Eyes of a Stalker (5 page)

But this! This surrounded me with prickles of fear
every time the phone rang, or whenever I'd imagine some strange movement out of the corner of my eye. I kept reading things into innocent looks and gestures, wondering, wondering… always wondering, is
this
the guy? Is
that
?

Worse than the external triggers was what was going on in my head. No matter what I was doing or how busy I tried to stay, the fear broke into my thoughts. Someone was out there: someone with strange ideas and obsessions. Someone who, for no reason I could figure out, had chosen me as his target.

A line from a movie, or maybe it was a TV show, kept coming into my head. It was one of those situations where an abused woman was being followed by her ex, and she told a friend, “No matter how careful a person is, if someone out there
really
wants to get them, they're going to.”

I did my best to hide the fact that I was scared, but I know my mom and dad could tell. For one thing, I didn't argue about being driven places or always having someone with me wherever I went. Usually it was Greg, but on Friday night he was scheduled at his job at Broderick's Gas Bar, and Betts and I had already planned to go to a new teen flick.

Dad was going to drive me there and Betts and I would walk home afterward, but before we even pulled out of the driveway, Dad had something for me.

“This is a personal alarm,” he explained. “If anyone bothers you, you hit this switch and it will set off a kind of siren sound, plus a flash.”

I tried it, and was it ever loud!

“And don't just let the alarm do all the work,” he added. “Scream, yell, and run. But don't run blindly. Run toward a house, a store, anywhere that there are people. The last thing an attacker wants is to be caught. Noise and flight will make it too hard for him to get to you without being seen. Chances are very good that he'll turn tail and take off. Just attach it to the zipper catch on your jacket.”

“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!”

“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.”