Chapter 7–Monday, 9:20AM

When Herb had calmed himself sufficiently and sorted through the morning’s email messages, he punched the play button on his answering machine. He’d noticed the blinking 3 earlier. The first two messages were barely comprehensible tirades. The mayor. Herb deleted both before Redman was done. The third began with five seconds of silence. Herb’s finger was headed toward the erase button when an eerie voice spoke just four words: “Are you stalking us?”

Herb hit the stop button and played the message again. “Are you stalking us?”

Herb screamed into the intercom. “Woodstalk, get in here...and bring Linda.”

In less than half a minute, Woodstalk slid to a stop outside the open door and knocked on the frame. Linda was right behind him. “You wanted me, sir? I mean us.”

“Yes! Listen to this.” Herb punched play. Silence and then, “Are you stalking us?”

“That message,” the chief shouted, “was left this morning at 7:53 while I was on my way to work. I want to know where it came from. I want to know who owns the phone it came from. I want to know everything and I want to know it now. Take this thing down to Truman in the lab.”

Herb ripped the power cord from the wall, wrapped it around the device and thrust it into Woodstalk’s hands. The rookie turned and ran from the room and down the hall toward forensics, his footsteps echoing off the paneled walls.

Wouldn’t Miss VBI laugh if she saw me? Herb thought. Tracing phone calls are we? she’d say. He should call her, he knew, fill her in on the message’s ominous question, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet, he told himself. Truman, his head tech, was a good man, an asparagus that never missed the slightest detail. He’d put the pieces together and the GCPD would save the day. Herb would call Miss Stewinsky then.

“Sir?” Linda stood in the doorway, stalk still, waiting. “Did you have anything for me?”

“Oh, sorry Linda. Yes,” he said. “I want you to call GNN, GNBC, GABC, GCBS and GFOX. Find out where they got the photo. If they won’t tell you – Turner probably won’t, I don’t know about the rest – see if we can get a copy.”

“Yes, sir,” Linda said and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Linda,” Herb called out after her. “Don’t tell anyone what you’re doing.”

Linda turned half around, a puzzled look on her face. “Sir?”

“You heard what I said. Go!” Herb’s wish was her command. She went, shaking her leafy head.

Herb turned his thoughts to the upcoming press conference. He had to think. How could he protect himself? How could he spin the truth in his favor? How could he minimize the damage already done? He began scribbling notes on a yellow pad.