14
The phone rang. Christy checked the caller ID and saw Dawn's number.
Now what? As much as she loved her daughter and wanted to speak to her, she had a feeling this would not be pleasant. Not after the way they'd parted this afternoon. Not after the smirk on that man's face as he'd left earlier.
After hesitating for a few heartbeats, she picked up.
Dawn… screaming incoherently…
Christy's heart climbed into her throat. Had something happened? Had he done something to her?
"Dawnie-Dawnie-Dawnie! What is it? Are you hurt?"
"Hurt?" she screeched. "How can you ask that? I'm not hurt—I'm CRUSHED! My own mother! How could you DO that?"
"Do what? What are you talking about?"
"You know damn fucking well what I'm talking about!" The screech broke off in a wrenching sob. "How could you, Mom? How could you come on to Jerry like that? You of all people!"
What? Come on to that man? Never in a million years!
"I don't under—"
"He told me all about it!"
The bastard! The sneaky, lying bastard!
"Then he's lying. I didn't even let him in the house!"
"No!" The screech again. "YOU'RE lying! You took off your clothes right in front of him!"
"I did no such thing!"
"STOP LYING! He told me about the butterfly! How else could he know about the butterfly if you weren't stripped down in front of him!"
Butterfly? What was she—?
Her tattoo—she'd got it on a crazy whim at seventeen… high… at the beach… wearing a bikini… going to a tattoo parlor with her friends… they all got inked…
But how did that man know about it?
She'd worry about that later. Right now she had to break through Dawn's hysteria. Christy struggled to keep her voice calm, her tone rational.
"It's all lies, Dawn. He's trying to make you hate and mistrust me. I didn't do anything like that. I never would! You know me better than that."
"/ thought / did."
"You've known me for eighteen years and him for what—a few months? Who are you going to believe?"
"He knows about the butterfly; Mom! How else could he know about it?"
"I have no idea. Maybe he's been peeping on me or—"
"Stop it! You re crazy! STOP IT!"
And then the line went dead.
Christy tried to call back but Dawn wouldn't answer. She thought about going over there but decided against it. What would that accomplish? More screaming, more he-said, she-said, and Christy unable to explain how that man knew about her tattoo.
A chill ran over her skin. Had he been peeping on her?
But how? She never walked around undressed. The only time she was unclothed was for a shower, and her bathroom was on the second floor and she kept the blinds drawn, so even if he climbed a tree—
A camera… he knew computers and video games… had he installed some sort of minicam in her bathroom? She'd read where they could be hidden in something as simple as a box of tissues.
It sounded so paranoid, but look at what that man had done in so short a time: He'd stolen Dawnie and turned her against her. Tonight's lie proved that nothing was beneath him.
She'd have to search her bedroom and bathroom inch by inch. But first…
She grabbed her phone and dialed Jack's number. She no longer wanted him as an investigator. She prayed he'd hire out to do something else—something more direct, more… final.