Embrace You: Book (Loneliness) (5 page)

I
continue to feel safe moving from my new home to the studio and around town - but I slowly become aware of a niggling feeling of being watched. Marcus and I discuss this and we both realize that we have the same feeling. I nestle into his side, crying. I had so hoped that the stalking had ended!

We resume checking around us wherever we go - the store, studio, bank, family gatherings, everywhere. Marcus suggests we call a security expert to help us protect our family.

"Anything! I just want this crazy woman caught and put away!" I say.

We call around and interview several security companies, all of which suggest alarm systems and security cameras. Some also suggest motion-activated lights and silent alarms to the police department. Marcus and I decide which one to invite to come to the house. After interviewing several, we hire the company that gives us the best deal on the equipment and services.

One week later, the new security equipment has been installed. Our silent alarm notifies our police department, which will send officers in the event that Cara manages to get into our house.

Our practices and preparation for our European tour continue and we slowly progress through refining each song in every one of our practice sets. When we leave the house and come home, our security systems are completely armed. Thankfully, Marcus still works at home full-time. But, until Cara is captured and put behind bars permanently, I won't completely relax. As far as I'm concerned, no security measures, other than caution and common sense, can outsmart a mentally ill, determined person.

One cool and breezy day, Marcus, the baby, and I go to the practice studio. Marcus has decided he's going to start working from there again. Tim has given him permission and a small area where he can set up his computer and notes. I have the baby close by me while we practice. The sounds of our music lull her to sleep and, when she's hungry, she lets me know. I have a play pen at the studio that Lizzie sleeps and plays in while we're working on our songs. Now that Marcus is working from the studio, we place the play pen near him so he can hear her if she needs him. We think this is the ideal set up.

After a feeding break for Lizzie, I change her dirty nappy and set her into her play pen for a nap. She's close by Marcus, so she goes right off to sleep. After drinking from my bottle of water and giving my baby and husband kisses, I return to the guys. We resume working on the song we've been working on. Now that we've had a break, we start to make more progress on it. I look over to see Marcus talking on the phone with a client. My attention returns to the business at hand. I look at Marcus. He seems to be frustrated. He stands. Moves away from the baby. I keep practicing.

Next I know, I see a short, fat woman stooping over the play pen and - scooping up my baby! I scream! Marcus runs back and disconnects his call. He calls the police department. Meantime, Lizzie feels strange hands lifting her and she begins to wail loudly. Everyone looks at the play pen and we see Cara tuck the baby under her arm as she begins running out of the studio. Tim also calls the police while Laslow and Linny run outside after Cara.

Laslow spots her first, pushing the baby into the back of her car. Because it's a cold, windy, unsettled day, Lizzie has been wrapped up in one of her warmer blankets. Cara drops this blanket and she takes the few seconds to bend down and grab the blanket. This gives Laslow the precious few second he needs to catch up to her. Tim and Linny both consider themselves to be Lizzie's honorary uncles. This means that all three of the baby's uncles catch up to Cara, surrounding her car. Tim makes her open the back door while Linny grabs her wrist and wrestles her car keys out of her hand. Once the keys are safely out of her hand, Laslow dives into her car and grabs his baby niece. She is now thoroughly frightened and angered, and she's not troubling to hide her feelings. She wails louder than I have ever heard her cry before! Thank God! I have never heard such a sweet sound!

I'm crying myself as I run up to my brother-in-law, who gives Lizzie to me. Marcus is also crying. He runs up to the two of us and enfolds us in his big arms.

"Johanna, Lizzie, I'm so sorry! I didn't know she was in the studio! I didn't want to wake Lizzie - I was arguing with a client who wanted more than what he'd paid me for!"

"Marcus. Marcus! It's okay, luv. I know you'd never intentionally put her in harm's way. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at...her!" I point to Cara with my chin, not wanting to use profanities around Lizzie. Because I feel the anger beginning to grow, I put Lizzie into Marcus' arms and I march straight up to Cara. I get straight into her face and give her holy hell. I'm right in that fat bitch's face, giving her everything I've got!

"I don't know who the fuck you are and, what's more, I don't give a flying damn! I saw you at the December concert, staring at my husband and I had the feeling back then that you were bad news. The police have talked to you, repeatedly, telling you to stay away from Marcus - and you've refused to do so! He fucking doesn't want anything to do with you, bitch! You forced us to leave our flat and hide out! Go to several thousand pounds of expense to make our house safer for us and our baby! And still, you continued to find and stalk us! Why! Come on! Tell me: Why?"

Cara is at a loss for words. I don't think she expected a wee thing like me to have any metaphorical balls of my own. Her mouth opens and closes like that of a fat fish and her eyes blink. Then,"I've always loved Marcus. Ever since secondary school, when I first met him. I always thought he was so hot. I intended to get him and make him mine - but he left town, I guess to start school. Then I found him again, when I read that he'd married you. I want him! He's...he's a beautiful-lookin' man. I've cleaned up since school...I think he'd like what he sees."

"You've 'cleaned up' since school? What did you look like back then?"

"I was fatter, but I've lost some weight since then. I've dyed my hair and I have body art."

My jaw drops. Now I am speechless!

"Cara. I don't remember you. Period. And, even if I were to remember you, I don't find you attractive in the slightest. If you've lost weight, you've either probably gained a good bit of it back - or you were much heavier than you are now. I'm going to tell you as bluntly as I know how: I don't find you attractive not because of the weight, but because you're just not my type. At all. You have no chance against my wife," says Marcus.

I hear what Cara, then Marcus has to say, then I am completely relieved. I look at my husband, seeing him rock and comfort our still-upset infant. Looking at Lizzie's would-be demented kidnapper, I unload on her just as several police cars converge on the studio.

"Anyone who would try to kidnap the baby of the man she claims to 'love' has no concept of that emotion. You're sick. And, despite that, I intend to do everything in my power to keep you behind bars, where you belong. Oh, and that goes for your weird-looking friend, too."

The police interview each of us and get our accounts of what happened. Because Cara has been warned several times to stay away from Marcus, the baby and me, she is arrested once again.

Before they put her in one of their cars, I approach the supervisor and speak to him.

"Officer, she's tried to get to my husband several times before. I don't want her released for anything! She tried to kidnap our baby!" I'm getting wound up again. Tim puts a hand on my shoulder to comfort me.

"Ma'am, we have a good, solid record of what this young woman has attempted to do. This is the most serious of her crimes, so she will not be given the opportunity to get out. I can't promise you definitely, but I can say that we will do our damndest to keep her behind bars."

"Thank you. That's all I want," I say, wiping tears from my face.

We drive to the station and wait while Cara goes through an interview. That's how we find out that her odd-looking friend - she of the badly done Mohawk haircut - has been involved in tracking us down to our temporary hideout and to our new home! Her friend - Melanie - also helped her find our studio. After obtaining her street address, the police drive to Melanie's flat and arrest her as an accomplice to Lizzie's attempted kidnapping. Now, I'm glad we went, even though we're all completely exhausted!

As the two accomplices are interviewed, the police slowly begin to realize that they could both have mental issues. Before continuing any further with their questioning of both young women, the police take them to their cells, where they are locked up. A magistrate orders evaluations for both Cara and Melanie. He also orders that they be detained until trial - they have already proven that they are willing and able to take dangerous actions to get to Marcus, the target of Cara's...erm, "affections."

Because of our band's fame, word quickly seeps out to all the news outlets - newspapers, tabloids and the telly. All of them get wind of Lizzie's attempted kidnapping. The tabloids especially have a field day with Cara and Melanie. Fortunately, the press sees me in a positive light. No news outlet, no anchor, no reporter appreciates that Cara or Melanie attempted to harm me or my baby in their effort to get to my husband. This means the press, at all levels, treat the defendants roughly in their accounts of the story.

Unfortunately, this also means that reporters are camped out at our house, Marcus' parents' house and my parents' house. Laslow, Linny and Tim are also besieged with reporters. Our studio is overrun with reporters and television trucks and satellite feeds. Every one of our comings and goings - indeed, every facial expression we make - is breathlessly reported upon.

Because of this, the crackpots inevitably come out from under their rocks, nooks and crannies. Soon - too soon, I see breathless accounts of "How I Helped Melanie and Cara Kidnap Johanna's Baby!" or "I Saw Everything Happen! Cara Threatened to Set the Baby on Fire!" It all becomes too much for me, as my imagination begins to run riot. Marcus finally has to set his foot down rather firmly. My mum and dad begin to take care of our food shopping, letting us know when they're nearby so we can let them into the back yard. We unload the groceries from their car, and then they stay and visit for a while. This happens infrequently because we decide to buy everything we need, so that we only need to replace staples and things we run out of often, such as nappies and wipes for Lizzie.

Finally, things seem to be calming down. I notice that the numbers of reporters and satellite trucks swarming around the house and studio seem to be dwindling. I draw a huge breath of relief - as it turns out, prematurely. I learnt the following only after it happened:

Cara, in her overweening desire to keep herself in Marcus' mind, finds a way to do so. A rather enterprising, erm, "reporter," for lack of a better word, disguises himself as a jail guard. He gets into the jail and finds where Cara is incarcerated, then, still in uniform, manages to interview her! She's only too eager to speak. She wants any opportunity to let Marcus know that she still "loves" him. Once that "reporter" leaves, he makes an immediate beeline to his employer's office, where he tells the editor that he has a scoop.

The editor listens to the recording and reads the reporter's notes and he agrees. By the next morning, an accounting of "My Wild Night with Marcus Hadley: A True Accounting by Cara!" is splashed over the tabloids all over the U.K.

I'm not aware of the story, so when a reporter raps on my car window, shouting at me as we arrive at the studio, I'm taken completely by surprise. Thankfully, Tim has hired a team of security guards, who wait for each of us to arrive. Naturally, when they see a queue of reporters swarming our car, they run outside, shouting.

"OY! Get away from them! Now!"

"We have the right to get Mrs. Hadley's...OW! Just you wait! I'll call the police and have you arrested...gerroff me! Now! OW!"

The security guards grab each reporter and, twisting arms behind backs, force them away from our car. Each reporter is quick-marched out through the gate and pushed heartily down the street, allowing Marcus to get Lizzie and me into the studio.

Inside, it's not much better. Tim, Linny and Laslow are sitting in a semicircle, each holding a copy of the tabloid with that damned story.

"Em, you need to know what this nut is saying so you're prepared. It's not going down," Tim says quietly.

I take the paper that he hands to me and I read.

"...Loved him since secondary school...See those hot, hard muscles and his steamy, sexy green eyes that radiate hot sex...tracked him down late last year..."

"I've really read enough. This only proves..."

"No, Em. You need to read the whole, sick, sad accounting. Marcus, you too."

Marcus reluctantly takes a copy of the rag from his brother and begins reading.

"...Was at the London concert before Christmas and I bumped into him, quite by chance. He smiled gently at me, and said, 'I remember you. You're Cara!'

"I smiled tremblingly and nodded shyly. 'Yeah, I am. Then, I turned, as if looking for my good friend. I wanted him to see my trim, new body - you see, I had lost several stone and I wanted him to admire the new, smaller Cara.

"I felt Marcus' eyes running up and down my body. I gave him a shy glance and saw the heat in his gaze. He whispered to me, 'My wife still has to perform another set after the intermission. Let's go this way...' He took me to a small closet-like room and stripped down. I saw his cock standing stiff and I knew he wanted me. Seeing his wanting made me want him, too, so I stripped my clothing off and he admired by body art. He gently lifted me to a work table and had his way with me. His cock was hard as it drove deeper into my loin. Much like a bus would drive into a bus station."

I drop the rag as if it carries bubonic plague bacterium. I want to vomit, so I lean over and place my head between my legs, breathing deeply. A few seconds later, I hear Marcus drop his copy of the rag, then hear him run to the loo, where he slams and locks the door. Next, we all hear the unmistakable sounds of my husband retching as he loses his breakfast.