were—a stock phrase—but he hoped there was comfort in them anyway.
“Thanks.” She looked down at her hand, the corners of her mouth twitching.
“He lived in Flemington, right?”
Flemington was in Hunterdon County, about ten miles away from Stockton, the town Lee grew up in and where his mother still lived. When Ana was his patient, they were both New Jersey residents, but that felt like another lifetime now.
“Yeah,” she answered. “When he—uh, got sick, I tried to be there for him, you know…. “ She trailed off forlornly.
“So he left you the house?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of big for me, but I don’t think he wanted me to sell it.”
“Is that what he said?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s just that he loved that old house, and I feel like if I sold it he’d be sad.”
Hunterdon County was full of charming old stone houses, some of them dating back to the eighteenth century. Lee imagined her father’s house, tucked away among the green rolling hills of the southwestern Jersey landscape, with its fertile farmland, the rich black soil perfect for growing the famous Jersey tomatoes, and the sweet, sweet Silver Queen corn he loved so much as a child.
He looked back at Ana, who was chewing absently on the cuticle of her index finger.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yeah,” she said, fishing around in the pocket of her green corduroy skirt. She had an unusual way of dressing that was all her own, Lee remembered—on her, even green corduroy looked stylish. Under the skirt she wore knee-high leather boots with sharp, pointy high heels.
“Here it is,” she said, producing a crumpled piece of paper.
He took it and opened it up. It was a clumsy version of the kind of ransom note you might see on a cheaply produced television crime drama. The letters had all been cut from different parts of various magazines and pasted onto a plain sheet of white paper. RetrIbuTion is coMinG, it read. Prepare TO meEt Your FAte.” His first thought was that she might have created it herself, a ploy for the attention she had been seeking all her life to fill the cavernous hole in her soul. But a look at the terror in her eyes banished that thought from his head. She was genuinely frightened.
“Have you gone to the police?” he asked.
She waved off his suggestion as though it were an annoying insect.
“Jersey cops,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Let us know when someone tries to kill you, and then maybe we’ll be interested. Better yet—give us a call if you are actually murdered.”
“They said that?”
“More or less. They made it clear they didn’t want to be bothered.”
“So you came to me.”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she moaned, the old petulance creeping into her voice. “Raymond—that’s my boyfriend—he’s really nice, but he’s just a restaurant manager. He didn’t know what to do either.”
At the mention of her boyfriend, Lee breathed a bit more freely.
“I mean, you work with the police, right?” she said, her blue eyes imploring.
“Well, yes, but we don’t have jurisdiction in New Jersey.”
“But can’t you—I mean, couldn’t you investigate this on your own or something, without telling them?”
“Well, I’m not a detective—”
“But you’re a criminal profiler, right?”
“I’m a forensic psychologist.”
“Right—but you profile criminals, don’t you?”
“Among other things. What do you expect me to do?”
“Find out who’s stalking me. Do a profile on him—or whatever it is you do.”
“Do you have any idea who it might be?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’ve been trying to think of someone. My boyfriend before Raymond broke up with me, so I don’t think it’s him. And he was really sweet and everything, anyway.”
“Does Raymond know you came to see me?”
She looked at him and frowned. “Am I terrible to not tell him? It’s just that I didn’t want him to worry.”
Or get jealous in case you decide to try to seduce me again, Lee thought, but he said, “You shouldn’t be keeping secrets from him right now—not when your life could be in danger.”
“So—so you think it is?” she said, her voice wavering between fear and hope.
“I think it’s possible, and it’s best not to take any chances. Anyone else it could be?”
“Well, I’m working as a waitress at the Swan Hotel in Lambertville, and I see a lot of people every day, but mostly it’s wealthy, middle-aged people, and they’re usually pretty nice.” She fished around in her leather knapsack. “Look, money isn’t a problem. I’ll be glad to pay you