Within two hours, the arrest was all over the news. By the next morning, all the television stations had footage of the ‘suspect’, identified as Richard Sherwood, being escorted into court, where he was quickly remanded to the forensic psychiatric facility in Campbellton for evaluation. Footage of Suzannah saying how grateful she was to finally have the year-long ordeal of her stalking over. Then the payoff question, planted with a friendly reporter:
“So, what does this mean for your romance with Detective Quigley?”
She faced the unblinking eye of the camera. “Romance?” Looking as cool as her Ice Princess persona under the hot lights, she let an amused smile curve her lips. “I guess Detective Quigley and I were better actors than we thought.”
“So the two of you were never romantically involved?”
This from Renee LeRoy, who looked just as disapproving as ever. Some things never changed.
“That would be rather bad for business for a criminal lawyer, now, wouldn’t it?” Renee’s lips didn’t twitch, but laughter rippled through the rest of the press. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be flip. No romance here, I’m afraid. Detective Quigley was merely posing as my boyfriend to try to get the drop on my stalker. As you can see, it worked beautifully. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to celebrate my freedom by taking a week’s vacation, starting right now.”
“Nothing special planned? No romantic getaway?” The same obliging reporter.
“No getaway, romantic or otherwise. After this ordeal, I’m just planning on rediscovering privacy and the joys of solitude.”
Smiling, she pressed her way past the media scrum. Half way to her car and not quite out of sight of the media, John stepped from behind his vehicle and grabbed her arm.
“No romance, huh?”
She’d been expecting it, had helped choreograph it, but his sudden appearance took a lift out of her. She tried to pull her arm free, per the script, but the words she said were the wrong ones, for his ears only. “Do we really have to do this part?”
“’Fraid so, sugar.”
“But I just told the world there’s nothing between us.”
“And now we’re gonna make them believe it.”
“John –”
“Suzannah, there’s a very good chance he’s here right now, watching this from the sidelines. Now look at me like I’m a bug just crawled out from under a rock.”
She looked down pointedly at his hand.
He released her elbow. “Oh, very good. Now give it to me with both barrels.”
“All right, Detective, but remember, you asked for this,” she muttered. Drawing herself up to her full height, she turned her haughtiest look on him. “I think you must be confused, Detective,” she said, allowing her voice to rise. “That was just pretend, make believe. But it’s all over now.”
“Suzannah, we had something special. Don’t ruin it.”
The anguish in his gruff voice sliced into her. It’s not real. It’s not real. Suzannah closed her eyes and repeated that refrain a few times. Then she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “Something special? John, you were my bodyguard. Self-appointed, I might add. I didn’t ask you to do it. And all we had was a plan to flush out my stalker. It worked. I’m grateful. End of subject.”
“But Suzannah –” He grabbed her arm again.
Oh, God, this was hard. Only a handful of the onlookers who’d drifted closer to listen in on the exchange would know the truth. The rest would take her cruel disdain at face value. She tasted bile at the back of her throat and knew she was in danger of throwing up. Finish it quickly.
“Look, I’m sorry you got the wrong idea, but now that I’m no longer in danger, there isn’t any us. Got it?”
This time, he did more than just release her arm; he practically shoved her away. “Got it.” Wheeling, he walked stiffly away.
She adjusted the sleeve of her jacket, lifted her head and marched toward her rental.
Close curtain on Act II. Just please, God, let it be the last one.