The Jinx by Jennifer Sturman Page A

information I had on the topic.
    â€œI don’t know much about stalking,” he conceded. “And I don’t want to downplay your concerns. That’s why I’m going to make sure that the police take a look at them. It’s just that after having read them all, I don’t get the sense that whoever’s writing them would want to hurt Sara. She’s very attractive but also very aloof. It’s not hard to imagine that somebody would fall in love with her but be too intimidated to actually ask her out. And there’s this entire ‘forbidden love’ theme running through the letters. I don’t know what it’s about, but my guess is that whoever’s writing these is smitten with her and doesn’t know of any other way to express himself.”
    â€œWhat about Grant Crocker?”
    â€œGrant Crocker?” Jonathan laughed. “I can’t imagine that. Do you know Grant?”
    â€œSure. He used to work at my firm.”
    â€œI’d have a hard time picturing Grant writing these. He’s not the most poetic guy. And I’m familiar with how he writes, from papers and exams. He sticks to pretty basic nouns and verbs. This stuff is a little more sophisticated.”
    Sophisticated was one word for it.
    â€œBesides,” Jonathan added, “the police seem to think that they may have an angle already.”
    â€œWhat angle’s that?”
    â€œWell, you probably haven’t heard since you live in New York, but there’s been a rash of murders in the area. The detective I spoke to thought there might be some connection. That Sara might have been the next victim, if the attacker hadn’t been interrupted.”
    â€œYou mean the guy who’s been killing prostitutes?” I asked.
    â€œHow did you know about that?”
    â€œA friend of mine’s a doctor at a free clinic in South Boston, and one of the women who was killed was his patient.”
    â€œIt might be the same guy. I guess there was something about the attack on Sara that jibed with what they know about him.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œI don’t know. They didn’t tell me much, and I don’t see how there could be a connection between a serial killer who’s preying on prostitutes and what happened this morning in the boathouse. The important thing is that she wasn’t seriously hurt. My guess is that it was probably just a random attack, and Sara happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, whoever did attack her is going to be in a lot of trouble when they catch him. I’ll see to that,” he said firmly.
    â€œGood,” I answered, somewhat reassured. And then my stomach gave an audible growl. I flushed. Again.
    â€œHungry?” Jonathan asked with a bemused smile.
    â€œA bit. It’s been a while since breakfast,” I admitted.
    â€œWell, I just picked up a sandwich at the student center. Want half?” I checked my watch. I still had an hour before I had to be back at the Charles.
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œIt would be a pleasure.” He stood and crossed to the door, retrieving a paper bag from his jacket pocket. “And I want to hear more about the last ten years of your life.”
    Â 
    We had a little picnic there in Jonathan’s office. He even had a small refrigerator in a corner from which he pulled two cold Diet Cokes. His calm assessment of the attack on Sara and his confidence that the attacker would be found and punished helped me to relax. We chatted easily as we ate. It was with reluctance that I realized it was time to go.
    We exchanged phone numbers, and he promised to let me know if he heard any news about Sara and the investigation.
    â€œWell,” he said, helping me into my coat, “I’m sorry that we had to run into each other under these circumstances, but I’m glad that we ran into each other.”
    â€œMe, too,” I said, suddenly feeling as