Danielle Steel - Southern Lights - A Novel

“So much for that,” Jack said, as they went back to their offices upstairs. “Now we get to work.” Alexa nodded, and they parted in silence, each thinking of all they had to do. The burden was on the investigators now to give her the evidence she needed to win the case. She trusted him completely.

Alexa got the call from the grand jury late that afternoon. They had come back with an indictment in the Quentin case, four counts of rape, and murder in the first degree. They were off and running. She knew the coming months would be increasingly stressful until they tried the case. She called and asked the public defender if they would agree to a speedy trial, which she did. Joe McCarthy agreed with Alexa that the public’s best interests would be served by trying and convicting him as quickly as possible and putting it to rest. The public defender admitted that she was not looking forward to trying this case. They set the date for May, which gave them four months. And by Friday night, after organizing all their files, clearing her desk, and setting the wheels of justice in motion, Alexa was wiped out.

She and Savannah ordered pizza for dinner, and after that Savannah went out with friends, and Alexa emptied her briefcase and went to work. She knew now that with the Quentin case scheduled for trial in May, she would have no social life whatsoever in the coming months, but she didn’t have one anyway.

Savannah had plans with friends all weekend, which allowed Alexa to work without feeling guilty, and finally on Sunday afternoon they looked over Savannah’s college applications together. She had finished the last ones.

“Looking good,” Alexa said, smiling at her proudly. As usual, Savannah had met the deadline right on time. “Let’s stuff them in a bunch of envelopes and get them out.” Savannah agreed, and they each filled several envelopes, put stamps on them, and addressed them to the admissions offices. Alexa said she’d take them downstairs and stick them in the mailbox, since she needed some air anyway. She hadn’t left the apartment since Friday afternoon and had worked straight through the weekend.

She was just about to leave the apartment when she saw an envelope that had been shoved under the door. The handwriting was stilted and awkward and looked like that of a child as Alexa picked it up.

“What’s this?” she said more to herself than anyone else. It was addressed to Savannah, and had been delivered by hand. She walked it into Savannah’s room and handed it to her. “Looks like you’re getting love notes from very young children,” she teased her, and was about to leave the room as Savannah opened it and looked confused. The letter inside had been written on a computer and printed out. If it had been written by a child, it was one who owned a computer, but most children these days did.

Savannah looked faintly unnerved as she handed it to her mother without comment. It said, “I love you, and I want your body.”

“Well, that certainly makes that clear. Any idea who it’s from?” The note wasn’t signed, and Savannah shook her head.

“That’s weird, Mom. It’s creepy. Kind of like a peeping Tom.”

“Or a secret admirer. I wonder if it’s someone in the building, since it didn’t come through the mail. Just be aware when you go in and out, and don’t get in the elevator alone with a guy you don’t know.” It was good advice.

“Why would someone write me something like that?”

“Because there are a lot of nuts in the world, and you’re a very pretty girl. Just be careful and smart and you’ll be fine.” Alexa tried to treat it lightly and went downstairs to mail the college applications. She didn’t want to admit to her daughter that she was somewhat unnerved herself. She was thinking about her mother’s admonition to be particularly careful during the Quentin case, and her reminder that men like him had friends outside, even when they were safely put away in jail. So far Quentin didn’t seem like a man who had a lot of friends, or any in New York. Some of his pals in prison had told investigators he was a lone wolf.

Alexa asked the doorman if anyone had hand-delivered a letter to them, and he said no one had, which led her to wonder how the sender of the note to Savannah had dropped it off. And more importantly, who would write the letter to her and why. She tried to look less upset about it than she was when she went back upstairs, but she admitted to being concerned. She had quietly put the letter in a plastic bag. Savannah brought it up again as they shared Chinese takeout that was delivered.

“I was thinking about that letter again, Mom. I think it’s really scary, and I don’t think it’s the kind of thing that would be written by a kid,” even though the envelope had looked that way. “Kids just don’t write that kind of thing.”

“Maybe a very repressed kid would. Some boy who admired you in secret from the distance, and disguised his handwriting on the envelope, so you couldn’t guess who it was. I don’t think it’s a big deal. You should be careful anyway, but it isn’t a threat.” Alexa was trying to be cool.

“I guess so,” Savannah said in response, finishing a spring roll. “It still creeps me out.”

“Yeah. Me too. And actually, it’s kind of insulting. I live here too, and nobody’s in love with me or telling me they want my body.” Savannah laughed, but in truth Alexa particularly didn’t like that an anonymous stranger had written a note like that to Savannah. She was far more disturbed than she let on.

Without saying anything to Savannah, Alexa stuffed the letter in its plastic bag into her purse, and took it to the forensic lab the next day. Her favorite technician was on, a young Asian man who always got her fast results and gave her the most minute details.

“Who wrote that?” she asked bluntly, and he laughed when she handed him the plastic bag with the envelope in it.

“You mean hair color and shoe size? Or just what brand his jeans were?”

“I mean man, woman, or child?” She was afraid that it had not been written by a lovesick young boy, and maybe not even by a dirty old man. She had a feeling it had been written to unnerve her, and it had.

He narrowed his eyes as he carefully took the envelope out of the plastic bag, wearing rubber gloves, and looked at it, and then smiled at her. “Give me a few minutes. I have to finish something up, or the guys in narcotics are going to kill me. I’ll call you in an hour. I assume you want me to check it for fingerprints too.” She nodded.

“Thanks.” She smiled back at him and went upstairs to her office. As promised, he called her within the hour.

“Okay, got it.” Jason Yu got right to the point, he always did. “Adult male, steady hand so probably somewhere in his twenties or thirties. American. Possibly Catholic school education, so maybe it’s a priest,” he chuckled.

“Very funny.”

“The handwriting was disguised, clumsily, to look like it was written by a child, but it wasn’t. And there are no prints on the paper. He must have worn rubber gloves. Death threat?” he asked with interest. It wasn’t unusual for cops and assistant DAs or even public defenders to get them. People who went to jail got pissed at lawyers and judges, and the cops who arrested them in the first place. It came with the job.

“No, nothing like that. Kind of a love letter of sorts, not to me, to my daughter.”

“And you want to know who the boyfriend is?”

“She doesn’t have one. It was an anonymous letter written by some guy who says he wants her body. Working on the Quentin case, I’m a little skittish about guys who go after young women. I’m probably just paranoid, and it’s some kid in our building.”

“It never hurts to check it out,” he reassured her. “I’m working on your DNA studies right now. I’ll let you know when I have something new for you.”