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

from the rank and file of Nicolaidis Industries to the Mayor and even the Governor.

It didn’t seem to matter that Clare wasn’t there to greet them.  People understood, especially those who knew the specific circumstances of Richard Durant’s death.  The family held court in her place.  At first, they were flattered by the outpouring of sympathy, then overwhelmed, then exhausted.

Doreen went into action, retrieving Clare’s address book and finding the number for the company that routinely catered their large affairs.

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” the woman who owned the company promised.  “I’ve got a dozen things I can pull out of the freezer.  Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

***

Julie Durant stood in an upstairs window of her aunt’s home.  It was starting to rain, big soft plops smacking against the glass pane that would soon become hurtling needles searching for cracks in the ancient wood frame.  This place had lots of cracks, cracks that had turned into leaks, and when it rained hard, like it was about to do, her cousins set buckets out in strategic places on the second floor to catch the drops.  Her uncle often spoke of having the roof repaired and the windows replaced, but it never seemed to happen.

Julie didn’t mind.  She liked this house.  It was warm and cozy, and the creaks and groans in the night were familiar ones.  She liked sharing a room with her cousin Becky, too.  It was fun to whisper together, in the dark, just before falling asleep.  And it was comforting to know that someone was there, just in case she might wake up in the night, and despite the darkness, see the foot.

Peter might have wanted to go home, but Julie was in no hurry to get back to Laurelhurst.  There was no need.  The twelve-year-old was quite content to stay right here in Ravenna.  She knew her mother was safe.

Aunt Elaine didn’t let them go to school.  Instead, she sat them down at the kitchen table and told them, as gently as she knew how, what had happened to their father.  Not all the gory details, of course, she skipped over them, just the terrible end result.  Peter was scared and began to cry.  But Julie never shed a tear.  As soon as she could, she escaped upstairs to the room she shared with Becky, closing the door and crawling, fully clothed, under the covers.  She was shivering, but she wasn’t cold.  She was sad, but not surprised.  Ever since that day on the mountain, she had been waiting for something else to happen.

***

The children!  Clare sat bolt upright.  A small lamp burned on the nightstand beside her.  It was dark outside the window.  And there was silence.  Where were the children?

She scrambled out of the bed, pulled on the robe she found at the foot of it, and hurried out the door and down the hall, not stopping to wonder why she had been sleeping in a guestroom.  But the children’s rooms were empty, their beds still made up and waiting.  Clare tried to remember.  What day was it?  It was Friday, wasn't it?  Of course, she thought.  The children were in Ravenna, because of that silly stalker scare.  But it was late.  Surely they should have been back by now.  They had a special dinner planned.  Richard was coming home tonight.

Clare went back down the hall.  Perhaps they were keeping Doreen company in the kitchen while she was cooking, or watching television in the family room.  Without thinking, she started down the front stairs, stopping only when she reached the halfway mark and realized that there were a whole lot of people she didn’t remember inviting that had apparently come to visit.  They were staring up at her with a strange mixture of surprise and horror in their eyes.

And then she remembered.

***

The investigation, although pretty routine, took five days, and in the end, as expected, Richard Durant’s death was ruled an accident.  Erin went to Laurelhurst to give Clare the news barely an hour before it was released to the public.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all this,” she said.

“It isn’t your fault,” Clare assured her with a sigh.  “You did your best.  I know you did.”

Erin took a breath.  “But sometimes, our best just isn’t good enough,” she said.  “Which is really why I’m here.  I wanted to talk to you about the stalker.”

Clare looked up, startled.  “Oh my God,” she said.  “He’s what started all this, and I’d almost forgotten him.  How strange.”

“What with everything that’s been going on, I don’t think it’s so strange,” Erin responded.

“But the thing is,” Clare told her, “I haven’t heard from him.  I mean -- not at all.  Not since . . . well, you know, before Richard.  You don’t think that’s strange?”

“I think he’s a complex man, our stalker,” Erin said.  “And I think he’s playing a very complex game, with rules that only he understands.”

“You don’t think it could mean that he’s just -- gone?” Clare asked with a note of hope in her voice.

“From everything we know about him,” the detective replied, “I’m afraid he may just be . . . waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For things to calm down around here.  For family to leave, for other people to stop hovering around you.  For an opportunity to find you alone again, and even more vulnerable.”

“The funeral is tomorrow, and Richard’s family is leaving on Sunday,” Clare told her.  His parents had insisted on staying, and do their best to console her.  They were good people, but she could see, behind their kindness, in their eyes, that they blamed her, and would likely always blame her, for Richard’s death.

“Unfortunately, we aren’t going to be able to keep the stake-out going indefinitely,” Erin explained.  Indeed, her captain wanted to forget the whole thing completely, at least until the precinct got over the black eye it had earned.  They had already removed the surveillance equipment.

“We won’t be monitoring around the clock,