Level Five (10 page)

             
Unfortunately, he couldn’t wrap her in a bubble or lock her up in a safe house.  Her job required a certain amount of visibility, book signings and interviews, appearances on the local news and speaking engagements.  That put her in the public eye.

             
Stop thinking like a cop. 
How many times had Edie told him that in the course of their relationship?  She didn’t understand that thinking like a cop wasn’t what he did, it was who he was at his very core.

             
Still, for the next two hours he intended to put his cop hat away and just be the supportive boyfriend.  He enjoyed watching her at these things.  She sparkled with such brilliance that it burned inside his soul, a brilliance that he knew when the signing was over would overwhelm her with exhaustion. 

             
They’d go home and order a pizza, then she’d tumble into bed and enjoy the sleep of the innocent while he’d lay awake and worry about all the creeps that might have seen her that day.

             
Anthony awakened Saturday morning before dawn, a thrill of anticipation driving him from his bed.  He made his way from his bedroom, down the stairs that were an obstacle course of stacked hardback books and to the kitchen where there was a single empty chair and just enough space at the table for him to eat a meal.

             
In order to make coffee he had to remove a stack of plastic food storage bins from the sink and that required him moving part of a collection of canisters to the floor.  It was a well-orchestrated dance to get him a pot full of water, and then more choreography to get the water and coffee into the coffee maker half-buried by the pots and pans he’d salvaged from his mother’s house before it had been demolished.

             
It was a routine that was comfortable, accomplished without any thought.  His feet knew exactly where to step, his body knew how to contort in order to accomplish what he needed at the moment.

             
He sat at the chair as the scent of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air.  The other chairs were buried beneath boxes of other things he’d brought from his mother’s home.  Eventually he planned to go through them to see what he wanted to keep.  But each morning that he faced the boxes, memories of his life with his mother fired into his brain and the seething rage that was never far from the surface threatened to erupt.

             
This morning as he sipped his coffee the boxes were the last thing on his mind.  Instead a vision of the poster he’d seen in the bookstore window filled his head.

             
Edie Carpenter.  Her name was burned into his brain, the vision of her long dark hair and bright blue eyes had made him feel like he was five-years-old again and staring into his mother’s face, seeking some sort of affirmation of his own life. Searching those beautiful blue eyes, waiting for a smile of affection to lift the corners of her lush lips, needing something from her that never came.

             
Love me,
a little boy’s voice cried inside him. 
Just make me feel loved.
  He bit his lips, forcing the little boy deep inside him.

             
Saturdays were often hunting days for him.  He’d usually drive aimlessly around the city, the further away from his house the better, seeking new projects and if not finding anyone to his taste, then using the opportunity to hit a couple of thrift stores or see what people had placed out by the curb for pick-up.

             
But today he was immersed in thoughts of Edie.  When he’d gotten home from his date the night before he’d climbed into bed with his laptop and had gone cyber-searching, digging up any information he could get on the crime writer.

             
Edie Carpenter wasn’t exactly a household name but her career was definitely taking off.  She had a professional web page that displayed the cover of her latest book and gave a generic bio that said a lot of things but actually told very little about the woman herself.

             
The photo on the web site had been the same one that hung in the store window. On paper and in the cyber world her physical appearance definitely stirred his blood, made him a little light-headed with need. He wouldn’t know for sure if she was right for his next project until he saw her in person. And that meant going to the signing. 

As he took a sip of his coffee and thought about Edie Carpenter, he absently swatted a cockroach off the table with the back of his hand.

              There was a bit of a mess in the paper room, left from Maggie.  He’d spend the morning swiping up the dried old blood, getting rid of any flesh or brain matter that might cling to the hardwood floors in preparation of a new project.

             
Even if he discovered this afternoon that Edie wasn’t right, he needed to find somebody to fill the emptiness of his paper room.  The hunger inside him had been simmering and he felt an imminent explosion.  He needed to find somebody soon. 

             
The book signing lasted until four.  If Edie wasn’t the woman he needed for his next project then he’d have the rest of the evening and all day tomorrow to hunt, to find somebody who was right for his needs. 

             
In the meantime, maybe he’d check a couple of dumpsters this morning to help the day pass more quickly.  He needed…he needed…a dark cloud of despair descended on him.  If he didn’t get something…someone soon, he knew he was going to die.  He slammed a hand down on the table, this time crunching a cockroach beneath his hand as anger combined with anguish to create a barely controlled rage.              

                      Chapter 11

Book signings terrified Edie on any number of levels.  She feared that the only people who would talk to her were customers seeking the bathroom or the poetry section of the store. It worried her that nobody would show up and she’d feel responsible for the amount of books that had been ordered by the store on her behalf.

She was afraid she’d somehow make an ass out of herself and for years after people would talk about the goofy crime writer they’d once met in a bookstore.

She knew these fears were irrational.  Oh, she could always count on somebody to ask her where the restroom was, and the books that didn’t sell could be sent back to the publisher. She rarely made an ass out of herself on any occasion.

As Jake pulled into the parking lot behind the large bookstore and came to a stop next to her car, a burst of adrenaline flooded through her veins. She knew it was an adrenaline that would be with her until the signing was over, leaving her exhausted from being ‘on’ for the next couple of hours.

“You okay?” Jake asked as he got out of his car and joined her at her driver door.

“As okay as I ever am at these things.”  She gathered her purse and a handful of flyers from the passenger seat.  “I just want to make Terri, my agent and my editor all happy today.”

“Try to take a minute and feel some happiness for you,” Jake said, making her smile with appreciation for the man who was such an integral part of her life. 

The heat of the day rode their shoulders as they crossed the parking area. As they walked into the front door she was grateful to see that the store was busy.  Terri had set up a lovely table with a bright yellow tablecloth, a bouquet of fresh flowers and stacks of her books. 

Terri greeted them with a bright smile.  “We already have several people in the store who have just been waiting for you to arrive.”  She checked her wristwatch.  “You’re a bit early. I expect you’ll have a line forming within the next ten minutes or so.”

Edie thrilled at the fact that she was in a place in her career where a line of people would form, people all waiting to meet her and get her latest release. It was a culmination of hard work and an unwavering dream. She turned as Jake touched her shoulder.  “I’m going to go get a cup of coffee and then I’ll just lurk in corners until you’re finished.”

She flashed him a grateful smile.  He knew the last thing she needed to worry about was if he was bored.  He’d make himself comfortable and she wouldn’t have to give him another thought until it was time to go home.

Even though she was a little early, she decided to go ahead and get started.  As Jake drifted toward the coffee area of the store, she sat at the table and put out her flyers, then pulled her favorite signing pen from her purse.

Immediately an older woman with gray hair stood before her.  “Oh, I’m so thrilled to meet you.  I’ve read all your books, including the one you wrote about your sister and I can’t wait to read this one.”

“Thank you,” Edie said.  “I appreciate your support.  Would you like me to sign a copy to you?”

“Oh please, make it out to Doris.  Your books make me feel like I’m right in the thick of things, like I know all the people personally.”

And so it began.

The next hour flew by as Edie was kept busy selling books and chatting with fans. It was an exhilarating experience.  She spent so much of her time alone in front of her computer, with only email contact with fans.  Meeting them in person, feeling their enthusiasm for her work was like a stimulating drug.

Unfortunately she knew these personal book signing days were becoming a thing of the past.  With the explosion of digital books and the closing of so many bookstores, book signings were becoming obsolete.

After the first hour things began to slow.  Jake ambled over to the table with a cup of her favorite coffee and set it on the table.  “As if you need a caffeine jolt,” he said dryly.

She was about to give him a smart-ass reply, but a young mother with two toddlers stepped up to her table.  “Wow, a real author.  I’ve always wanted to write a book.  As soon as these two get into school, I figure I’ll take a month or so and write one of those romances.”  As she chatted about her plans, telling Edie the plot that had been working in her head, Edie noticed several other people lining up behind her.

“Would you like me to autograph a copy of my book for you?” Edie asked in an effort to move the woman along.

“Oh no, I don’t read stuff like that.  Any advice you can give me as a budding writer?” 

“Yeah, get out of the way so the rest of us can buy her book,” a tall handsome man behind the woman muttered.

“Take some classes and study the market,” Edie said, grateful when the woman moved away.

“I’d like a book,” the man said. 

Edie smiled up at him. “And who would you like me to make it out to?”

“To me.  To Anthony.  I’m so looking forward to reading it.”

She signed it with a flourish and then held it out to him.  “I hope you enjoy it.”

Anthony took the signed book from her. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy it.”  He then moved on trembling legs to a chair by the coffee area, his heart beating frantically.

Edie Carpenter was more than what he’d expected, more than he could have hoped for, might have ever dreamed about. It was as if she’d stepped out of his painful memories, an active, guilty participant of his tormented childhood.

His head ached as he absently stroked the back jacket of the book where her picture was displayed.  Anxiety twisted in his stomach, along with the sweet rush of anticipation.

There was no question that she was what he wanted, what he needed.  She would be his next project. She would be the best ever. He felt it in his heart, in the very depth of his soul.  He thought she just might be the one he’d been searching for all along, the one who would heal him.

If he had his way he’d take her now, just grab her by her hair and pull her to his car.  He’d take her to his home and chain her in the paper room.

His need to punish her nearly overwhelmed him.  He drew several deep breaths and looked around the room, spying the tall, dark-haired man who had accompanied Edie to the signing.

Brother?  Lover?  Husband?  The bio information he’d managed to pull up on her had been void of the kind of personal things that would let him identify what role the man played in Edie’s life.

Not that it mattered. 
Every woman, whether married or not, at one point or another was a potential, vulnerable victim. They shopped at a store after dark, they picked up dry cleaning in a half-abandoned strip mall or sat on their back deck alone, watching the night sky.

One way or the other, Edie Carpenter would be his greatest project.  All he had to do was be patient, do a little stalking, learn her habits. That was the secret of his success…patience and control. The anticipation was almost as great a thrill as the actual act.