The Spell
McKenna Crime Series

She’d been asked the questions before. Maybe this time she’d hear something in her own responses to give her a clue who had invaded her life and stolen her peace. There would be yet another tape to have transcribed and sent to the district attorney when they finally caught the culprit. She had to believe he would be. Somehow, someday they would find him.

Turning on the tape recorder, Misha began. “Kelly, we’ve done this before, and I know it doesn’t get any easier, but can you tell me what happened tonight—from the beginning?”

Nodding again, Kelly started to relate her day, omitting the strange images that floated through her mind. “I had a meeting with my boss today, a good one, came home, grabbed Susan, and told her I had some great news and asked if she could do dinner. We took off and decided to go to the Quiche Spot.”

“Did anyone know you were going to the Quiche Spot tonight?”

“No, in fact, we didn’t know till we left to go to dinner. How does he keep finding me? How does he do it? Detective, how could he know our dinner plans and have this package all ready to go? How many times have we swept my car for a GPS and found nothing?”

As the recorder ran, Misha asked more about the day’s events leading up to the receipt of the package.

“Okay. So when the waiter came with the box, what happened?”

“Eddie, you know Eddie, right? The red-headed guy, about twenty-two or so?”

“Ah, yes, I do. He’s one of those success stories that got himself straightened out before the chance was gone. But what about him?”

“He’s the one who brought the package to the table and told me a delivery service brought it by. I had just started to open it, and something told me that I shouldn’t, that opening it there would be a mistake. You know how you sometimes get those feelings that something isn’t right?”

When both of the other women nodded, she finished. “So we left and came here.”

“All right. I’m going to open a threats case on this. I still have the other notes and the tapes of the phone calls booked into evidence, and we’ll link those. If you don’t mind, I’m going to take the doll, box, and note, run them for prints and book them into evidence as well.”

“Of course, I certainly don’t want them.”

“Umm, Detective Campbell, there is one other thing Kelly noticed in the restaurant.” Susan spoke up.

“What?”

“It’s the same kind of paper her ex-husband, David, used to wrap gifts for her in.”

“I see. Where’s David now?”

“As far as I know, he’s still in Chicago,” Kelly told her. “There would be no reason for him to be here. He knows we’re done.”

“I see. I’m going to head on over to the restaurant and talk to Eddie and the other staff and see if anyone else can identify the delivery person or anyone else in the area. I’ll get back to you in a day or two, all right?”

“Yes. Thanks, Detective Campbell.”

“Hopefully this will be the last of his antics. Although, to be honest, I don’t believe for a minute that this will indeed be the last of it.”

“I don’t think he’s going to go away either,” Kelly told her. “I don’t understand it. For years I’ve gone over and over in my mind what would prompt someone to do this. There isn’t one person I can think of that I did anything nasty to. Not one incident that I caused that someone got hurt or offended. Heck, I wasn’t even popular in high school! Not a cheerleader or in the drama club or anything like that. I’m an average person, just a regular girl. So why me?”

“I don’t know, Kelly. Until we catch this guy, we won’t know. And even then, I’m not sure we’ll know the truth,” Misha said. “But when we catch him, and I do mean when, he will have a lot to answer for.”

 “I hope so.” Kelly stood to leave and then turned back to Misha. “You know what bothers me the most?”

“The feeling of vulnerability, of not having privacy?”

“That, but no. Actually it’s that I’m a reporter. I investigate for a living. I study people and their actions and reactions. Why can’t I get a handle on this guy? Why can’t I figure out who he is?”

“Probably because you are too close. When you are the subject under the microscope, it’s hard to pull back and see the big picture.”

Kelly sighed. “Yeah. I know. See? There you go. From my psych and journalism classes, I know, I know, that when you are the focus, it’s virtually impossible to pull back and see just what’s going on. Still, I don’t know how to stop mulling over each incident and seeing how they relate and wondering what his next move will be.”

“I can see that. I’m done with what I need for tonight. If you don’t have anything else, we’ll call it a night, and I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, Misha,” Kelly answered, unable to keep the flatness of her exhaustion and the feeling of her growing hopelessness from her voice.

Hugging herself, her head down, the path to the door of the police station was so familiar Kelly didn't bother to look up. Not until she slammed right into a wall. Not any wall, but a somewhat cushioned one that turned out not to be a wall at all. Rather there stood one very tall, enticingly good-looking blond-haired man with the deepest set of green eyes she’d ever seen. Rubbing her shoulder where it had jammed against his shoulder-harnessed gun, feeling her cheeks turn hot from embarrassment, at first she could only stare at the man before blurting out, “It’s you! Oh my God, it’s you! Why did you wait so long to find me?”