Okay. That was slightly more disturbing than the usual letter that went to her post office box. Letters going through the postal system and to a box in a public building added a layer of protection she’d taken for granted until now.
But still, her concert schedule and therefore her travel plans were no secret. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to see she was performing in Albany and look for her tour bus parked at one of the hotels in town.
Maybe she needed to start staying a little further from the venues. Still, one letter didn’t mean she needed to panic.
“I’m sure it’s just an overzealous local fan.”
“Luna, you need security.”
“Dan, I have security,” she said, mimicking his oh-so-serious tone. “Have you seen all those big guys in black shirts with Security printed on them?”
“I don’t mean the brutes who keep fans off the stage and out of your dressing room. I mean a round-the-clock bodyguard.”
Panicked at the thought of losing what little private time she had, Luna shook her head. “I don’t need a bodyguard. It’s just some local. We’re checking out of this hotel today. I seriously doubt this person will follow me.”
He sighed. “Fine. We’ll discuss this more when we’re back home in Miami.”
“Um, about that.” She cringed.
“Luna.” He leveled a glare at her. “Did you commit to an appearance without clearing it with me first? You know the label has very specific criteria—”
“It’s not an appearance,” she cut him off. “It’s surgery.”
“What?” Dan frowned.
“That’s where I was today. In Manhattan at an oncology specialist. She squeezed me in. The surgery is the day after tomorrow. I’m going to be spending my weeks of downtime recuperating from a double mastectomy.”
His mouth dropped open before he said, “Jesus, Luna. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s my choice. We can talk more about the details later. I just wanted you to know that I won’t be going home right away.”
He swallowed. “Okay.”
She drew in a breath and blew it out, standing. “And now I’m going to take a shower.”
She’d left so early that morning, she hadn’t taken the time.
Inside the bathroom, she flipped on the hot water in the stall and stripped out of her clothes.
Leaning against the sink, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She let her eyes drop to her breasts before she dragged them back up to her face.
Her body didn’t define her. She had to remember she was in control.
This was the smart thing to do. She’d survive this surgery and come out the other side stronger than before. Mentally and physically.
The room filled with steam as she gave herself the pep talk. The mirror fogged until she could no longer see her reflection. It was a reminder of why she was here in the bathroom.
She quickly scrolled to find some music on her cell phone and turned the volume on high, leaving it laying on the back of the toilet tank so she could hear it from the shower.
Pushing the shower curtain to the side, she stepped beneath the spray. She closed her eyes and absorbed the sensation of the near scalding water pummeling her skin. The combined pounding of the music and the water washed away a bit but not all of her tension.
She didn’t know how long she was in there, but she knew she couldn’t hide from reality any longer. She flipped the water off and stepped out onto the bathmat.
While looking around for a towel, her glance hit upon the mirror and the words written there.
BITCH GO HOME!
She stumbled back with a gasp. That hadn’t been there before. She was sure of it. Her gaze flew to the door where she saw it was mostly closed but not latched. She was sure it had been closed all the way before her shower.
Heart pounding, she grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around herself, she flung the door wide and yelled for Dan.
When he didn’t come, she ran out into the suite still calling his name.
She arrived in the living room just as he came through the door, carrying what looked like a take-out food container.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She managed to raise her hand to point. “The bathroom.”
“What about the bathroom?” He frowned and started toward the room.
She didn’t want to go back there but she feared staying here alone more.
Was the person still in the suite? In the closet? In one of the bedrooms?
She crowded into the bathroom behind him, still clutching the towel to her.
Wide-eyed she stared at him. “That message wasn’t there when I got into the shower. Someone was…” She had to swallow and begin again. “Someone was in here while I was.”
“Mother fucker.” He set his jaw and turned to glare at her. “I’m getting you a bodyguard. I don’t care what you say.”
This time, she wasn’t going to fight him. She nodded. “Okay.”
The music still pumped out of the tiny speakers on her cell, but all she could hear was the pounding of her pulse in her ears, drowning out all else with a beating whoosh of white noise.
Just when she’d been so focused on not letting cancer take her life like it had her mother’s, and had taken steps to insure it wouldn’t happen, this threat blindsided her.
A stalker hadn’t even been on her radar.
It certainly was now.
The surgery. The stalker. On top of it all, some stranger with her twenty-four-seven. How was she going to get through this?
Her super-religious mother had always said God didn’t give anyone more than they could handle.
Luna had doubted that when her father had died. Doubted it even more when she lost her mother.
And now? Now she knew for sure, people shouldn’t try to guess what God did or didn’t intend, because they guessed wrong.
eight
Another rainy October day in upstate New York began at the crack of dawn with breakfast with the family. Fresh eggs from their backyard chickens. Milk bought from Morgan Farm Market. Bacon also from a local farmer.
Kyle had nothing to do. Nowhere to be. No one demanding anything from him. Just lazy hazy days, one after another.
The leaves on the trees along the Muddy River had begun to change, bringing with them a blaze of color. The season held promises of apples and pumpkins for the tourists who’d drive up from the city and fill the local B & Bs next weekend when the rain was predicted to finally stop.
People paid to experience this kind of bucolic bullshit and Kyle got to live it all for free.
It should be paradise. Nirvana.
So why was he crawling out of his freaking skin? Like literally. His legs were actually starting to tingle at night when he tried to sleep. As if his muscles were slowly dying from inactivity.
Lifting weights in the garage kept his torso in shape, but didn’t help his lower half. Or his mental well-being.
He needed to do something. He was just considering what that something might be when his cell phone vibrated. He jumped to answer.
At this point, even a phone call was exciting. He glanced at the caller ID to check that it wasn’t Gretchen.
It was a blocked number.
Shit. It could be her. But that would be a first, her using a blocked number. Every other time her calls and texts—none of which he’d answered—had come from her number.