“You really think it’s ‘er?” Davy asked. “I mean – she doesn’t give any clues.”

“It’s her,” Micky replied with an even sterner frown. “I’m positive it’s her.”

Mike raised his right eyebrow slightly but said nothing.

Jenny guessed who they were talking about. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to make sure?” she asked.

“We don’t need to,” Micky replied. “I know it’s her.”

“But ‘ow can you be sure?” Davy asked. “ It could be some sort of a stalker or something.”

Micky shook his head. “I don’t know who else it could be!” he replied vehemently. With that final phrase he turned and stalked out the back door. Jenny heaved a sigh and followed after him.

“Micky, wait!” she called.

Davy sighed and turned to Mike. “You don’t think it’s her, do you?” he asked.

Mike shrugged. “Doubt it,” he replied with a frown, turning back to the letter from his mom, which he had been reading calmly.

“I know it’s her, Jen,” Micky insisted, pacing back and forth restlessly across the porch. “I’m almost positive of it.” He heaved a sigh and paused in his walking to stare at the restless ocean waves. “I knew this would happen some day.”

Jenny stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know you’re scared,” she told him in a soft voice. “But I’m worried that you may be a bit premature in this.”

Micky turned sharply, breaking the embrace. “It’s her,” he insisted. “You’ve never met her. But I know her. I was married to her, Jen! I thought I knew her, and I didn’t. If anyone knows how she thinks, it’s me. And this,” he waved the paper in front of her. “is just how she would get back at me!”

Jenny sighed. “I know that, Mick,” she replied with a sigh, stepping towards him and reaching out towards him with one hand. “You just need to be open to the possibility that it may be someone else.”

Micky shook his head silently, closing his eyes and sighing. “I know, Jen,” he whispered softly. “I’m just sure it’s her.”

She nodded, not wishing to engage in another argument with him, but sighed as she wrapped her arms around him, trying to help him to calm down.

“It doesn’t matter who it is,” Peter told his band mates as he sipped his cup of coffee. “We still have to deal with it.”

“I know,” Mike replied, adjusting the tuning on his guitar. “But Micky doesn’t want to do anything yet or get the authorities involved.”

“Whoever it is ‘asn’t really done anything besides write one letter,” Davy pointed out. Then he silenced himself as Micky was coming in.

The four Monkees were at the studio that day, rehearsing for their fourth album, which they were scheduled to begin recording the following week. During a break from the rehearsals, Micky had gone out to get a drink. Mike and Davy had taken the moment to fill Peter in on the situation and discuss their best options. As Micky came back into the studio, however, they decided to cease the discussion for fear of upsetting their drummer.

In the two days since the letter’s arrival, there had been nothing more from Micky’s “stalker,” but the curly – haired man had steadfastly refused to do anything about it. He would not speak about it, and he refused to address the possibility that it might be anyone besides his ex-wife.

Meanwhile, progress was steady on the new house. It needed a few renovations before they could move in. And while the renovations were continuing, the couple was preparing for their wedding.

The recording sessions were scheduled to take several months, and so there would be a necessary break in the middle while the ceremony and honeymoon took place. At first, Micky and Jenny had suggested postponing it to wait for the album to be completed, but the others had told them that would be a bad idea, because once the album was finished, there would be necessary promotions to do on that would force the wedding back even farther. So it was being squeezed in.

In the meantime, however, the stress of the wedding, the rehearsals, the house, and the new mysterious letter were taking their toll on Micky. He looked more tired than usual, and he was more apt to snap at people than he had been before. He was trying to hide it, but the others could see that the worry was catching up to him.

“’Ey, Micky,” Davy suggested as politely as possible. “You look a bit worn out…” He paused, trying to think of what to say.

“Yeah?” Micky asked, waiting somewhat impatiently for him to finish.

“So we were thinkin’ maybe you might want to go home and rest a bit,” Mike continued, since Davy had been a bit stuck.

“Don’t you need me?” Micky asked.

Peter shook his head. “We seem to have the drum sections mastered so far,” he explained. “But Davy’s still got to work on the vocals to this new song. We can do that without you.”

Davy frowned slightly at the thought that his voice was less than perfect, but nodded in collaboration. “Right,” he agreed with a nod. “You go on ahead and we’ll finish up here.”

Micky looked reluctant, and glanced towards Mike, who simply nodded in his direction. “Okay,” he agreed with a sigh. “I am a little tired. I guess I’ll go home and take a nap.” He smiled slightly. “See ya all later,” he added with a wave as he turned and walked out of the studio.

The other three watched him go.

“He needs this break,” Peter commented as the door closed behind his friend, and the others nodded in agreement.

Jenny surveyed the inside of what was to be her new house. The living room was done being painted, and the kitchen was half – finished. She was pleased with the arrangement so far.

She placed the box she had been carrying on the floor of the living room. It was rather heavy. She had filled it with books and knickknacks that she planned to fill the living room with. The only problem was that the bookcase she intended to put them on had not yet been assembled.

“Oh well, I guess I can do it myself,” she said aloud to no one in particular, and opened the large cardboard box. Inside she spotted a few pieces of wood and a piece of paper with instructions on it. She surveyed the paper. It didn’t seem too difficult. All she would need would be a screwdriver, which she already had.

“Piece of cake,” Jenny told herself as she began searching for the first piece of wood. She found it, and began lifting the heavy object out of the box. She had just leaned it up against the wall she planned to have the bookcase against when the phone rang.

She was so startled she jumped, and nearly caused the board to fall over. The last owner of the house had passed away recently, according to the person they had bought it from. The seller, who had been left the house in a will, had decided that the next people would probably need the phone, and as the house was sold relatively quickly, it had not been disconnected. But Jenny was not even sure of the phone number, and knew she hadn’t given it to anyone. Furthermore, she didn’t recall telling anyone she was planning on being there that afternoon.

After a few seconds of thought, she realized it must be a telephone solicitor, and decided not to answer it. So she ignored the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth rings as she went back to the instructions for the desk. But as she began to remove the second large board from the cardboard box and the phone began to ring for the tenth time, she began to wonder if it was perhaps worth answering the call.

As she heaved the second board against the wall, the phone went into its fifteenth ring, and she decided to answer it before it drove her crazy. So she headed into the kitchen to answer the phone.

“Hello?” she asked impatiently into the receiver.

“Jenny? Is that you?” a small voice asked on the other end.

“Who are you?” Jenny asked.

“It’s Thomas,” the boy replied. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jenny replied. “Why wouldn’t I be? Thomas – where did you get this number?”

“I managed,” Thomas replied, dodging the question. “Look, Jenny, I haven’t got much time. I’m at school and I’m supposed to be in the bathroom. You’ve gotta get out of there.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas answered. “But I can tell that there’s something really bad heading that way.” There was a click on the line. “I’ve gotta go,” he told her. “I don’t have another dime.”

“Thomas, wait,” Jenny began. “Bad how? What do you mean?” But the boy was already gone.

“Something bad,” she mused. With a frown, she walked out of the kitchen and through the living room. She headed out the front door, and glanced down the street.

She half – expected to see something evil coming down the road. A large tornado, perhaps. A big black cloud. Even a black mafia – like limo. But there was nothing. The houses seemed calm and peaceful. The street was totally empty. A little red Volkswagen turned down the street and puttered past her harmlessly, and Jenny could see that there was a little old man driving it, and a little old lady sitting next to him.

Definitely not evil.

But Thomas had said something evil was coming…hadn’t he?

Evil how?

Evil what? Had the boy lost his mind?

She shrugged. “Maybe he was wrong,” she thought out loud. “Maybe Thomas doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” She shrugged again and walked into the house.

Micky turned his little blue convertible into the driveway of what was now his (and Jenny’s) new house. He was happy about taking the afternoon off, and planned to surprise his fiancé and take her out to lunch.

Everything seemed peaceful on the street. Calm. Simple. Suburban. He breathed a sigh and strolled into the house.

But everything was not calm, simple, or peaceful. There was something definitely wrong.

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