The Antique Diary

By Robert Daines

The Antique Diary is as terrifying as your worst nightmares and as timely as today’s headlines. When Susan Chapman buys a diary from the mid-1700’s, she unleashes a chain of events that leads to her being targeted by two hired killers. If the contents of the diary become known, the history of the Catholic Church will have to be rewritten. But it’s not just the Church that wants the diary kept secret—the truth contained in the diary will destroy a billion-dollar tourist destination in Quebec, Canada. The forces of evil are relentless, and Susan Chapman has learned this lesson too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Daines
• Release date: Aug 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9780964505506

Robert Daines

Nicole and Robert Daines are the co-authors of novels, mysteries and inspirational books. They live in Southern California and are the parents of three adult children and eight grandchildren. Their lectures have entertained and inspired audiences across the U.S. and Canada.

Book preview

THE ANTIQUE DIARY

A Mystery by

NICOLE & ROBERT DAINES

HEART TO HEART PUBLISHING

www.NicoleAndRobertDaines.com

The Antique Diary

Nicole Daines and Robert Daines

Published by Heart to Heart Publishing

P.O. Box 2606

Temecula, CA 92593

Smashwords Edition – 120401

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2010 by

Nicole Daines and Robert Daines

All rights reserved under International and

Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.

Cover Design: Nicole Daines

Cover art: Renunciation by Philip H. Calderon, 1891, Tate Britain, London, England

Ebook ISBN 978-0-9645055-0-6

This is a work of fiction. Apart from the actual people, events, and locals that figure in the narrative, all names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to current events or to living persons is entirely coincidental. The town of Putney Park is fictional.

While names of actual historical figures have been included to frame the narrative, all other characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

Dedication

To Aisha and her Afghani sisters.

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil

is for good people to do nothing."

Contents

Title

Dedication

Chapter 1—December 3, 2010

Chapter 2—October 28

Chapter 3

Chapter 4—October 30

Chapter 5—November 6, Boulder, Colorado

Chapter 6—November 7 & 8

Chapter 7—November 9

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14—November 10

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19—November 11

Chapter 20—November 12, 13, 14, 15

Chapter 21—November 16

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24—November 18

Chapter 25—November 19

Chapter 26—November 20

Chapter 27

Chapter 28—November 21

Chapter 29

Chapter 30—November 22, 23, 24,

Chapter 31—November 25, 26

Chapter 32—November 27

Chapter 33—November 28

Chapter 34—November 29

Chapter 35—November 30

Chapter 36—December 1

Chapter 37—December 2

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41—December 3

Chapter 42

Chapter 43—December 4

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46—EPILOGUE

Bibliography

About the Authors

Chapter 1—December 3, 2010, The Colorado Rocky Mountains

Terror gripped her in its icy talons. Susan hid in the corner of the dark closet—heart racing…gasping for air…stone cold panicked.

She heard heavy footsteps coming closer and closer to her hiding place.

Her chest ached with each pounding heartbeat. She could barely breathe—a tourniquet of fear constricted her throat. At twenty-one, Susan Chapman was too young to die.

In the minutes since the crash of her cabin’s front door—bashed open by two hired killers—Susan had been frantically trying to find a safe place to hide. But it was futile. The killers would soon find her in the small cabin.

For weeks she had been in denial, rejecting the possibility that someone like her—an innocent coed—could be the target of psychopaths. She had not heeded the warnings, and now she would pay the price. Susan had foolishly miscalculated the determination of her adversaries. The powerful forces of evil are relentless, and she had learned this lesson too late.

Spasms of terror earthquaked her body. The floorboards outside the closet door creaked. A gruff voice taunted, Susannnn, ooooh Susannnnnn! Come out, come out, wherever you are.

She desperately wished she could turn back time—back to Halloween—to when she had bought the antique diary, and had unwittingly started a chain of events leading to this—her death.

The doorknob turned!

Susan held her breath, awaiting her fate. Only a miracle could save her now.

Chapter 2—October 28

Cedar Rapids, Iowa—Three Days Before Halloween 2010

The fateful day that changed Susan Chapman’s life had started out pleasurably enough—naked and sweaty.

She and Jim had just finished making love. He was laying on his back in the rumpled bed, smiling at the ceiling and bragging. "Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about, baby! Wild ‘n crazy monkey sex! A home run! Out. Of. The. Park!"

She faked a smile. It was her second fake-out of the last hour. Sadly, she hadn’t exactly made it up and over into the Promised Land. It wasn’t really her fiancé’s fault. Susan had issues.

She stretched out her naked body on his bed—a bed as messy as the rest of his apartment. Jim Robinson’s place usually smelled rancid—like milk gone sour. He defensively blamed the foul odor on the nearby cornstarch factory, but nobody really bought that explanation.

Jim tousled Susan’s short blond hair. God, I wish you were here permanently. It’s lonely without you.

She frowned. But it’s your own fault that you’re here and I’m back in Colorado. If you’d followed my advice—taken some graduate courses—but, nooo! You couldn’t wait to start your career.

Hey, back off, Missy! I was damn lucky to get a newspaper job. Most papers aren’t even hiring…especially somebody with no experience.

Yeah, okay…I know you’re right…at least in theory. But when I’m feeling lonely and missing you…well, all the logic in the world doesn’t fill the emptiness. Thank God there’re only eight more crappy months till graduation! I’ve felt majorly abandoned since you left.

Jim shrugged. At least you’ve got a roommate.

"You mean I used to have a roommate. Sure, Annie’s company when she’s there, but ever since she hooked-up with Dark Derik, she’s been sleeping over at his place. According to her, he’s some kind of all-night sex machine. I hate them both."

Jim looked puzzled. That’s his name? Dark Derik?

Naw. Just my nickname.

Because?

Because, well…he’s… And she shrugged. Well, dark. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark aura.

Jim smirked. "Aura, huh? Since when did you start seeing people’s auras?"

Her face reddened. Let’s drop it, okay?

"Sorry to tease you, but sometimes your woo-woo stuff gets to me. Chakras, auras, crystals. Forgive me for being left-brained."

Can we change the subject please?

Good idea. Let’s talk about your Halloween costume. Any luck at the mall?

Nope…and correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t wearing a slutty nun’s costume strike you as, um, I don’t know—sacrilegious?

Jim leered and winked. Well, yeah…that would be the main point, my friend. That’s part of the fun of Halloween. I already have my priest’s costume, so let’s get going on yours.

Jim ogled Susan’s naked body as she got out of bed and began dressing. He enjoyed watching her reverse strip-tease—first sliding into her delicate black thong, followed by a French-cut black lace bra, then a pair of well-worn designer jeans, topped off by a pastel-blue cashmere sweater. As Susan slipped into her Italian loafers, she ran her fingers through her wavy hair.

Jim winked. Damn, you’re a hottie!

Susan wrinkled her nose, pretending not to be flattered. Glad you think so. But, back to my costume…I seriously can’t find what you’re asking for. Face it—Cedar Rapids isn’t big on slutty nun’s costumes. Believe me, I’ve searched and searched. How ‘bout I wear a slutty nurse’s outfit, instead? There are plenty of those.

Gotta admit this place isn’t exactly the epicenter for current fads. But my priest’s outfit won’t make much sense unless you’re wearing a nun’s costume. Let me show you how I find whatever I need.

Still a bit stiff from their love-making, he stretched and groaned, put on his boxer shorts and sauntered over to the computer desk. At 6’3", Jim walked with a gawky slouch. In high school he had grown to this embarrassing height—tall enough for the other kids to stare at him, but not coordinated enough to make the basketball team. Susan always wished he would stop slumping and stand up straight and be proud of his height and who he was.

She watched his computer screen come up with a website. "Nuh-nuh-no! Not eBay, honey! Remember? I am so trying to avoid that place. Seriously, most of my girlfriends are addicted. They even cut classes to make last-minute bids. So far, I’m one of the few holdouts from Auction Hell."

Ignoring her comments, Jim clicked the box My eBay on the site’s homepage. After typing in his password, he motioned for Susan to come sit beside him, and brushed away a pile of dirty laundry.

I’m well-aware of your aversion to eBay, so not to worry. Try to look at this as a ‘one-time-only-thing.’ You don’t even need to open up your own account; you can use mine. I’ll write down my password for you, and I’ll walk you through how to pay for your stuff with my PayPal account.

Susan frowned. But it’s only three days to Halloween. Not enough time for a costume to get here.

No problem—just request the seller to ‘overnight’ it to you. It’ll cost a little extra, but my baby’s worth it.

Jim typed in the word nun on the search bar, and with a tap of the Enter key, the listings for 947 nun items sprang to life on the screen.

He smiled. There you are, Suz—the eBay retail world, 24/7 at your fingertips. Enjoy!

Jim watched her as she surveyed the items. He never tired of looking at her; three years ago, he had fallen in love with Susan Chapman at first sight and never looked back.

Susan became lost gazing at the items on the monitor. Scrolling down the listings, she barely noticed when Jim said, Good-bye, honey, and left for work.

On the screen before her was everything from the mundane to the profane: nun salt and pepper shakers, nun’s rosaries, naughty nun’s latex rubber costumes, the Flying Nun, the Singing Nun, the Nun’s Story, martial arts nun chucks…and finally the perfect item to satisfy Jim—A Super Hot Sexy Naughty Nun Halloween Costume!!!! Buy it Now, There’s Still Time!!!

After purchasing the costume, Susan returned to a listing that had grabbed her attention when she was looking through the list of nuns’ items. She had experienced a twinge of nostalgia when first glimpsing it and wanted to look at it more closely.

Enlarging the picture, she felt emotional—filled with a strange yearning sensation as she read the description:

From an estate liquidation in Quebec City, Canada, comes this Ursuline nun’s antique rosary, with well-worn black wood prayer beads and eight attached religious medals and a unique nun’s locket. The rosary measures 22 inches long, including the crucifix. Estimated to be from the mid 1700’s, this rare find will be a cherished item for the serious collector who appreciates religious antiquities. Also included with the rosary is the nun’s diary, written in French. (Some mildew and the edges of the pages show wear-and-tear.)

Susan reached out and touched the computer screen, stroking the image of the rosary. She felt a strange compulsion to feel the actual beads, to hold the rosary in her hands. There was only one hour and nineteen minutes left on the bidding.

Susan placed a bid for the rosary. As she stared at the computer screen, the minutes ticked away, and the bidding heated up. Her emotions ramped-up from wanting, to desiring, and eventually to passionately coveting the rosary. In a rush of adrenaline, she kept raising her bid against the other bidders until the very last second of the auction.

Susan felt euphoric when she saw the words, Congratulations! You are the high bidder. Click here to pay.

But then her emotions roller-coastered from the euphoric high of winning, down to the basement of embarrassment. What the hell did I just do?

She knew what Jim would say—that she just as easily could have purchased a new rosary for under $20.00.

But it’s not about having just any rosary. I need to have this one. Seriously!

How could she justify spending so much money on an item that—until only about an hour ago—she didn’t even know existed? And because she had charged her purchase to Jim’s PayPal account, he would eventually find out exactly how foolish she had been. Down to the penny.

Susan felt confused and defensive—already imagining the questions that Jim would soon be asking her.

Damn it! Should’ve thought ahead and opened my own account—then Jim wouldn’t know what an idiot I am. How am I gonna explain that an atheist like me just paid an absurd amount for a rosary? What the hell’s wrong with me?

Chapter 3

When Susan heard Jim unlocking the apartment door, her stomach knotted. I’d better get out in front of this rosary fiasco. Explain it before Jim gets his PayPal bill. I hate feeling like this—on the defensive. Got to get a backbone! Jim Robinson is not the boss of me!

Jim pretended to be angry as he entered the apartment and dropped his jacket on a chair. Hey, you’ve got some splainin’ to do, Lucy! Imagine my surprise when I got an email from PayPal, informing me that I’d just paid $525.00 for a rosary! A ROSARY! And a used one, at that!

Susan blushed with embarrassment. "Don’t start with me! It’s all your fault! I warned you I was afraid of what would happen if I went on eBay. It’s seriously like I was sucked into a black hole and fell into some kind of parallel universe!"

Jim smirked. A universe where you were somehow forced against your will into paying over half a grand for a rosary?

"You make it sound so…well, ludicrous. But okay, yeah…maybe you’re right…when I hear it in actual, out-loud words, it does sound kinda nuts…someone like me paying all that money for a rosary."

"Ya think? Did I miss the memo where you stopped being an atheist?"

But I am! Absolutely! Totally stopped believing in God when my family was wiped out.

Jim immediately back-tracked from the topic, wanting to avert Susan’s mind from her family’s tragedy. Hey…sorry I mentioned the atheist thing. It’s my need for logic. My immediate thought was it’s completely out of character for you to buy anything religious. You’re one of the most anti-religious people I know. Plus, you’ve made such a point of telling me you’re saving your money for your wedding gown. See how it confused me? The whole rosary thing? Befuddling.

Yep…with a capital ‘B.’ Susan sadly shook her head, feeling teary. I don’t understand it, either. Something just sort of overcame me when I saw that rosary…I felt this strong urge to feel it in my hands. I wanted to have it for my own. By the time the bidding was over, I was sweating and shaking.

Jim took Susan into his arms. Looks like you were right about the whole staying away from eBay thing—I never should’ve led you there. Forced you, really. As you said, it’s obviously all my fault. Like everything else that’s wrong in the world—wars, pestilence, the poor economy, calories. I’m the one to blame.

Susan grinned. Thanks, honey. I needed to see the humor in this. And you’re right about the money—that’s money I’ve been setting aside for the wedding. Definitely foolish to spend it on a rosary. What the hell was I thinking? When the rosary comes, I’ll send it right back. Immediately. Won’t even open the package. Hopefully, I’ll get my money refunded.

Chapter 4—October 30

Two days later, an overnight Special Delivery parcel from Quebec arrived at Jim’s apartment. Susan put the padded manila envelope on the kitchen table and stared at it, feeling relieved that Jim wasn’t there.

I know I told him I wouldn’t open it, but it can’t hurt to just hold the rosary for a few minutes. Then I’ll send it back. Right back.

Susan excitedly cut open the envelope. She gently turned it upside down over the table and out slipped the antique diary—carefully wrapped in tissue paper—and a small black, silk pouch.

Her hands shook as she opened the pouch and took out the rosary. When she touched it, strong emotions surged through her, connecting her to lost childhood innocence, to a distant magical time in her life when both Santa Claus and God were real.

Susan loved the feel of the beads and the well-worn medals. She inspected the rosary closely—noting the centuries-old tarnish on the silver medals, and fingering the smooth, worn prayer beads. She held it to her breast like a lost treasure.

If only this rosary could talk! I wonder how many prayers have been said on these beads? The medals have been rubbed and rubbed, like a genie’s lamp, maybe hoping God would grant the nun’s wishes. What were the things she prayed for? How old was she when she recited her first rosary? And how old when she prayed her last? A two hundred and seventy-year-old rosary! And now it’s here, in my hands! Amazing!

For some reason, Susan felt compelled to recite the rosary prayers. Thank God Jim isn’t here, and I can pray in private. He would never understand… but I’m not sure I do, either.

Susan followed the ritual she had learned so many years ago. She kissed the crucifix and blessed herself. The antique metal cross was inlaid with ebony, and the sterling silver body of Jesus had been rubbed smooth. She felt emotional as she began saying the Apostle’s Creed, I believe in God the Father, Almighty...

Susan was amazed at how easily the words came to her. As effortlessly as fragrance comes forth from a rose, she recited each of the rosary prayers. Susan felt as though something else—or maybe someone else—was praying through her.

Thirty-five minutes later, when each prayer had been said, and each rosary bead caressed, Susan wiped the tears from her cheeks and felt completely drained. She curled up on Jim’s bed for a nap, holding the rosary in her hand. Praying is much more exhausting than I remember it.

A half-hour later, she was startled awake by the sound of the apartment door closing. Jim was home from his Aikido lesson.

Suzy! Where are you?

She yelled, Back here…in the bedroom.

Jim came into the bedroom, still wearing his sweaty martial arts uniform. You feeling okay honey? You don’t look so good.

Susan struggled for coherence, still feeling half asleep. Just my usual sucky nightmare about…you know…my family being burned up in the plane crash. She frowned. But this time the nun was in the plane, too.

What nun?

The nun who owned this. Susan opened her hand, showing Jim the rosary.

Jim cocked an eyebrow. I thought you said you weren’t going to open the package—so you wouldn’t be tempted to keep it.

She lowered her eyes, chagrined. I know, I know. Just couldn’t resist.

He winked. Let me guess…you were sucked through a black hole into an alternate universe.

Yeah…like that.

Jim took the rosary from her outstretched hand and looked at it. Well…I will say this—it’s definitely old. He handed it back to her.

Susan heaved a deep sigh. Please don’t laugh at me…but I actually got teary when I prayed on it. At first, I wasn’t going to tell you about praying, but then I remembered how you said we’re going to create a relationship based on truth. To not have secrets from each other. But dammit, I’ve gotta admit that I feel…I don’t know…sort of ashamed or something. It’s kind of like when my old boyfriend hid his porn from me because he was embarrassed and ashamed. For some reason, I feel kind of like that…like I want to hide the fact that I actually prayed on this thing. You know as well as I do that I’m an atheist. So how come I feel so emotional about this rosary?

Jim shook his head and shrugged. Couldn’t tell you, honey. Religion is something that’s never even remotely interested me. Missed that gene, entirely. I’m way too logical for superstitions and magical thinking. But maybe I can see why you’re intrigued with this particular rosary. Like that heart locket. What’s inside?

It’s for holding the nun’s vows. I remember my Aunt Mary Angeline showing me hers. She was a Carmelite nun. Lived to be 95. Her vows were written down real, real small, and folded up inside the locket. Susan tried to pry open the heart locket on the rosary. But I can’t get it open. I guess it’s corroded after two hundred and seventy-some years.

Well, be careful and don’t damage it. So you can get a full refund of your money.

Susan lowered her eyes.

Jim said, Suze?

What?

You’re not sending it back, are you?

She sucked in her lower lip. Then blew out a long sigh. Well, here’s the thing. I’ve been thinking, and… She fiddled with the rosary.

And?

Come into the kitchen, and let me show you something that’s gonna fascinate you.

When they entered the kitchen, she pointed to the tissue-wrapped diary on the table. There. Open it.

Jim removed the tissue. He examined the outside of the diary; it was four inches wide, by five inches long, and one inch thick. He stroked the old, black leather cover; the gold tooling had worn away in spots. The book looked every bit its age.

He opened up the delicate pages and made a prune-face. Smells mildewy. So tell me what, exactly, I’m supposed to be looking for. You do know I don’t understand French, right?

Susan’s shoulders slumped. "Damn it all, Jim! Don’t you feel anything?"

"Nope, nothing. And that’s the wrong question to ask someone like me. You should ask what I think, not what I feel."

"Okay, then. What the freakin’ hell do you think when you look at the diary?"

He grimaced. Only that it’s a damn expensive book. If we divide in half what you paid for both of the nun’s things, then this diary cost you $262.50. And you can’t even read it!

Susan was frustrated. "How can you even put a price tag on these things? Where the hell’s your sense of mystery? You’re looking at a truly amazing book—an opportunity to peer inside the heart and mind of a woman from hundreds of years ago, and you only think of it in terms of dollars and cents! I seriously do not get you!"

Jim laid the diary on the table, sat down in a kitchen chair and crossed his arms, looking obstinate. Clenching his jaw, he glared at the diary.

Susan pleaded, "Okay. Okay. For one freakin’ minute can you put aside your cynical nature and open your mind to the possibility that maybe the Universe is giving you a huge opportunity here?"

He smirked sarcastically. Enlighten me.

She took a quick breath. "What if it wasn’t an accident that I bid on these things? What if this is a meant to be kind of thing? What if this diary has been—I don’t know—maybe laying in wait for all of these centuries? For you, specifically!" She picked up the diary and opened it and began looking through the pages. Oh, my God, LOOK, Jim! There are sketches in here! Of a beautiful woman. Look!

Jim tried not to look interested, but briefly glanced at the sketches in the diary. He grimaced. OK, so big deal. There are sketches in there…and…well, she’s not bad looking. Attractive, really. But I don’t get why you’re so all amped-up about this.

Susan pushed down her frustration, trying to coax Jim into being interested in the diary. She forced a smile. Work with me on this…what if inside these pages, there’s a story that needs telling? Something that the world needs to hear?

He rolled his eyes. For example?

She looked off in the distance, trying to come up with an example. "Well…I’ll admit I don’t know exactly what it might be. But don’t you think it’s at least worth the effort to have someone translate it and find out?"

Susan carefully turned the diary’s pages. Here’s something you might find interesting—a sketch of a ship.

Jim appeared bored and remained silent as Susan kept looking through the diary. Look, honey—here’s a sketch of her after she became a nun. See?

Susan put the book down on the table, right in front of him, open to the page of the beautiful nun. Then she went behind him, leaning in, pushing her breast against his shoulder to make sure she had his attention. She pointed to the sketch. I’m wondering why this attractive woman gave up everything and became a nun. How can you not be intrigued?

Jim thought for awhile, considering what Susan had said.

His stubborn expression eventually softened.

Then he sighed.

And finally chuckled. I give up! You are a force of nature, Susan Chapman!

He shook his head in amazement. I think you have enough enthusiasm about this thing for the two of us. But I’ve gotta admit I don’t have the right to dismiss what you’re saying unless I actually know what’s inside the diary.

She beamed. Now you’re talkin’. Susan began massaging Jim’s shoulders.

He gazed at the sketch of the pretty young woman. It just so happens I know the perfect person to translate this thing. Remember François La Foche? You met him when you were here last summer.

She nodded. Yeah. Didn’t he live with your family back when he was a foreign exchange student?

Yep. Now he’s moved here permanently. Became a citizen last year. He’s due back any day from a business trip. He owes me big time, so I think I can get him to translate it for free.

She winked. Cool…your favest price…free!

I’ll need you to leave the diary here with me. Until it’s translated.

Okay. But you guys better take good care of it—understood?

Jim nodded.

She pointed to a sketch of the girl. And before I go, I want a photocopy of this sketch, to take with me back to school.

I’ll do it right now, on my scanner. And, while I’m at it, I’ll scan your rosary, just in case those medals are connected in some way with the diary.

Susan felt excited—happy that she was going to soon find out about the attractive-looking nun whose rosary she felt compelled to own.

Reading the nun’s diary will be like receiving messages from beyond the grave—how cool is that?

Chapter 5—November 6, Boulder, Colorado

Susan was laying on her narrow bed, absently staring around her dreary dorm room as she talked to Jim on the phone. She was glad her roommate was gone and she could talk to Jim in private. Our being apart totally sucks!

"I know, baby. Phone sex is just not the same thing as actually being together. But…well, it is better than nothing—know what I mean? His voice grew husky; she could sense his pheromones over the phone. Like, right now, looking at the Halloween photos of you in your sexy nun’s costume…mmm…"

On the other side of the room, her roommate’s bed was neatly made; Annie hadn’t slept in it for the three nights since Susan’s return from Cedar Rapids. Annie only used their room to study and get a fresh change of clothing. Susan grimaced, remembering Annie saying, "Derik’s addictive, Suzy. He should be labeled a ‘Controlled Substance,’ for sure!"

Susan gazed across the room at the photo of Annie and her boyfriend—they were an unlikely-looking couple: short, skinny, 21-year-old Annie with her wild, frizzy red hair, and tall, dark, 33-year-old Derik, looking menacing in his Boulder Police Uniform. Bet he could bring criminals to their knees just by his threatening stare, alone. Talk about scary vibes. Wish to hell I wasn’t so attracted to him. What is it about bad boys?

Outside the dorm window, the first blizzard of the year was swirling snow through the bare branches of the trees. Susan felt as forlorn as the howling November wind.

"Jimmy, I’ve gotta tell you, I am not a happy camper—I feel like climbing the walls. They still haven’t found any of the missing girls. Everyone in town is freaked-out. How could fifteen girls just disappear into thin air? Makes me afraid to go out alone at night."

Jim’s voice was tense. "And if some guy tries to kidnap you, what are you going to do? Automatically? Without signaling your intentions?"

She knew the drill. Two fingers hard to one eyeball and a fast knee-jam to the balls.

Good girl.

I hate living in fear! Why can’t the cops catch that asshole?

You’re kidding, right? If they haven’t been able to catch the guy who killed JonBenét Ramsey, what makes you think they can catch the Boulder kidnapper?

This is creeping me out. Let’s change the subject. Damn, I wish you were here! I seriously need you to tell me something that’ll cheer me up.

When Jim didn’t answer, Susan wondered if her cell phone had dropped out. Hello? Can you hear me?

Yes…I’m just trying to decide whether or not to tell you something…a particular something that’ll for sure make you feel really great.

HEY! Seriously? Spill it, mister! What are you waiting for? Tell me NOW!

He chuckled. Okay, but I’m just going to tell you enough to help buoy your spirits. You’re gonna have to wait until later for the whole story—the whole, big, scandalous story.

Pul-EASE! I’m getting older by the minute!

She could hear the smile in his voice. Yeah, yeah, okay. François finally got back from his business trip.

He DID? When? Why didn’t you tell me?

He got back early yesterday morning. The reason I didn’t tell you is because…well, sometimes François procrastinates on things. And I wasn’t sure how long it would actually take him to get around to reading the diary…and I wasn’t really looking forward to your nagging me about it.

"I do not nag!"

Of course not! What was I thinking?

SO? Has he read it?

Indeed he has. Told me he couldn’t put it down. Read it straight through—even stayed up all night.

Oh, my God! I’m tingling! Come on and tell me what he found out!

I’ll do better than that. I’ll let you read François’s own words about it. In fact, I’m emailing you right now, with the link to his blog. Is your computer on?

Yep. Susan grabbed her laptop computer from her bedside table.

When Jim’s email came through, she clicked on the link to François’s web site. François La Foche was an emotive, overly-dramatic person, and his blog reflected that fact. If he were paid a dollar for every exclamation mark and ALL-CAPITALIZED WORD, François would be a very rich man, indeed.

Susan smiled as she read the title of his blog: MY OPINION, AND I DO HAVE ONE!!!!

His most recent post was written an hour ago, and Susan got goose bumps as she read it:

Mon Dieu, this is the MOST EXCITING day of my Ultra-Exciting Life!!! I have just finished