Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
W ard read the stalker’s manifesto three times.
The letter contained the same delusional crap as the dressing room version, with the added bonus of deranged jealousy. Beneath that was an unhealthy dose of desperation that made every hair on Ward’s body stand up and salute.
The bastard had gone up a notch in Ward’s estimation. What he’d pulled off was masterful.
He’d waited until Della was out of the house, which meant a good portion of her security would be out with her. He’d clearly known that.
He’d snuck past the cameras and security at the front gate and slithered around every measure Ward had put in place to keep the house safe.
All without tripping an alarm.
Without getting caught.
Weeks of planning. Squads of security. Round-the-clock surveillance.
The bastard had gotten past all of it with a few fizzled wires and pizza.
Goddamn fucking pizza.
The urge to punch something was so strong he found himself clenching his fist around the damn letter like he could wring the evil out of it.
I ’ m going to provide you with the perfect home. It ’ s private and beautiful, and it ’ s all for you.
Ward crinkled the letter. No, you fucking won ’ t, asshole.
The commitment in his chest burned with renewed focus. He wouldn’t walk away from this case even if he really was fired. Not now.
“Ward?” Della whispered.
He forced himself to relax his grip on the letter and look at her with what he hoped was calm control. “Let me see that.” He gestured at the photo in her hand. If she’d held on to this particular picture, it probably had significance for the stalker too.
She let go of the photo, then turned to stare at the ones still scattered across the bed. “What does he mean by ‘dealt with’?” Della’s voice sounded tight and tense.
“I don’t know. Yet.” Ward smoothed the crinkles out of the photo.
It featured Della riding the Hollywood stud’s shoulders at the damn pool party.
He stared through the angry hash marks to the face he knew was underneath. Scott Baldwin. Up-and-coming A-lister with five minor roles and one major on his sheet so far, according to Spencer’s report.
The nasty note combined with the hatchet job on the guy’s face was a bad sign for Scott.
“Come with me.” He put the photo back on the bed but tucked the letter into his pocket. He didn’t want it getting lost or stolen during the chaos that was about to descend.
For once, Della didn’t protest.
Ward put his hand softly on her back as he escorted her to the security room. He wanted her to remember she wasn’t alone. Anchoring her in the here and now would help her process what she’d just experienced.
He paused at the living room where the night shift waited for interrogation and eyed the team lead, Bob. He was an ex-football lineman built like two tanks shoved together. Ward had been evaluating him for possible future gigs before he’d found him and most of the night crew guarding a pizza instead of the damn property.
“Lock the house down and sweep the grounds in pairs,” Ward said. “I want every shadow checked. Report back when you’ve made damn sure there’s nobody on the grounds.”
They scattered at his command with satisfying speed, but it was a little like shutting the barn door after the horses had taken off for the neighbor’s grass.
The stalker probably hadn’t stuck around, but Ward’s team wouldn’t stop for so much as a piss break until they verified that for a stone-cold fact.
When they reached his temporary base at the front of the house, Ward pointed at the small couch. “Please. Have a seat.”
Della sank onto the cushions and wrapped her arms around her torso like she desperately needed a hug.
She was in shock. No question. He’d seen it often enough.
He eyed her for a few seconds, then took out his phone and dialed Spencer.
Spencer picked up on the second ring. “Heya. Teardown went fine?—”
“I need you both at the house. Now,” Ward interrupted. “There’s been a breach. Bring your kit. And get me a status update on pool boy Scott Baldwin. Start with the hospitals.”
He bit down on “Then check the morgue” before he uttered it out loud.
“Oh-kay.” Spencer put a paragraph of meaning into the two syllables. “We’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Make it ten.” Ward hung up.
With the way Spencer usually drove, it would probably take twenty, but when he and Annie got here, they’d at least know if the stalker had followed through on the implied threat.
With plans set in motion, he checked on his principal. She’d dropped the self-hug in favor of clasping her hands in her lap so tight her knuckles were white. Her body shook like she’d just stepped out of a freezer, but there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
He’d seen people react to stress and fear in all sorts of ways. The fight-or-flight response could push someone to run away, or it could drive them back inside their own head and they’d freeze, unable to cope.
Neither would help the situation.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He pulled a throw blanket off the back of the couch and held it out to her.
When she didn’t so much as glance at it, he knelt in front of her to get into her line of sight.
“Ms. Bellamy.”
She didn’t even flinch.
He tried again, keeping his tone gentle. “Della.”
She finally looked at him, but he wasn’t sure if she’d joined him in the here and now or if she’d simply reacted to her name.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe, and you’re going to stay that way.” He unfolded the blanket and started to put it around her shivering shoulders, but she took it from him and hugged it like a teddy bear instead.
“Do you think Scott’s okay?” She sounded so lost his heart slid sideways. She didn’t deserve this. No woman did.
“We’re checking on him now. Stay positive.”
His gut told him Scott was probably not okay. He didn’t think the stalker had broken through all the security around the house to leave empty threats, but he couldn’t bring himself to point that out to her when she looked so stricken.
Ward rubbed at the knots of tension building in his neck.
The night had started out so well. He’d thought the concert would be the prime target, which was why he’d focused so much attention on it. Satisfaction at a job well done had evaporated the second they’d arrived at the broken gate, leaving him with mounting irritation and a heavy dose of frustration.
Zig this way and the stalker zagged that way.
He’d left the grounds covered. It should have been fine. He’d planned for every contingency except for a Trojan horse disguised as a midnight snack.
The guy wasn’t just smart, he was damn devious to have used a pizza delivery as a distraction at exactly the right time.
The ultimate goal was always to keep the principal out of harm’s way, and while Ms. Bellamy had never been in physical danger, her safe space had been violated.
That was unacceptable.
Della curled up into a ball, her arms squeezing the life out of the blanket, and stared at nothing.
It was no longer a question of if they should relocate. They needed to relocate now . The longer he took to settle that point with her, the harder it would be.
“Ms. Bellamy, we need to talk.”
Della glanced up at him, but he had a feeling she didn’t really see him.
“Did you put together a go bag like I asked?”
She frowned.
“I’ll take that as a no. Doesn’t matter. Annie?—”
The front door banged open. Della jumped and made a high-pitched sound of terror.
“Della!” Diggs bellowed.
Ward stiffened. The last thing they needed was an overemotional, overzealous, over-the-top reaction from his principal’s personal protection.
Della closed her eyes in what looked like relief. “Here.”
She spoke barely above a whisper.
Diggs pounded down the hallway like someone was about to be tackled. “Della!”
“In here,” Ward called.
Diggs thundered into the room. His head swiveled left to right, and when his gaze locked on Ms. Bellamy, he shot straight to her, his face a mess of fury and concern.
He knelt on the floor in front of her and took her hands in his. “Look at me, girl. Look at me. Are you okay?”
Ward could smell the problem coming.
The man was way too close to his protectee. He’d lost all objectivity.
Ward needed to take his principal off the grid. Diggs had to stay behind.
He had a feeling Diggs wasn’t going to like that idea.
Ms. Bellamy wouldn’t either.
“I’m fine.” She shook her head as if talking herself out of something. “It’s just a letter. Just words. But…I don’t know if Scott is hurt. I don’t know.”
“Scott who?” Diggs looked at Ward over his shoulder. “Where’s the letter?”
Ward wasn’t about to show the already agitated man the actual letter. “Scott Baldwin. The guy in the pool with her.”
Realization dawned on Diggs’s face. “Right. The tall dude. He okay?”
Ward summoned all of his patience and kept his tone even. “Checking on it.”
Diggs was no longer protection. He was a friend. Friends often made the situation far worse. Their concern made them angry, and that anger could infect the protectee like a virus.
Diggs turned back to Della. “Girl, we got to get you out of here.”
It was exactly what Ward had been trying to tell her before he was interrupted, but he knew Diggs didn’t have the same destination in mind. “Yes. I do.”
“I…” Della looked at Ward. Her eyes seemed clearer now. “I don’t want to go anywhere until we know what…if Scott’s okay.”
Quick footsteps announced Annie’s arrival. She still wore the black roadie outfit, which made her look like a thief ready to break into a bank.
“I thought I would find you in here. Hello, Diggs.” Annie radiated the caring concern of a good friend, and she spoke in the soft gentle tones of someone trying to soothe a frightened deer. “Hello, Della. Rough night, huh?”
“Yeah.” Ms. Bellamy sniffed. It was a tiny sound, but Ward heard it loud and clear. “Is Scott okay? I know Ward told you to check. Did you?”
Diggs shifted to stand next to the couch, his hand protectively on Ms. Bellamy’s shoulder. “If she didn’t, I’ll find out for you.”
“Yes. I checked on him.” Annie exchanged a meaningful glance with Ward, then edged past Diggs to sit next to Della.
She had news, and it wasn’t good.
“He was jumped in the parking lot behind Club 64 just after ten tonight,” Annie said in the quiet, matter-of-fact tone a nurse might use when delivering news to an anxious family.
Diggs swore. His grip on Della’s shoulder looked a little too tight, but she didn’t flinch, so Ward didn’t say anything.
Della sucked in a breath. “Is he…”
“He’s alive.” Annie put a comforting hand on Della’s thigh. “And stable. I’ll get more details after we finish up here and let you know what I find out.”
“Stable.” Della sounded flat and distant. “What does that mean?”
“It means he’s probably going to be okay,” Annie explained. “He has a broken nose and jaw, and a nasty dent on one side of his head, but lucky for him, it wasn’t a direct hit. He’s a big guy, and he held his own. His attacker was several inches shorter and a lot lighter. From what I saw, I’m betting right about now the guy who attacked him is having trouble moving his right shoulder.”
“Don’t worry, Del,” Diggs said in the deep, throaty tone of someone looking for a fight. “That guy isn’t getting anywhere near you. Not on my watch.”
“How’d you get all that?” Ward asked Annie. “The crime sheet doesn’t usually include specific injuries. Neither do hospitals.”
“I know one of the bartenders.” A hint of a smile played on her face as she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and navigated the screen. “And their security footage is all backed up to the cloud.”
Ward’s text alert dinged with the link to the security footage, courtesy of Spencer. He clicked on it.
“I want to see it,” Della said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Nah, you don’t,” Diggs told her. He patted her shoulder. “You don’t want to see something like that. Trust me.”
Ward squinted at the video. “There’s nothing to see. The guy’s face is in shadow the whole time.”
Della leaned away from Diggs and pushed the blanket off her lap. “I want to see it.”
Her voice was steadier now.
Ward hit Pause and looked at Annie for guidance since she’d already viewed the whole thing.
“She could catch something we missed,” she pointed out in a reasonable tone. “Like Spencer said, she might actually know this guy. Maybe she’ll recognize the hoodie.”
Della uncurled from her fetal position and held out her hand.
Ward gave her the phone, impressed with her bounce-back. She was handling this a lot better than he thought she would.
She watched the video with wide eyes, but he heard her quick intake of breath when Hoodie slammed a long metal rod into Scott’s face. “I don’t recognize him. I can’t see…I don’t think I know him. Do you, Greg?”
She handed the phone to Diggs.
“He could be anybody,” Diggs said. “Seen that hoodie on dozens of people. His size ain’t special. That’s not a shadow on his face. It’s paint. Looks pretty close to the stuff I used for day games. You know, under the eyes. Stops the glare from the sun.”
He handed the phone back to Ward.
Ward looked at the frozen image a little closer. It was only the side of the guy’s face, barely a hint of cheek and nose, but he thought Diggs was right. Even in the shadows, there should have been some highlights, but this guy didn’t have any. He looked like someone had dropped a cartoon over his face.
“He knew he’d be on camera,” Ward said. “Good catch, Diggs.”
That took planning. Patience. Persistence. He couldn’t have known exactly which night Baldwin would go to that particular club.
Or could he? Did they know each other?
He made a mental note to have Spencer check on Baldwin’s schedule.
“I’ll round up the detail and move out?” Diggs asked. “We can have her in a hotel in fifteen minutes.”
Ward shook his head. “I have something else in mind. And we can’t leave until we report this. That means interviews and statements to the police.”
He’d also agreed to inform Renic immediately if anything happened. The room was getting crowded and the night wasn’t over, so he tapped out a quick, no-frills message. Stalker infiltrated house while we were at concert. Ms. Bellamy is safe. Will send details a.m.
“It’s my fault.” Della bit her lip. Her eyes misted when she looked at Ward. “You were right. He was here. I invited him in. I did that. I was everything you said. Now Scott is hurt and it’s my fault.”
“No, Della.” Annie stood, her voice firm and sharp. “None of this is your fault. Get that in your head right now because if you don’t, he wins. You did nothing to cause this. You did nothing to attract his unwanted attention. He is stalked you . He attacked Scott. Not you. Got it?”
Annie shot Ward a glare that promised all kinds of discussions during the after-project wrap-up.
“He attacked Scott because he saw him. Here.” Della stared at the wall that separated them from the pool. “I’m the one who had the party. If I hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened because he never would have been here to get those pictures. He attacked Scott because of me. Because he saw me having a good time with him. Because I was?—”
Della put a hand over her mouth like she was going to be sick.
“Come on, now. I got you, girl. I got your back.” Diggs put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re safe here with me.”
“It’s not about me…” Della didn’t look comforted. If anything, he was making it worse.
“Sit down. Come on, Della. Sit with me. Lean forward and put your head down.” Annie pulled her out of Diggs’s arms and back onto the couch. “Breathe. Just breathe. We will get this all sorted out. We’ll find this guy, and make sure he doesn’t bother you or hurt anyone else. Come on. Breathe for me. In and out. Slow and steady.”
Annie kept up the mantra until Della’s breath steadied.
Finally, she raised her head to look at him like she hadn’t tried to fire him less than an hour ago. Like she fully expected him to fix this. “What do we do now?” She sounded a little shaken but not broken. Yet.
The weight of that look settled heavily on his shoulders. He stood a little straighter.
“I take you away from here, that’s what,” Diggs said.
“You don’t. I do.” Ward stressed the I part. “I take Ms. Bellamy to an undisclosed location. You, Annie, and Spencer find this guy. Then work with the police to stop him. If we can connect the dots we have him for trespassing, plus assault and battery at least.”
“She’s my responsibility.” Diggs clenched his hands into fists.
“She stopped being your responsibility the second someone snuck into her dressing room.” Ward squared his stance and waited.
“You’re not leaving me behind.” Diggs stepped into Ward, using his considerable mass to force him to back away. He had Ward beat by a couple of inches and a hundred pounds. Feral instincts warned Ward to brace for a hit but he didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.
Diggs was smart and big enough to stop a train. He had a lot of potential, but it would take more than one big guy to stop this threat. It would take someone capable of seeing the forest, not just the tree. Someone who hadn’t already given up his objectivity for friendship.
“You’re too close to this,” Ward said.
“You mean to her,” Diggs said in a low drawl.
“Yes.”
“Screw you, man.” Diggs was so angry, spit flew out of his mouth. “You ask me, you ain’t close enough. You don’t care about her. You don’t care about what she needs. Can’t you see she’s wrecked? You can’t take her away from everyone she knows. You can’t take her away from me .”
“Gentlemen,” Annie, the voice of reason and calm, said, “don’t you think a manly display of testosterone should wait until after this crisis is settled?”
Diggs’s jaw tightened, but he looked away.
“That’s it?” Della’s voice rose loud enough to command the attention of the room. “That’s all you have? You’ll just make it stop? Just like that?”
“Yes.” Ward watched Diggs until he was sure the man wouldn’t change his mind about some kind of showdown, then turned to Della. “What he did tonight was not only illegal, it was a big mistake.”
“How? You can’t see his face on that video. He came in here, past everything. He’s like a ghost.” Della’s stare challenged him. “How are you going to catch a ghost?”
“He committed an actual crime tonight. Breaking and entering. Trespassing. Assault. He left evidence of where he’s been, and what he’s done. We now know he was here in this house on the day of the pool party. We’ll analyze where he was standing when he took those shots, how he got them printed, and with any luck, we’ll already have a shot of his face somewhere in all the social media posts. It’s a big break. We find him, the police will take it from there.”
“Our primary concern is keeping you safe,” Annie said. “We do that by moving you somewhere he can’t find you. If you go with Ward, Spencer and I can focus on finding this guy.”
Ward expected an argument. His principal hadn’t wanted to stay put in this house. She’d expressed her contempt for his entire strategy for the past five weeks, and she hadn’t given one inch.
Ms. Bellamy looked from him to Annie with resignation. “Where?”
Ward gave her a surprised but impressed nod of approval. Maybe there was an ounce of self-preservation in there somewhere.
“She can stay with me,” Diggs said instantly.
“No,” Ward said.
“Why the hell not?” Diggs’s voice rose in challenge.
Ward kept his tone calm and cool and hopefully firm enough to stop any further argument. “You’ve been on her detail for years. The stalker likely knows who you are. Where you live. If you’re in the way, you’ll be the next target.”
Diggs snorted. “He could try.”
“You want to help her? You help Spencer track this guy down and you keep this bastard from slithering away,” Ward said.
“Couldn’t Greg and I just go stay with Mattie or Lizzie?” Ms. Bellamy asked, her voice hopeful. “Mattie has that island. It’s remote. We could take the whole team.”
“No.” Annie sounded almost sorry about having to give that answer. “You shouldn’t go anywhere he expects you to be, and your sister’s wedding would be too easy for him to infiltrate. There’ll be too many unknown people coming and going.”
Ms. Bellamy nodded, but her gaze was distant. “If he followed me to Lizzie’s… Oh God. This is impossible. This is?—”
“Bullshit,” Diggs cut in. “You can’t just erase her like she don’t exist. You can’t do that. She’s Della freaking Bellamy, man. You can’t make her do this.”
“You’re right.” Ward spread his hands wide, trying his best to radiate practicality instead of command. “I can’t make her go somewhere she doesn’t want to go. But do you really think she’s safer hiding out with you in that crappy apartment with the broken lock on the back door?”
“What the…” Diggs’s eyes narrowed. “You spied on me ?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck you.” Diggs’s glare said he’d like to end Ward where he stood. “You waltz in here for two seconds, run one concert, and think you’re in charge?”
“Yes.” Diggs didn’t have to like it, but he damn sure had to live with it.
“Greg…” Ms. Bellamy put her hand on his arm. “Maybe he’s right.”
“No, he ain’t right. He’s full of shit.” Diggs knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. “You saying you want to fire me?”
“No. Of course not.” She looked at the big man with soft eyes. “Renic hired him because he’s good at this. I think we should do what he says.”
“Girl…you’re killing me.” Diggs rubbed at the back of his neck, but the anger had slipped away from him. “You sure this is what you want?”
Della bit her lip and nodded.
Diggs shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“Me either,” Ms. Bellamy said. “I hate everything about this. But I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”
Diggs huffed out a breath, then glanced at Ward, his expression one of resignation. “I guess you win this one. What do you need me to do?”
It felt like a major breakthrough. Maybe the man’s friendship with his client would be an asset after all. “Get with Spencer and help him document the evidence before the cops get here. You know a lot of these people. Any background you have will help.”
Diggs nodded and patted his former principal’s shoulder. “You need me, you call. Got me?”
Ms. Bellamy offered him a soft, sad smile. “Thanks, Greg. It won’t be forever. Right?”
“Won’t even be a blink,” Diggs stalked out of the room.
Ward turned to the two women. “Did you bring the kit?”
Annie shot him a be-serious look. “Plan B?”
It really sucked that it had come to this, but Ward couldn’t see any way around it. “Plan B.”
“Fun.” Annie infused the word with so much hidden meaning that it caught Ms. Bellamy’s attention.
“Fun?” Ms. Bellamy glanced from him to Annie and back.
“I’ll be right back,” Annie said as she left the room.
“What kit?” Ms. Bellamy stood.
Since Annie pretended not to hear the question, Ward answered, “First, we give you a new look. Then we relocate.”
“Okay.” She bobbed her head up and down as if she were talking herself into the idea. “Okay. New look. That’s…okay. I guess. Where are we relocating to?”
His hometown of Wires Crossing, Pennsylvania, was a spec on the map about an hour and a half drive from both Philadelphia and New York. Population: 20,602. Home to the country’s first inn with electric lights, which was how they’d come up with the name. Despite the access to more exciting places, or maybe because of it, Wires Crossing stubbornly clung to the sleepy small town vibe and aggressively fended off urban sprawl. That made it the last place on earth anyone would hunt for Della Bellamy.
He knew every street, alley, nook and cranny intimately.
It was the right call. He knew that. He felt it deep in his gut where all of his best decisions were made.
He just wished he had another option.
“Somewhere nobody would expect you to be.”