Sometimes Daphne would experience something that gave her the distinct awareness that chivalry was not dead. Tonight, it was in the way Met stayed parked beside her in the lot right next to her office building until she had started her car and put it in gear. He did not move his enormous truck until she was creeping along in the empty parking lot on her way to the exit. Considering all of the trouble she had been having with Justin lately, there was a certain amount of comfort in knowing that there were no boogeymen hiding in the parking lot, inside her car, or anywhere else near her office building.
She had a smile on her face the rest of the way to her small apartment complex. The place was technically a condo, but she rented hers instead of shelling out a ton of money to buy. Each building had four units, and the best thing about the place was that all of her neighbors kept to themselves and pretty much the rest of the residents minded their own business too. Daphne had no tolerance for nosiness.
Parking her car out front in her usual spot, Daphne was actually humming to herself when she grabbed up her purse and the bag containing her workout clothes. Then she swung her legs out of her car and stood up. She made it to her front walk before she realized that there was a giant-sized box on her porch.
Daphne’s mouth went dry. She stopped walking and stared at the cardboard square. The porch light created a warm yellow circle on the pavement out front, and the box seemed to sit directly in the center of that circle. Daphne hadn’t ordered anything that was supposed to be delivered today. She didn’t even remember ordering anything in the last month that might have been delivered late.
Sucking in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and tried not to panic. Panicking was stupid. In fact, if she told anyone else that she was freaking out about an unmarked package on her doorstep, they would just laugh at her. People got packages all the time. That didn’t mean they contained something horrible.
Daphne stared at the package. There were absolutely no markings that suggested it had gone through the mail or any other delivery service. Her name was printed in block letters on the top of the box. The ink was black and thick. Unlocking her front door, she stepped around the cardboard box and walked into her cozy little apartment. She left the front door ajar. Setting her purse and her workout bag on the kitchen counter, she returned her attention to the package. She wasn’t sure what to do. If she phoned the police, it would make her look crazy. Not just crazy—but crazy again. All those months ago when she had broken up with Justin, he had sent all kinds of insane things to her home. The local police had been sick and tired of both her and Justin as they responded to her constant phone calls and pleas for assistance. She had been paranoid and frightened on a daily basis. It had been almost more than she could tolerate.
With that in mind, Daphne reached into her pantry and pulled out the broom. She minced her way back to the front door. The solid metal door would at least provide some protection. Right?
Her breathing was shallow, and her palms were sweating. She felt ridiculous and yet terrified. Crouching behind the door, she maneuvered the broom so that the blunt tip was poking out the front door. She groped a bit until she felt the broom handle bounce off the cardboard. With one hard shove, she bounced the cardboard box off the front stoop. She heard it roll over. It sounded as though a liquid splashed inside the box, but there was no boom. That was good. Right?
Then she peered around the edge of the door and realized that a dark stain was spreading across the porch. The scent of gasoline was strong. She pushed her back against the door and heard it click closed. She was having trouble catching her breath as she realized that someone—most likely Justin—had sent her a package that contained something dangerous.
With shaking hands, Daphne used her phone to dial 911. She didn’t want the police here. She did not want anything to do with the police, and yet what choice did she have?
“911 what’s your emergency?” The nasally voice on the other end of the line always sounded vaguely familiar.
Daphne sucked in a deep breath and tried to hold it together. “Yes. My name is Daphne. Someone left a strange package on my doorstep, and it’s leaking gasoline all over the stoop.”
“Ma’am, I want you to move away from the front door to an interior room of your home. Do not approach the package. Don’t go near it. I’m dispatching emergency services to your location immediately.”
“Thank you.” Daphne left the line open, because she knew very well that’s what you did in these situations. Then she moved into her bedroom and curled up inside her closet.
Pulling a pile of spare blankets off the shelf, she drew them around her body and snuggled in. She hated this. She hated the feeling it gave her to be so violated and to feel vulnerable and so very exposed. Yet for the first time she felt as if she didn’t have to be alone. The urge to call Met was so strong she almost could not resist it. She wanted to call or text him or something. She just wanted his strength there with her. She didn’t want to be alone. She was tired of being alone when these things happened.
She wrapped her arms around her knees and squeezed her eyes tightly closed. Suddenly the operator came back on the line. “Ma’am? Ma’am? The police are at your door. Please go to the back entrance of your home and let them inside.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Daphne extracted herself from the nest of blankets on her closet floor and moved through her home to the back door on the far side of the house and near the fireplace. There were several cops standing there with their badges out for her to see. Unfortunately, she actually recognized these two officers. They had been to her home multiple times right after the breakup with Justin when things had been so very bad.
“Hello, Officer Keene,” Daphne said with forced brightness. “I’m so sorry you had to come back.”
“What happened?” Officer Keene waited for her to take a step back before he entered her home with Officer Torres right behind him. “I thought he gave up and moved on.”
“I’m not sure.” Daphne stood back as the men headed through her house to the front door. There were already firefighters and other men in masks standing there on her porch with the package. “Someone at work told me that he broke it off with the other woman he started dating after I broke up with him. He’s been showing up in my office and around the building at all hours the last few days, but I didn’t think it was going to be this bad again.”
Keene made a low noise as he eased the front door open. The tall officer gestured to one of the firemen. “Same thing as before?”
“Yes. Just gasoline in an open container inside a plain cardboard box.” The fireman gestured to the garden hose rolled neatly at the corner of the building. “I’m going to put some neutralizer on it and then rinse the whole thing clean.”
“Sounds good,” Keene said with a nod. Then he turned back toward Daphne. “There’s still no way to prove that he sent this unless he admits it to you. I’m sorry.”
“I already know that.” Daphne was feeling weak and shaky. “I just don’t know what to do. It’s like I can’t do anything about him bothering me until he makes an attempt to murder me in my bed or something.”
Keene sighed. “You’re not the only person who has or has had this problem, Daphne. I’m sorry. I wish I could offer more. I could suggest a security camera. That would at least catch him putting the package on the porch. I’d get a nanny cam for the front and the back. That will hopefully provide you with something.”
“Thank you.” Daphne had already done that once. She had taken them down after a few months because it felt creepy to have them there. Why did she have to record everyone coming and going from her home just because Justin couldn’t accept that she no longer wanted to be in a relationship with him?
“Hey!” One of the firemen was poking at the remnants of the box. “There’s something else here.”
“What’s that?” Keene stepped through the front door and squatted down beside the box.
Daphne watched with bated breath as both men stared at the remnants of the box and muttered to each other. What were they doing? What did they see? And was it something awful that would shed light on the situation, or was it just insulting and bad?
“Daphne?” There was such hesitation in Keene’s voice. It practically gave Daphne hives. “I think you need to take a look at this.”
Daphne swallowed back her revulsion and stepped carefully out her front door. She avoided the dark puddle still staining the concrete and stepped into the grass and the damp earth of the flowerbed. Both men were pointing to what had been the bottom of the box.
When Daphne had flipped the box over, the bottom had become the top. Whatever had been inside was heavy enough that it made the box stay in one position. In the past, there had been vases of cut crystal, a few very heavy lead glass sculpture looking things, and even some plain old gas cans left open.
“Oh,” Daphne said on an exhaled breath. “That’s me.”
“I know.” Keene’s voice was tight. “It looks like there’s a man with you.”
“That’s a Polaroid,” she whispered. Cocking her head to the side, she realized that she absolutely recognized the photograph. “That was taken earlier tonight!”
“Tonight?”
“I went with a friend”—she waved her hand to indicate she didn’t care to expand—“we had dinner at a place along the road home. That was taken in the parking lot.”
Her words died as she realized that if this photo had been taken in that parking lot, that it was very likely there were more photos and that they could be blatantly suggestive or embarrassing. She put her hands over her mouth to muffle the scream that wanted to escape.
She felt naked and horribly exposed. Someone had been watching her and Met in that parking lot. They had seen Daphne kiss him. They had seen him touching her, fondling her, and loving her. This was beyond horrible. The gross violation of her privacy left her feeling impotent rage so fierce that she did not know what to do with the corresponding emotions.
“Who is the man?” Keene wanted to know. “Could he be involved?”
“Demetrio Hernandez? Not likely.” Daphne waved her hand. “He’s a very good man and a—a good—friend.” She struggled to come up with a word that would tell Keene more than what she was currently willing to say.
“Meaning that if Justin Sorenson saw you with Met Hernandez, he would be very, very angry and also jealous.”
“Yes.”
Keene gave a short, sharp nod. “I get it. So, this narcissistic bastard broke up with his current girlfriend, and he ended things, so he really doesn’t want her anymore. Then you found someone else who is wealthy and successful. And now he’s pissed.”
“This is bad,” Daphne said hoarsely. “He took this picture. I know it. He’s been bugging me at work. Can’t you do anything?”
“We can take the photo in and see if there’s anything that would identify a camera or something else, but honestly, Daphne, these things are not like television. We can’t bring in some FBI profilers and have them use a computer hacker to follow this guy around until we catch him trying to stalk you. That’s just not how life works.”
“I know that.” She lifted a shaking hand to her face and tried not to freak out. Her heart was pounding, and she felt weak-kneed and almost sick to her stomach. “Thank you very much for coming out. I know you’re probably just as sick of this as I am.”
Keene’s smile was just as sad as it was genuine. “We’re just sick of not being able to help you, Daphne. It has nothing to do with coming out here to help you.”
The firemen were buzzing around picking up the box and helping the policemen put the pieces into big plastic evidence bags. Daphne had a mental image of the evidence storage at the local satellite office near her condo complex. They probably had a whole filing cabinet just for her. There was so much “evidence” and so little opportunity to tie it to anything useful. The only thing she could hope for was that someday Justin would make a mistake. And when he did, the police would have buckets and buckets of evidence to tie him to the stalking and harassment that had been going on for nearly a year now.
“You know,” Keene began hesitantly. He cast a surreptitious glance over at his partner. Torres was studiously looking away. “If you’re dating Met Hernandez, there might be a chance he could help you out. His family has resources that the police don’t necessarily have access to.”
Daphne frowned. “Resources?”
Keene shrugged. “With all of that illegal activity they have going on, I’m sure they know people who could put some pressure on this stalker to move on.”
Daphne felt her mouth pop open in surprise. “Illegal activity? What are you talking about?”
Keene’s brows drew together in confusion. “To hear Captain Weatherby talk about it, the Hernandez family is like the crime family of Denver.”
“Then Weatherby is full of shit!” Daphne burst out. “Look. I like you. I always have. You’re a good cop, and you’re extremely polite and competent at your job. But you need to start thinking for yourself. I work for the Hernandez family. I have for years. I’m in public relations. And I can tell you that there are a lot of people my company represents that are total sleazebags.” Daphne took a deep breath. Keene’s expression was bordering on shock and confusion. “The other thing I can tell you is that, while the Hernandez family has its share of problems, they are minimal compared to the average suspects. Do you get me? They’re not criminals. They like to drink and party just as much as the rest of the people in their social class, but that does not make them bad. They aren’t criminals. They aren’t a crime family. And Captain Paul Weatherby stands to gain an awful lot by making it seem like they are. So, maybe you should look at your own captain before you throw stones at anyone else.”
Daphne gave Keene a nod and then went back inside her home and closed the front door. She didn’t care if she had just alienated her only advocate on the local police force. People needed to start getting their facts straight. About Justin. About the Hernandez family. About the Flying W and Captain Paul Weatherby. About everything!