The Attraction, page 7
Clayton looked surprised. “A complaint? For what?”
“She says you’re harassing her.”
“Harassing her?” He laughed. “Look, there’s absolutely nothing here that should interest the police. It’s more like a domestic argument than anything else. The ups and downs of lovers.” He shrugged.
“You’re lovers, then, you and Cassandra Jennings?”
Clayton smiled. “Sure. We’ve had some problems, and Cassandra overreacted a little. That’s all.”
“Did you try to break down her door?”
“Break down her door …” He shook his head. “No, no, no. She was refusing to talk to me, and I pounded on it rather angrily, but I never tried to break it down. Hell, I only weigh about a hundred and fifty pounds. I’d do more damage to myself than I would to a door.”
“What about yesterday?”
“Yesterday?”
“You went to the office where she works.”
“I told you. We’re having a—a spat. I guess that’s as good a word as any. It’s all very childish, really. In any case, going to the insurance company was the only way I could get to talk to her. I got directions from the receptionist. I didn’t break in or anything like that.”
“Wasn’t there some sort of scuffle?”
Clayton grinned. “If you want to call it that. She hit me. I didn’t do a thing to her.”
“Did you put your hands on her?”
“I touched her shoulder.”
“That could be considered assault, you know.”
“You don’t honestly believe you could make that stick, do you? Let’s face it, if anyone was assaulted yesterday, it was me. I was the one knocked on his back.”
The detective sighed. “Look, Mr. Clayton, both you and I know that what you’ve been doing is harassment. Now—”
“No, I don’t know that at all,” Clayton said, cutting him off. “I’m merely being persistent.”
“The woman says she wants you to leave her alone.”
Cocking his head, he smiled. “She’ll change her mind. I understand that’s a woman’s prerogative.”
“Leave her alone, Mr. Clayton.”
“Is that an order, officer?”
“No, Mr. Clayton. It’s advice. Good advice.” Hoskins stood up. “I hope you’ll pay attention to it.”
As the detective turned toward the door, Clayton said, “If you decide you need to speak with me further on this matter, please let me know in advance so I can arrange to have an attorney present.”
“That’s your privilege, Mr. Clayton.”
As he walked toward the elevator, Hoskins reviewed his meeting with Clayton. Although he was uncertain what effect his words had on the man. He doubted very seriously that Clayton had any intention of leaving Cassandra Jennings alone. It was one of those situations in which very little could be done until something nasty happened. Until it was too late.
It was the way things worked. You couldn’t arrest someone for what he was likely to do, only for what he did. It had to be that way in a free society. He understood that. But he didn’t always like it.
Shaken, Clark Clayton sat at his big desk, staring at the door through which the detective had left. Although he’d known that Cassandra might go to the police, knowing something was not the same thing as experiencing it. The policeman was involved now; he could interfere, possibly even prevent Clark from doing what he had to do.
That he had to win Cassandra’s love was beyond question now. The matter needed no further consideration, for it was the way things were. It was fact. His commitment was total; this was the most important thing in his life.
Punish her for this, that other part of him urged. She’s betrayed you, sneered at your offer of love.
No, he thought. Not yet. I can still make her change her mind. If I can only convince her that I’m not a threat.
With a shaking hand, he got the framed photo from his top desk drawer and studied the pretty face with the dark curls. He’d started taking it with him everywhere he went. Please, Clark thought, fixing his gaze on the black-and-white eyes in the photo. Please love me. Is it so much to ask? Is it really?
Despite the interest of the detective, he had to continue, for nothing else mattered. He would have to be careful, though, not to make any overt threats, not to break any laws. As long as he was cautious, everything would be all right. There were no laws against trying to win a woman’s affections, even if the technique was unorthodox.
Laying the photo on the desk, he closed his eyes. He had to find a way to make her love him. If he failed, that other part of him, the part that wanted revenge, would have its way. And it could be just as dedicated in its pursuit.
Oh, please, he thought. Please don’t let that happen.
Picking up a file folder from his desk, he flipped through the typed pages and charts within. It concerned market research on a proposed new product. He was supposed to examine it and send it to his boss with a recommendation. He hadn’t read it. Suddenly, he realized that he didn’t even know what the product was.
For a long moment, he sat there, knowing that he should read the typed pages and study the charts. Abruptly, he closed the folder and tossed it onto his desk. It was unimportant. He got his briefcase from the closet, returned to his desk, and slipped the framed photo into the case.
Stepping into the outer office, he hesitated. Cindy, his secretary, was sitting at her desk, her back to him, unaware of his presence. Why had she told the policeman he was in? Why had she betrayed him when it would have been so easy to send the detective away? Taking two steps, he moved to within a foot of Cindy’s chair. He slowly raised his hands and saw …
… his fingers closing around her throat. Struggling, she knocks some papers off the desk, then the phone, whose bell gives a single ding as it hits the floor. They are both standing now, face-to-face, and he can see the terror in her eyes. You betrayed me, he tells her, and your punishment is to die….
And then the image vanished. Cindy, still unaware of his presence, sat at her desk, only inches away from him. Perspiration trickled down his back. Lowering his hands, he moved silently back to the door to his office and then stepped briskly forward as if he’d just entered the room.
“I’ve got a meeting,” he said as he stepped past his secretary. “I’ll be tied up all afternoon.”
“Is there a number where I can reach you?” Cindy asked.
“No,” he replied. And then he was in the hallway, walking quickly toward the elevator.
He was the only one in the car as it descended. The customary bland music played softly from an unseen speaker. Someone had to pay for that music, and he wondered what purpose it served. Why would anyone pay good money to have barely audible music playing gently in an elevator? A bell sounded, announcing the car’s arrival at the ground floor, and the doors swished apart.
Clark was in the parking lot, heading for his reserved space, when a feeling of panic came over him. Suddenly, he was unable to remember having taken the picture with him. Putting the case down on the oil-stained asphalt, he popped open the catches and lifted the lid. The picture was there. Relieved, he closed the case and continued toward his car.
After he slipped behind the wheel, he opened the case again, just to make sure.
It was a few minutes before five when Nan Cosgrove entered the room and quickly walked to Cassandra’s desk. “That man was here a few minutes ago,” she said. “The receptionist told him he couldn’t come back here, and he left.”
“Were there any problems?” Cassandra asked.
“No, he just left.”
Cassandra nodded.
“Perhaps we have this thing under control now,” Cosgrove said.
“I hope so.”
“So do I.”
Cosgrove took a moment to survey the activities of the other employees, then strode from the room. Catching Cassandra’s eye, Jenny made a face. Her expression communicated. What a bitch.
Cassandra nodded, but the personality of her boss was of little importance to her at the moment. Clark had come back, had tried to see her again. What happened yesterday had not discouraged him. Nothing would discourage him.
Again, Jenny caught her eyes, and she apparently sensed Cassandra’s mood, because she communicated. It’ll be okay.
No, it won’t, Cassandra thought.
And then she remembered that Detective Hoskins had promised to pay Clark a visit. Maybe the policeman hadn’t found him yet, or maybe he hadn’t had time. The thought made her feel better. Surely Clark would stop all this after a police officer paid him a visit.
As soon as she got off work, Cassandra hurried to her car without stopping to chat with her coworkers. They had all expressed concern for what was happening to her, and they all wanted to help. But at the moment she just wanted to get away as quickly as possible. She felt an overpowering need to be with her daughter, snuggly cocooned in the place they called home, with the rest of the world locked out.
When she reached her car, she scanned her surroundings. It had occurred to her that Clark might wait for her outside the building, but she saw no sign of him, and none of the white cars in the lot seemed to be the same make and model as the one he drove. Slipping behind the wheel, she started the engine and pulled out of the parking area. As she drove, Cassandra regularly checked the rearview mirror. As far as she could tell, no white cars were following her.
The day was cloudy and cool. A chilly breeze was blowing in from Lake Michigan.
It took her twenty minutes to drive to the daycare center. Located in an older neighborhood, it was a two-story white frame house about two blocks from the school Lisa attended. The place was surrounded by a low chain-link fence. As she often did, Lisa was waiting for her by the gate.
“Hi,” Cassandra said as her daughter climbed into the car. “Did you have a nice day?”
“Uh-huh,” the child replied noncommittally, fastening her seat belt.
“What’d you do in school today?”
“Writing.”
“Is that all?” Cassandra signaled her intention to pull away from the curb. Checking the side mirror, she saw that a car was coming, and she waited.
“We also did arithmetic,” Lisa said.
Gloria Weinstein, the owner of the daycare facility, appeared at the gate and waved to catch Cassandra’s attention. Cassandra rolled down her window as the woman came around to the driver’s side of the car.
“I’m glad I caught you,” Weinstein said breathlessly. She was a tall, attractive woman in her late thirties, with short dark hair.
“Is there a problem with Lisa?” Cassandra asked.
“Oh, no, nothing like that. Uh, it’s your payment. It was due last week.”
“Oh,” Cassandra said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I simply forgot. I’ll write you a check right now.”
She dug her checkbook and a pen from her purse, wondering if she’d forgotten to pay any other bills. Since she made the mistake of saying yes to Clark’s offer of dinner and a play, her life had been a mess. Although agreeing to a date with an apparently nice man had seemed such an innocent thing at the time, if there was one word she’d spoken in her life that she could take back, it would be that yes. If she’d only said she was busy or that she had a headache or just plain no, her life this past week and a half or so would have been entirely different.
She tore off the check and handed it to Weinstein. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m usually not this forgetful.”
“No problem,” Weinstein said, accepting the check. “You have a good day. We’ll see you tomorrow, Lisa.”
“Okay, Mrs. Weinstein,” the child said.
As the woman walked back into the daycare center, a familiar voice called, “Hi, Cassie. How are you today?” Cassandra’s stomach tightened. Clark, who must have arrived while she was talking to Gloria Weinstein, was parked across the street in his white car.
“Listen, I tried to see you at work today, but they wouldn’t let me in. Uh—”
Cassandra rolled up the window, cutting off the sound of his voice. Putting the car in gear, she quickly pulled away from the curb. From behind her came a sudden screech of tires and an irate honk. She hadn’t looked to see whether anyone was coming.
“Mommy, that car almost hit us!”
“I know. I should be more careful.”
Cassandra turned a corner, then another, quickly pulling to the side of the road in a neighborhood of small frame houses. She waited to see whether Clark was following her.
“Mommy, why did we stop here?”
“We’re checking on something, honey. That’s all.”
“On what?”
Ignoring the child’s question, Cassandra said, “Did you see the man in the car?”
“The man who was talking to you?”
“Yes. Would you know him if you saw him again?”
“I think so.” Lisa was watching her closely, the girl’s expression displaying a mixture of confusion and anxiety.
“Well, that’s the man who’s been calling on the telephone. Remember what he looks like, and never let him take you anywhere, all right? Stay away from him. He’s a bad man.”
Lisa nodded gravely.
“Also, starting tomorrow, I want you to wait for me inside with Mrs. Weinstein instead of out by the gate. Will you do that?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
And what about the two blocks Lisa had to walk to get from the school to the daycare center? She was completely vulnerable when she made that walk. And then Cassandra figured out a way to deal with that.
“Lisa, honey, listen. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to have a cab start picking you up at the school and taking you to Mrs. Weinstein.”
“A cab?”
“Yes, a taxi.”
“I don’t mind walking, Mommy. It’s not far.”
“No. From now on, you’re going to go in a cab.”
Lisa nodded. She looked bewildered.
How did Clark find the daycare center? Cassandra wondered. He hadn’t followed her; she was sure of it.
But then she recalled mentioning to him that Lisa spent her afternoons at a center after getting out of school. Determining which school Lisa attended would be simple—a call to the school district’s central office. A quick check of the phone book would have told him which daycare facility was closest to Lisa’s school.
Satisfied that Clark wasn’t following her, Cassandra put the car in gear and headed for her apartment. She was halfway there when she realized that Clark would have had absolutely no reason to follow her, because he knew where she was going. He knew where she lived.
When she reached her apartment, she drove around the block twice, making certain Clark’s white Oldsmobile wasn’t there. Then she quickly parked her car and hurried inside with Lisa.
“Go and put the silverware on the table, okay? I’ll be there in just a moment.”
As soon as the child disappeared into the kitchen, Cassandra called the police department and asked for Detective Hoskins.
“I was going to call you shortly,” he said. “What I had to tell you wasn’t really urgent, so I thought it might be better to wait and call you at home.”
“Did you talk to him?” she asked. She hoped he hadn’t, for then there would still be a chance that doing so would work.
“Yes,” the police officer said, “early this afternoon. Uh, I really don’t know what to say about our conversation. I warned him to stay away from you, but I’m not sure how much good it did.”
“It didn’t do any good at all,” Cassandra said. “He showed up where I work again this afternoon, and then later he was at the daycare center where my daughter goes after school. I’m—I’m afraid for my daughter. He could try to get at me through her.”
“What exactly was he doing at the daycare center?”
“He was parked across the street, watching. And he tried to talk to me, but I rolled up my window and drove away.”
“Has he made any threats against the child?”
Cassandra considered lying, saying that Clark had threatened to kill Lisa, but then she dropped the idea. Distorting the truth was not the way to solve this thing. “No,” she said, “not in words. But his presence seems pretty damn threatening to me.”
“Do you pick your daughter up at the daycare center?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, how does she get to school and from school to the center?”
“I drive her to school, and she’s been walking the two blocks from there to the center. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to send a cab for her.”
Hoskins whistled. “That’s going to cost you a bundle.”
“What else can I do?”
He was silent a moment; then he said, “As long as you can afford it, that’s probably the safest thing to do. Also, I’ll ask patrol division to keep an eye on things at the school. For the moment, there’s not much more I can do.”
“I understand,” Cassandra said. “Thank you for what you’ve done.”
“Call me if anything else happens.”
Cassandra said she would, and when she hung up, she found Lisa standing a few feet away, staring up at her.
“Table’s set, Mommy,” she said. She hesitated, as if she had something else to say, but then she turned and headed back toward the kitchen.
How am I going to protect her? Cassandra wondered. How can I keep this lunatic from hurting her? And how can I shield her from the ugliness of all this?
It occurred to her suddenly that there was a way; that she would even consider it showed how desperate she was becoming. She could send Lisa to stay with her father. Though aware that her ex-husband lived in Wisconsin, Clark didn’t know John’s name. He could never find Lisa there.
No, she thought. Not that. Lisa was everything to her, and to send her to John’s would be one thing; to get her back again, another.
Besides, John and Janice might not even want to have the child thrust into their lives. They might refuse. But Cassandra knew that just wasn’t so. John would not only take Lisa; he’d be delighted. Perhaps he could use what was happening to his ex-wife to get the custody matter reopened. The child’s not safe with her, your honor. Lisa needs the stable sort of environment Janice and I can give her.
