Chapter 9: When Forgiving is the Wrong Thing to do…

Monday morning, I went into the office, hoping to transfer off Charlie's case for good. Ryan had had errands to run in regards to another client, so I entered the office alone. The rest of the weekend, after the Charlie/Pierre disaster, had gone amazingly well; we liked a lot of the same TV shows, and Ryan was true to her word about loving to cook, since she made me breakfast, lunch, and dinner Sunday, as long as I did the dishes afterward.

I dropped my stuff off in my office and took a deep breath, readying myself for a fight with Tammie. Charlie was our most prestigious client and losing him would be awful for the firm but I didn't know what else to do; it was obvious he was still stalking me, still holding delusions of us together. It had to stop. Just as I was getting ready to enter her office, my cell phone dinged in my pocket; a text from Ryan appeared, wishing me good luck, and signed with a heart. I smiled back at it and returned the phone to my pocket without switching it to silent, knocked on the door in front of me, and entered when asked to do so.

"Tammie, I need-"

"Adam, just the person we needed to see," Tammie smiled and stood up. There was someone sitting in front of her desk, but I didn't need to see the person's face to know it was Charlie. "Mr. Conway has something he'd like to say to you. I'll just leave you two alone."

My eyes pleaded with my superior to stay but she smiled encouragingly at me and pulled me out of the doorway, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. I watched Charlie stand up, rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands in his pockets. He looked sheepish and guilty. I was hesitant to relax, so I leaned against a far wall, my arms across my chest and my face clear of emotion.

"Banksy, I am so unbelievably sorry." He looked up at me and I could see unshed tears in his eyes. " I went to my shrink immediately after yelling at you the other day and we got to talking and he made me realize that I'm selfish and creepy and if I truly wanted your friendship back, I wouldn't act the way I do." He sighed. "I should be happy that you've found someone so special to you, instead of acting like a jealous ex. I hope you can forgive me."

I shrugged noncommittally. I wasn't sure if I could trust this apology or not. "I guess we'll have to see."

Charlie nodded. "I understand. I really came here today because I'm having issues with my stalker again." Charlie held out an envelope to me. "He killed my cat." Inside were pictures of Charlie's cat, Tiger, decapitated. There was a note, written in the cat's blood, on the floor next to him: You're next, Conway.

I shuddered. "When did this happen? The perimeters were set perfectly! I would have gotten a notification if someone had entered your yard; only standard vehicles were seen entering and exiting, vehicles you okayed."

Charlie shrugged, his face a nervous mess. "I don't know! But I know no one I trust would do this. Besides, they all submitted to lie detector tests and DNA tests. They weren't a match." He hugged himself. "I'm scared, Banksy…I know how I made you feel all those years, now, and I'm so sorry I did!"

Adam smirked. "That's not important right now. What is important is keeping you safe. Let's head over to your house and see what we can find."

The drive to Charlie's was uneventful. He felt uncomfortable going alone in his Town car, so I rode with him, asking him simple questions, and keeping the conversation professional. We pulled in after a thirty minute drive. I went straight to the office, where we'd set up our base of operations, and scanned through the surveillance from that weekend. Like I had told him, nothing unusual came up. I was getting ready to go downstairs and ask him for some more information when suddenly there was a sharp pain in the back of my head and everything turned dark.

I woke up tied to a pipe hanging from the ceiling in a basement. It was damp and dark, and as far as I knew, I was the only one there. I waited for my eyes to adjust and peered around; there on the other side of the room was a bloody mess of fur…Charlie's cat had been killed down here.

I blinked roughly, my head still in pain, trying to understand what was going on.

"Hello, Banksy." Charlie's voice was quiet, and came from behind me. "How are you feeling?"

I groaned. "You sick son of a bitch. You planned this."

Charlie laughed and walked around me into the light. His face was twisted into a sick smile. "But of course! I've never stopped searching for you, Banksy. Ever since you left me. When I finally found you, thanks to a private investigator and several hundreds of thousands of dollars, I had my agent work out a trade to the closest hockey team. I faked several break-ins to my new home. Wrote several fake letters from a stalker. Filled out numerous police reports. When the local PD couldn't figure it out, I took all the documentation to your offices." His expression grew darker. "I was hoping that if you saw me, realized how badly I needed you, then you would renew our friendship and maybe, just maybe, I could convince you to take that relationship one step further." His look turned to immense rage. "But then that little tart showed up and ruined everything. Let you live in your denial of us. Took you away. Seduced you." He shook his head angrily. "I hate her! But soon she'll be taken care of. She'll forget all about you and I'll be free to keep you."

I laughed hollowly. "First of all, people are going to wonder where I am. Several of my co-workers know how uncomfortable you make me and when I don't return from scoping out your problem, they'll come looking. And nothing you can do will make her leave me."

"Oh, well, I already have that all taken care of." Charlie laughed. "I have someone who almost looks exactly like you heading for your car now. What they don't know is that there is a bomb in your car and as soon as they start it, you'll explode. There was a letter sent to your office…it should be there around the time of the explosion…it says that my stalker is going to kill the lead investigator because he's getting too close. And as for the girl, she'll be so torn by grief, she'll run back to her idiot French lover." His laughter was maniacal at this point. "I finally win."

I reread the letter. Then I felt the building shake violently. My eyes opened wide in fear. The stalker hadn't been lying.

I rushed out of my office, taking the stairs and barreling into people as I went. Sure enough, Adam's Toyota was in flames in the parking structure below the building. I screamed and collapsed to my knees. I remembered Tammie coming up and grabbing my arms, having someone help her help me up. They led me back to the offices upstairs, sitting me in the nearest chair they could find; it happened to be right across from his office. He'd left everything there that morning, which was very unlike him. He would have come up to get it before leaving for the day. Hell, he would have come to see me before leaving for the day. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, even in my grief-stricken state.

Standing up, brushing all the worried hands out of my way, I headed toward the surveillance room. I made the man sitting there behind the monitors pull up the camera from the parking garage. We rewound the tape and sat there, watching the last six hours of film. Adam entering the building. Adam leaving with Conway. A man who looked like Adam returning.

"Freeze it." I pointed at a reflection in the car window. "Enhance that." I looked long and hard at the screen. Almost a perfect match, but whoever had done this hadn't planned on me having memorized every contour of Adam's face. "Inform the agents downstairs that the body inside the vehicle is NOT Agent Banks. And send over several to Mr. Conway's house. As far as we know, Agent Banks is still there."