Part One

Author’s note:

The Tangled Web continues the storyline about Jim’s stalker. If you need to catch up or would like to refresh your memory, you can do that in my Glimpses into the Future Universe.

Tuesday, February 1

It was just barely dusk. That was easily her favorite time of the day. It wasn’t pitch-black outside, nor was it light enough to see clearly. For some reason, she felt invincible during these twilight hours. Maybe it was because Jim was dreaming of her. She hoped so because she dreamed about him all the time. Sometimes she wondered if her nighttime visions were even dreams at all; maybe they were real.

She’d been up all night, eager to move ahead with her plan. It had taken her weeks to perfect it. After all, Jim liked to have things just so, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. He’d be expecting perfection from her, and she wanted to please him. That’s all she ever wanted to do.

Last night’s storm had covered the ground with several inches of snow. It was still snowing now, and her tracks were being covered almost as quickly as she could make them. The temperature was well below freezing. Thankfully, her heavy coat, ski mask, and woolen gloves helped to keep her warm.

It came as no surprise that the grounds of the Manor House estate were well lit. She’d been here several times, and she knew that although the mansion had a state-of-the-art alarm system, the property itself wasn’t under any sort of surveillance. While she would relish going inside the house and sneaking into Jim’s room, that would have to wait for a later visit. A wistful smile parted her lips as she imagined climbing into bed with him. He’d be so surprised to see her, but he would be happy, too. She shook off the pleasant thoughts and focused her attention on the task at hand. Right now, she needed to take care of business so she could get into the city.

Jim’s Suburban was parked in the winding driveway. She’d worried briefly that he might park it in the garage, but that had been a waste of energy. Being a creature of habit, Jim always parked outside, no matter how bad the weather was. She wasn’t sure why he did this, but she had a feeling that he did it for her. Jim did lots of things for her because he loved her so much.

Now it was her turn to do something for him in return.

That thought made her feel warm all over. Jim was so quick to help those in need. When he’d helped her, she knew that he loved her. She was happy that she could repay his kindness. He would be thrilled by her gift to him. She couldn’t wait to see his reaction!

She crept over to the Suburban and brushed away the snow from the door handle. When she pulled on it, the driver’s side door opened, and she slipped inside. With a blissful sigh, she sank into the plush leather seat and imagined that she was settling onto Jim’s lap. He was sitting here only a few hours ago. That revelation caused goose bumps to come up on her arms.

Making sure to keep on her gloves, she ran her hands all along the surfaces that Jim would’ve likely touched. The steering wheel, the glove box, the area along the window… She closed her eyes and pretended that she was touching him.

She could’ve stayed in that cozy cocoon for hours, but she had important things to do. Dawn would be here before she knew it. Reluctantly, she pulled a small box from inside her coat and set it on the dash behind the steering wheel where she knew Jim would see it. She got out of the vehicle and quietly closed the door behind her. Turning around to face the mansion, she gazed longingly at the window of Jim’s room.

Humming the wedding march tune, she turned on her heel and slipped into the twilight; unseen, unheard, and most unwelcome.

Later that morning…

6:40 A.M.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.

Jim Frayne wasn’t sure why that old saying kept running through his mind, but he couldn’t get it out of his head. He reasoned that it must be because of the cobweb that he’d seen last night before he’d gone to bed. He had no way of knowing that, lurking in the snowy darkness, there was a spider setting a silken trap for him.

The creature that stalked him was a particularly dangerous spider that he did not—could not—know anything about.

Jim knew that some spiders spun webs, but others didn’t. Fine teacher that he was, he could give an interesting explanation of how a web was spun. He could explain the difference between an orb web and a cobweb. If you wanted him to, he could tell you about a tangled web, how it was particularly dangerous to hapless prey.

Unfortunately for Jim, there was no way for him to know that a tangled web had been spun especially for the purpose of capturing him. In the dark shadow of night, a predator had been weaving a sticky net, and she was now lurking nearby, waiting patiently for him to get caught in it. Once he had been properly trapped, the spider was poised to latch onto him with her powerful jaws and inject her venom. She’d crafted so devious a trap that escape would prove impossible.

So, like an unwitting fly headed towards the predator’s trap, Jim began his day. He hadn’t slept well the previous night. His concern for Trixie had kept him from relaxing. Even when he’d managed to drift off, strange dreams would awaken him. He kept dreaming that someone was looking at him.

Determined not to give into his irrational fears, he showered and dressed as he always did. He was quiet during breakfast, but if anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything. To avoid suspicion, he put on a happy face and attempted to appear as if all was normal. Promptly at twenty till seven, Jim and Al left the warmth of the Manor House and entered the bracing cold of the outdoors.

“Does it ever quit snowin’ here?” Al asked, shivering inside his black leather jacket. It was times like these that he wished it would zip up over his slightly protruding beer belly. “I feel like I’m back in Chicago.”

“Sorry, but if you wanted balmy winters, you should’ve stayed in Los Angeles,” Jim teased.

Al snorted loudly. “Hey, nobody told me I’d be dealin’ with two-foot snowdrifts. You buncoed me real good, boss.”

“That’s because I didn’t want you to say no to my offer of employment,” Jim answered with a wink.

Unfortunately, Jim’s smiling mask fell off as soon as he reached for the driver’s side door handle. The bright dusk-to-dawn lamp shone brightly on the driveway, fully illuminating his Suburban. While the top, hood, and right side door of the vehicle were layered with several inches of snow, only a fine dusting covered the driver’s side handle and along the door. Something was amiss, and warning bells immediately went off in Jim’s head.

“Something’s not right here,” he muttered as he motioned Al over to his side of the SUV. Once the burly bodyguard was beside him, Jim pointed to the door. “Look at that! Somebody brushed the snow off that handle, and it looks like the door’s been opened because all the snow around the frame is gone.”

Al’s bushy eyebrows met at the bridge of his nose as he curiously studied the side of Jim’s vehicle. “That is odd, boss. But if you keep your crate locked, how could someone get in it?”

Jim didn’t say anything, but his sheepish expression spoke multitudes.

“You do keep your ride locked, don’t you, Mr. Jim?” Al prodded.

“Nobody locks their cars on Glen Road, Al!” Jim sputtered. “Why, some people keep their keys in the ignition!”

“Yeah, but you’re the only one on this road bein’ stalked by some crazy tomato,” Al pointed out dryly. “Honestly, Mr. Jim, sometimes I think you wanna get yourself fogged. No offense, but for such a wise head, you sure act like a mug sometimes.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Jim admitted. “You can better believe that I’ll be locking the Suburban from now on.”

“Did she actually get in there, or did she just open the door?”

Jim shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s too dark for me to see if anything’s out of place.” He reached for the door handle, but was stopped short by Al.

“Wait a minute, boss! Let me take a quick up-an’-down to make sure that you ain’t gonna get blown to Kingdom Come when you open that door or start up the engine. That hatchet lady mighta hooked up some soup.”

“Al, I’m sure it’ll be—”

“Don’t move,” Al interrupted sharply. “It’ll only take me a few minutes. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Right,” Jim reluctantly agreed. He watched helplessly as Al got down on the ground and crawled around on all fours. The several inches of snow didn’t slow his search; the large man merely plowed through the precipitation as he craned his neck down to look for anything suspicious in the undercarriage of the SUV. The only sounds he made were grunts and groans. Several minutes later, he stood, brushed the snow from off his now-soaked pants, and walked over to the front of the Suburban. Along the way, he removed his gloves and shook the snow from them before sticking them in the back pocket of his jeans. After popping the hood, he leaned down to thoroughly inspect the engine.

“Jeez Louise!” Al exclaimed after several minutes.

Jim automatically braced himself for the worst. “What’s wrong?”

“You really need to change your oil, boss,” Al told him, the dipstick in hand. “It’s a gunky mess in there. A nice heap of iron like this needs regular maintenance to keep it runnin’ right.”

Jim let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve never been much of a car guy.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious,” Al snorted as he replaced the stick. “Remind me to take care of that for you later.”

“So you didn’t find a bomb?”

“Nah, it’s clean as a whistle.” Al slammed the hood shut. He wiped his slightly greasy hands against the thighs of his well-worn jeans, and then walked back over to the passenger’s side of the vehicle. “I’m ready to dust outta here if you are.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jim said, grinning. “I guess I’m just a little paranoid. The wind probably blew that snow away.”

“Yeah,” Al agreed rather unconvincingly.

Jim opened the door and then hoisted himself inside. Once he settled into his seat, his grin was replaced by an expression of horror as his gaze fell upon the box sitting on the dash behind the steering wheel. He knew at once who it was from.

“Uh-oh,” Al muttered, automatically putting his gloves back on to avoid contaminating any evidence. “Guess you wasn’t bein’ paranoid. Are you seein’ what I’m seein’, Mr. Jim?”

Jim’s entire body went stiff as he stared at the package. “I sure am,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“Are you gonna open it?”

“I might as well. I’ve opened all the other ones.”

Al shook his head in disapproval. “You’ve gotta point there, but I sure wish you’d let me do that for you, boss.”

“I don’t think she’s trying to hurt me, Al,” Jim murmured. “She’s had plenty of chances so far.”

“Then what is she doin’?”

“She’s trying to tell me something.” Jim’s hand trembled as he reached out and took the gaily wrapped present that had been placed there especially for him. He already had on his winter gloves, so he didn’t need to worry about messing up any potential forensic evidence. It didn’t take him long to remove the green foil paper from the white box, but for the moment, he was content to sit there and stare at it. He wasn’t in any hurry to lift the lid and see what sort of token of affection his stalker had left for him.

Al wasn’t nearly as patient. “C’mon, boss. Don’t you wanna see what’s in it?”

Jim quirked a ginger brow in his bodyguard’s direction. “I thought you didn’t want me to open it.”

“S’pose I’m more curious than I wanted to admit,” Al said sheepishly. “So, you gonna open it or just shake it an’ guess what’s inside?”

“After that pig heart I got, I’ve learned not to shake these packages. You never know what’s going to seep out of the bottom.” Taking a deep breath, Jim flicked the lid away and peered inside the box. There was something inside, but it was covered in green tissue paper. Thankfully, it didn’t appear to be a bloody body organ.

“What is it?” Al prodded.

“I don’t know yet,” Jim mumbled. He tenuously removed the mysterious gift from the box then peeled away the layers of tissue paper. When his present had been freed, his breaths came in sharp, harsh gasps.

From the passenger’s side of the vehicle, Al craned his neck to get a better look. “Put me in the wise, Mr. Jim. What is it?”

“It’s the topper for a wedding cake,” Jim choked out through a constricted throat.

“But what’s wrong with the bride?”

Eyes wide and completely horrorstricken, Jim tossed the 7” porcelain couple away from him like it was a hot potato. With palms nearly the size of a small baseball mitt, Al was able to easily catch it in midair. He squinted his eyes to closely scrutinize to the red-haired groom and his blonde bride.

“I thought janes was s’posed to wear white on their wedding day, but this dame’s wearin’ a red dress,” Al remarked.

“That bride is wearing white.” Jim’s insides were quaking so badly that it caused his voice to quiver. “Only she’s covered in blood.”

Al sucked in a ragged breath as he noticed the globs of red paint that had been smeared all over the head and upper torso of the porcelain bride. “Uh-oh. This can’t be good.”

Jim’s face was so pale that the freckles that had faded with age stood out like neon signs on his ashen complexion. He picked up the box that had fallen into his lap. “There’s something else in there,” he mumbled, turning the container upside-down and giving it a shake. Of course, he already knew that it was another message from his stalker.

This time, the note had been scrawled onto a piece of white card stock. The embossed border around the edge of the stationery made it look like a wedding invitation, but the words written on the fancy paper were anything but a cordial invite. In a voice barely above a whisper, Jim read the message aloud:

“She sure ain’t no poet,” Al commented.

The distinct taste of bile rose in Jim’s throat, and he had to choke it back down before he threw up. He tossed the message to Al as he frantically ripped off his gloves. After he pulled his cell phone out of the inner breast coat pocket of his suit jacket, he flipped it open and hit the speed dial for Trixie and Honey’s apartment. The phone rang once, then twice, then a third time. He knew the agency didn’t open until eight o’clock, so they shouldn’t have left yet.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Jim muttered impatiently as he waited for someone to answer. “Pick up, Trixie, pick up!” He was almost ready to throw his cell phone through the window when he finally heard someone on the other line.

“Hello?”

Disappointed that Honey had answered instead of Trixie, Jim blurted out, “Put Trixie on the line.”

“Well, good morning to you, too, big brother,” Honey scolded teasingly.

It took all his restraint not to lash out at her. Reminding himself that Honey had no idea what was going on, he assumed a calm, polite tone. “Good morning, Honey. Can I please talk to Trixie now?”

Honey giggled, completely oblivious to the precarious situation. “See how easy it is to be polite?”

“Honey, give Trixie the phone,” Jim ordered through clenched teeth. “It’s very important that I speak with her.”

“Sorry, Jim, but she isn’t here.”

He swore softly as he increased his grip on the cell phone. “Where is she?”

“She went into the city today,” Honey replied. “She had an appointment to meet with the wedding coordinator early this morning. Remember? I think she wanted you to go with her, but you had that meeting with your—”

“Does she have her phone?” Jim cut in.

Honey looked over to the spot on the kitchen counter where they charged their cell phones. “It’s not here, so I’m assuming she has it. No guarantees that it’s working, though. You know how she forgets to turn it on.” She paused for a second and then asked nervously, “Is something wrong, Jim?”

“I opened another package from the stalker.” Too agitated to remain still, Jim hopped out of the vehicle and paced up and down the driveway. “I think Amanda just threatened Trixie, and I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“Do you think Amanda would actually hurt Trixie?”

There was a long pause before Jim answered. “No, I don’t think so, but I just want to make sure.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m still at home. The box was sitting on the steering wheel of the Suburban.”

“Is Al with you?” Honey’s voice had taken on a frighteningly sober tone.

“Yeah.”

“Ask him to make sure that the vehicle hasn’t been tampered with,” Honey ordered.

“He already did,” Jim answered. “It’s clean.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Honey, I need to touch base with Trixie!”

“All right.” Honey struggled to maintain her composure. Something in Jim’s voice made her blood run cold. “Go ahead and call Trixie on her cell. I’m coming to the Manor House so I can take a look at that letter, so stay there.”

“Okay.”

“And Jim? If Trixie has been threatened, you really need to call the po—”

“No, not yet!” he interrupted sharply. “Honey, I just need to warn Trixie. If we can avoid involving the police a little bit longer, maybe I can talk some sense into Amanda before she does something stupid.”

Honey sighed in resignation. “All right, it’s up to you. You know Amanda better than I do.”

“I do. I’ll try and reach Trixie on her cell.”

“Stay there, okay?” she instructed. “I’ll be right over.”

“Okay.” Jim had barely gotten the word out of his mouth before breaking the connection. He hurriedly hit the speed dial for Trixie’s cell. Knowing it often took Trixie several moments to find her phone, he was surprised when he heard someone immediately pick up on the other line.

“Trixie? Are you there?”

“Hello! This is Trixie. I can’t take your call right now, but if you’ll leave a short message after the beep, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!”

It felt like a million years until Jim finally heard the signal. So frightened that he could barely speak, he managed to choke out a short message. “Trix, it’s me. Call me the second you get this. I need to know you’re safe.” Blinking back the tears that were burning his eyes, he added fiercely, “I love you, and keep your eyes and ears open.”

Desperate to hear from her, he kept the phone close, expecting it to ring at any moment. But that follow-up call never came…

Credits:

Thank you very much to my wonderful editors, Steph H and Ryl. These ladies have been extremely supportive, and without their input and cheerleading, I would struggle so much more.

As posted before, Jim’s Suburban pays homage to the great Samson Suburban, Damon’s beloved vehicle. May he rest in peace.

Al’s glossary:

To buncoe- to pull the wool over someone’s eyes

Crate- vehicle

Tomato- woman

Fogged- killed

Wise head- a smart person

Mug- a stupid person

Up-and-down- a good look

Soup- nitroglycerin; a bomb

Heap of iron- vehicle

Dust outta here- leave

Put me in the wise- tell me what’s going on

Jane- woman

If you think it’s odd that Jim didn’t lock his vehicle, then you obviously don’t live in a small town. Nobody locks their cars where we live, and yes, a lot of people do leave their keys inside.

Al is correct. Jim’s stalker is no poet and neither am I. So I guess we can officially rule out Maya Angelou as a suspect. *g*

BTW, those aren’t the real words to the wedding march, but you probably already knew that. J