“Sounds truly frightening,” Erin murmured.
“It was,” Richard said, turning to face them. “Tell me what to do,” he cried. “I’ve got to do something. I can’t just stand around with my hands in my pockets. How do I help? How do I protect her? Please, I’ll do anything. Just tell me what it is. We have to stop this bastard before he . . . before he does whatever it is he’s planning to do.”
“We’d like to put a tap on your home phone, if you’d be okay with that,” Dusty said.
“Of course,” Richard agreed. “What else?”
“If you don’t mind, we’d also like to have a complete list of your employees.”
Richard was clearly stunned at that. “Our employees?” he echoed. “Most of our employees have been with us for years. Do you seriously think your stalker could be one of our people?”
“I don’t know, Erin told him. “But you have to understand -- we need to be thorough. And we’d be derelict in our duty if we didn’t cover all the bases.”
Richard went over to his desk and pushed a button on his telephone console. An instant later, a slender young man of slightly more than medium height, with steel-rimmed spectacles and a shock of sandy hair, slipped into the office.
“This is James Lilly, my personal assistant,” Richard said by way of introduction. “James, this is Detective Grissom and Detective Hall from the Seattle Police Department. They’re going to need to have a comprehensive list -- names, addresses, and telephone numbers -- of all of our employees.”
“And social security numbers, too, if it isn’t too much trouble,” Dusty put in.
The assistant’s pale eyes blinked rapidly behind his glasses. “Is there a problem, sir?” he inquired, with a breathlessness that tended to get more pronounced under stressful circumstances. “Is there something I should know about?”
“No, no problem,” Richard assured him. “Just a little checking they need to do.”
“Is this for the entire company?” James asked. “Or just local employees?”
Richard considered that for a moment. “We have over eighteen thousand employees in eleven different states,” he explained to the detectives.
“I think just the personnel here in Washington will do for now,” Dusty said.
“I’ll get right on it,” the assistant said, departing as unobtrusively as he had arrived.
“What else?” Richard asked.
“Well, actually, we’d like you to go about your business the same as always,” Erin told him. “We don’t know how much he knows, but we don’t want to do anything that might alert our guy and put him on his guard. We want to get him.”
“But going about my business means being in some other state half the time,” Richard argued. “How can I leave town knowing Clare’s in danger?”
“We’ll be protecting her,” Dusty assured him. “She won’t see us, and he won’t see us, but we’ll be there. If he’s checked you out as thoroughly as we think he has, and then you suddenly change your schedule, he’ll know something’s up.”
“I hope you realize just what you’re asking of me,” Richard declared. “You’re putting me in a completely untenable position here. You’re as good as telling me that the only way I can help my wife is by running out on her.”
“Would it surprise you to know that your wife didn’t want you to know anything about this?” Erin inquired. “She knows how busy you are and how much you have on your mind, especially now, apparently, and she didn’t want you having to worry about her, too.”
Richard turned away, but not before Erin caught the glint of tears in his eyes. “No, it wouldn’t surprise me,” he whispered. “You see . . . that’s Clare.”
***
“You should have told me,” Richard said that night, as they were getting ready for bed.
“I really didn’t think it was that important,” Clare said, shrugging.
“Some guy’s going around stalking you, and you didn’t think it was important enough to tell me?”
“I thought I could handle it,” she said. “I didn’t think you needed to be bothered with anything else right now.”
Richard gave her a long look. “Do you really think it wouldn’t matter to me that some freak is after my wife?”
“Well, I suppose, when you put it that way.”
The telephone rang sharply. “Who the hell would be calling at this hour?” Richard snapped.
Clare exhaled sharply. “You know who it is,” she said.
“I’ll get it,” he said.
“No, let me,” she told him, raising her hand to stop him. “He won’t talk, if you answer, he’ll only hang up, and Detective Grissom and Detective Hall want to get as much of him on tape as they can.” She reached for the receiver.
“Hello, Clare,” the voice said.
“Hello,” she responded, unable, despite her brave attitude, to contain a shiver.
“It’s late, and I know you’ve probably had a long day. Are you getting ready for bed?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she told him.
“Is he there?”
“Is who there?”
“Come now, you don’t want to play games with me, Clare. Is your husband there?”
“Yes, of course he is.”
“I wish it was me, instead of him.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, seeming to take courage in the fact that Richard was indeed there and that the police would be listening. “You don’t want me. At least, not for who I am. All you want is to live in your own sick little fantasy.”
“Now why would you say a thing like that?” the voice asked, sounding hurt.
“Because it’s true,” she said boldly. “Because, if you were a real man, you’d come out in the open instead of always hiding in the shadows like a sneak thief, like a coward.”
“You’ve been talking to someone about me, haven’t you?” he asked slowly.
“Why?” Clare retorted. “Is that what you want me to do -- talk about
