19.

Susan had called Don immediately after getting off the phone with the 22nd precinct, and he had hurriedly made his way to the radio station.

To their dismay, word about the anonymous threats began to spread more rapidly than they desired. The news desk at WOR had broken the story of the threats without delay as police were completing their preliminary investigation of the second set of flowers, even though it was done against Susan and Don's wishes. However, Det. Monahan pointed out that releasing certain details to the public at that time could possibly work in their favour.

"You never know what tips the public might come up with," he reasoned. "Maybe someone sold the guy those flowers from their own private greenhouse. We're bound to catch a break in this case."

The receptionist, Carol, described the youth who made the delivery, and detectives quickly came to the conclusion that it did not match the general description of the person that Dana Brodie gave when the first set of lilies arrived the previous Monday.

 "I would guess we're looking at someone who pays or bribes random individuals to deliver them," Det. Monahan said of the flowers. "We're hoping this kid from today and the first guy who went to your offices will come in and talk to us about who 'hired' them to make the delivery, Dr. Chandler."

"Let's hope they do," Susan said. "And let's hope what they have to say is something useful."

Already having cancelled, postponed and re-scheduled several clients' appointments after closing their offices early when the first threat arrived, Don and Susan knew they could not afford to linger at the radio station for very long. They were already facing a heavy enough backlog that afternoon, and didn't need to worsen the situation by being late for their one o'clock appointments. With the evidence already removed from the radio station and taken to the police lab, the couple quietly departed after speaking with Det. Monahan and caught a cab. Susan had phoned ahead to Dana on her cellular, informing her that should she field any calls from reporters regarding the case, she was not to comment about anything.

"It makes me very uncomfortable that this nut-case knows the location of both your places of work," Don said quietly, after Susan hung up.

"You know, it is public knowledge what I do," she said. "But I'll admit it creeps me out, too. Makes me feel…watched, somehow. I guess what really bothers me is that none of this makes any sense. Is someone just playing games? Like your defendant from Georgia trying to get under your skin? A patient from my practice, or maybe someone I helped put away that the police have overlooked? The long shot, of course, is that loser, Anton Riley."

"All I know is that I want this to be solved, and I want it to end as soon as possible. I want this guy to be stopped before anything can happen. If it's a joke, it just isn't funny anymore."

The taxi was pulling up to their building. Don pulled out some bills and muttered, "Keep the change."

"Thanks," the cabbie replied, taking the bills without bothering to count them. "And by the way - I hope you get your problems sorted out, too."

"You both have your one o'clock patients waiting," Dana said anxiously when they entered the reception area. She knew about their professional attitudes about the wrongs of making people in therapy wait. "And the phone's been ringing a lot about what's been going on," she added. "Don't worry – I haven't breathed a word about what I know."

"You're terrific, Dana," Susan smiled. "Keep it up."

Both Susan and Don then quickly made their way to their individual offices to deal with their patients.

At ten to two, the moment her session ended, Susan received a page from Dana.

"It's a call from your mother on line one, Dr. Chandler," the receptionist informed her.

Oh, no. Susan breathed deeply. She's heard the news. I should have expected this…I should have told her sooner…

Brushing aside the mental chastisement, she picked up the receiver.

"Hi, Mom," Susan tried to mask the guilt she was feeling.

Several beats of silence passed before Emily spoke. "I just heard something rather upsetting on the news, Susan," she said slowly. "Tell me it's some kind of mistake."

"I'm afraid it isn't," she responded ruefully.

"Susan, how could you keep something like that from me?! I'm still your mother!"

"I know, Mom, and I'm really very sorry. We'd hoped to keep it under wraps for at least a while longer."

"This isn't the kind of thing you keep 'under wraps' from the people who care about you, Susan!" Emily protested.

"Mom, I just didn't want you to worry or panic. The police are all over it, and we still aren't entirely convinced it isn't a prank of some sort. There are plenty of kooks out there who have little else to do but try to become irritants to people in the public eye, and maybe grab some ill-deserved fame at the same time."

"If there's nothing to worry about, then there would have been nothing to hide," retorted Emily hotly.

"I was just looking for the right time -"

"Try to understand what a shock it was to hear on the news that my daughter has received two death threats in as many weeks, and I've been in the dark about it all this time. It's the sort of thing I expect to hear from my daughter's own lips. It's not like I've been on the moon or something for the past two weeks. In fact, I've seen you twice in that time frame, haven't I?" Emily admonished.

"Well, Thanksgiving dinner and a birthday party really aren't the ideal places to air such morbid information, Mom," Susan said in frustration, then instantly regretted saying it.

Stony silence followed, which Susan guiltily broke.

"Look, Mom, that was a rude, rotten thing for me to say. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't let you know before the news vultures started blabbing it all over the airwaves. We just sort of hoped the whole thing would be resolved sooner. I just – I didn't want to worry you over nothing. You've had your share of worries."

"And it looks like I have good reason to worry, too, especially after what happened with Alexander Wright-"

"Let's…not talk about him, okay?" Susan interrupted hastily. "Mom, I understand that you're angry, worried and upset. But please believe me when I say that it was never my intention to be secretive. We were just waiting for the right time to inform everyone, but the media's insatiable appetite for a new story prevented that from happening. We never wanted you to find out this way."

Emily considered her daughter's words carefully. "Do you have any idea who's doing this?" she asked.

"We have some ideas, and the police are checking up on them… Now, I've got my two o'clock client waiting, Mom. I absolutely promise I'll call you tonight and tell you everything we know so far, okay?"

"All right, I'll let you off the hook for now," Emily relented. "But Susan, please be careful, and I will be waiting for that call tonight. Remember – you promised to tell me everything."

"Right, Mom. Talk to you later."

"I love you, sweetheart," Emily said emphatically.

"I love you too. 'Bye, Mom," Susan concluded the conversation, and hung up. She took a deep breath, and then took another moment to collect her thoughts. Well, I think that went over as well as I could have expected it to go, she decided wryly, and opened her office door to invite her next client inside for the session.

***

The fax machine in Charles Chandler's office whirred to life and began spitting out pages of legal text and jargon crafted by lawyer, Mitchell Fletcher. Binky had been awaiting them, and when the transfer was complete, she gathered them up and brought them to Charles, who was relaxing in the den, fiddling with a newly installed satellite system.

"These just came through for you from Mitchell Fletcher, Charley," Binky said. "He called earlier when you were asleep, and I didn't want to disturb you. He wanted me to let you know you could contact him, and that he didn't see why you couldn't finish everything up today if you wanted. He said they were confidential papers, and of course I told him sending them by courier wouldn't be necessary,"

"Thanks, honey," Charles smiled, rising to take the papers from her. "That's terrific. I'd better get on it right now if I want to catch him at work. It was so good of Mitch to get this done so quickly. I'm in my office, okay?" He kissed her and went on his way.

Binky stared after him until he had disappeared at the top of the stairs. She stood there, letting her thoughts flow freely for a long while, contemplating what the contents of the papers could mean. Eventually in anger and irritation, she plopped down on one of the imported leather couches and grabbed the elaborate television remote control. Its numerous functions ever confusing, she pointed it at the screen, opting to just try pressing the 'up channel' button. She was startled to see the breaking story of the afternoon on a news channel: that the host of a popular morning advice radio show, Dr. Susan Chandler, had been the recent recipient of two menacing threats against her life.

It was nearly eight o'clock at night when Don and Susan were able to make it home. Phone calls from reporters had not let up throughout the afternoon and into the evening, trying poor Dana's patience. If any of her late afternoon and evening patients had been aware of the situation, none of them let on to Susan during their sessions.

The answering machine was full of messages, evidenced by the frantically blinking red light. Many of them were from news agencies.

"And here I thought our residential phone number was unlisted," Susan sighed.

"Anything is possible in this 'Information Age', I guess," Don replied wearily.

Other calls were from friends, expressing their disbelief, shock and outrage that someone would be brazen enough to make such threats. Susan paused rinsing watercress for a salad to hear one message recorded by Charles.

"Hi, honey, it's me," he started uncertainly, "Binky just told me she saw something about you being threatened by someone on the news just now…What's going on? I'm worried about you. Call me any time tonight, okay?" He clicked off.

"I can just tell I'm going to be on the phone all night, re-assuring people," groaned Susan.

"Well, at least you know people care about you," Don reasoned, as he pulled out two plates and cutlery for their late dinner.

"I think I should issue some kind of blanket statement to the media in the morning. What do you think? Give them something to get them off our backs here," Susan proposed.

"That's not a bad idea," Don mused. "What are you thinking of saying?"

"I could say that yes, I did receive some threats, yes, we're cooperating with police, and that we appreciate all the public help and support, and that we would like curiosity-seekers to please respect our privacy, etcetera, etcetera…"

"You're not going to say it exactly like that, are you?" Don eyed her, a bemused expression on his face.

"Of course not, smart guy, but words to that effect."

After eating a quick meal, Susan was back on the phone, contacting those close friends and relatives who had called and left messages. She kept her promise of phoning Emily, and gave her as much information about the case that the detectives themselves were willing to share with the public. Susan did not, however, make any mention of the strange warning she had received from the woman named Claire, or the possibility that Anton Riley might be involved.

Around 10:30, Susan was able to reach her father.

"Hi, Charles," she greeted him, still feeling uncomfortable even after three years at having to call him by his first name, something she was sure was a 'suggestion' of her stepmother's. 

"Susan, sweetie, I'm glad you called," Charles said.
            "When did you two get back from St. Martin?" Susan asked.

"Tuesday night, honey," he replied. "Listen, me and Binky are terribly worried about you. Are you okay?"

He actually does sound concerned, Susan thought. I'll just bet Binky's worried, but I'm glad you still care.

"I'm fine, just really tired. It's been a long day." She filled him in on the details of the case, as much as she felt was necessary, and promised to keep in touch.

It was with  much relief that Susan and Don retired to bed that night. After such an eventful day, they were both soundly asleep within minutes of hitting their pillows. Susan's rest was filled with vague dreams and images, but one materialised quite clearly and vividly. She was once again in her deceased grandmother's house, standing in the kitchen.

Overjoyed to see her, Susan said, "Hi, Gran! It's so good to see you!"

Gran Susie had looked at her seriously and said, "Be careful, Susan, it is dangerous now for both of you."

"What do you mean?" Susan tried to ask, but the words just wouldn't form. She kept frantically trying to spit the words out, but the more she tried, the less able she was to communicate anything at all besides a garbled whisper.

Gran Susie repeated the warning: "Be careful, Susan, it is dangerous now for both of you!"