TJ had picked up one of her books and signed it: Rickey, Happy Birthday. Hope you’re well soon, Best, TJ St. Clair.
She put it with the letter in the pile to be mailed, only vaguely remembering that it went to a post office box in Laramie, Wyoming.
After that, she’d gone back to writing her book and forgotten both letters.
That had been her second mistake, though she’d had no way of knowing it at the time. It wasn’t until she received the next letter from True Fan:
Dear TJ St. Clair
You really aren’t as bright or as talented as I first thought. Actually, I’m amazed you make any money at this. A person you don’t know from Adam tells you a hard-luck story and you send them a book? You are so gullible. But “Rickey” thanks you. Tee Hee. I’m feeling so much better and I like having a book that you touched.
Unfortunately, your books are getting worse. I didn’t think that was possible. I told you what to do, but you just keep ignoring me. Because you think you’re so much smarter than me, more talented? You keep making this mistake and we’ll see who is smarter.
Your True Fan until The End
“Believe me,” TJ told her sister now. “I’ve read them numerous times. I can’t tell if they are from a man or a woman. They could be from anyone. Anyone who owns an old manual typewriter.”
“Well, they have you running scared, so you must believe the threats are real,” her sister said.
“The last one promised that True Fan would be seeing me soon and unless I apologized for ignoring the advice the person had been giving me, I was going to die like one of the characters in my book,” TJ said. “True Fan said I could pick which character and which death and kill myself because it would be less painful than if a fan had to stop me from writing by killing me.”
Chloe shivered. “That sounds like more than a threat. The police didn’t take that seriously?”
TJ poured herself a glass of wine, her hands shaking. “Even if True Fan had said he or she was going to kill me, there is no return address. The postmarks have been from all over the country. Where would they begin looking for this person? We don’t know if it’s a man or woman. So until True Fan actually makes good on these threats...” She got to her feet. “I hate talking about this.”
“This man we saw earlier, you realize it’s a long shot that he’s the same one from New York, but I could do some checking. Annabelle said his name is Silas Walker.” She ran upstairs, returned with her laptop and began to tap on the keys.
TJ was thinking how nice it was to have an investigative reporter in the family when Chloe let out a sharp breath and looked up. “What?”
“He was one of New York’s finest, but left a year ago after being caught in some kind of internal sting investigation.”
“What kind of investigation?” TJ asked around the lump in her throat.
Chloe shook her head. “Dirty cops. He apparently was never arrested. All they said was misconduct that betrayed the public’s trust. That could be anything from lying to cheating on overtime or much worse. Here’s the kicker: he was rehired a month later but then quit.” She looked up from her computer. “This guy could be dangerous.”
“What guy could be dangerous?” Annabelle asked as she came through the front door on a gust of winter wind. TJ and Chloe shared a look. “Are you talking about the Mountain Man?”
“He’s an ex-cop who was fired at one point,” Chloe said. “I was saying he could be dangerous.”
“Why was he fired?” their sister asked as she shrugged out of her coat, hung it up and joined them. She poured herself a glass of wine. Her cheeks were already flushed. From the cold? Or from her visit with Dawson Rogers?
“Let’s not talk about this,” TJ said. “Tell us about you and Dawson.”
Annabelle shook her head. “If you really think this man is dangerous then you need to cancel your book signing tomorrow.”
“Bad idea,” Chloe said. “She’ll be perfectly safe at the gift shop with us and half the town there. This is her chance to find out if he’s this True Fan who’s been sending her the threatening letters.”
“You really think it’s him?” Annabelle asked.
“First I’m shoved from behind in front of a speeding delivery truck, he saves me, then shows up in Whitehorse and I find out that he moved here six months ago—about the same time I started getting the threatening letters. What are the chances that he’s not True Fan?” She shuddered at the memory of those blue eyes. She’d felt strangely drawn to him at the same time she’d felt afraid.
“What does she do if he does show up at the book signing tomorrow?” Annabelle demanded of Chloe. “Just ask him if he’s her True Fan?”
Chloe groaned. “She’ll play it cool. We’ll be there. If he is this crazed fan, he won’t do anything at the signing, but he might say something that gives him away. Once we know for sure then we go to the sheriff.”
“TJ play it cool?” her youngest sister said with a laugh. “No offense, but if today was any indication—”
“I can do it.” TJ nodded with more enthusiasm than she felt. She had to. This had to end because she couldn’t take anymore. If it didn’t, she feared True Fan would end it the way the letters had promised. “Maybe he won’t even show.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Chloe said. “If it’s him, he’ll want to get as close to you as he can. He’s been taunting you. Now he’ll want you to know just how close he is.”
As if TJ didn’t already know the psychology behind a person like this. She wrote about them all the time. If this man was her True Fan, he didn’t just want her to know how close he was. He wanted her to know how easy it would be for him to get to her. For the past six months, this had been leading up to the moment when she faced her killer—just like in one of her books.
When TJ woke the next morning, she was shocked to see how late it was. She hurriedly showered and dressed. When she came downstairs, dressed for her signing, Annabelle handed her a cup of coffee and a donut.
She took the coffee, declined the donut and watched as Annabelle ate it.
“I love not being a model anymore,” her sister said, smiling with a little sugar glaze on her lips before she licked it away.
TJ couldn’t help smiling as well. Her sister looked great, not skinny and pale like she had when she’d been a top model. “I need to get to my signing.”
“We’re going with you,” Chloe said, coming out of the kitchen. “Are you nervous?”
What did she think? She’d never been good at book signings. Probably because she’d never wanted the attention. She’d only wanted to write the stories that were in her head. Little had she known the rest that was required of a published author. TJ knew she was naive to think that she could simply lock herself away in a room somewhere and do what she loved.
When her editor had told her that she needed to be more of a presence on social media, she’d actually thought about quitting the publishing business.
But she couldn’t quit writing. When she’d take a break, the longest she could go was three days before she started writing in her sleep. The characters would start talking and she’d have to get their stories out. She loved that part.
TJ remembered how surprised