“I’m waiting for Jack to arrive here. He’s coming to the station before going home. Can you talk with Caitlyn Rhodes?”
Since he’d returned to his hometown, his grandma had mentioned Caitlyn, who was Sally’s granddaughter, several times. “Sure. In fact, I’m supposed to have lunch with her grandmother today. I’ll find out Caitlyn’s schedule and track her down.”
“Do you know her?”
“Yes. We went to school together and were friends, but I haven’t seen her in a long time.” Too long. Every time he heard her on her radio show he’d pictured her in his mind—petite, long wavy brown hair with a touch of red in it and the most beautiful dark green eyes.
“Call me after you talk with her.”
“Will do.”
He and Caitlyn had been two years apart in school. She’d been popular and had a lot of guys wanting to date her. While he’d attended a college in Dallas, she’d finished high school and, that summer before she went to the University of Texas, they’d dated several times. He’d begun to think they were growing closer, but suddenly one day he’d received a voice mail from her, canceling their date. Later he discovered she’d left town. Their paths didn’t cross after that, and he’d always wondered if they could have had a serious relationship. Now it didn’t make any difference. His job was his life.
* * *
Caitlyn Rhodes took a moment while several commercials were played on her popular talk show, Share with Caitlyn. She’d been on the run the whole morning before coming to the radio station for her live program. Her first therapy client, Jane Shepard, had concerned her at her office earlier today. During her appointment, Jane had paced the room, only sitting down a couple of times. Something was wrong, but Caitlyn couldn’t get much out of her. She planned to call her later and see if she would come to Caitlyn’s office tomorrow or suggest that she could go to Jane wherever she wanted. Caitlyn couldn’t shake her concern.
Melanie Carson, her show’s producer, signaled that the last commercial was wrapping up. Caitlyn glanced at the wall clock in the studio. Only five minutes till the end of her show. She had time for one or two more callers.
Caitlyn pressed the button. “Hello. You’re on the air.”
Silence greeted her.
Seconds passed, so she reached toward the control panel to switch to the next caller when a raspy, deep voice said, “Stop me!”
A chill snaked down Caitlyn’s spine. “Stop you from doing what?”
Another eerie quiet filled the dead air. She opened her mouth to say—
Click.
Behind the glass window, Melanie frowned and tapped her watch.
Quickly recovering from the call, Caitlyn leaned toward the microphone and started to say what she did when a viewer got cold feet and shut down on the radio: “Please call me at my office, and we can talk privately.” But she couldn’t get those words out. They stuck in her throat.
Melanie again indicated her watch to wrap up. Caitlyn pulled herself together and began to speak.
“I can’t believe how fast the past hour went, but I’ll be back tomorrow, same time, to discuss any problems you need help with. Remember: unresolved problems lead to stress, and stress leads to illness. Keep your mind and body healthy. Call me or write me,” she said automatically as she did every show. Then she rattled off her email address for the ones like that last caller who froze when they realized millions were listening to them.
If only I could follow my own advice about unresolved problems.
As she rose to leave the studio, she couldn’t shake the coldness that had embedded itself deep in her bones at the two words he’d said.
Stop me!
Not calmly but desperately, as though he was at the end of his patience. That shouldn’t have stopped her from saying he could contact her at her office. In her years as a therapist with a doctorate in psychology and counseling, she’d talked with many desperate people.
She headed out into the hallway. What had made her not encourage him to call the office?
The sinister edge to his voice? The sense of urgency?
“Caitlyn, are you okay?”
She stopped and turned toward her producer. “Yes, Melanie. It was clear whoever was on the phone didn’t really want help or he would have said more.” She’d learned over the years that she couldn’t help someone who wasn’t open to it. It had been a hard lesson, but it had saved her own sanity with one of her clients in her first year of counseling. She wanted to help people with problems and considered it more than her occupation. But as her grand pappy used to say, you could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t make it drink.
“Good. He was creepy. Probably just a prankster.”
Over the past two years, Share with Caitlyn had had several pranksters on-air. “Yeah, that’s what I think.”
“Do you want me to screen your calls before you talk to them?”
She didn’t want to put any barriers in place for her callers. So far that had worked for her. Handling those few pranksters hadn’t been a big deal. Her listeners knew when the phone was answered it was by her, making their first connection more personal. “No, let’s leave it as is,” Caitlyn murmured and started for the double doors at the end of the corridor that led to the lobby of the building. And yet as she said that, she still couldn’t shake the chill those two words had given her.
“I’ve got his phone number and, if you want me to, I can block his call from coming through to you,” Melanie said from the other end of the hallway.
Caitlyn started to say yes, but she reminded herself that she’d gone into counseling to help as many people as she could—even ones who couldn’t pay much. That was why she volunteered at Matthew’s Ministries Tuesday mornings. She turned toward her coworker and friend. “No, maybe he wasn’t ready to share yet, but he might be later. See you tomorrow, Mel. I have a date with Granny.”
“Speaking of a date, the guy I’m seeing has a good friend who would be perfect for you. I’ll fix you up, and we all can go out together. Say, next week sometime?”
Caitlyn paused at the exit, shaking her head. “No blind dates. I’m content with my life.” Her days were full and she didn’t need the added pressure of running the dating gauntlet. Years ago, she’d walked away from that when one man stepped too far over the line and she’d paid for his actions. She shoved the memory away. She refused to let Byron ruin her life any more than he already had. But he somehow managed to creep back into her thoughts at unexpected times.
When she left the station in Longhorn, a small town outside Dallas, she took a deep breath of the warm breeze from the south and relished the rays of the sun hitting her face. Spring. She loved this season above all the others. Glimpsing the clock tower at city hall, she hurried her pace. Granny expected a person to be prompt. She didn’t believe in keeping people waiting.
Caitlyn slipped behind the wheel of her restored 1956 red Thunderbird, retracted the top and drove out of the parking lot. She arrived at her grandmother’s fifteen minutes later, her shoulder-length hair wind tossed. After running her fingers through her wild strands, she climbed out of her car and strode to the front porch.
Before she could ring the bell, Granny opened the door. “Now I can start lunch.”
“You haven’t yet?”
“Nope. You were late last week, so I wasn’t sure when