by Nadirah Foxx
I couldn’t stomach food. Instead, I drank coffee doctored with whiskey and went back to bed. Matt and my father talked for a while and then Matt left.
∞∞∞
That morning I stayed in bed, too afraid to leave the room. Dad did the parent thing and called my boss. She agreed that I could work from home until further notice, which suited me just fine.
But work wasn’t on my mind. I kept going over the situation. Thinking back to how I met Leo—what I should have done differently. Of course, every path led to Dad’s firm belief that I should stop going to bars. Stop picking up strangers. If that wisdom had any merit, then meeting Matt should’ve been a potential problem too.
Around noon, someone knocked on my door. I was still in my pajamas.
“Come in,” I called out and sank further into the covers.
Dad strolled in. The mattress dipped as he sat beside me. “Sunshine, you can’t stay in here all day.”
“You haven’t called me sunshine since I was a kid.” I rolled over and looked at him. “As long as Leo is out there, staying in here is good.”
Dad rubbed my shoulder. “Cops are out front and so is Richard.”
“That won’t stop Leo. Remember, he was outside this morning? He called me on my phone. When I looked out the window, he was standing there.”
Dad pushed off the bed. “I’m speaking to Richard. He’ll alert every cop. That asshat won’t come back again.”
Like a child, I wanted to believe in the impossible. I wanted to trust that my father—the invincible force nobody could deter—would come to my rescue. I wanted to hope that Matt would be my shining knight and slay the bad man. I wanted all these things to be true. Sadly, I knew none of it was or could be as long as Leo Kilpatrick was free.
No amount of security would prevent him from getting to me.
18
What They Don’t Know
Leo
Rachel and her man-of-the-moment thought they were so smart. A bodyguard wouldn’t prevent me from acting. Didn’t they realize I’d played this precarious game for years? Outwitting cops, reporters, and even my victims was a finely honed skill—like any refined craft. I knew what to say and do so that I was always a step ahead of everyone. Nobody second-guessed me.
Ever.
I was that good at what I did. With all the places I’d been… All the women I’d known… I had no choice but to be sharper than the so-called experts.
Some people might say I was a master manipulator—either that or I was superb with women. But I didn’t believe I was that arrogant or that illogical. Instead, I saw myself as someone who was observant of people. I watched them carefully, learning everything possible about them until I knew them exceedingly well. I discovered their little idiosyncrasies and hidden desires—the things they thought they wanted.
That was the key—learn all you could and then use it to your benefit. Over the years, I’d gained different techniques depending on who I pursued.
Take women, for instance. All of them claimed to want a man who was totally into them—a man who was devoted to their every need. The type of male who would break his neck trying to satisfy a woman. Then when the right man entered their lives, it wasn’t enough. She always found imperfections in every little thing he did. Or she was the type who wasn’t easily pleased. She wanted more than he could give. Taking, taking, taking—constantly. It was the fickle nature of the weaker sex.
And they were weak—exceedingly so. Stroke a woman in just the right way, and she’d come repeatedly. Tell her she was beautiful, and she melted. It was all in the delivery. Something not every man could do.
But I could.
I was the solution to their fatuous conundrum. Women needed me. I knew how to point out a woman’s faults—not in a crude, unhelpful way—and guide her to finding her true self. If I offered my talent as a service, women couldn’t afford me.
Yes, I realized I boasted. Wouldn’t you if you were superior to others?
My stamina in the bedroom far exceeded the average man’s. When I fucked a woman, I could rock her world all night long. The only thing that rivaled my endurance was my patience. I was tolerant to a fault. Plus, I had all the time in the world to give a woman. Whatever she needed… Wherever she wanted to go, I could be there in a heartbeat. I’d never leave her side.
I was the under-appreciated male. The one that women didn’t seek out.
Too many women preferred the unattainable men. The kind who wouldn’t show their emotions for all the tea in China. Those men thought they were above feelings since they didn’t break down relationships and get all touchy-feely about shit like females did. The complicated types who thought they knew what a woman wanted were all jackasses. And when the women didn’t comply with the asshole’s wishes? He beat her down until she understood that he was boss.
I’d never hit a woman.
But then again, I wasn’t like those bastards who felt they were smarter, wiser, stronger…invincible. Because of their gender. That flaw made men more prone to failure because of presumed beliefs.
Like that goddamned cop.
He considered himself above the law, but when it came to the nitty-gritty of life, he was just as culpable as I was. He wasn’t as smart as he liked to believe. His convictions were his kryptonite. That fucking huge heart of Matt’s was a goddamned anchor, and it would sink him.
Just like every man who ever got in my way.
Soon Matt would learn what it was like to live with doubts. The asshole would find out what it was like to have people view him as the delinquent, the sinner—the fucking reject. We’d trade places—the public would revere me while hating the cop turned killer.
One would suppose that our shared, unfortunate history would make him sympathetic. News flash—it never had and never would. The man looked down his nose at me, but he wouldn’t continue to ignore me.
I tugged open his closet door and examined every article of clothing. He dressed nice enough on a policeman’s salary. Then again, when someone worked every possible hour of the day, they could afford nice shit. I ran my hand across the black suede jacket, itching to snatch it off the hanger and take it with me. Eventually, the garment along with everything else would be mine.
Including Rachel.
I pushed back the articles of clothing and shoved the blood-splattered uniform into the rear of the closet. Positioning a seldom-worn coat over it would look like Matt was hiding something. Problem was, he had this unknown life that needed to be revealed. Once his superiors found the stained uniform, maybe then they’d asked the right questions.
Closing the door, I took one more look around the semi-tidy apartment. He didn’t deserve this place. Kids who grew up in foster care didn’t get fairytale lives.
The gourmet appliances were a joke. The man I knew could only prepare one dish—spaghetti. You didn’t need a chef-worthy kitchen for that. I tugged open the fridge and found what I needed—his stash of insulin. The perfect hiding place.
Matt should really work on beefing up his security. It was too easy to borrow his identity. The dry cleaner didn’t ask twice when I picked up the items. I glanced in the mirror hanging near the door. The skullcap, sunglasses, and an identical hockey jacket helped me pass for the cop.
But I wasn’t finished, not by a long shot. When I was done, the cop would question his own actions. As I turned the screws of injustice, he’d beg for mercy, but I wouldn’t hear him. And when he couldn’t take it anymore… When Matt screamed for it to end, I’d get the girl. He’d finally lose.
So much more for me to do before I ran my victory lap.
19
It’s Our Fate
Rachel
Thanks to Leo Kilpatrick, I no longer felt safe, but staying behind closed doors seemed an act of cowardice. Dad kept telling me that he could run my errands while Matt wanted me with him at his loft. I wanted to feel normal again—going grocery shopping, hanging out with Crystal, going to work.
I hit t
he send button and delivered my contribution to the latest project to my boss’s email. Earlier in the day, I’d drafted my resignation letter. If I was too scared to leave the house, then I didn’t deserve the position.
“Knock, knock,” Dad said from the hall. “Busy?”
Closing my laptop, I shook my head. “Come on in.”
He took a seat at the foot of my bed. “New tires are on your car.”
“How much? I can deposit the money into your account.”
“No, Rachel. I didn’t tell you that for the money.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted you to know that your car was good to go. Richard assigned someone from his security crew to the house. If you need to go out, you’re to take him with you. I can make the introductions if you have a moment.”
“Is this how I’m going to live my life from now on?”
Dad’s eyebrows knitted together.
“I don’t want to have a bodyguard. I don’t want to work from home. Living this way is ridiculous.”
His expression softened. “Rachel, this situation isn’t permanent. This is just how we keep you safe until that man is arrested. Once he’s in jail, then you go back to normal. Well, almost… You’re going to stay out of bars and sketchy clubs.”
Not that again. I wasn’t a child or a teenager who just started dating. Where I met men was up to me, not my father. “What if I only go out during the daytime? I’ll be back here before it gets dark unless I’m with Matt.”
“I don’t like it, but it’s not like I can lock you in your room either.” Dad stood. “Please be careful. I can’t lose you too.”
I didn’t intend to worry Dad. He’d been through a lot… Correction. We’d been through a lot over the years. Losing Mom left our lives empty. Dad didn’t date because he said no woman could replace her. Before Mom died, I was the girlfriend of the quarterback in my high school. After her death, I broke things off with him and kept company with the damaged guys. Come to think of it…
“Dad, where are my yearbooks?”
“The basement. I put them in a footlocker. Why?”
“Just checking a hunch.” I slipped off the bed and headed for the hall. Dad was right behind me.
“What’s the hunch?”
“After Mom died, remember any of the guys I dated?”
“Not particularly.” Dad scratched his head. “They were all losers.”
I turned on the basement light and descended the steps. Over my shoulder, I said, “Understatement. Some of those boys had no clue about themselves, let alone how to behave around a girl.”
Stopping in the center of the floor, I surveyed the space. As a kid, I used to commandeer the basement. It was my girls-only club. In high school, it became my spot to make out with those losers Dad mentioned. Anytime he was on active duty and Mom was at work, I was down here testing how far I could go before crossing that imaginary line.
Dad tapped me on the shoulder. “Have a seat. I think I remember which trunk they’re in.”
I sat on the lumpy, outdated sofa while Dad walked to the opposite side of the basement and into one of the smaller rooms. Banging and loud thumps came from the space.
“Sure you don’t want any help?”
“I’m sure.” He paused. “Oops! Found it.” A few minutes later, Dad returned with all four of my yearbooks and passed them to me. He’d sealed each one in individual plastic bags.
Running my hand over the protected cover, I said, “Dad, you didn’t have to do this.”
“It wasn’t a problem. I have a friend who worked in an office. She ordered the bags for me,” he said as he sat beside me.
“She?” I dipped my chin and smiled.
He turned to me, and his face lit up as he spoke. “Sophia is just a friend.”
“So, how did you meet?”
“I’m not doing this with you,” he warned. “Remember, I’m the parent?”
“Okay, we’ll discuss later.” I unwrapped my senior yearbook and flipped through the pages.
“Who are you looking for?”
Honestly, I didn’t think his picture would be on the pages. It was something Leo said that sounded too familiar. When I flipped to the back of the book, I saw it scribbled inside the cover.
While I’m contemplating life, we should get together. It’s our fate.
Yours Forever,
Leon Allen
867-5319
I gasped, pointed to the note, and passed the book to Dad. “This is what I was looking for.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “What is this?”
“I think my stalker was at an event with me.”
Dad squinted at me. “He was a student at Shrine?”
“I don’t think so. If I remember right, he had shoulder-length hair and wore ripped-up jeans. Definitely not a student since we wore uniforms. It was late in the year when we met. One afternoon, a bunch of us gathered in the parking lot, getting our yearbooks signed. He grabbed mine and put that note in it. An odd thing to write in a stranger’s book.”
“Richard needs to see that. Maybe he can figure out if that’s your stalker.” Dad rose to his feet. “This might help the police find some sort of history on the man.”
“I hope so.”
An hour later, Richard didn’t have any updates for us. Without an area code, the phone number could be for anyone. He said he’d pass the information on to an investigator friend. For all we knew, Leo Kilpatrick could be a fake name.
∞∞∞
Although Dad and Richard wanted me to take a bodyguard when I left the house, I just couldn’t do it. I was desperate for some normalcy in my life, so I waited for them to go to the basement. Once they started talking, I slipped out the front door and ran to my car. I didn’t think about where I was going until I was on the highway to Crystal’s.
Scott opened the door for me. He looked up and down the street before asking, “What are you doing here?”
“Good to see you too.” I pushed past him. “Is Crystal home?”
Footsteps pounded the stairs. In a matter of seconds, she stood on the landing and leaned over the railing. “Rachel, what’s wrong?”
I gave her an incredulous look as I stepped into the living room. “Am I not welcome here anymore?”
Scott shut the door and faced us. “Of course, you’re welcome. It’s just that you came alone. Matt said you had a bodyguard.”
Plopping down on the sofa, I tossed my keys and wallet on the coffee table. Crystal descended the rest of the stairs. “I needed a few minutes without a babysitter.”
Crystal sat beside me, and Scott took a seat across from us. Usually the man didn’t stick around for girl talk. Maybe he thought I would update them on the case.
My bestie broke the ice. “Girl, how are you holding up?”
“I could be better. Leo’s got me so frustrated and scared. I don’t know what to do.”
“All the more reason you shouldn’t be out alone,” Scott added. “Anything could happen to you.”
My gaze whipped to him. “What a way to make me feel better. Is this how you handle anyone who might be a victim?”
“No, girl,” Crystal jumped in. “It’s just that we’re concerned about you.”
I wasn’t there to argue with Scott. Information was my goal. Crystal and I went to Shrine. She might recall the day of the yearbook signing.
“I get it and thanks. Actually, I could use your help. Tonight, I pulled out my senior yearbook.”
Crystal said loudly, “I’m glad you didn’t bring it with you. Scott does not need to see me back in the day.”
The couple exchanged a look.
“Anyway… Crystal, remember some of the yearbook signings?” I glanced at Scott. “We were notorious for hanging out after school in the parking lot, trying to get all the signatures we could.”
“Yes, girl. There was this one time when we cornered some of the cheerleaders.” Crystal tapped her chin with a manicured fingernail. “You
weren’t dating the quarterback then. This guy was with one of the girls. I think they were hooking up or something.”
Maybe that was the day in question.
“Was that the guy who wore ripped-up jeans and grabbed my yearbook?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes! It was so weird, Scott. The guy didn’t go to our school, but he wrote in her book.”
Scott leaned back in his chair. A shadow came across his face. “So, what was his name?”
My gaze locked onto Scott’s. “Leon Allen.”
Crystal started, “Isn’t that the name of—”
“No, Crystal,” he said firmly. “My friend’s name was Simon Allen.” Scott didn’t break eye contact with me. “Simon and I were friends in college. He died a few years ago in a car wreck.”
Crystal’s mouth opened, and she nodded slowly. “That’s right. I’m sorry. I do it all the time.”
Yeah, right. I’d known Crystal for most of my life. She’d never been to a funeral for some guy named Simon Allen. What the hell was going on? I was willing to play along.
“Well, I gave the information to my father’s security guy. He’s going to pass it onto an investigator. See what they can find out.” Scott didn’t budge. “I’m wondering if Leon Allen might be Leo Kilpatrick.”
“Really?” Crystal said.
Scott finally broke his gaze and stood. “I wouldn’t read too much in it. You know how common a name that is, right? Besides, we have a file on Kilpatrick. If the man is using an alias, we’d know about it.”
“Maybe. Dad’s friend discovered that file, but it was really weird. Somebody went through it and blacked out all the basic info—no parents, no siblings, no former addresses.”
Crystal looked over to her husband. “Why would someone do that?”
Scott shrugged. “If it’s a juvenile record, it was probably court ordered.”
Okay, that actually made sense. This whole ordeal had me looking for clues where there were none. I was nobody’s detective. It was time to go back to Dad’s.
20
Memories Unleashed
