In Self Defense by Susan Sloan (phonics books .TXT) 📕

was being taught during her riding lessons about getting right back on the horse if you fell off, she had no interest in getting back behind the wheel herself. Her little brush with death had scared her far more than she was willing to acknowledge.

But it was wonderful to be free.  Even just to be going to Ballard for a checkup with her doctor was enough to make her feel euphoric.  Clare opened the window, leaned back against the seat, and sucked the mild October air deep into her lungs.

Doreen, glancing over, smiled.  Neither of them paid any attention to the nondescript brown car that passed them, driving in the opposite direction.

***

Clare had known Dr. Robert Ahrens her entire life.  He was a kindly man, older and more stooped now than he used to be, of course, with a short grizzled beard and thick eyeglasses.  After he finished his examination, he straddled a stool in front of her.

“Well, the good news is, you don’t need to wear the collar fulltime anymore,” he said.  “Just when you feel the need for a little extra support.”

“That is good news,” Clare told him with a smile.

“The bad news is, I guess I don’t have to tell you what a lucky young lady you are.”

“No, you don’t,” she agreed.

“Fine.  Then you’ll do exactly as I say, and continue to take things easy.  I don’t mean that you have to stay in bed, but I don’t want you even thinking about going back to work, not for at least another month.”  Clare sighed deeply at that, but Ahrens pretended not to notice.  “Nor are you even to consider getting behind the wheel of a car any time soon.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that,” she assured him with a grimace.

“You’re still experiencing headaches and dizziness, which means that the swelling from the concussion hasn’t completely resolved itself yet,” he continued.  “And although you’ve regained your mobility and your spine seems to have stabilized nicely, any unexpected tweaks could reactivate the trauma.”

“I promise I’ll behave, Doctor,” she said the way she used to as a little girl.

“Stay home, rest, relax,” he advised wisely.  “Take some time to smell the roses.  Give your body, and your mind, the chance to heal.  This is the third close call you’ve had in less than a year, you know.  That’s got to have cost you something, not just physically, but emotionally.  Give yourself time to deal with it, to come to terms with it.”

“Does it seem to you that I’ve been putting myself in harm’s way a lot lately?” she asked suddenly.

“Well, I don’t know as I’d put it exactly that way,” Ahrens responded.  “But you do seem to have a lot on your plate these days, and I think some time set aside for a bit of quiet contemplation may do you more good than any medicine I could prescribe.”

She didn’t tell him about the stalker.  She just smiled, gave him her customary hug, and departed.

***

Clare was quiet on the way home.  She leaned her head back against her seat and closed her eyes.

“Even a little trip like this was too much for you,” Doreen observed, as she turned the Voyager onto Lakeview Way and then into the circular drive that fronted the sprawling Tudor house.  “I’ll fix you some lunch and then you’re going down for a nap.”

“You sound just like my mother,” Clare remarked with a tired little smile.

“That’s because she keeps talking in my ear,” the housekeeper declared with a chuckle.

Doreen Mulcahy had taken care of Helen Nicolaidis for the last four years of her life, when Clare’s mother no longer had any desire to do for herself.  After her death, Clare had coaxed Doreen into making the move from Ballard to Laurelhurst.  Once she agreed, the Durants became her responsibility.  And it was a responsibility she took very seriously.

She had three grown children of her own, one who lived in Spokane, one who lived in Portland, and the third who had recently relocated to San Francisco.  And right up front, before she would even take the job, she insisted on having three weeks of vacation time, because, as she said, she liked to visit each child once a year.

“She drives a harder bargain than some of my customers,” Richard remarked.

Doreen’s husband, a womanizer from the get-go, had gone out to the store one night, just after their youngest child turned two, and never come back.  Nor had any of them heard so much as a word from him since.  Richard offered to hire someone to track the deadbeat down for her, but Doreen shook her head.

“I might have taken you up on that a while back, when times were tough, and I needed some help,” she told him.  “But now that my kids are all grown and out on their own, I have no use for him.  So if it’s all the same to you, let’s just leave him under whatever rock he calls home.”

Now, as she pulled the Voyager to a halt in the driveway and assisted Clare out of the vehicle, she made a mental note to suggest to Mr. Durant that his wife might benefit enormously from a stay at the beach house they owned on Maui.

They walked up the broad stone steps, and Clare inserted her key and unlocked the front door.  In the foyer, propped up against the curved wooden stair railing, was a huge mass of orange poppies.

Clare let out a scream.

Doreen gasped.  “How did anyone get in here?” she cried.  “The house was locked.”  But she didn’t hesitate.  She ran to the telephone and called the police.

***

“I know how he got in,” Erin declared after she had done her own thorough examination of the house.  “One of the back windows was unlocked.”

“I don't know how I could have overlooked it,” Doreen said, shaking her head.  “I was sure I checked everything.”

“He’s sending a message, that’s for sure,” Dusty remarked.

“But walking into the house