Mortal Danger by Ann Rule

a.m. and I’d be typing away, and John and the clinic owner would be shooting the bull. Sometimes, I thought I was doing all the work.”
    And, in truth, she was. John enjoyed pontificating and playing the expert, and sometimes he tended to view Kate as only his secretary. She, too, was good with people; any good flight attendant has to be. They were to have been almost-equal partners, and she would have enjoyed joining the conversations with their clients.
    Still, John could not stand to share the spotlight. He pointed out that he was the only one who could read each new client and respond in a way that convinced them he could multiply their income with his wisdom and experience. He believed that the “good old boy” routine was the best way to do that.
    John’s new advisory business didn’t last long, and it wasn’t making much money. He was soon chasing two or three other ideas that he was sure would be wildly successful. Kate signed up to fly more trips as a flight attendant/ purser with American Airlines. She drove to San Francisco and flew into New York City. He didn’t like it, of course, and he grew more and more jealous of any time she spentaway from him—particularly when she flew away as a flight attendant.
    On her layovers in New York City, John called Kate as soon as she walked in her room. Then he would call her every ten minutes for several hours to make sure she was still there. If she went to the deli across the street to get something to eat, she had to accomplish that in a twenty-minute time frame. When she occasionally joined the crew for dinner, she knew she would face an inquisition, and when he was angry about something, he called her all night long.
    “Once,” Kate said, “the hotel operator connected him to the wrong room at two a.m. He woke up a man who’d been sound asleep and spoke with what John thought was a black dialect. John went ballistic.”
    She hated to even think it, but being away from John was often a relief. She could breathe again.

Chapter Four
    Dr. John Branden was insanely jealous of Kate, and more so when she was traveling without him. His possessiveness wasn’t just over other men—it extended to anyone who took her focus away from him. John was even resentful when he felt she chatted too long on the phone with her best friend, Michelle, who lived in San Francisco.
    “He accused us of having a lesbian affair, which was absurd,” Kate said. “But he resented my having anything of interest to talk with her about. He read my mail, and now he started to tape all my phone calls. There wasn’t anything I’d hidden from him, but Michelle was going through a difficult divorce, and the fact that John was taping our calls frightened her. Neither of us knew what he might do with the tapes.”
    There were times when the only peace Kate could find was when she took long walks on the ocean beach. There, with the sound of endless breakers crashing over the rocky outcroppings, and with the clean, almost medicinal smell of salt water clearing her head, she could think. She admitted to herself that their relationship was dissolving. Initially, John’s fanaticism and ravenous ego had been virtually hidden, but just as constant drops of seawater wear away sandy cliffs, John’s jealous clinging to her carved rivulets of doubt into their love affair. The drops were often becoming deluges that sluiced and dissolved the very structure that had once seemed so sound.
    If John was jealous of her best friend, he was tyrannical when it came to other men. Kate was faithful to him—completely faithful—but she had many male friends; over the years she had met a lot of men working for the airline. She was no longer romantically interested in any of them, but John always thought she was.
    Often, he embarrassed her. If a man smiled at her or touched her hand lightly, she saw the flicker of rage darken his eyes and prayed he wouldn’t explode. Usually, he maintained control until they got