Eyes of a Stalker (14 page)

“Well, we got him,” he said. “He was already back home, pretending to be sleeping, when we got there. The jacket and hat were tossed over the back of a chair right where we could see them, too.”

“Did he admit it?” I asked.

“Not for a second. Denied it all the way in to the station.” Mueller shook his head in disbelief. “He's
still
denying it for all the good it'll do him. His big alibi is that he was home, all alone, fast asleep on the couch.

“Anyway, we got a search warrant. There's still a team there going through things, but before I left
they'd already found a copy of the letter he sent you, and another one that he was drafting. There was some other stuff written, too, which I won't go into, but it was pretty sick.”

“How long will he be locked up?” Dad asked.

“We're going to see if we can hold him over the weekend and get him in front of a judge first thing Monday. I figure he'll probably be remanded, considering. At the very least, there'll be a restraining order against him.”

“Which means?”

“Well, if he came anywhere near Shelby, he'd be picked up.”

“Even at school?” Mom wanted to know.

“Anywhere that he knows she'll be. But let's not worry about any of that right now. Hopefully the judge will remand him. The main thing is you know you're safe right now.”

We all thanked him and my Dad asked him to be sure to thank everyone else who'd worked on the case, too. Mueller said he was just glad they'd got the guy. He wished us good luck before he left.

“Well,” Mom said, “it's not really over with yet, but at least the guilty boy has been caught.”

“I never would have thought Eric could do something like that,” I said.

“It's always the last ones you'd suspect,” Dad said. “You just remember what you've been through these
past weeks, and don't be going and feeling sorry for this creep.”

“I don't,” I said, but I kind of did, in a way. I wondered what the other pages said and whether I'd be feeling less sympathetic if Mueller had given me the details.

“Anyway, I can finally get a decent sleep tonight! And tomorrow I can do some shopping without someone coming with me to hold my hand!”

I wanted to call Greg and tell him the news. Surely, when I explained everything, and told him how much I'd missed him, he'd understand. But I was too tired for such a heavy phone call, and decided I'd wait until the next day. Maybe I could even drop by his place on my way home from the mall. For now, I just called Betts. I
had
to tell someone, even if it was just a quick call before pleading exhaustion and saying I had to go.

As I drifted off that night, it seemed that everything was going to be okay again.

I woke the next morning to the feeling of someone plopping down on the side of my bed.

“Shelby?” I heard Betts say. “You awake?”

“No… go away,” I mumbled.

“It's almost eleven o'clock!”

“No it isn't.” I pulled the comforter over my head, which dislodged Ernie from his spot beside me. Seconds later I heard the plunk of his feet landing on the floor and pattering away.

“Come on, you can't waste the whole day in bed,” Betts said, poking at my shoulder through the blanket.

“What?
You're
telling me this?” I grumbled. “You
never
get up early on the weekend. I've called your place in the middle of the afternoon and been told you were in bed.”

“Yes, but this is your first day of freedom, remember?
We have to
do
something.” She tugged the cover from my face and tapped on my forehead.

I opened an eye, regretting that I'd called her with the news the night before. “So you're torturing me as part of a celebration of some sort, is that it?”

She giggled. “Good! You're awake. Your mom said I should come and get your breakfast order and she'd make it while you were showering.”

“My
own mother
is in on this conspiracy?”

“'Fraid so. Sad, isn't it?”

I groaned and sat up. I made a face at Betts.

“That's attractive,” she said. “Oh, in case you want blueberry pancakes for breakfast, your mom said there are blueberries in the freezer.”

“She just randomly announced this to you?”

“I might have asked; I'm not sure. So, anyway, you want that?”

“Blueberry pancakes?” I said slowly. “I dunno. Mom usually makes too many. Whatever would become of the rest of them?”

Betts swatted at my arm, but I saw it coming and dodged her.

“Oh, wait!” I said. “I have an idea.
You
could help eat them.”

“Okay, so that's settled,” she said. “Now go get in the shower.”

Fifteen minutes later I made it into the kitchen,
where Betts was happily pouring syrup on a pancake. Across from her, Dad was in the middle of one, too.

“Morning, honey,” Mom said, crossing the room and hugging me. “Your breakfast is ready.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I sat down and poured a glass of milk, then snagged a pancake from the stack on the plate in the middle of the table.

“Hey, sunshine.” Dad reached over and squeezed my arm a little before lifting another fluffy forkful to his mouth.

“Hey,” I said. “You're eating late this morning.”

“Brunch,” he told me.

“An extra meal is more like it,” Mom said, but she smiled and joined us at the table.

As we all dug into our food, I thought how ordinary it was: sitting down for a meal with my family (and Betts). And suddenly, I found my eyes filling with tears.

“Shelby?” Mom said. “Is something wrong, dear?”

I shook my head and tried to explain but I couldn't quite find the words to say how I just felt overwhelmingly thankful and happy to have my life back to normal again. How amazing it was to be able to enjoy something as simple as sharing a meal without the burden I'd been carrying around, wondering where the stalker was, what he was doing, what he was thinking, and worst of all, what he was planning.

In that flash of time, it hit me that even if Greg and
I didn't get back together, I could stand it. Over the past week there had been many moments when I thought I just couldn't take any more of the hurt, when all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there. Now I knew that, with or without Greg as my boyfriend, I was going to be okay.

If you've ever had a broken heart, you know how horrible it is, and how, when it first happens, it seems impossible that anything in the world will ever really be right again. But I think that moment always comes, like it did with me, when you just
know
that somehow you
will
get through it.

Annie's words floated through my head. “It does-n't
always
hurt this much.” I knew she was right, that it is possible to go on with a broken heart. I'd been acting at it, pretending nothing was wrong, for a week, and there had definitely been snatches of time where I really hadn't been consumed with the pain of the break-up.

That didn't mean I wasn't hoping with all my heart that we'd be able to fix things between us, but if we didn't, I knew I could stand it.

I'd just finished sorting out my thoughts on all of this when the phone rang. The first few seconds of the ring made me cringe inside, and I had to remind myself that it wasn't going to be a call for me from the stalker.

Mom got it and spoke quietly for a moment before
covering the mouthpiece and turning to Dad and me.

“It's Alyson Stark,” she said. “She wants to do a follow-up piece now that the police have someone in custody. Kind of a thank you to everyone who tried to help by calling in anything they saw that was suspicious. What do you think?

“I don't want another problem with the police,” Dad said. “They weren't exactly thrilled that we talked to her before.”

“Yes, but that was just because we
could
have compromised the investigation, even though we
didn't
because we were careful about what we said to her,” Mom pointed out. “And in any case, it all worked out okay and the investigation is over. I think it would be nice for us to acknowledge the help the community gave.”

“Oh, I don't suppose it will hurt. Shelby, do you mind?”

“No, I don't care, but Betts and I were planning to go to the mall later. Would she be coming over soon?”

Mom went back to the phone and talked for another minute or so. After she hung up she told us that Mrs. Stark would be along shortly.

Betts and I did the dishes while we waited, me washing and her drying. We'd just finished when the knock came.

“Shelby, honey, you must be
so
relieved to have this whole thing over with,” Mrs. Stark said as she whipped
out a notebook and pen. “Why, when I think of my Nora being the very same age as you and I picture her going through something like this, I just shudder.

“Now, there was one thing I didn't get confirmed when I spoke to the police, and that was the identity of the stalker. It was the Green boy, wasn't it? Eric Green?”

“Did you ask the police that question?” Dad asked before I could say anything.

“Well, I, uh, I'm not sure if they're allowed to confirm that.”

“Because the suspect is a minor?”

“Something like that,” she said vaguely. “They don't really explain things very well sometimes. You know how it is.”

“My understanding,” Mom said, “is that you're not allowed to give out the name of a minor who's accused of a crime.”

“Well, no,” Mrs. Stark admitted. “We can't print the name.”

“Then why do you need it?” Dad asked. She blushed, and stammered something unintelligible. It occurred to me that she'd just been busted digging for gossip instead of actual news.

“Maybe we can just go ahead and talk about the things you
can
print,” Mom suggested.

Mrs. Stark recovered from her embarrassment with amazing speed. She brightened right up and launched
into some quick questions about our reaction to the news that a suspect had been apprehended. Then she got a “thank you” statement from us and wrapped it up. The whole thing probably didn't take more than five minutes.

Mom and Dad saw her to the door, but after they'd said goodbye, Dad turned with a kind of disgusted look on his face.

“That was nothing more than a fishing expedition,” he said. “Abusing her position, trying to get information she's really not entitled to. I wouldn't be in a hurry to talk to her again.”

Mom agreed, though she added that maybe they should give her the benefit of a doubt and that it's probably just in Mrs. Stark's nature to ask questions and dig for information, because of her job.

If Betts thought anything about that, or realized that gossipers aren't always viewed kindly, she sure didn't mention it to me. Her mind was on going to the mall… and one other thing.

“Did I tell you that the party at Tyrone's place was changed to tonight?” she asked. (She
had
told me — about twenty times.) “Now that you're single again, you should go.”

“I don't think so.”

“Why not? Is it in case… oh, never mind.”

“In case what?”

“You know, in case Greg is there. With Tina.”

Istared at Betts, hardly able to believe that she'd just
casually
told me that Greg might be going to Tyrone's party with Tina. How could she not realize that it would hurt me to hear something like that?

I reminded myself that I'd been acting as if I'd
wanted
the break-up, so there'd be no reason for Betts to think I'd care if Greg was already seeing someone else.

And, really,
that
was what was so shocking to me: the idea that he'd found a new girlfriend so quickly. It was as if I'd meant nothing to him.

That would have been the time to come clean with Betts, to tell her the truth about the whole thing, but pride held me back.

So, just like I'd been doing ever since I broke up with Greg, I swallowed it all down and forced myself to smile. And then I said the dumbest thing I'd said in a long time.

“I don't care if Greg is there with
ten
other girls. In fact, I think I
will
go to the party.”

Betts squealed and hugged me and didn't seem to notice that I was blinking faster than normal, or that my smile was phoney and frozen in place.

“This is great!” she said. “Maybe we'll
both
get new boyfriends tonight. That would be cool.”

I thought it would be anything but cool. I also thought she was kind of getting a bit ahead of herself as far as Kevin was concerned, but I didn't say either of those things. To be honest, I wasn't sure I could speak properly just then.

“Anyway, let's hurry up and get ready to go shopping. I want to look for something new to wear tonight.” Betts was shifting into high gear — her normal speed when there's shopping involved. “Hey! You should too!”

Buying new clothes was the last thing on my mind. The only reason I'd wanted to go to the mall at all was to try to finish my Christmas shopping. I'd even thought maybe I'd find something just right for Greg, that's how sure I'd been that we'd make up.

While I got ready to head out, I wondered what on earth had made me decide to go to Tyrone's party. It was like I was drawn to it against my will, as if a magnetic force was making me go. It really didn't make any sense. And yet, I knew I wasn't going to back out, no matter how awful it might feel to be at a party with Greg — not
as his girlfriend, but as his ex — while he danced and laughed with someone else.