I climbed the stairs and found him sitting on the floor of the bonus room, earphones on his head, a movie on the big-screen TV. Irritation bubbled, but I turned down the burner and placed my hand on his shoulder. When he looked up at me, I bent down, intending to give him a lingering kiss—an act of forgiveness.
But I hesitated.
Could I trust Keith to consider my needs?
Instead of kissing him, I lifted the headphones off one of his ears. “Hey, they’ll be here any minute.”
“Yeah, okay.” He pulled the headphones off and hung them around his neck. “Maybe we can try out the sound system and all watch this”—he gestured to the movie on the screen—“after dinner. The base will rock the whole house.”
I glanced at the screen where an explosion had ignited a nighttime sky. “We’d have to sit on the floor.”
Keith looked around the almost completely unfurnished room. “Good point.”
It was the first time in almost a year of marriage that we’d invited friends for dinner. We’d meant to do it sooner, but time hadn’t allowed. Or, more accurately stated, we hadn’t made the time. But entertaining wasn’t the only thing we’d neglected. The house was just barely furnished. We’d joked that we were going for a minimalist look, but the truth was, we were both so focused on work, we hadn’t taken the time to make the house a home. The stark walls of the bonus room mocked me. I made a silent vow to slow down and shift my focus.
I needed to focus on our marriage, including the home and family we hoped to create together.
I hoped Keith could do the same.
“You want that on the table?” Jay stood at the island in our kitchen as I pulled the chicken dish I made out of the oven.
“No, thanks. I’ll take care of it.”
Ryan sauntered in from the family room. “You go sit down; I’ll help her,” he said to Jay.
“No, I’m helpin’ her.”
“You’re the one always talking about equal rights for women, yet a man steps in to help and you—”
“Oh, now you’re gonna pay attention to—”
“Will you two never stop? Both of you go sit down.” I pointed to the dining room—the table and chairs were some of the few pieces of furniture we’d purchased. “I’ve got this covered. But thank you.” When we were finally all seated and dinner was served, I relaxed and smiled. Despite our bare walls, this was what a home was meant for, sharing a meal with your closest friends.
“You been holdin’ out on me? This is fantastic. I need this recipe.” Jay took another bite of the chicken I’d made.
“I found the recipe online. I’ll email you the link.”
“Reminds me of something Mrs. Westerville used to make when I worked their farm. She’d serve their big meal at lunchtime, remember?”
Ryan wiped his mouth with his napkin, then dropped it back into his lap. “Do you ever hear from the Westervilles?”
“They sent us a wedding gift and a card at Christmas. I keep meanin’ to get back there for a weekend and introduce them to Gabe. But…” Jay shrugged then met my eyes across the table.
I knew what her shrug meant. But it’s hard to go back.
“Yeah, I’d like to meet them sometime.” Gabe speared another bite of chicken with his fork.
“I’d like to check out the famous Three Rivers,” Keith added. “Sounds like you three had some great times there.” Keith looked from me to Ryan and back. “You two could take us down the river.”
“My days on that river are over.” I shot Keith a look that I hoped implied this wasn’t a topic to pursue.
“Well, you don’t have to act as our guide. Ryan could take us down, or we could go with that company you worked for. What was it called?”
I was learning that Keith often missed the subtleties I hoped he’d understand.
“Ride the Kaweah,” Ryan responded. “Actually, I talked to Mick recently.” He looked at Keith and Gabe. “He’s the owner.” Then he addressed all of us again. “I’m was thinking of going back this summer to lead trips for a month or two, depending on how long the water lasts.”
I stared at Ryan, my mouth agape. “What?” I was stunned as much by Ryan’s nonchalant tone as I was by the idea that he could so easily return to Three Rivers.
“How could you…” Jay shook her head. “I will never understand you.”
“I didn’t ask you to understand. I just thought that while I’m still”—he raised his eyebrows at Gabe and Keith—“unencumbered, I may as well do what I enjoy. As it turns out, Mick can’t use me, so I’m not going. But maybe next year.” Then something flickered in Ryan’s eyes, a flash of emotion I couldn’t discern. He looked down at the table, then back to the group, but as he spoke, it was clear he was speaking to Jaylan and me. “It’s time to face some things. Demons, if you will. At least it’s time for me to do so. We each handle things in our own way, right?”
It was Gabe who responded. “Right, man. Do what you need to do.” Then, sensing the tension at the table, I guessed, Gabe redirected the conversation. “So Deni, I hear you met some of Sac County’s finest at the office the other night. Had a little action over there?”
Ryan reached for his water glass. “Action?”
“Not action, exactly.” Embarrassed, I laughed. “More like an active imagination.”
“You don’t know that.” Jaylan came to my defense. “That wasn’t the only odd thing you’ve had goin’ on lately.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked.
“It’s nothing, really.” I glanced at Keith. “Probably just an overzealous reader. Someone who identified with the book maybe.”
“She saw some guy at the beginning of her book tour—at a bookstore in Menlo Park, and then we ran into him at church a few weeks later. She’s received a couple of anonymous gifts and some hang-up calls. But there’s nothing to connect those to that guy. And the officers who came to the office didn’t find anything to suggest someone had tried to get in.” Keith leaned back in his seat. “I don’t think it means anything.”
Gabe set his fork down. “You’re probably right, man. But she needs to pay attention. Could be a reader who’s getting obsessive, or maybe a former client or someone else. We take stalking seriously.”
“Stalking?” Keith shook his head. “It’s a little premature to call the guy a stalker, don’t you think?”
As the four of them continued to talk about the gifts that had shown up and the calls I’d received, my mind latched onto what Gabe had said about taking stalkers seriously. A breeze of unease sent a chill through me. I glanced at Keith—had he heard Gabe’s advice? Had he taken it to heart? While Keith was right, nothing connected the man I’d seen at the signing and again at church to the gifts or hang-up calls, my intuition had been screaming something else at me for several days. I’d worked to continue denying what I felt because, as I realized again, I longed for Keith to be right.
Yet I couldn’t ignore what Gabe said.
“Deni, do you have my cell phone number in your phone?” Gabe’s question pulled me back to the conversation.
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll send it to you.” Gabe pulled his phone out of the holder on his belt. “You call me anytime. I’m here for you, got that?”
I nodded.
“We’re all here for you.” Ryan reached over and gave my hand a quick squeeze.
“That’s right,” Gabe said. “You did the right thing the other night when you called 911. If something happens again and it’s an emergency, you do the same thing. Then you call me. Better safe than sorry, right?”
As Keith and I cleaned up the kitchen that night after everyone had gone home, I debated about whether to bring up the conversations that were replaying in my mind. I was tired, which was rarely a good time to discuss a topic that was bothering me. But if I didn’t say something now, I knew I might not have another opportunity for several days as we both immersed ourselves in our work again.
I turned off th
e faucet at the kitchen sink, dried my hands, and then turned to Keith who was loading the dishwasher. “So, I was surprised by the white water rafting idea. Three Rivers?” I began. “I don’t understand.”
Keith, a plate in hand, stopped what he was doing and looked at me. “What do you mean?”
How could he not know what I meant? But I didn’t want to argue again, so I tempered my response. “Well, you know what happened there and how painful it was.”
“I just thought it might be fun.” He put the plate in the dishwasher. “Babe, it’s been a few years. Even Ryan’s ready to go back. Like he implied, it could be healing.”
“But as Ryan also said, we each deal with things in our own way, and I had to deal with a lot that last summer. We all did. And since then we’ve each had to deal with the emotional toll that loss took. For me, returning to Three Rivers isn’t going to further my healing. Not at this point. Instead, it would be like ripping a scab off a wound that’s just begun to heal.”
“Okay. I get that, but sometime I’d love to see you in action, on a river, you know? It’s hard to imagine you guiding trips down class IV and V rapids.”
“Why is that hard to imagine?”
He shrugged. “Guiding groups of people down some of the most difficult rapids in the state takes courage.”
“The American River has some great white water. There’s no need to go all the way to Three Rivers. We just need to take the time to do it.” I was stalling as I considered Keith’s statement. I had a feeling we were headed to the second part of the conversation that had bothered me. “But that’s not the point. What is your point?” My earlier irritation had returned.
“Let’s not make a big deal out of this, okay? My point is that we used to have fun. You were adventurous, enjoyed a good time, loved a good risk—or that’s what I thought. We laughed together. Lately, I don’t know—it’s like you’re afraid of your own shadow.”
“Afraid of my own… Is that how you see me? Did you hear what Gabe said tonight?”
He leaned his head back, eyes closed, and exhaled. He stood that way for a moment, figuring out what to say, I assumed. Then he looked back at me. “Like I said, when I met you, when we married, you were a strong, confident, adventurous woman who loved a good laugh. But somewhere over the last month or so, that person has vanished. Not completely, but maybe doing something fun and adventurous, you know, will… empower you.”
There was something to consider in the point he made, but I couldn’t move beyond the anxiety I felt, nor could I understand why he wasn’t more… What? What was it I wanted from him? I couldn’t pinpoint it—fatigue muddled my thoughts.
“You see no reason for me to feel anxious.” It was a statement, not a question. He’d made that more than clear when we argued several days ago, and again just now. “I know you don’t give a lot of credence to intuition, but what if I’m right? What if that guy, the gifts, the phone calls… What if, as Gabe suggested, someone is stalk—” Could I admit what I’d feared and denied? Not only admit it to Keith, but to myself? I took a deep breath. “What if someone is stalking me? You said yourself that because I’m known now, people follow me. What if…” I shook my head. “You know what I mean.”
“See, babe, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. I knew Gabe’s comments would freak you out. Gabe’s a cop. He’s seen some bad stuff—he looks for bad stuff. But that doesn’t mean everything is bad. And yeah, maybe I’m not the most intuitive guy, but I’m looking at the facts, and so far they don’t add up to much. You may have someone interested in you, following you even, but no one has done anything to endanger you. Right?”
I left the sink and dropped onto one of the barstools at the island. My head ached and my eyes were heavy. “Right. No one has threatened me.”
Keith was technically right, and his confidence that my concern was unfounded nearly snared me, but this time I pulled away from what felt like a trap. A trap set by my husband? It made no sense. But I no longer had the energy to analyze it.
I got up from where I’d just sat and made my way to the bottom of the stairs. Then I turned back to Keith. “I am suffering from some anxiety. But afraid of my own shadow? Hardly.” My tone was firm, despite my fatigue. “It’s time I pay attention to that anxiety and figure out the root cause. I believe there’s something behind it. Someone behind it. Do I have concrete evidence? No.”
Keith just shook his head again.
“I also respect Gabe’s position and consider him an authority when it comes to this kind of thing. If he tells me to pay attention, I’m going to pay attention. It’s time I took steps to ensure I feel secure, including trusting myself and what I’m feeling. If those feelings prove to be the result of a general anxiety disorder, I’ll know that soon enough and deal with it. But I truly believe there’s something else going on.” I waited, hoping Keith would say something. When he didn’t respond, I turned and walked up the first few stairs but then stopped and turned back. “I love you, and I hope we can respectfully agree to disagree and work through this.”
I climbed the rest of the stairs and went through our bedroom into the bathroom, where I removed my makeup, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. Then I went into our closet and changed into my pajamas.
Fifteen minutes later I went to bed.
Alone.
On the following Wednesday, Jay and I walked out of the office together at dusk. It was one of those icy evenings, and with the sun just setting, the cold felt as though it went through my coat, straight to my bones.
I climbed into my car, started it, and immediately turned on the heat, wishing I had driving gloves or a heated steering wheel. I blew on my hands to warm them, then backed out of my parking space. As I pulled around the corner of our building and headed for the parking lot exit, something caught my eye along the side of the building. I slowed, cognizant that Jaylan was behind me.
In the planter area surrounding the building, a man stood alone directly underneath one of the outdoor lights attached to the building. As I slowed the car, he leaned against the wall. He wore a thin jacket over his clothes, and each breath he took crystallized in white puffs of air. He wore no hat or gloves, and my first thought was that he’d freeze to death out there. Then my heart lurched. I’d seen that jacket—khaki green, army style—and that same posture before.
The last time I’d seen him, he was leaning against the trunk of a heritage oak.
I came to a stop just past where he stood, and I looked back at him. He didn’t flinch as I stared at him. In fact, he returned my look and held it.
His stare bore into me, and I was certain.
It was him.
He knew where I worked. I swallowed the fear rising in my throat. The bracelet and charm were from him—he’d walked into our office and left the gifts for me. It was him outside my office window that evening last week, and it was him who’d tried to come into the office after Jay left.
I couldn’t prove any of it.
But I knew it now, just as I’d suspected it last week.
Seeing him at the book signing and then again at church may have been coincidental. I’d chosen to believe it was a coincidence, even though my gut had told me something else. But his presence here wasn’t a coincidence.
No, this was planned. Calculated. Not only did he know where I worked, but he wanted me to see him here. I was sure of it.
I glanced in my rearview mirror and could see that Jay was also looking at him. Should I confront him? Pull over and get out of the car and demand to know what he was doing?
Lord, what do I do?
As soon as I lifted the prayer to God, I knew this wasn’t the time for courage—it was the time for wisdom. I stepped on the accelerator and pulled out of the parking lot. About a block from the complex, I pulled over to the side of the street. Jaylan, as I hoped she would, followed me. Before I could get out of the car to talk to her, she’d called me.
“That’s him, isn’t it?”
“Y
es. Definitely.”
“Call 911. I’ll call Gabe.”
“What am I supposed to say? He hasn’t really done anything that I can prove.”
“You tell them the man who’s stalking you is outside your office. Tell the dispatcher that officers were here last week. Call!”
The urgency in Jay’s tone spurred me on.
This affirmed, at least in my mind, that I could no longer afford to hope that Keith was right. I knew better now. Just as I’d known better all along. As Gabe said, it was time I pay attention.
I dialed 911.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Denilyn
December 2009
My second encounter with the Sacramento County Sheriff’s Department proved no more fruitful than my first. They took the information I offered and conducted an exterior search of the office complex. Beyond a few footprints in the soft dirt under the light where Jay and I had seen the guy standing, there was no other evidence that he’d been there.
Nor had he threatened me in any way.
Again, I felt a little foolish.
And again, after that event, I came home to an empty house.
Keith had flown out of Sacramento International Airport Monday morning for a weeklong business trip. I pulled into the driveway of our home, dreading another dark entry into the house alone. But when I clicked the garage door opener and the door lifted, light flooded the garage. Keith had replaced the bulb. Something about his simple act brought tears to my eyes.
I wished he was here to welcome me home.
I parked the car, got out, and then walked out of the garage door and down the driveway to the mailbox. I grabbed the stack of envelopes and flyers from the mailbox, and as I was walking back up the driveway, I noticed a package on the porch. It was a box addressed to me—something I’d ordered, I assumed. I set the mail on top of it and carried it through the garage and into the house. As the door between the garage and the house swung closed behind me, the sound echoed through the empty rooms, and a pang of loneliness echoed through my soul.
I locked the door and flipped on lights as I went to the kitchen, where I set the pile of mail on the island, and my briefcase and purse on one of the barstools. Then I went straight to the range where I set the teapot to boil. A cup of chamomile tea might help calm my frayed nerves.
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