Eyes of a Stalker Read online

  “Thanks, Dad.” I felt close to tears as it hit me that my dad, who’d always been the strongest, most powerful guy in the world to me, was scared. For me.

  Then I felt really angry, thinking, what right does this cretin have to come along and upset my life and my parents’ lives this way? We’re supposed to be safe, living in a small town where everyone knows everyone else.

  Of course, they don’t really. A town would have to be awfully small for you to know absolutely everyone. But it’s still the kind of community where you get the feeling that you’re safe, if you know what I mean. Like we’re all part of this place and no one is going to go around hurting anyone else.

  I shoved aside the fear and anger as best I could when I got to the theatre. Betts was already there, peering out through the large glass window that gives you a clear view of the whole lobby. I told myself I was going to have a good time with my friend and not let any of this bother me.

  “Thanks for the drive, Dad, and for the alarm,” I said. “We’ll be home right after the show.”

  “If you go anywhere else, be sure to call,” Dad said. I promised I would and slid out of the car, waving back to Betts, whose hand was fluttering wildly, like it was even possible that I might not see her in her bright green jacket with a fluffy white collar.

  “I got our tickets already,” she said, hurrying over and grabbing my arm. “I didn’t know what you’d want from concessions, though. Why don’t we each get in a line-up and then whoever gets to the counter first can order?”

  “What’s the big rush? The show doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.”

  “I want to get a seat in the back row.”

  “The back row?” I was instantly suspicious. Betts is terrified of heights, and even gets dizzy with theatre seating. “You never sit way up there. You can hardly make it halfway.”

  “Well, I want to this time.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I saw Nicki Wooten going in a few minutes ago.”

  Nicki goes out with Edison, and any time we’ve seen them at the theatre, they’re always in the top row. Of course, in Betts’s feverish mind, Edison being there meant there was a chance Kevin would be too, so a seat at the back could mean she’d be near him.

  What she apparently hadn’t stopped to think through was the fact that if Kevin were there, it would be with a date. He was hardly going to hang out with Edison and Nicki unless they were doubling. I mentioned this to Betts.

  “You’re right.” She sighed and looked so crestfallen that I was almost sorry I’d said anything.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s just forget about guys for the evening and enjoy the show.”

  Easier said than done, considering that the story was one of those light, romantic comedies with a little heartbreak thrown in. On the plus side, there was no sign of Kevin, though there were a lot of guys there who were in the drama club. Besides Edison, we saw Ben Hebert, Jimmy Farrell, Darren Fischer, Tyrone Breau, and their dates all pass us on the way to seats higher up.

  From the drama club, Kevin Montoya, Eric Green, and Jimmy Roth were the only three guys who weren’t there. Of course, there were lots of other kids we knew at the show that night, too. There’s always a crowd the first night of any new teen movie.

  It occurred to me that I was paying particular attention to who was there from the drama club, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. Then, Betts’s comments about Eric Green came back to me. That has to be it, I told myself.

  I shook these thoughts off and concentrated on the movie, which was kind of fun, but just as predictable as you’d expect. I wonder sometimes why producers even bother with the big dramatic misunderstandings that are supposed to trick you into thinking there’s a chance the romance won’t work out.

  I noticed, when we filed out afterward, that most of the couples seemed a lot cosier than they had been when they arrived. Holding hands, walking closer, smiling at each other. It was like the movie had spread a little dusting of romance over them.

  And over Betts, too, judging by her dreamy-eyed comments about how magical it really is when two people are meant to be together.

  As we walked toward my place, Betts switched topics to lament the loss of The Scream Machine. It used to be the best place in Little River for teens to hang out, a place where they served greasy food and thick milkshakes and didn’t care if you were a bit noisy. But it was sold earlier this year, and the new owner changed the name to “River Belle” and turned it into one of those fancy dessert places with specialty coffee. The booths were gone, replaced by tiny round tables and wrought iron chairs. None of us felt comfortable there anymore, but even if we had, the crazy prices would have driven us away.

  As occupied as we were talking about this injustice, it would have been easy not to see him. Really, it’s a wonder that I noticed him at all.

  It was the way he was moving that drew my attention. He was across the street and a few yards behind us. My peripheral vision caught him as we turned onto my street.

  Beside me, Betts was still talking, but I no longer heard her. I fought down the panic that told me to grab her arm and run like mad for my place.

  There’s no danger, I told myself. I’m not alone and I have my alarm with me. Everyone on this street knows me. Help is right here.

  “This is my chance.” I told myself that if I could just get a look at his face, at least I’d know whom I was dealing with.

  “What?” Betts bent her head to one side, her face curious.

  I realized I’d spoken aloud, even if it was in a hushed voice. I held a finger up to signal “just a second” to Betts, and tried to look casual as I bent down and fiddled with my shoelace. As I did, I watched him move another step or two. Then he paused. I could read uncertainty in his body language as he tried to decide whether or not I’d noticed him.

  The unfortunate thing — and for sure it was deliberate — was that he was wearing a big sweatshirt with the hood up. There was no way to see his face from where Betts and I were stopped.

  I willed him to come a bit closer, to get right underneath the streetlight that was just yards away from him, but he wasn’t budging. In fact, he started to edge backward without taking any actual steps.

  When I stood back upright, it was like I’d given him a signal. He turned and ran, racing along the street, past a few houses, and then disappearing behind a hedge that lined someone’s driveway. Assuming he’d gone through their backyard, he’d be a block over and near an intersection that would give him four directions from which to choose his next move.

  “Who was that?”

  I knew I had no choice then. Betts was staying for the night and I was going to have to tell my parents about this as soon as I got home. I took a deep breath, swore her to secrecy about five times, and then told her what was going on.

  She was the first one to use the word I’d been refusing to accept, probably because it just made the whole thing seem worse.

  “A stalker!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “You have no idea who it was?”

  I was tired of the question, which Betts had asked at least four times since we’d reached my place. Now, I don’t like to be suspicious of her motives, since she is my best friend and all. I kept thinking that of course she wouldn’t be enjoying any of this, but she did sound almost, well, excited about the whole thing.

  My parents had, as you might expect, been very upset to hear about the guy who was following us. They called the police right away and then we all sat and waited for them.

  The officers who came were new to me and I ended up explaining the whole thing from the start, even though they’d been briefed at work on my original complaint.

  This pair, both male, seemed terribly mismatched personality-wise, and I couldn’t help but wonder how they managed to work together. One, Officer Nash, had a friendly, relaxed approach, but the other, Officer Mueller, was stone-faced and abrupt. He made me feel as though I were making the whole thing up. And, unfortunately,
he did most of the talking.

  “So, Miss Belgarden, what makes you think this person was following you?” Mueller asked after I’d gone over what had happened.

  “Well, he had his face hidden, you know, with the hood, and when he realized that I’d noticed him, he took off running the other way.”

  “Maybe he had his hood up because he was cold,” Mueller said.

  I didn’t know how to argue with that.

  “If you didn’t see this person’s face, how can you be sure it was a male?”

  “Well, the way he walked, and his build. And the way he ran when he took off.”

  “Uh huh. And you’re quite certain he ran because you looked at him and not because he’d suddenly remembered he was late for something, or because he realized he was on the wrong street?”

  “If you don’t mean to take this seriously,” my father’s voice cut in from the doorway behind me, “please let me know right now so that I can ask to have someone else sent out. My daughter is not the hysterical type and she is not imagining this. This person has already contacted Shelby twice. His messages have been disturbing and bordering on threatening.”

  “Sir, with respect to tonight’s incident,” Mueller said, seemingly unruffled by my dad’s words. “I am simply trying to determine whether or not there is enough evidence for us to act on the complaint. I don’t doubt that someone has bothered your daughter. I’m just questioning whether or not this pedestrian is related to the earlier incidents. We can’t chase after everyone who happens to be walking down the street near your daughter.”

  My dad took a couple of steps toward him, his eyes blazing, but before he could speak, Officer Nash broke in.

  “Of course, Officer Mueller doesn’t mean to imply that we don’t plan to take Shelby’s complaint seriously,” he said. “We have her description and we’ll cruise around and look for this person, though chances are he’s disappeared by now. And we’ll see that your house is patrolled throughout the night. In the meantime, if you see or hear anything suspicious, and I mean anything, you be sure to call us right away.”

  Mueller looked kind of annoyed and I realized with a start that he’d actually been hoping for a confrontation. Not a good sign in a cop, if you want my opinion. He put me more in mind of a school bully than someone who was supposed to serve and protect.

  Dad, on the other hand, is pretty even-tempered. It takes a lot to get him angry, but Mueller had done it without trying. Even so, he calmed down quickly when Nash assured him they were going to follow up on what I’d told them.

  I wondered, if it had just been Mueller, what he’d have done. As it stood, I had a pretty good feeling that Nash would see to it that they did a thorough check of the neighbourhood. I did agree with him, though, that it was unlikely they’d find anyone.

  The main thing I’d been able to tell them was that the guy had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. It would be easy enough for him to take it down and tuck it inside. Then he could walk around as casual as you please without so much as drawing a glance from anyone.

  If only I’d been able to see his face. Just one glimpse could have ended this thing right there. It could also have ended Betts’s annoying repetitions that I must have some idea who it was, followed by questions asking who did I think it was, and what could this guy want, and on and on.

  “Betts, honestly, I have no idea. Not a clue.”

  “Yeah, but do you think it’s someone from school?”

  “Probably, but I don’t know for sure.”

  “Well, he must know you from somewhere,” she pressed, determined to pin me down on at least one point.

  “I guess.”

  “So, if he’s not from school, where do you… hey! Maybe it’s that guy who works at The Korner Store!”

  “Betts…”

  “You know — the one with the crooked smile! That would be cool. He’s cute!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not The Korner Store guy, and anyway, who cares if the stalker is cute or not?” I asked, exasperated. “He’s turning my life into a nightmare. The phone rings and I jump. Every time I walk down the street I wonder if he’s watching me. This isn’t some kind of game, Betts. It’s real. And it’s scaring me.”

  She finally seemed to get it. At least, she stopped talking about it like it was a romantic movie or something, and started taking it seriously.

  We went around a few different ideas, and I made notes. I’ve always found it helps to write things down, but there hardly seemed to be any point in writing this stuff. None of it was likely to point to the culprit. I did it anyway, probably from force of habit, and this is what I ended up with:

  Plant. White calla lily. Delivered around five p.m. on November 27th. Note said, “You will always be mine.” Delivery had been arranged by mail by a person unknown.

  Phone call. Said things like he was going to make me his queen and that I belong to him and I was his for all time. Spoke in a creepy whisper.

  Followed me home from theatre. Person wore jeans and dark blue sweatshirt with hood pulled up. Average build. Probably between 5’ 9” and 6’ tall. Ran off when spotted.

  “Well,” Betts said when I’d finished, “at least you know you’ll have other chances, unless he decides to just give up.”

  Other chances. I knew she meant to cheer me, but her words had the opposite effect. The worst thing was, she was right. I didn’t know much about stalkers, but I did know this: they hardly ever give up.

  I’d almost certainly hear from this guy again. The question was, would I see him too, and if I did, would I be in danger?

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next morning I felt about as rested as if I’d spent the night doing aerobics. A shower helped a little, but I was still somewhat groggy when I made my way to the kitchen. Maybe breakfast would help.

  Mom and Dad were at the table, coffee cups in front of them. They both looked as tired as I felt.

  “Hey, sunshine,” Dad said. “You sleep okay?” His voice sounded cheerful and he smiled, but the smile stopped before it got to his eyes.

  “I guess. Any sign of Betts?” I glanced around, as if they might be hiding her in the cupboards or something.

  “Not yet,” Mom said. “But she’s not really an early riser, as I recall.”

  “True.” I smiled at the thought of how grumpy Betts can be if you wake her before ten o’clock (at the earliest) on a Saturday. She’ll make these weird, growling noises that sound like there’s a bear in the bed, and cling to her blanket as if it’s the most valuable thing in the whole world. Honestly, I don’t know how she manages to get up for school through the week.

  “I caught Ernie trying to sneak into her room this morning,” Mom told me. “She hadn’t shut the spare room door tightly and he was pushing it open with his head when I spotted him.”

  “Could have been the end of him,” Dad said.

  “Yeah, she probably wouldn’t have given him the warmest possible welcome,” I agreed. Ernie isn’t exactly subtle when he wants to wake someone up. I couldn’t picture Betts taking kindly to his cold nose, tickly whiskers, and rough tongue on her face — and that’s just when he’s getting started.

  “Speaking of Ernie, Mr. Stanley is visiting today,” Mom said.

  I’d completely forgotten that this was one of the weekends when Mr. Stanley spends part of the day with our family. He comes every second week, usually right after lunch, and stays through dinner, returning to his nursing home around seven or eight in the evening.

  He isn’t a relative or anything, and we’ve only known Mr. Stanley for a few months, so it might seem strange that we have him over so often if you don’t know that he’s Ernie’s original owner. I first met him a while back when I was trying frantically to find out what had happened to a co-worker who’d disappeared. Our paths crossed again later on when I was passing his apartment building and I saw him on a stretcher being taken to an ambulance. I offered to babysit Ernie while he was in the hospital, an arrangement
that became permanent when he moved into a nursing home.

  “We’re having Malcolm and Greg for dinner tonight as well,” Mom added as she went to the counter and brought over the coffee pot to refill her cup.

  This was news to me, but I was more than happy to hear it. Greg and I hadn’t talked about plans for the evening, though it was understood we’d be getting together. With so few things for teens to do in Little River, we often just walked around, rented movies, browsed through the stores at the mall, or hung out with friends.

  Late fall and winter are the worst months for us. We’re both big on nature and in the summer we spend a lot of time exploring through the woods and along the river. We’ve even found a few secret spots that you could walk right by and not see if you don’t know they’re there.

  But there isn’t much to do there this time of year. A lot of the animals disappear for the winter. Beavers and muskrats go into their dens while skunks, raccoons, and bears spend the season hibernating. Deer and moose disappear into the deeper woods, so the chance of spotting any wildlife at the year’s end isn’t great.

  Those that are still around aren’t usually easy to spot. Mostly, they’re predators like mink, otter, bobcat, and fox. Of course, there are always rabbits around, but they’re fast and cautious and we rarely see them at any time of year.

  It’s not just the lack of wildlife that makes the woods less appealing at the end of November. By then, the deciduous trees are bare, the wildflowers are gone, and the whole place feels kind of deserted. Sometimes it’s even spooky.

  Anyway, with so little to do around here, especially in the cold months, it was kind of nice to have plans with our parents. Of course, Greg and I could just hang out and listen to music or rent a movie or whatever after dinner, but this gave us another option. If we wanted to, we could talk our parents into playing a game with us.

  Picking a game can take a while. Mom always tries to talk us into Scattergories (which Dad hates because he gets confused and uses the wrong letters) or Balderdash, while Dr. Taylor likes Mad Gab even though, quite frankly, he’s terrible at it.