Undying Laughter

Chapter Five

“Don’t touch it,” Wesley instructed as he gathered her against him, his eyes fixed on the weird thing.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. “I have no desire to touch that.”

She remained against him while he dug into her purse, got her keys and led her into the villa. “We’ll call Dylan, and I think we should consider calling the police.”

“And tell them what?” she asked, tilting her face upward. “I’ve been down this road already. The authorities can’t do anything until this fruitcake actually threatens me,” she said as she pushed away from him and moved across the room.

He leaned against the counter as silent rage welled inside him. “What he did to that doll is somewhat threatening.”

She shivered and ran her hands along the bared flesh of her arms. Her expression was guarded—only her eyes gave him an insight to her true feelings. What he saw in her eyes was a blend of fear and disbelief. Wesley intellectualized the disbelief, but his response to the fear was more primitive, more primal. Despite the inherent strength he sensed in Destiny, he also believed there was a fair amount of vulnerability buried beneath the surface. Not a helpless vulnerability, but a vulnerability born of determination.

“I don’t understand,” he said, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

She nervously twisted several strands of hair around one long, tapered finger. “I spoke to a police officer in Miami. They told me that until this guy does something more overtly threatening than sending flowers, there’s nothing they can do.”

“That’s crazy!”

“That’s the law,” she told him with a sad smile. “Basically, this lunatic has to hurt me before the police can do anything.”

“Maybe it’s different here in South Carolina.”

“I doubt it.”

Wesley reached over and snatched the phone from its cradle. He punched numbers in stiff, irate succession. “Hello.”

“Shelby, Wesley. Is Dylan around?”

“He’s at the office. Why?”

“Destiny got another delivery.”

“More flowers?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“A doll.”

“Why does a doll have you so upset?”

Wesley turned his back on Destiny and cupped his hand over the receiver. “It wasn’t the doll, really. It was what he did to the doll.”

“Which was?”

“He painted the face to look like hers. There was a gardenia stuck onto one of the hands.”

“Sounds sick,” Shelby commented.

“My thoughts exactly.” Wesley took a deep breath. “He left it at the villa. It’s obvious he’s watching her.”

He heard Destiny’s sharp intake of breath and instantly regretted voicing his suspicions aloud.

* * *

“DID YOU TOUCH IT?” Dylan asked as he squatted in front of the ghastly little trinket.

“No,” she answered as her eyes sought Wesley. “I haven’t played with dolls since I was a kid. And I’m not all that keen on playing with that one.”

“Now can we call the cops?” Wesley asked his friend.

“We can, but it won’t accomplish much,” Dylan admitted, with an apologetic smile to Destiny.

“How can that be?”

Dylan shrugged as he rose. “Local law requires a definitive threat.”

“What the hell does that look like to you?” Wes retorted.

“It’s a doll, Doctor,” Destiny explained in a soft voice. “Not a particularly flattering doll, but a doll, nonetheless. At best, the police will probably think it’s nothing more than a tasteless gift from a fan.”

“She’s right,” Dylan said as he placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “The best we can do is alert them to the problem, arrange for Destiny to stay someplace safe and have someone with her twenty-four hours a day.”

“Hold on,” she interrupted, feeling ignored by the two men. “I can’t just go into hiding. I have responsibilities, a club date. If I do as you suggest, this bozo wins. What kind of solution is that?”

Wesley and Dylan stared at her in obvious shock. Wesley spoke first. “You can’t just pretend this isn’t happening.”

“Oh, yes, I can,” Destiny assured him with a forced smile. “I won’t allow anyone to jerk my chain like this.”

“Be reasonable,” Wesley cautioned. “While I can respect your need to retain some control over your life, it would be foolish to go on as if this wasn’t happening.”

Blinking, Destiny looked up into his eyes and silently wondered if he knew what he was asking of her. It simply wasn’t possible. “It isn’t just about me,” Destiny explained. “If I go into hiding, what happens to Gina and David? Not to mention the fact that I don’t have much more than a few weeks’ worth of savings.”

“This isn’t about money,” Wesley countered.

“Really?” she asked as she lifted her hand and began counting off on her fingers. “I have to pay Gina and David, as well as my own living expenses. My father’s fines, court costs and requests for handouts come on a regular basis. My sister doesn’t think a thing of borrowing money from me, so don’t tell me it isn’t about money. I have responsibilities. People that depend on me.”

“They won’t be able to depend on you if something happens,” Wes argued.

Frustration swelled in her veins, bringing with it a surge of suppressed anger. “Nothing will happen to me,” she insisted. “I’ve never done anything in my life that would make someone want to harm me.”

“Apparently your admirer has a different opinion.”

“Why are you doing this?” she implored, looking up into his troubled blue eyes.

“I’m not the one doing this,” he explained in that even, calm tone that set her teeth on edge. “I’m only trying to make you realize that it doesn’t make sense to assign rational motives to an irrational individual.”