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“Well, that was something else, wasn’t it?” he asked me, then I heard him sniffle.
“Yes, it was. You sound as choked up as I am.”
“I’m just…”
“I know, Zac. Me too. I loved being able to talk to Malcolm. Although it may not have been the wisest thing for you and me to let happen, I feel like you do now. I don’t care anymore about playing it safe so much. Getting to hear your angel boy’s voice just filled my soul.”
“Him getting to hear yours filled his soul too. You should’ve seen his face, Stevie.”
“I wish I could have.”
“Once again, I’m blown away by Malcolm automatically thinking I was talking to you. I can’t tell you how many times Malcolm has heard me on the phone with Bash or anothercolleague during the evening. Not only that, but I haven’t mentioned your name since telling him that you loved the second drawing that he did for you.”
“I believe it all has to do with how in tune he is with you. I have no doubt that he can read your body language and also notices the change of tone in your voice depending on whom you’re talking to. I believe Malcolm senses what you’re feeling too. Whatever he’s picking up on at a time such as you and I being on the phone together may be some kind of flashback for him like when we were at the zoo, Baskin-Robbins, or here at my house. I know my body language and also the energy that I give off is very different whenever we’re on the phone like this or around each other. I’m just happy.”
“That’s it. That has to be it. Malcolm can tell I’m happy now. He’s equated my happiness to you and he couldn’t be more right.”
32
#returntosender
Stevie
“HERE’S YOUR MAIL,”Jason said, handing it to me.
“Thanks.”
“No prob.”
He closed my office door behind him as I started going through the stack of envelopes. The fourth one appeared strange. It wasn’t the envelope itself as much as the way that it was addressed, as well as the handwriting. My full name—middle name included—was on the front along with the D.A.’s office address, but there was no return address. And the handwriting? I didn’t recognize it, but it appeared to be a woman’s.
There was a single sheet of white letter-size paper inside and when I unfolded and read what was written on it, I didn’t know what to think. All it said was “I’M WATCHING YOU” in all caps. Black ink. No signature.
I picked up my office phone and buzzed Brooke.
“Hey, Stevie,” she said.
“Would you mind coming to my office for a minute? I need to show you something I just got in the mail.”
“Be right there.”
Less than a minute later, Brooke was standing in front of me. I handed her the envelope and anonymous letter. She looked them over, then looked back at me, and I could see the concern on her face.
“What?” I asked her.
“You appear to have a stalker.”
“What? Why?”
“Stevie, we piss people off on the daily through our work in the legal system and it seems someone you pissed off is trying to get back at you. They’re taunting you,” she said, holding up the letter.
“So someone is really watching me then?”
Brooke shrugged. “They may be—or this may be nothing.”
“I’ve never dealt with anything like this before.”
“I have, plenty of times. Unfortunately, it just goes with our jobs.”
