Stalker in the Shadows. Camy Tang

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СКАЧАТЬ Shaun’s voice cut through the shocked fog of her brain, and she managed to swallow, her eyes still riveted to the hideous carcass. Then she felt his fingers grasp her chin and turn her head away from the sight into his concerned face. The blue of his eyes calmed her a little.

       His finger caressed her cheek. “Breathe. Are you all right?”

       She swallowed again. “I’m fine.” Her voice came out shaky.

       “Who is this from?” Mr. O’Neill’s outraged voice filtered through her consciousness.

       She steeled herself, then pulled away from Shaun’s hand and looked back at the box. A white envelope peeked out from behind a jagged fang in the open mouth. Shaun reached forward, but she moved faster to take it, not touching the snake. Her fingers trembled as she opened it and pulled out a thick, plain white notecard.

      Monica,

      Consider this a warning. Cease your efforts on your persistent plans. Your free children’s clinic will never see the light of day. I will kill you if I must. My course is set, my determination sure. If you do not abandon your clinic, my vengeance upon you will be “As the snake late coil’d, who pours his length, And hurls at once his venom and his strength."

       It was unsigned.

       The menace and yet the poetry of the words frightened her. She began to shiver violently.

       Who would do this? Why would anyone want to stop her free children’s clinic?

       “‘The snake late coil’d.’” Shaun’s voice was hushed and yet harsh at the same time as he read the note over her shoulder.

       At the quote, his father jerked in surprise, his brow furrowed.

       Monica’s fear chilled as she took in Shaun’s burning eyes and pale face. “What is it?”

       “Could I see it, please?”

       Monica handed the notecard to him.

       He studied it with a frown, which deepened as he read.

       “Shaun?” Mr. O’Neill asked. There was an urgent gravity and also a slight quaver to his voice.

       Monica could see the note in Shaun’s hands tremble slightly, and she realized his hands were shaking.

       He glanced at his father, and some unspoken message passed between them. Mr. O’Neill turned whiter than the notepaper and swayed.

       “Mr. O’Neill!” Lorianne rushed toward him and helped him to sit down in a chair.

       “I’m fine.” He waved her away, but his hand gripped the table edge tightly.

       Monica turned to Shaun. “What’s going on?”

       His entire body had become taut like a bowstring. His eyes darted to hers, feral, fierce. Then he blinked, and a steely determination replaced the fleeting wildness.

       “The man who wrote this letter killed my sister.”

       He shouldn’t have said it in front of everyone that way, but the shock had ripped through him like a California breaker wave.

       “Right this way…” The hostess’s voice died away as she approached the back of the restaurant with two lunch customers and saw them all around Monica’s table.

       Lorianne immediately moved to block their view and spoke to her hostess in a low voice. The woman smiled at the couple and said, “If you’ll follow me, we’ll find you a different table.”

       They walked away, but Shaun could see that the restaurant was filling up with people coming in to eat lunch. He reached over Monica’s shoulder and covered the box with the lid to hide the snake from view—hers as well as any of Lorianne’s customers.

       “You have to call the police,” Mr. O’Neill told her.

       Lorianne looked a little strained at the suggestion, but she nodded to Monica. “I remember what the delivery guy looked like—short, really thin, big nose. Brown hair. I’ll talk to the hostess to see if she remembers, too.” She moved away to intercept the woman as she was returning to the front desk after seating the couple at a different table by the window.

       Shaun sat at a seat at the table while Monica pulled out her cell phone, but she dialed a different number than 9-1-1. He was about to ask who she was calling when she said, “Aunt Becca, I’m at Lorianne’s Café. I need you to call Detective Carter and have him meet me here.”

       “Monica, what happened?” Shaun could hear her aunt’s voice through the cell phone, sharp with concern.

       “I got a threatening note.” She opened her mouth as if she’d say more, but then rushed on without mentioning the snake. “He doesn’t need to bring an officer with him. I don’t want to make a fuss and chase away Lorianne’s customers.”

       Her aunt said something briefly and then Monica hung up.

       “So Becca’s still dating Detective Carter?” Shaun’s father said, trying to adopt a normal tone of voice, but Shaun could hear the reedy thread of stress behind his words.

       Monica nodded. “She has his direct number so he’ll be here sooner than if I’d called 9-1-1.”

       Her clear amber eyes found Shaun’s, and he could read the question in them about what he’d said about his sister. “I’ll tell you about it when the detective gets here,” he promised.

       She also called Phillip and canceled the lunch appointment. Shaun’s jaw tightened as he faintly heard Bromley’s voice. Something about an overturned truck. He was probably lying.

       Detective Carter must have been nearby because he arrived at the restaurant within minutes. He pulled off his sunglasses as he entered the dining room, and his gray eyes were filled with concern as he saw Monica. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice kind.

       “I’m fine. You know Patrick and Shaun O’Neill, right?” She gestured to Shaun and his father, who were sitting at the table. Detective Carter seated himself in the remaining chair. Then she pushed the box toward him and handed him the notecard.

       The detective’s expression grew hard as he read the note, but it grew fierce when he lifted the lid and saw the snake. “Tell me what happened,” he said.

       Monica recited how someone had delivered the gift to the restaurant and Lorianne had carried it to her. “I’ll talk to her later,” he said. “You don’t know who sent this?”

       She shook her head, but her eyes darted to Shaun. “But Shaun mentioned something about his sister,” she told the detective.

       Shaun looked to his dad, whose lined face seemed to have aged a decade. “Tell them,” Patrick said, his voice weak.

       Shaun paused, staring at that hated notecard, gathering his thoughts. Finally he said, “Five years ago, my younger sister, Clare, moved from Sonoma to Los Angeles to work at one of Dad’s hotels and to be closer to her boyfriend, Johnny. She had gotten her MBA the year before, and she was consulting for a free family planning clinic where Johnny was СКАЧАТЬ