I'll Be Damned (Anna Wolfe Series) (8 page)

“Ms. Wolfe, you allege you were being stalked?” Officer Biffen asks with a thick Southern accent. He flips open his mini memo pad like a man of importance. A grossly chewed cap sits proudly on his black pen hinting at his boredom or stress.

“Yes. On my way home from River Street,” I pause. “When I crossed into Chippewa Square, I felt someone behind me. I ran in here and hid behind the counter. Moments later, a man appeared at that window,” I respond, pointing to the huge glass in between the drywall. “He was watching me.”

Officer Biffen exhales loudly. “So, you didn’t actually see someone chasing you?” he asks, lifting one caterpillar eyebrow.

“No, I didn’t physically see someone chasing me… but I felt his presence.”

“Do you claim to be a psychic, Ms. Wolfe?” He snickers lightly. “You didn’t see someone, but you felt someone there that caused you to run?” he asks, tossing his pen from side to side.

I roll my eyes. “Officer Biffen, I was stalked. I ran in here to hide. A few seconds later, a man was standing at that window, looking in…he was staring at me,” I respond, now aggravated.

“Okay,” he retorts, holding up his palm for me to stop. After writing a few things down, he proceeds with his half-ass interrogation. “So you said you were coming from River Street, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Were you drinking?”

“Yes… I mean I had two drinks, but I wasn’t drunk.”

“What kind of drinks did you have? Beer? Wine? Or one of those frozen concoctions with all the alcohol?”

“That would depend on how bad a day I had, Officer Biffen,” I snap back. I know where he's steering this conversation.

“Now don’t go gettin' sassy with me, Ms. Wolfe. I'm trying to put this all together.”

His patience is as short as he is, but I don’t care. He’s exhausting mine. “Sir, what does it matter? I wasn't drunk if that's what you're implying. I was being stalked and I ran for safety. You can edit the story anyway you want, but I didn’t imagine it,” I exclaim, inhaling deeply. “I was being followed by a creep that's still out there because you're more concerned about what kind of drink I prefer.”

Officer Biffen rolls his eyes. “Ms. Wolfe, I'm just making sure you weren’t drinking all night, and just thought you felt something; that’s all,” he replies innocently.

Finally, Officer Smolt interrupts. “Biff, let me take it from here. Why don’t you take a ride around and see if you come up with anything.”

Clearly, he's the smarter of the two. Officer Biffen reluctantly stands, exits my shop and plops himself in his cruiser. I watch as the car’s metal frame bends and shifts under his weight. After a few minutes of lollygagging, he drives off in search of a man he won’t find.

“Ms. Wolfe, I apologize for Officer Biffen. He tries to do his best,” Officer Smolt states humbly. He pulls a matching notepad and pen from his uniform's breast pocket, minus the chewed-up pen cap.

I hate it when someone else covers up for an idiot’s behavior. "If I called you out here for a property line dispute, I might not be as offended, but this is serious. I was followed, stalked or whatever you want to call it, and he might come back.”

“Ms. Wolfe…” he starts, scribbling in his notepad.

“Please, call me Anna.”

“Anna. Did you see what he looked like?" Officer Smolt asks.

"No. It was too dark, so all I could make out was his outline," I answer, shivering.

“And you’re sure it was a man?”

I tilt my head, trying to draw up the details. “Yes. He was really tall and wide... muscular,” I say, bowing my arms at my side.

He nods his head, jotting more information on his notepad. "Have you recently been in a disagreement with anyone?"

"No," I reply without hesitation.

"Do you have any idea of who might be doing this?” he questions.

Shane’s face flashes in my mind. I don't think he would follow me, but I should mention his name just in case. You never know who's capable of what these days. “Well, there is one guy. We didn't have an altercation, by any means, but I think I might have angered him tonight. His name is Shane. I don’t know his last name, but he recently took a job teaching at Savannah College of Art and Design. He's the only person I can think of.”

“Okay, well it's a start. We'll check into this right away. Anna. Rest assured we'll investigate this matter. I'll also add some more patrol cars to canvass your coffee shop for a few days, just in case he decides to come back.”

I smile, without feeling any safer. A few days of bad leads will shove my complaint into the far back of the filing cabinet. I'll be on my own, looking over my shoulder all the time. Oh well, what can I do? It’s three o’clock in the morning and the thought of opening the shop at six a.m. is unbearable. Kristy will have to do without me for a few hours; my sleep is essential. 

Officer Smolt flips his notepad closed as he walks towards the door. “Okay, Anna, we have all the information we need. We’ll do our best to find this guy. Until then, just be careful and try not to go anywhere alone. If you think of anything, or if something else happens, call us right away.”

“I will. Thank you, Officer Smolt.”

“Please, call me Ted,” he answers, tipping his hat. “Do you need a ride home or can a friend pick you up?”

“I drove. I'll be fine.”

“Okay, then I'll wait until you get in your car.”

“Do you mind if I make a phone call real quick?”

“No, take your time," he answers nicely.

Headlights catch my eye as Officer Biffen slowly turns the corner. He shuts off the bright spotlight hanging from his mirror, eventually parking his cruiser next to Officer Smolt's. He doesn’t bother getting out of the car, which is fine with me; he’s an ass anyway. I bet he can’t wait to get back to doing real police work, the kind that involves sitting in a parking lot, sipping coffee. I slide the phone from my jeans and call Janie. It only takes two rings before I hear her frantic voice on the other end.

“Hello? Anna?”

“Janie, it’s me."

"Thank God!' she sighs with relief.

"I'm fine. I dropped my phone in the river,” I reply, trying to beat her to the punch, but quickly she interjects.

“I'm so glad you’re all right. I woke up to go to the bathroom and realized you weren’t here. I called your cell phone and it kept going straight to voicemail. Jesus, Anna, I was about ready to call the police, thinking something terrible happened to you.”

I groan. “Janie, relax. I'll explain when I get home… it was a long night and I'm heading home now.”

“Okay, take your time and lock your doors.”

“Yes, Mom. Speaking of whom, did you call her?”

Janie sighs. “Lucky for you, I didn’t. I was waiting until I saw the sun rise.”

“Okay, thank you. I’m leaving now so I’ll see you soon.” I press on the
End
button with relief. My next call is to Kristy, hoping she won't mind opening the place with a hangover. The phone rings and rings, eventually going to her voicemail. I hang up and dial again.

On the fourth ring, a groggy Kristy answers. “Hello?”

“Kristy, it’s Anna.”

“Is everything all right? Shit! I’m late for work, aren’t I? Is it ten already?”

“No, it's three in the morning, you’re not late, but I need a favor. Can you open today for me? Something happened when I left the bar… I'll explain tomorrow. Right now, I need to go home a get a few hours of sleep.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” she asks, her voice slowly waking up.

“I'm fine. I'll explain later. I can’t right now. I lost my cell phone and I need to head home because Janie’s freaking out,” I explain.

“Okay I’ll open for you, but you owe me. I’ll be running strictly on fumes tomorrow,” she says with a hint of laughter.

I smile widely. “Great, and yes, I definitely owe you. I'll be a few hours behind you.”

“Be safe and you better call me if you need me.”

“I will, and Kristy, thanks again.”

“Anytime,” she replies.

I place the phone on the receiver and gather my belongings. Exhaustion hits me like a wall when I realize the lengthy drive ahead of me. I hope I don't fall asleep and hit a tree. I've survived too much tonight to go out like that. I close the store, double checking the deadbolt on the front door. Officer Smolt is leaning on the hood of his cruiser patiently. He walks me to my car, throwing in a few niceties along the way before turning back to his own. I slide behind the wheel, locking the doors immediately. I shoot out of the parking lot, flashing the officers a sad excuse for a smile. Forty minutes later, I'm hiking up my front porch steps like they’re Mount Everest. The door flies open, revealing a distressed Janie wearing my yellow robe and holding a coffee mug, her eyes as wide as saucers. I reach the door and a whiff of fresh coffee tingles in my nostrils.

“What happened?” she demands.

“Long story," I respond gliding by her, with my eyes set on the stairs. "I really need to get some sleep.” I’m beyond exhausted. Father Time swiped a few grains of sand from my hourglass tonight.

“That's not fair," she stammers. "I was worried… imagining you in a ditch, kidnapped or murdered. I need answers now,” she insists adamantly.

I roll my eyes, knowing she's right, and change my direction, heading towards the kitchen, but determined to keep this short. I fall into a chair at the table, resting my head in my hands. Janie follows, placing a fresh cup of coffee in front of me, whose smell discourages me from slumber.

“Thanks," I reply, gripping the warm mug with both hands. I gather what little energy I have and give her the abridged version. Finally finished, I inhale deeply, waiting for her reaction. Janie stares at me in fear, but I'm too tired to notice it. Sensing the hundred questions game coming next, I cut her off before she gets the chance to begin.

“I know you want details, but I need sleep. When I get up in a few hours, I promise I’ll tell you everything," I announce, standing up. "Please don’t tell Mom or Jack any of this either,” I ask, begging with my eyes. “I don't want them all worked up over nothing, and not Cara either. She'll try to twist it into me being crazy or something.”

Janie stares at me blankly. “Um… okay... but as soon as you get up, I want full details,” she finishes.

That's unlike Janie; normally, she’s relentless. I shrug, too weary to dwell on it, and exit the kitchen to climb the stairs. I skip washing my face and brushing my teeth, attempting to regain some of the time I lost. I change into my pajamas, slide under the covers and drift into a deep sleep without any hesitation.

Beep Beep Beep Beep…
stupid alarm. I’m tempted to throw it right through my window. I glance at the numbers on the clock blinking nine a.m. The power must have gone out, causing me to oversleep. I leap out of bed and dash downstairs, almost tripping over Rutey in the process. I dart into the kitchen as Rutey snaps at my heels like a piranha. Janie's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee with a breakfast spread fit for a king. She must have been working on it all morning.

“What time is it?” I ask, out of breath.

“Relax, it’s only ten o’clock in the morning. The power went out after you fell asleep. I was going to wake you up in a bit.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief and mosey over to the table. "Wow, Janie! This looks delicious." Dishes overflowing with fluffy scrambled eggs, mouthwatering breakfast meats, crispy hash browns, donuts and fruit await my indulgence. I could do without the fruit. Janie thanks me by bowing her head in a dignified, proud manner.

“What time did you get up?” I ask, sliding in the chair across from her. I pile my plate with mounds of scrambled eggs, strips of crispy bacon, and spoonfuls of hash browns.

“I never went to bed. Too much coffee," she replies, tapping her empty mug. "I decided to go breakfast shopping, and voila!” she says swiping her hand over the feast. “Anna, you should take the day off after last night. You need it.”

“I can’t. It's my responsibility; plus, owners don’t have the luxury of sick days. Besides, keeping myself busy takes my mind off things,” I murmur, snapping a piece of bacon off with my teeth.

Janie slaps her
Shape
magazine on the table. A blondes amazing body on the cover taunts me. I don’t understand why she loves reading fitness magazines. Staring at it makes me not want seconds.

“Okay then," she says, defeated. "I'm going to come with you.”

I shake my head no. "I don’t need a babysitter. Plus, I'm sure you have plenty to do with Cara’s wedding, and what about Nick? Are you ever going to talk to him? Or do you just plan on hiding out at my house?”

“Anna, I'm not babysitting you,” she sighs. “I'm worried. Besides, we can hang out. I'll be over after I take a much needed nap," she replies yawning on cue.

I open my mouth to protest, but Janie cuts me off.

"
No ifs, ands, or buts. I spoke with Nick this morning and he understands the situation. He also knows not to expect me home. As for Cara, she's a big girl and can handle everything. All the details for her wedding are on schedule. Now all we have to do is wait for the dreadful rehearsal dinner," she finishes.

I shake my head. It's the blind leading the blind. She thinks she can protect me, but it won't make a difference. I refill my glass with orange juice and reach for a still warm donut. Screw the skinny people. 

“So, I need the details about last night. My imagination is scaring the crap out of me.”

“Okay,” I mumble, not sure where to begin. “Kristy left work to meet her friend, Josh. She asked me to come so I decided to go out for a little bit. I met them at Wet Willies, where she introduced me to Josh's mysterious friend, Shane. We talked for a little bit and then he got weird," I pause.

"What do you mean weird?" Janie inquires.

"Well, he said he knew me and something about our family histories crossing or something like that. Seriously, I just met him," I answer, rolling my eyes at the thought of him. "Then, he asked me to dinner so we could discuss it more in depth. Can you believe that? Of course, I declined. He gave me serious creep vibes. Something is off about him... like he's an empty shell... a ghost.”

Janie ignores my ghost comparison. “What did he mean by our family histories crossing?”

I finish chewing the bite of donut in my mouth. "I have no idea. I think he's an idiot who’s trying to pick up women or something."

Janie lightly taps her nose, indicating her wheels are spinning. "How did you lose your phone?"

"I left the bar after the conversation with him. I was nervous since the whole night was a bit peculiar… I mean Kristy and Martello weren't paying attention, which you know never happens. It's like we were all in our own little bubbles," I answer distractedly, allowing my thoughts to catch up to my logic. "I walked by the river, attempting to calm down, and ended up dropping my phone into it," I conclude, carefully omitting my muscle spasms.

“It sounds crazy, Anna,” Janie says, leaning back in her chair. Her eyebrows furrow as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

I know just how she feels. My brain is jumbled with too many questions. I don't know what to assume about last night. My logic is severely disappointed and shaking its head at me for even considering Shane could be an evil ghost or something. No, ghost sounds too nice. Believing in ghosts is one thing, but thinking he's anything supernatural is absurd. As outlandish as this may be, I can’t deny the unexplainable feelings I have in his presence. His aurora is uncanny, but he tries too hard for me to believe he has a soul. On the other hand, he could be just a good, old-fashioned weirdo. Janie struggles visibly with my explanation, which I find surprising. She doesn’t believe in anything supernatural. She always has an explanation for mystical events. At the exploratory age of thirteen, we constructed a makeshift Ouija board out of copybook paper and a magnifying glass. We performed our phony séance, and when our feat was over, the stereo in the room turned on, then off. We ran out of that room so fast, I'm surprised I didn't get second-degree rug burns on my feet. Since then, Janie adamantly refuses to discuss the supernatural realm. I, on the other hand, consider it more feasible now than ever.

"When did you call the cops?" Janie inquires.

“On my way back to my shop, I was being followed. In Chippewa Square, someone was behind me, Janie, I felt it," I exhale. "But when I turned around, no one was there. My paranoia kept nagging at me, so I ran,” I pause to inhale. “I went in, locked the door and hid. He was in the front of the window, staring inside; then, he abruptly left. That's when I called the cops."

"He just left?" she asks doubtfully.

"Yep, just left."

“Maybe he was trying to scare you," she responds timidly.

I raise my eyebrow. "Well, it worked."

"I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to be unreasonable, but you should carry mace with you.”

I groan. “I know, but he's probably a Peeping Tom or something," I respond. I glance at the microwave clock, noting I have an hour to get ready for work. I take my plate to the sink and rinse it before placing it in the dishwasher. "I need to get my butt moving. Thanks for this amazing smorgasbord; you really didn't have to," I say smiling at her. "I guess you won’t be too far behind me?”

“Nope, just a few hours,” she grins.

I hop up the stairs, two at a time, trying to expedite the process of making myself fit to be seen. I shower, brush my teeth and twist my thick, black hair into a loose bun. I pull several wispy tendrils loose, to frame my oval face. It's going to be another humid day (big surprise), so there's no point in blow-drying my hair. I apply a generous layer of foundation, brush a small dusting of bronzer on my cheekbones, and sweep sparkly brown eye shadow on my eyelids, making my almond-shaped, green eyes pop off my face. After a few coats of black mascara, I look at my reflection. Not too shabby, considering the stress of last night. 

Twenty minutes later, I exit my driveway. The humidity arrives early today, turning the pleasant morning into a sauna. My car's air conditioner knocks a little harder than normal, protesting its distaste for the weather. I cruise down the highway at a steady pace, thankful for the peace. The events of last night replay one by one like scenes from a movie. First, I am talking to Shane, before walking outside and being followed. Small details resurface after the few hours of sleep. I rummage through them, not wanting to get tied up for long. I can make sense of most of it, but two of them still evade all explanation. I unconsciously rub the part of my elbow Shane held. The memory of the sudden serenity radiating through me by his touch makes me cringe. How did he do that? I know what I felt - a sudden flow of something rushing through me like an ice-cold injection. It was real, wasn’t it? I’m determined to know an explanation. It’s one p.m. by the time I park behind Déjà Brew. I open my door and the stifling humidity becomes my only escort. The temperature has risen more than fifteen degrees from this morning, and makes me wonder if there's any ozone left above this city. Tiny beads of sweat line my forehead, tickling my hair. I ignore the drab buzz of cicadas whining about the blistering sun. I hurry in the back door, and stop by my office first. Throwing my purse on the desk, I head out to the front of the shop. When I turn the corner, I spot Martello and Kristy sitting on the couch, their coffees in hand. I sigh, realizing last night's story has to be repeated. I make myself a latte before sitting on the couch opposite them.

Martello raises his eyebrow suspiciously. “Girlfriend, what happened last night?”

“Long story," I reply between careful sips.

“Well? Get to it.”

“Anna, we were worried about you,” Kristy chimes in.

“I'm sorry,” I say guiltily. I recount last night's events, leaving out a few minor details. They don’t need to know about my cramps. I exhale, concluding my explanation. Blank stares greet me so I let them mull it over for a few minutes. Making sense out of it is complicated. 

“Well, my goodness. You pissed somebody off," Martello states. "Next time you leaves my bar, honey, you better lets me know. I'll make sure someone walks you back if I can’t.”

I grumble loudly. “Thanks, Martello, but I'm hoping it was a onetime thing. I don't need a bodyguard,” I joke.

“Anna, you need to take this seriously. What if he comes back? He could even be watching you right now,” Kristy remarks, scanning the empty shop.

“Girl, you better stops fillin’ her head with that paranoid bullshit. Girlfriend's fully stocked up with her own. If anything, you’s scaring her more," Martello chides, looking at me. "Anna, baby, just be aware of your surroundings, that’s all. We can't afford to have anything happen to you. I loves this coffee too much,” Martello laughs, tipping the mug to his full lips. 

“You guys need to relax," I lie calmly. "I'll be careful and won't do anything stupid, okay? Can we just put this incident behind us now? I'm uncomfortable with all the attention," I conclude, sinking further in the couch.

“Yes, ma’am,” Martello agrees.

“Yes, but I'll be watching you,” Kristy says, extending her arms high above her head in a hopeless imitation of a scary monster.  

"Girl, what is you doing? You looks like a damn fool," Martello chuckles, smacking her arms playfully from the air.