Christmas Stalking. Jo Leigh
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on the shopping. From that list you slipped into my purse, it’s going to take me ’til next Christmas to get it all done.”
“Why don’t you wait until tomorrow, when we have someone we can trust watching your back.”
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“The presents aren’t that important.”
She smiled, even though the thought of battling the crowds made her want to buy herself a quick trip to Jamaica. “Right. Maybe next year we’ll find a professional shopper, huh?”
“It’s a deal.”
She got her purse from beside the wing chair, then pulled her coat from the rack. With a wave, she left the office and headed out to the mall, feeling better already that by tomorrow she’d have someone competent on her case.
JADE’S USUAL aggressiveness proved to be of marginal use in the crowded confines of the mall. In her heavy coat, clutching her purse tightly to her chest so pickpockets wouldn’t get into it, she pushed her way through the throngs of Christmas shoppers.
She briefly considered stopping in at The Coffee Beanery for a latte, but one look at the people packed in like sardines and she changed her mind.
Besides, that feeling was back. The one that made the small hairs at the back of her neck stand up. Several times she’d stopped, letting the crowds wash around her, and tried to catch a familiar reflection in the shop window. Or at least the same face twice. It never happened. Maybe she was nuts.
She shrugged it off and focused on some serious shopping. Just like last year, it was easier to buy for those people who were on the periphery of her father’s life, like the ambassador from Germany. The closer the circle got, the more personal the gift had to be, which was no piece of cake considering the disparity of the people involved.
She ended up finding her salvation at Hammacher Schlemmer, picking up a dozen tiny CD stereo systems, highly stylized, that could fit on any bookshelf. She also bought several back massagers, three facial saunas, and a couple of radio-controlled cars for her father’s more emotionally stunted friends. The real bonus about the store was that they would deliver the entire purchase to the Senate office, where she could deal with the wrapping, cards and mailing at her leisure.
She had to schlep all the other packages though, and as they piled up, she grew less careful about checking reflections. By the time she got into Saks, she was more concerned with juggling bags and credit cards and not being poked, prodded or stepped on by the other harried shoppers.
As she signed for a jeweled cigar cutter, she glanced at her watch. She’d been in the mall for nearly two hours. Enough. She’d had it for tonight. In fact, she’d had it with malls. She’d do the rest of her shopping online.
There’d been a time when Christmas shopping had been fun, but that was when her mother had come with her. Jade headed toward the mall exit, thinking about that last Christmas—
A thought stopped her so sharply, the man behind her stepped on her heel. She heard his low curse, but she didn’t care. The feeling she’d been having this week. Could it possibly be memories of her mother?
Too pragmatic to believe in ghosts or spirits, Jade did believe that the mind was a powerful, mysterious thing. That the subconscious could play mighty tricks on the conscious. It was all too possible that she missed her mother so much that she’d conjured up the feeling of being watched. Although she’d ascribed fear to the experience, now that she understood it, that could change. She could gain comfort, instead.
She reshuffled the bags in her arms and continued toward the parking lot, wrestling with this new idea. Wondering if she should look up Doctor Frankle. She’d been a good therapist, not too heavy-handed, definitely not Freudian. Jade had seen her for eight months, after a terrible breakup and while deciding about getting her Ph.D. At the end of their time together, Jade had felt better, stronger. It wouldn’t hurt to go for that feeling again.
As she exited the wide glass doors, she noticed two different Santas, complete with bells and donation buckets in front of them. Since she gave at the office and had no desire to disrupt the carefully constructed conglomerate of packages in her arms, she headed up the middle, eyes straight ahead.
She passed the gauntlet unscathed and made it to the massive parking lot without dislodging so much as a ribbon. Unfortunately, she’d parked in what felt like another county, and her right arm was already feeling numb.
The only good thing about parking so far in the hinterlands was the relative quiet. She’d never cared for crowds, and with all that was on her mind, they’d been particularly annoying in the mall. All she had to think about now was negotiating the traffic home. Then it would be a roaring fire, sinfully buttered popcorn and movies, movies, movies.
Too bad her father had that dinner. It would have been nice to have a quiet evening with him, although he never did make it through the movies. He always talked about watching, but nothing held his attention. Not for two hours, that was for sure. Halfway through, he’d make up some excuse, like getting a drink, checking something from the office or even going to the bathroom. He always promised to come right back, but he never did. She’d stopped trying to change his ways.
He’d been like that forever, his fertile mind filled with his duties, his constituents, his campaigns. She couldn’t blame him. He was definitely playing in the big leagues, and she realized it was a lot to ask him to relax, but she couldn’t help her worry.
Ever since her mother died, he’d been running himself ragged. He worked impossible hours and ate horribly. The only reason he wasn’t big as a horse was that he walked every day, mostly on the Hill. But still, his color wasn’t good, and his hair, always his pride and joy, was thinning and dull. She’d begged him to get a full physical, but he kept putting it off.
That’s what he could get her for Christmas. The thought of losing him, too, was entirely too much to bear, and she would manipulate his emotions mercilessly until he gave in.
She saw her car, finally, just a few aisles away. Rounding a pylon, she practically ran into a third Santa Claus. She gasped, almost losing her armload from the surprise. She stepped to her right just as he stepped to his left. Her smile died on her lips, however, when she looked more carefully at his face.
He stared at her with intense, bloodshot eyes, and his expression was anything but jovial. Her heart kicked into double-time as she realized he wasn’t just another store Santa.
“Ms. Parker,” he said.
That did it. How did he know her name? She looked to her right, her left, but there was no one nearby. Someone had to be around, for God’s sake.
“Please, don’t be scared, I just want to talk to you.”
She checked to her left once more, tried to feint to her right. But his hand caught her arm, and his grip held her firm. She opened her mouth to scream, but the move came too late. His hand, thick, clammy, covered her mouth, the hand on her arm pulling her farther into the recesses of the garage.
She struggled against him, but he kept maneuvering her past cars, toward her SUV. God, he knew her car! She hadn’t been crazy, or nostalgic for her mother. This maniac had been following her, stalking her, and now…
She remembered in a vivid flash the most serious admonition given to every woman: don’t let the abductor get you into the car. The chances of surviving were minimal once he got you away from people, from crowds.
She kicked his leg, and his grunt let her know she’d made an impact, but it wasn’t enough. His grip didn’t loosen. In fact, his hand tightened brutally.
They got to the SUV and she heard something behind her, a car door closing. She tried to twist around, but he pushed up against her back, his warm breath and scratchy white beard tickling her neck.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you as long as you stay quiet. I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth. I have a gun, and I have nothing to lose by shooting