”
Suzanne sighed.
    “Okay,
Rick, we got—and personally he seems the likely candidate to me. Dated for
three weeks, broke up a month ago. Reason…did I get a reason for him?”
    “Do
we have to write the reasons?” Suzanne protested for the third time. “Really,
does it matter?”
    “Yes,
I think so,” said Marci. “You never know what