Using the knife, he investigated the easy-to-access items lying on the table. No note. Nothing but the purse. Nothing that he could see. For further investigation, Ryan grabbed a towel from the kitchen to avoid touching anything, dumped the contents of the purse on the table, and went through it. Lipstick, powder, keys. Wallet. He struggled with the towel, but managed to open the wallet and review the contents. Everything seemed to be inside. Driver’s license. Credit cards. Even forty dollars in cash.
Ryan didn’t like it one bit. Someone was messing with her. A stalker maybe? They should file a police report as soon as possible.
Hating that he had to scare Sabrina, Ryan did a quick check of the condo, and then headed to the hallway.
“Well?” Sabrina asked anxiously.
He grabbed their shopping bags from the ground and motioned her inside. “Let’s go inside and talk.”
The color drained from her face. “What does that mean?”
“Inside,” he said again.
Ryan disposed of the bags by the door and led Sabrina to the table. “My purse!” she exclaimed excitedly and reached for it.
“Don’t touch it,” Ryan warned, “we need to have it fingerprinted.”
“What? Why?”
“No note and everything is intact. Even the forty bucks in your wallet. I assume that’s what you had in it?”
“Yes,” she said. “Couldn’t this be a nice person who didn’t want a reward?”
“Maybe,” he said. “I just don’t like the way this feels, Sabrina. Better safe than sorry. Let’s call the police and let them do a report. That way if this person who dropped it off becomes a problem, you have a record.”
“Now you’re really starting to freak me out,” she said.
He wrapped her in his arms. “I don’t mean to. But don’t count on getting rid of me tonight. I’m not leaving you alone until we’re sure about this.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “One perk to being a damsel in distress,” she said. “Having you around as my personal bodyguard.”
Over an hour later, the police officer, a twentysomething kid still wet behind the ears, wrapped up his questions. “Is there anything else I should know? You’re sure there have been no other indicators of threats?”
Ryan remembered Sabrina’s answering machine in the kitchen. “You should check your messages before he leaves.”
“No,” Sabrina said quickly, running her hands down her hips and regrouping. “I mean, I cleared them while you guys were talking. There’s nothing of concern there.”
Even the young buck of a cop wasn’t convinced. “You sure, ma’am?”
“Yes,” she said. “Very sure. Thank you so much for coming out. I’m hoping this is a false alarm.”
When the cop exited, Sabrina shut the door, locked it and turned to Ryan. He stood, arms crossed, waiting for her. “What was that about?”
“I just wanted him gone,” she said. “I wanted this over with.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Sabrina?”
“Any messages are most likely from my parents. I’m really liking my private sanctuary called Texas. And though I cling to the hope my father won’t run for the White House, albeit I’d never tell him that, I don’t want to lose my privacy because this latest crazy installment of my life might make the news. It’s sad, but true.”
He understood. He understood, and he hated the truth of her words. She couldn’t escape that part of her life, and he couldn’t protect her from it, no matter how much he might try. He could only help her deal with it.
“We should listen to the messages,” he said. “Or I can give you some privacy to listen to them. Both home and cell phone.”
A defeated sigh followed. “You might as well listen with me,” she said, motioning him toward the kitchen. “If you’re going to be in my life, you need to know what that means, good and bad. There’s no better way than a good dose of my parents to give you the full picture.”
There were ten messages. Ryan thought for sure they couldn’t all be from her parents. They were. The final one played.
“Sabrina, this is your mother. I know you’re alive and well because I read your feature on that car driver, which surprised me, of course, but that’s another subject. You should be doing what you do well. Politics.”
“Now that it serves Daddy’s campaign,” Sabrina mumbled.
The message continued, “We’re worried. Please call us. Or I’m going to get on a plane and come there.”
“Oh, crap,” Sabrina said, leaning her elbows on the counter and dropping her head. “She means it. I have to call. I should check my cell phone and make sure her threats haven’t become more urgent. I might have to make that call to her tonight.”
“I’ll change the locks while you check your cell,” he suggested. “That pizza would taste really good right about now, as well.”
“I’ll pop it in,” she agreed.
Ryan headed to the door, wondering what was really keeping Sabrina from calling her parents. Ten calls were a lot of calls. And sure, Ryan understood she was avoiding their nudge back into politics, but he had to wonder if there was more to her avoidance. Perhaps she knew that this nudge was all it would take to talk her into returning to New York.