Toss Up (The Toss Trilogy) by Susan Craig Page B

backbone was barely holding her up as it was. She sat in one of the ladder-backed chairs, still in her parka, and Jim sat to her right, his face gentle and grave.
    “Let me see it.”
    She held out her right hand and he slid the mail from her grip, then opened the hand that had clutched it and pressed her palm to his. His strong fingers kept the contact close and somehow, his skin absorbed the vileness the notepaper had imparted. Her hand felt clean again—felt hers again. Still holding her right hand tightly in his left, he set the mail aside and used his free hand to pick up the notepaper by one corner, setting it on the table in front of them and smoothing it open with his sleeve. The note was printed in pencil with block letters, like the others. They read in silence.
     
    ‘I warned you, but you flaunt your sordid affair with Donovan in public. Everyone saw you with him at the Dragon King, in front of Trent’s son. You disgrace your husband, you cheating slut. Semper fi.’
     
    Sally felt sick. “Oh, my God. He was there. He was there and he came back here. He might be outside right now.”
    “Relax, love.” Jim’s voice was warm and calm. It seemed to Sally that just listening to it gave her strength. “If he is out there right now, let’s show him you know what to do.” Pulling out his cell phone, Jim called the police.
     
     
    The watcher stood in a stand of Eastern Hemlock growing by the creek at the base of the meadow, three hundred yards beyond Sally’s house. It was quiet. The stream that watered the evergreens lay silent and frozen in the November night. Despite the cold, his anger burned, rising like the molten rock in a volcano’s throat.
    She was foolish, so foolish, to trifle with a man like him, a man of honor and vengeance. She had sent Donovan away once. I had hoped she would remain true. Then she had tried to lead him on, but of course he had resisted. So she had gone back after Donovan. The veterinarian had no honor.
    Now Donovan was there again. Betraying your husband once wasn’t enough? Holding aside a needle-laden branch, he watched the police car pull up her drive, lights flashing. When the lights dimmed and the car door opened, the watcher leaned toward his night vision scope to see the slim figure exiting the cruiser—Officer Demarco, practically a rookie. Taking care of the cop—if he had to—would be no problem.
    The watcher checked the time—forty minutes from when the she had followed Donovan inside. When time came for retribution, he could count on having at least a full half-hour without interruption. Plenty. Trent would appreciate his loyalty. Trent would commend his attention to detail, his planning, and his execution.
    He hated her, now, for making a fool of Trent. She wasn’t worthy of a Marine. She must have used her hot body to suck Trent in, and for that she must be punished. Trent would understand. It might even make her realize how wrong she’d been. Yes, his discipline would give her a chance to prove her repentance. But she wasn’t ready yet. His chapped lips pulled back from his teeth. Getting her ready would be the fun part.
    “Sweet dreams, bitch. Dream of me.”
    The cold wind swirled around him, its chill biting through the worn leather jacket. He hitched his collar higher and looked at the sky. The snow wouldn’t hold off much longer. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, but soon. Turning his back on the house up the hill, he left.
     
     
    Officer Demarco looked worried as he listened to Sally’s account. Not what one hoped to see in those who serve and protect. Jim wondered when the last serious crime in York had been. Though he took metic ulous notes, the officer had little else to offer. He said they would attempt to make a list of patrons and employees at the restaurant, but nothing was likely to come of that, with so little other information to go on.
    Jim didn’t mention his own scouting expedition the night before. He knew the stalker probably