Jonathan had been right about Herschel Gray feeling he owed the Harts a favor. He posted a guard on their property. The policeman was to keep an eye on the house as well as any activity at the front gate. In addition to that, he had officers regularly patrol the Hart’s neighborhood. All of the officers were provided with the photos Jennifer had inadvertently taken, which had been enlarged.
They didn’t hear from the man the rest of that day, or the two days after that. The weekend was over, and even though he didn’t really want to, Jonathan went to the office that Monday. Jennifer, who certainly didn’t mind having him with her all the time, didn’t complain about it. She knew he had a company to run, and felt safe with Max there, as well as the extra police protection.
She was working on her parks articles, when the phone rang. Max was in the laundry room, so she answered it.
"Mrs. Hart? This is Officer Carmen with the LAPD."
"Yes, Officer," Jennifer replied, not masking the concern in her voice. "Is something wrong?"
"No, Ma’am," he answered. "At least, I don’t think there is."
"What do you mean?" Jennifer asked.
"Well, Ma’am," he replied, "I’ve been patrolling the neighborhood all morning. I drove by your gate not more than five minutes ago, and all was fine. I just drove by again, and now there’s a package stuck in the box that holds your gate phone. It has your name on it, and that’s all. Your maiden name is Edwards, isn’t it?"
Jennifer remembered the last time that had happened. It was the same way in which the invitation had been delivered. "Yes, that’s me," she answered.
"There doesn’t seem to be anything amiss with it, Mrs. Hart," Officer Carmen continued. "Would you like me to bring it up to you?"
"Could you please?" she asked. She didn’t relish the idea of retrieving it herself, even with the police there. The man had obviously just been there.
"Certainly, Mrs. Hart," the officer replied. The men who had been patrolling the Harts’ property had told him how gorgeous she was, and he wanted to get a look for himself. "I’ll be there in just a moment."
"All right, thank you. I’ll buzz you in." As Lieutenant Gray had instructed her, she hung up the phone, then dialed the number of the officer on the grounds. His name was Alberto Camille, and he was a very likeable young man.
"Hello?" He answered almost immediately.
"Hi, Alberto, this is Mrs. Hart. I’m letting in Officer Carmen to bring me a package."
"Okay, Mrs. Hart," Alberto replied. "I’ll check it out."
Jennifer knew he’d make sure it was really the officer and only the officer coming through the front gate. While she was waiting for the package, she called Jonathan at work.
"I’m sorry, Mrs. Hart," Deanne said when Jennifer asked for her husband. "He’s in a meeting right now. If you want, I can get him."
"No, that’s all right," Jennifer replied. "It’s not that important." Actually, it was, but she felt she had been keeping him from his work too much lately. "If you would, just have him call me when he gets out of the meeting."
"Certainly, Mrs. Hart," Deanne replied.
"Thanks, Deanne. Bye."
"Goodbye, Mrs. Hart."
Jennifer hung up the phone and waited nervously until the doorbell rang. Max was passing through the living room with a basket full of freshly-laundered clothes. "You want me to get that, Mrs. H?" he asked.
"No," Jennifer replied. "But do you mind sticking around for a minute? There’s an officer bringing up a package that someone left by the car phone."
"Sure, Mrs. H," came the answer. "Do you think it’s from that guy?"
Walking to the door, Jennifer answered him, trepidation in her voice. "It’s the same way the invitation arrived, so I’d say it’s a good bet."
Max nodded soberly. The whole household was on edge, and he hated seeing Jennifer unhappy. She was trying not to let the situation bother her, but there was always a little sadness in her expression.
Jennifer opened the front door, and accepted the manila envelope the young officer held out to her. "Thank you very much," she said, smiling sweetly at the slightly bemused man.
He regained his composure quickly, and returned her smile with a bright grin of his own. The others had certainly been right about her; she was breathtaking! "No problem, Mrs. Hart," he said. "Is there anything else I can take care of for you?"
"No, thank you. I appreciate it though."
"Okay." He would have loved to have just stayed there looking at her, but he really didn’t have any excuse to do so. "I’ll, uh, get back to my work." He grinned at her again, then turned smartly and walked back in the direction of his squad car.
Jennifer shut the door behind her, and turned back toward Max. She tested the weight of the envelope. "Not very heavy," she observed.
Max followed her to the living room, where they both sat on the sofa. "It’s addressed to Jennifer Edwards," Jennifer said, turning it over in her hands repeatedly.
"You want me to open it, Mrs. H?" Max asked gently, noticing her hesitation.
She looked over at him with a crooked smile. "Not, that’s okay," she answered. "I’m just stalling."
"I didn’t notice," Max lied, with a twinkle in his eye.
Jennifer laughed at him, knowing she had been had. She turned the envelope over one more time, so the flap was facing up, and ripped it open. Reaching inside, she pulled out two sheets of paper of different size and color.
"What is it?" Max asked, the curiosity tearing at him.
"Let’s see…" Jennifer looked at the top paper. "It’s a plane reservation," she said, surprised.
"A plane reservation? To where?"
Jennifer blinked at him. "To Paris," she replied in a flat tone. "And this is the confirmation number for a hotel in Paris". She indicated the second piece of paper.
"Paris?" Max echoed. "Sheesh, he’s taking care of all the details, ain’t he?"
"He sure is," Jennifer said thoughtfully. "This ticket is for Friday, and the hotel room is reserved for a week."
"What do you think, Mrs. H?" Max asked, watching Jennifer carefully.
She paused before she responded. "I don’t know, Max," she answered finally, " But I’ll tell you one thing."
"What’s that?"
She held up the papers. "I won’t be going on any plane trips this week."
Max nodded somberly. "I don’t blame you one bit," he told her. "Are you going to call Mr. H?"
"I already did," Jennifer answered. "He’s in a meeting, but Deanne will have him call as soon as he’s finished."
"Okay, I’m going to go ahead and take these upstairs," he indicated the basket. "Unless there’s something else you need?"
"No, Max," she replied. "Thanks."
Suddenly not in the mood to work anymore, Jennifer retreated to the sofa. Freeway hopped on her lap, licking her face. Somehow, he always knew when Jennifer was upset.
"Hi, Baby," she said, absently stroking the dog’s soft fur. She was still in that position when the phone rang a few minutes later. She picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hi, Darling, what’s up?"
"Hi, Jonathan. The surprise is here."
Jonathan knew what she was referring to immediately. "What is it?" he asked.
Not feeling like beating around the bush, Jennifer answered, "He sent me a reservation for a plane ticket to Paris along with a hotel reservation. He sent it in an envelope marked ‘Jennifer Edwards’, just like the other one."
There was silence from Jonathan’s end for a moment. "He really is writing his own script," he said finally.
"Yes, he is," Jennifer responded. "But Paris is where Drake and Jennifer finally end up together in the book."
"Don’t worry, Darling," Jonathan reassured her. "The only way you’re going to Paris is with me, and only for a nice relaxing vacation."
"That’s what I was hoping you’d say," she admitted.
"Does the ticket and reservation have your name on it?" he asked.
Jennifer looked at them. "Yes," she answered.
"And there’s just one?"
"Yes," Jennifer’s curiosity was piqued. "Why? What are you thinking?"
"I’m thinking maybe he got a ticket for himself at the same time he got yours."
"Oh, I see," Jennifer drawled. "But couldn’t he just use an assumed name?"
"For the hotel maybe, but you have to show identification to get a plane ticket. It’s worth a shot to look into it. Give me the flight info, will you?"
"Okay." Jennifer read the information to him.
"All right, I’ll check this out, " Jonathan said, after he had copied it down. "Try not to worry, and I’ll call you as soon as I’m through."
Jennifer tried to disguise the uneasiness in her voice. There was no way she could not be worried. "All right, Darling. Thank you."
Max entered the living room as she hung up the phone. The clothesbasket he carried was now empty. He had heard the phone ring while he was upstairs. "Talk to Mr. H?" he asked Jennifer
She smiled at him. "Yes, he’s going to look into who ordered the plane ticket and see if the guy ordered one for himself at the same time."
Max nodded with an expression of how smart he thought Jonathan was. "Mr. H will get to the bottom of it," he stated emphatically.
Jennifer gazed at him thoughtfully, then nodded. The one thing in life that never let her down was Jonathan. "You’re right, Max," she said finally, confidently.
"I’m getting ready to make a batch of chocolate chunk cookies for our friendly resident policemen, Mrs. H," Max said, obviously trying to change the subject. "Ya’ wanna’ help? I’ll let you lick the bowl."
Jennifer’s eyes lit up. "Now, how can I say no to that?" she smiled, giving Freeway one final pat.
Max beamed. "I thought so," he winked.
The first tray of cookies had just gone in the oven when Jonathan called. Max handed the phone to Jennifer and took over the walnut shelling while she talked.
"Well," Jonathan’s voice sounded disappointed. If he ordered a ticket for himself, he didn’t do it at the same time as yours. I checked all the flights to Paris for the names D.J. Richardson, Drake Richardson, and James Simon. And he paid for your ticket in cash."
"What about the hotel reservation?" Jennifer asked.
"It’s under your name; he used our address and the office phone number."
"Darling, do you think he could have used another airline for himself?"
"Deanne’s working on that now," Jonathan answered. "But to be honest, Jennifer, I think it’s a shot in the dark. I’d almost bet he’s using another made up name for his own flight."
"I agree," Jennifer murmured.
"I spoke with Jim Kleen; he’s one of the clinical psychiatrists working with our family programs development…" He cut off when he heard Jennifer giggling. "What are you laughing at?" he asked, surprised.
She giggled again, in spite of herself. "I just pictured you talking to Mr. Kleen," she explained.
He chuckled too. "Dr. Kleen to you and me," he said. "I got in touch with him while the floor was drying," Jennifer laughed again, "and I told him about our situation."
Jennifer was serious now. "And what did he have to say?"
"He’s concerned about the same things we are. His biggest concern is the fact that this guy doesn’t play by the rules. He changes details to fit into his own twisted perception."
"It’s almost as if he’s rewriting his own draft," Jennifer mused.
Jonathan was quiet for a few seconds and Jennifer knew he was thinking. Then he spoke slowly, still thinking. "That’s an interesting way of putting it," he said. "Why don’t we throw a rewrite of our own at him?"
"What do you mean?" Jennifer asked, perplexed.
"Give me a little time to think it out," he responded. "I’m almost finished here. I’ll be home in a little while, and I’ll let you know what I’ve come up with."
"Okay," Jennifer said, still feeling in the dark. "Bye."
"See you soon. Bye, Darling."
Jennifer hung up the phone, staring pensively at it. Max was pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven. "Mr. H got an idea?" he asked.
Jennifer let out a breath before she turned back to him. "Yes, at least he’s got the beginning of one. He’s going to be home soon." She walked over and inhaled deeply. "Those smell delicious, Max."
Max grinned at her. "You’ll burn your fingers," he warned her. She answered his grin with her own. It made Max feel much better. He worried over both the Harts, particularly Jennifer and knowing Jonathan was formulating a plan generally meant their worries would soon be over.
Jonathan was home in an hour, and he sat at the kitchen table with Jennifer and Max, telling them what he had in mind. "Jennifer gave me the idea when she said D.J. is actually rewriting the story to fit his own agenda. He’s changing the plot and will, and only loosely basing his real-if you can call it that- life on the story." Jennifer and Max nodded their agreement.
"So if that’s what he’s doing," Jonathan continued," I started wondering what happened if we started throwing a few curves at him."
He paused again, to let this soak in, and Max added, "Just as long as they aren’t Mrs. H’s curves."
Jennifer looked toward him, surprised, but swiveled her head back to Jonathan when he spoke again. "No, Max, not that kind of curve. He’s not going to get the chance to get his hands on Mrs. H or her curves." He smiled tenderly at Jennifer, and she felt a familiar response in her body that had been all but absent the last few days. He broke the moment though, and went on, "No, what I’ve got in mind is to throw him a few plot twists of our own, and see how he reacts to that."
Jennifer was intrigued. "What do you mean?" she asked, leaning forward.
