"Izzy!" cautioned his wife.

"This business has everyone in an uproar," said Izzy. "The chief's hanging a lot on the forensics."

Diane felt Izzy was trying to draw her into a conver sation about the crime scene. Even if it wasn't inap propriate, Izzy wasn't someone she confided in.

"Is he? Well, you two enjoy the rest of your dinner. The chocolate cake is to die for."

She left them and walked as far as the entrance with Mike. He continued on out the door, and she used her key to enter the primate room and crossed over to the lobby. She waved at the security guard on duty and went back to her office. Before she called Garnett, she wrote down the conversation with John Doe Caller, as she named him, as accurately as she remembered. When she finished, she dialed Garnett's number.

"There was a little miscommunication with the sur veillance guys. When they tapped your phone, they didn't make arrangements for your cell. What did he want?"

"I wrote it down. I'll fax it to your office tonight."

"That'd be good. I'll have it first thing. We've hired a profiler to come and take a look at the evidence. He used to work for the FBI. Supposed to be real good. He'll want to talk to you."

"Sure." It appeared to Diane that Chief Garnett had taken over the sheriff's case. As she hung up the phone, she wondered how Braden felt about that. He couldn't mind too much; he'd allowed it.

It wasn't as late as she feared it might be when she finally left for home. She'd still get a good night's sleep and have time to get up early and exercise. Sev eral people were working late-not just the security and custodial staff. She saw three of her curators' cars in the parking lot. And of course, the cl.u.s.ter of cars belonging to restaurant patrons. When she unlocked her car and her dome light came on, she automatically checked the seat, expecting to see another gift, but both the front and backseat were empty. She got in the car and drove to her apartment building. As she pulled into her regular parking s.p.a.ce at the curb under the limbs of a large overhanging tree and turned off her car lights, her phone rang.

"Hey. It's Frank. Want some company tonight?"

"Frank, I'd love..."

Crack!

At first Diane thought someone had fired a gun. A moment later when she saw the crack in her window, she thought a limb had fallen on the windshield. A split second after that, another crack shattered the windshield. She saw a dark shadow wielding a base ball bat.

Chapter 28.

Diane recoiled reflexively from the banging on her car that rang like gunshots inside her head. He was now outside her driver's side door, flailing with a baseball bat against her window. Guttural sounds-like some moaning, barking, struggling animal-came from his throat. The end of the bat crashed through the shat tered side window. Diane dodged forward in her seat and screamed at Frank to call the police. She still held the car key in her clenched fist. Put the key in the ignition. Put the key in the ignition.

She tried repeatedly with her shaking fingers to in sert the key in the slot in the steering column but kept missing it in the dark. He shoved the bat through the hole in the window again, missing her head but strik ing a painful glancing blow off her left shoulder. She saw another thrust coming, ducked low in the seat to avoid it, and dropped the key somewhere in the dark. She ran her hand over the floor searching, trying to hold back the fear inside her. Under the accelerator her fingers touched the plastic remote. She clutched it and pressed the red panic b.u.t.ton. The persistent blar ing horn added to the frenzy, and she had to remind herself that it was on her side.

"Where are you?" She heard Frank's voice shouting from the phone that now lay on the pa.s.senger's side floor.

"Home," she yelled, jerking open the glove com partment, looking for anything that might be a weapon. "Inside my car."

A gloved hand reached through the hole in the win dow, feeling for the door handle. She grabbed at his arm. He caught her hand and yanked. Diane stabbed repeatedly at his hand and wrist as hard as she could with the key clenched in her fist, digging for bone and tendon. He cursed and pulled his hand back. More angry than before, he beat at the window furiously with the bat until the entire gla.s.s was broken out.

"Get out of there, you stupid b.i.t.c.h!" he yelled above the blaring horn. "Get the f.u.c.k out of there now! I'm going to beat your d.a.m.n f.u.c.king head in!"

"The police are coming," she yelled.

Diane had no weapon in her car. Not a tire iron, not a pocket knife, nothing. She had to start the car. She made for the ignition again, aiming at it with the key just as he reached in and caught the door handle. The key slipped in the slot at the same time the door swung open. Diane turned the key and the car roared to a start. He cursed her and grabbed her jacket in the grip of his right hand. She jerked the car in gear and pressed the accelerator. The car moved forward, pulling him with it. He ran alongside, holding on to her clothes through the open door, breathing hard. Thank G.o.d her seat belt was still buckled.

"You can't get away. I'm goin' to kill you, you b.i.t.c.h," he said in as menacing a voice as she had ever heard.

She grabbed at the stocking he wore over his face, pulling it until it stretched. He punched blindly at her with the bat. Diane ducked and hit the accelerator and the car sped forward, and then she slammed on the brakes. The door swung wide open. She put the car quickly into reverse and stomped the accelerator. The suddenness of the move caught him running for ward, hit him with the open door and knocked him to the ground. Diane wanted to run him over as she backed up her car and saw him lying in front of her. The temptation was almost too much to resist. While she hesitated for a second, he scrambled up off the road, ran toward a Crown Victoria across the street and jerked open the door. She turned the steering wheel in the direction of his car and floored the accel erator. But her car responded sluggishly, haltingly, and his car sped off in the opposite direction before she reached it.

Diane managed to turn her car half around and started to pursue. She pressed the brake instead. He was going too fast, and she had no business becoming involved in a high-speed chase. She sat in her car crossways in the middle of the road, breathing hard.

"Diane, are you still there? The police are on their way. Diane."

She found the phone on the floor half under the pa.s.senger's seat. "Frank. I'm here. He's gone."

"Diane, are you all right? I'm almost to your apart ment. Are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine. I'm going to have to get some new windows for my car, though."

At that moment an unmarked police car came over the rise, lights flashing, but no siren, and stopped op posite her in the road. Two policemen jumped out, drew their guns and pointed them at her car. "Get out of the car. Put your hands on your head."

"Frank, the police are here. Apparently, they are going to shoot me. I have to go."

Diane dropped the phone on the seat, unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car with her hands on her head. She recognized the two policemen, and tried to recall their names as they walked slowly toward her.

"You're Dr. Fallon," said one of the policemen. Both of them lowered their guns. Diane dropped her hands to her sides.

"Yes, I am. I was attacked in my car. The man left, driving west in a light-colored Crown Vic. I couldn't get his tag number. You probably just pa.s.sed him."

Frank's car came to a screeching halt at the curb.

"That's Frank Duncan. He's an Atlanta detective and a friend," she told them. "He's the one who called you."

She was the one shaking inside, and she felt that they were the ones who needed calming.

Frank walked up and showed his badge. "You okay?" he asked, pulling her into a hug.

"Scared witless, but other than that . . ." She leaned against him. "I need to move my car out of the street."

"Sure," said one of the policemen. "Go ahead. We'll call an APB on the Crown Vic."

"I'll move your car," said Frank. "You get out of the street."

As Diane watched Frank get in her car, she saw that both tires on the driver's side were flat. Sometime during his frenzied attack, the perp had managed to slash her tires. Her car looked totaled, the windshield was caved in, the driver's side window was nearly gone. The front headlights had been smashed. The dents in the body were too numerous to count. The attack seemed so quick to have done all that damage.

Frank parked her battered Taurus against the curb just as Chief Garnett drove up in his car. He jumped out and hurried over to Diane and the policemen, scowling. Diane noticed her landlady and some of her neighbors gathered in front of the apartment building. The apartment house stood mainly by itself on the small street. Good thing. She'd have hated having the whole neighborhood out looking at her.

"You were supposed to be watching the house," Garnett said to the policemen.

Diane understood now why the two policemen looked nervous. They hadn't been where they were supposed to be.

"We got a call . . ." began one of the policemen.

"You got a call? We'll discuss this down at the sta tion. In the meantime, I want you parked out here all night. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

He turned to Diane. "Are you injured?"

"No, I'm fine. I'd like just to go up to my apartment and get some sleep."

"Of course. Do you think it was the guy who's been calling?"

"I don't know for sure. But I got a sense that the caller was frustrated with the way our conversations have been going."

"Did you give his description to the officers?"

Diane nodded. "I described his vehicle. He was dressed in dark clothes and had a stocking over his head, distorting his features. He had dark hair, about six feet tall, well built."

"You call it in?" Garnett snapped at his officers. Both of the policemen nodded.

"I tried to get his tag number. I couldn't see it." "We'll find him."

Diane turned and took a step toward her apartment. "Oh, I met Kacie Beck as she was leaving the police station and gave her a lift home. I noticed that she had an engagement ring with what looked to me like a pretty large diamond. If it was real and of good quality, my geologist said it could be worth upwards of ten thousand dollars. It might be worth checking out."

Garnett whistled. "Where would Chris Edwards get that kind of money?"

"It could be synthetic, but it looked real and she thinks it's real."

"Like you said. It's worth checking out. Go ahead and get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

Diane nodded. Chief Garnett was being awfully so licitous, especially for someone who only last year was among those who would like to have run her out of town. She glanced up to her apartment building at the knot of neighbors looking in her direction. How was she going to explain this to her landlady?

Frank returned with Diane's purse in hand and guided her up the sidewalk to her building.

"What's going on?" This was from one of Diane's newest neighbors, a young couple from the ground floor.

"What's all that noise? How are we to sleep with all that noise?" Mrs. Odell and her husband, who lived across the hall from Diane, stood with their arms crossed and their chins in the air.

"Hate those car alarms. There ought to be a law against them. They go off for no reason at all." Mr. Odell added, with a sharp nod of his head.

"What happened?" asked the landlady. "Why are the police here?"

"As I was parking my car, someone came up and beat my car with a bat," said Diane, trying to sound calm. "They ran off."

"Why would anyone do such a thing?" said the landlady. "I tell you, it's those hoodlums you read about. They're everywhere. I keep telling my nephew that..."

Diane nodded and made her way up the stairs to her apartment on the second floor. The last thing she wanted to do was get her landlady started on one of her stream-of-consciousness conversations. The Odells came up the stairs behind her.

"You know, you should move somewhere else," said Mrs. Odell. "This was a quiet apartment building until you moved here."

Diane opened her door. "Good night, Mrs. Odell. I'm sorry you had your sleep interrupted."

Once Diane's apartment door closed behind them, Frank asked, "Those are the people you were telling me about? The ones who had seven children die, and whose only joy in life is going to funerals?"

"That's them. Mrs. Odell was the one who broke into my apartment looking for a cat, and I almost clobbered her with my cornbread pan."

"Maybe you should move."

Diane laughed. "You're probably right." She col lapsed on the couch. "I'm so glad to be home. It was a rough day at the office."

Frank sat down and pulled her against him, cuddling her in his arms. "I don't think I've ever been so frightened-listening over the phone, not knowing what was going on."

"How did you call the police?"

"I used my car phone. So you think that was the man who's been calling?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid it might be."

"Why is he fixated on you?"

"He may be fixated on all of us who had anything to do with the Cobber's Wood victims, or . . ." Diane rubbed her eyes with her finger. "I don't know. I don't know what the h.e.l.l is going on."

"What's Garnett doing about these calls?"

"They were supposed to have someone outside my building, but they apparently slipped up."

"You mean, there were supposed to be policemen posted in front of your house? Dammit, where were they?"

"I don't know." What Diane wanted to do was for get about the whole thing for just a few hours. "Where's Star tonight?"

"At a concert with a friend. She's spending the night with her after the concert."

"On a school night?"

"It's summer."

"Of course it is. G.o.d, I'm losing track of time. You're letting her go to a concert? Aren't you nervous?"

"Nervous doesn't quite describe it. All I can think of is all those drugs floating around and how vulnera ble she is."

Diane's back was against Frank's chest and his face was close to her ear. His breath was warm and smelled like cinnamon.

"Her friend's a good kid and I know her parents. I let Star go to a concert last month. She checked in with me when she arrived and was home on time, so I'm letting her go again. I don't know. In another year, she'll be old enough to strike out on her own. I'm just trying to give her some experience being responsible, but I feel completely out of my depth."

Diane wove her fingers into his and relaxed a bit, nestling further against him. "She seems to be doing well."

"Most of the time. We have some pretty big dis agreements. Cindy helps. She's good with Star. She lets Star stay with her and her husband when I'm away. It's good for Kevin. It's like having a big sister." He moved his arms from around her and stood up, pulling her with him. "Let me fix you something. Have you eaten?"

"At the museum. I bought Mike dinner tonight."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "Mike. That's..."