Page 34 of A Mother’s Love

“It’s worth nothing. The police are fools.

They won’t catch me, they never have before.

” As she listened to him, she determined that the accent wasn’t French.

Spanish maybe, since the police said he was Colombian.

“If you call the police, I’ll kill you,” he said, and a chill ran through her.

It was as though he were watching her, standing in the room.

“Don’t forget, I have the keys to the house where you are staying.

I can walk in anytime I want. But you have to get me the money first. All you had were five thousand euros in your bag.

I need more than that. When I’m ready, I’ll tell you how much I want.

Sleep well, ’Alley.” And then he hung up.

For a moment she couldn’t breathe, his voice had been so oppressive and his words so frightening.

He sounded cold-blooded, and she had every intention of calling Major Leopold in the morning.

But she had to get through another night first. At least he didn’t seem to know that the locks had been changed.

But he had seen Bart leave, so he had been right outside, watching the house.

And all kinds of information about her was in her bag.

She had another thought then. She picked up her computer, and typed her name into the search line.

Her bio came up immediately with her age and the number of books she’d published, and a guess about her net worth was in the first line.

He had obviously read it too, and thought she was infinitely richer than she was.

She made a very healthy living from her books, but she didn’t have anything like the fortune they claimed.

And all it did was spur someone like him on.

She hated the kind of information that floated around the internet, which incited criminals and creeps.

She wrote down what he’d said as she remembered it, to tell the major the next day.

She didn’t get undressed. She just lay on her bed, with the golf club near at hand, wondering what they would do about him.

Major Leopold admitted that they had never been able to catch him, and had tried for years.

She wondered if he had stalked and threatened his other victims, or only her.

Something about what he’d found in her bag provoked him, maybe just the value of the bag itself.

Even she had to admit that it was outrageous.

In some places you could buy a house with what the bag was worth now.

She felt guilty about that at times, but she worked hard to earn a living.

And she couldn’t go home to get away from him.

Without a passport, she was trapped in France until she got the new one.

Eventually, she could go home and escape him, but without her bag, and she would love to have it back, not for its monetary value, but because it was a familiar object she loved, and it was hers.

She felt breathless periodically throughout the night, when she thought about him.

She hated the fact that he wanted to frighten her and he had succeeded.

And more than anything, she hated the word “victim.” She had grown up as one, her mother’s victim, her father’s, his friends’.

She had vowed never to be a victim again, and now she was.

Tears filled her eyes as she thought about it.

She wanted not to be afraid of him, but she was.

He was stealing her peace of mind from her, her feeling of safety, which was worse than the theft of the bag.

Several times during the night, she thought she couldn’t breathe and would faint.

Her heart was pounding, and she dozed off at six in the morning, and then woke up with a start two hours later.

She helped herself to a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

She tried to read the paper online, but she couldn’t concentrate.

She called Major Leopold at nine o’clock sharp, and he answered on the first ring this time. She read the thief’s words to him exactly as she had written them down.

“He’s a really bad guy. He’s trying to terrorize you. I loathe men like that, who victimize women,” he said with feeling.

“I’m not a victim,” she said in a harsh tone, reacting to it viscerally.

“He committed a crime against me, but I’m not a victim,” she repeated, to convince herself.

“He has no right to do this to me.” It was a reign of terror to control her by fear so she would give him what he wanted.

It was all about money for him. For her it was about something much more important.

He was dragging her back into a world of helplessness and fear, and jeopardizing her recovery that had been solid for years.

“You answered the phone,” Leopold reminded her.

“He was watching my house, right here. I had a friend visiting, the caller saw him leave.”

“He wants to frighten you into paying what he wants, for your own bag. It’s blackmail. He rules by terror.”

“Very effectively,” she added. “Should I hire a bodyguard?” she asked him.

“I don’t think you need one. I think he just wants to scare you into paying some crazy price.

If I was worried, we could assign a policeman outside, but I don’t think it’s necessary.

” The bag’s real price was crazy enough.

In the right auction it was worth a fortune.

But she didn’t want to sell it, or buy it.

She wanted it back. It was rightfully hers.

Just like her safety and peace of mind. “We will find him this time. I have too many people working on it not to. We can track his every move through our cameras and informants. Sooner or later, he’ll make some stupid mistake, and we’ll catch him.

Until then, you’re safe at home, and with a car service and driver, you’ll be fine.

” She didn’t feel fine, though. She was terrified, again.

She called Bart after talking to the detective, who was championing her case, and diligent about it.

“Peaceful night, I hope?” Bart said when he answered.

“Not exactly.” She read him her note of the conversation too. It gave him chills, just as it had her.

“Halley, you can’t go on like this. He’s stalking you. I have an idea. Maybe it’s crazy. You told me the inspector said they’ve been trying to catch him for years, and they haven’t been able to.”

“He said they’re closer than they’ve ever been. They have all their informants looking for him.”

“I have a friend in Washington in the FBI. I know there’s an FBI office here.

I’d like to call him and ask if the office here could lend a hand, or at least talk to the French operatives, and see if the local agents on the ground here want help to find this guy.

Do you want to move to a hotel?” The idea suddenly occurred to him.

“I’d have less protection there, with maids in and out of the room, room service waiters. Here, at least I can lock myself up with the alarm on. At a hotel, he could walk into my room dressed as a bellman, and I wouldn’t know it’s him.”

“He wants money from you. I don’t think he’ll hurt you before he gets it. He wants to scare you enough so you’ll pay him anything to get your bag back and get rid of him.”

“It’s working,” she said with a wintry smile.

“Will you let me call my friend?”

She hesitated, but nothing else was helping.

And she had nothing to lose. The thief had stolen the bag six days before.

It wasn’t long in real time to catch a felon, especially a smart one, but it felt like an eternity to Bart and to Halley.

Her new passport hadn’t come yet, and she didn’t want to leave.

She was still hoping that by some miracle they would catch the thief and find her bag.

He obviously hadn’t sold it, if he wanted to sell it back to her.

Or maybe he had, and this was just another scam to get money out of her.

It was a profitable business for a man like him, who would stop at nothing to commit a crime, and had no respect for other humans.

She wondered how far he would go, and so did Bart.

“Okay, call your friend.” She gave Bart the contact information for Major Leopold, and the case number of the complaint she’d filed.

Bart called her back an hour later. “My friend is going to call the Paris office, and see what they can do to help. The French are touchy about interference from other law enforcement agencies, but you’re an important person, you’re famous, and it won’t look good for them if they can’t catch him, or if he does something worse.

Let’s go out to dinner tonight, you need to get out of the house and have some distraction.

” He felt terrible for her. “Ryan has to work late tonight, and Véro just wants to sleep right now. She feels awful in the evening. Let’s go to a nice restaurant and forget the bag for the night.

” She wasn’t in the mood, but he was being so kind to her, and so helpful, she didn’t have the heart to refuse.

And she was enjoying getting to know him.

“Okay, but nothing too fancy. I have nothing to wear except the dress I wore on New Year’s Eve. And I’m afraid to go shopping, if he’s following me.”

“You would look gorgeous in a potato sack. And I loved that dress on you. I’ll call you back when I get a reservation, and let you know what time.”

“Thank you, Bart, for everything,” she said warmly.

“Thank me when I accomplish something. I haven’t yet.” It was a good excuse to see her, and he felt genuinely sorry for her, and worried about her. He didn’t like the turn it was taking.

After they hung up, she called Major Leopold, and said that a friend had contacted the FBI.

“We don’t need outside help,” he said stiffly, “we’re doing all we can within our department.” He sounded defensive.