Broken Pasts(29)

When we got to the office, Nathaniel went into bodyguard mode almost instantly, sliding on his shades and plastering a professional frown across his perfect face. That was fine by me considering Brenda was wearing a pink blouse with way too much cleavage, a skirt that threatened to flash me at every turn and a pair of thigh highs with a very visible garter belt. I'd rather Nathaniel blended into the wall instead of getting caught on her radar. If I had to hear the baby talk voice she often used on men, I was going to puke.

“He can't speak,” I told my crew as I wove my way through a sea of questions and pointing fingers. “He's a statue for all that you're concerned.” I flung open the door to my office and prepared to face Satan. Contrary to popular belief, Satan is a she.

***

“No, thank you, Ms. Brown,” I said as I escorted the world's prickliest client out of my office and closed the door with an audible sigh of relief. “Demon bitch,” I said and noticed that Nathaniel was smiling at me. If the back wall of my office hadn't been made entirely of windows, I might have cleared off my desk and had a repeat session of yesterday's fun. Or at least I could entertain that thought. Truth was, I was a bit of a coward. Nathaniel was probably going to have to make the next move if we wanted to scoot this thing along.

“I should've become a mortician,” I told him as I moved around my desk and plopped down in the oversized leather swivel chair that I'd just had to have. In all honesty, it was about as comfortable as a cactus.

“Why's that?” Nathaniel asked with a smile, slipping his glasses down just enough that I could catch a glimpse of his green eyes.

“Then I wouldn't have had to listen to my clients bitch.” Nathaniel opened his mouth as if to speak when my assistant/apprentice/resident hooker opened the door.

“Good news,” Brenda said coming in without knocking. I'd only told her a hundred times, silly me. She flashed a manila envelope at me, and I couldn't help but notice that her breasts went along for the ride, bulging out of her top like muffins. I glanced over at Nathaniel, but he was in bodyguard perfect position and wasn't looking. Or at least I hoped he wasn't.

“What is it?” I asked as I looked at the four digit number next to my inbox and died a little inside. It's going to take all day just to get through these.

“It's from Gary,” she chirped and tossed the file dangerously close to my now cold cup of coffee. The liquid jiggled and danced, but didn't manage to go over the edge. Lucky her. “Divorce papers maybe?” she asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows. It took me a whole minute to process.

“Divorce papers?” I whispered as Nathaniel came striding across the room, a perfect column of darkness in his suit. He put his fingers on the envelope and looked at me as if to ask permission. I glanced around him and noticed that Brenda was checking out his ass. I cleared my throat, but that didn't work. Instead she just asked me if I needed any water, all the while scoping out Nathaniel with an unabashed sense of glee. “Thank you, Brenda,” I said finally, using my best boss voice. She blinked several times, like she was coming out of a coma or something, and finally disappeared out the door, closing it loudly behind her.

“May I?” Nathaniel asked as he removed his glasses and stuffed them in the front pocket of his suit. I held out my hand as if to say, Go right ahead. I still had that other creepy package on my mind, the one with the stuffed animals, video games, and books of porn. If Nathaniel wanted to check this first, all the better for me. If there were naked pictures of Gary or weird letters or whatever the hell else, he could take them for evidence and I wouldn't have to look at them.

I closed my eyes and tried to practice some deep breathing techniques while Nathaniel slid his thumb under the top of the envelope and tore it open.

Several moments of silence passed before he spoke.

“Theresa,” he said as my eyes snapped open and I looked up at him. His voice told me that I didn't want to know, that Gary had somehow crossed another line. Nathaniel's eyes were on fire, like two round pits of hate, burning like hot oil, shimmering with rage. I had a feeling that had Gary been in the immediate vicinity that he might've been dead. “I need you to look at these, but I want you to remain calm. I'm here now, and he can't hurt you.”

“Nathaniel … ”

“I need you to understand that I will not let him hurt you,” he repeated as he dropped the packet of files to the desk and reached out, taking my face in his hands. Nathaniel locked eyes with me and would not let me go. “Do you understand?”

“I … ” I think he was trying to prepare me, so I wouldn't panic. Instead, his behavior was having the opposite effect, convincing me that the worst was about to happen. My mind started spinning completely unbelievable and utterly ridiculous stories. He got custody of Rhea somehow or He killed my mother and photographed it or He's summoned demons from hell to come and take me away. That's how bad it was. “Let me see,” I whispered as Nathaniel released me with a massive sigh and pushed the papers across the desk. No, wait, not papers, photographs. Nice, big, glossy 8 x 10's. Dozens of them. Of me and Rhea. Sleeping.

I stood up suddenly and sent my chair flying against the glass, wheels spinning as it toppled over in my frenzy.

“No,” I said because I didn't know what else to say. “No, those are staged. They're not real.”

Nathaniel watched me tensely, and I could tell he was trying to decide between bodyguard and … that 'b' word, if he even was one. We still hadn't figured that out. At that point in time, I couldn't have cared less. Bodyguard won out.

“Theresa, they very well could be. I need you to calm down and take a look at them with me. Maybe they're from before, when you were married?”

“No,” I whispered as tears of rage sprung to my eyes and I felt adrenaline coursing through my blood like fire. If Gary had been within range in that moment, I would've strangled him to death. “They're not. The blankets … when I moved out, I didn't take them with me. I bought new comforter sets.” I pointed at the photos. “Those are them.” I swallowed hard and forced myself to take one of the photos between my fingers. I couldn't bear to look at the ones of Rhea, so I stared at my sleeping face. There I was at my most vulnerable and he was lording over me, taking photos like he didn't have a care in the world. He could've hurt me, raped me, killed me. And Rhea … I closed my eyes and held back a howl of rage. It wouldn't do me any good, not yet.

Nathaniel checked the envelope and then thumbed through the pictures again. That's all there was, no note, just the disgusting photographs in all of their horrendous glory.

“This was postmarked on Thursday,” he said as he examined the stamps. “So he sent them the day after I showed up, but he must've taken them sooner.”

“Why?” I asked as I picked up the pictures and shook them. Honestly, I wanted to tear them apart, turn them into confetti, but I couldn't, I had to keep them if only to nail the f*cker. “Why take them and just keep them? Why send them now? I don't understand.” Nathaniel examined the pictures with a practiced eye. The most f*cked up part about all of this was that he didn't seem entirely surprised by it, like he'd seen this kind of thing before. I didn't ask, didn't want to know. It was hard enough trying to deal with my own problems.

“Stalkers crave power. That's what this is about. He's showing you that he can come and go as he pleases, that he could hurt you if he wanted. My guess is that he feels threatened by me. A lot of stalkers have a hard time watching their exes move on to someone else. It's often a trigger for escalated behavior.”

“Nathaniel,” I said, eyes wide, hands shaking. I didn't know what else to say, what else to do. “Help me.” In an instant, the flip was switched and he was there, sweeping me into his arms, holding me against his chest and pressing his lips to the forehead.

“Theresa McMaster, you have nothing to worry about. I won't leave you, not until this is over, not unless you want me to.”

“But how,” I said, trying to keep my voice from sounding frantic. “You said the law's a joke. Don't we just add this crap to the pile and move on, let him get away with it?”

“Not this time,” Nathaniel told me with a slight smile in his voice. “These pictures are proof of breaking and entering, a crime that's a bit more black and white than stalking. If we take these down to the police station with our report, they'll be able to get you an order of protection and hopefully a search warrant for Gary's house.”

“Thank god,” I whispered, thinking that the horrors of Gary Harper had just hit their peak, that this was the tip of the iceberg and it was all downhill from here.

It was a nice thought anyway.





CHAPTER 20

Nathaniel and I stopped by my house, but I didn't go in. I couldn't. I needed a little more time to adjust to the idea that a psychopath had been standing over me while I slept for God only knows how many days, watching me while I was helpless to stop him, waiting there like a predator stalking prey. I had this horrible feeling in my gut that I had been days away from death. If I hadn't called PPSD, would I be lying in a puddle of blood on my bathroom floor like the late Mrs. Sutherland? It was a very real possibility.