The Stalked Girl

by Evan Ronan

There’s that word again.

  Intense.

  “When he burns himself out, he has to, like, leave for a few days to chill.”

  “He’s done this before?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Lori.” I give her my best pleading look. “Come on. Lucy is scared. I’ve read the emails he sent her. If something happens to her …”

  I let my voice drift off, hoping my guilt trip will work.

  But it doesn’t.

  “I don’t care what happens to her,” Lori says.

  “You and I both know that’s not true,” I say. “You were friends. Maybe you still could be.”

  “We will never be friends again.”

  “Why not?” I need to uncover the source of all this hatred. “Because of your brother?”

  “No.” She looks away.

  “Because of Brody?” I’m just guessing now, clutching at straws. “Did something happen between them?”

  She laughs bitterly. “Brody … are you here because of him too?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shakes her head. “Lucy didn’t tell you about him?”

  “What’s there to tell?”

  “Ask her.”

  “Lori, tell me what happened between you and Lucy.”

  “You’ll have to talk to her about it.”

  “Then tell me about your brother and Lucy.”

  “My brother had a crush on her.” She thrusts a hip out. “And she didn’t reciprocate. I can’t control him.”

  “No,” I say. “You can’t. And nobody should expect you to.”

  She is not expecting me to agree with her. It takes some of the wind out of her fury.

  “Did you and Lucy have a falling out over Adam?”

  Lori doesn’t answer. Instead she just turns and slowly walks away, as if in a daze. This time I let her go. I’ve pushed her enough today.

  Twelve

  Back in my car, I’m about to call Ashlynn from Lazarus Realty back, but I get a call from another number I don’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Greg?”

  The soprano voice belongs to a young woman. “Is this Casey Bennin?”

  “Yes. I got your Facebook message.”

  “Thank you for calling me. I really appreciate it.”

  “What has Adam done?” she asks.

  “He’s taken an unhealthy interest in another young lady,” I say and decide to lob an open-ended question at her. “I heard you and he knew each other?”

  “We did.” She goes quiet. “In high school we were … it was a small school, so everybody knew everybody.”

  Everybody always does.

  “Were you friends?” I ask.

  “No,” she says emphatically. “He had a crush on me.”

  “He told you that?”

  “He didn’t have to,” Casey says. “It was obvious.”

  “Did he ever—”

  “He stalked me,” she blurts out. “Somehow he got my email address and he started sending me all these crazy messages. You wouldn’t believe …”

  And she starts crying.

  “What happened?”

  “Adam wouldn’t leave me alone. He started following me home from school. I’d see his car in my rearview mirror all the time. It was so …”

  She’s hyperventilating.

  “I’m sorry to ask you about this, Casey,” I say. “Please take a deep breath and just take your time. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She takes several deep breaths and manages to calm down.

  “When I told my parents, my mother wanted us to go to a lawyer, but my father didn’t want to wait. He drove right over to their house.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Dad convinced Adam to leave me alone.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “By beating the living hell out of him.”

  “Good for him,” I say. “Adam deserved it. Did he ever bother you again?”

  “Not in person,” she says. “But I still got weird messages from email addresses I didn’t know from time-to-time. Thank God that was senior year. After college started, I never got those weird messages again.”

  “Do you still have any of those emails?” I ask.

  “I kept them,” she says, “in case we had to go a lawyer or in case, you know …”

  “In case something happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I give you my email, would you send them to me?”

  ***

  Back at the pool hall, Bernie has managed to get most of the customers to pay. Eighty-twenty rule. Though it appears he’s eaten a six-pack of soft pretzels, so the profit’s net sum is zero here.

  “I appreciate you getting everybody to pay,” I say sarcastically. “But food isn’t one of the perks.”

  Bernie doesn’t pick up on my sarcasm. “Your.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t appreciate me,” he says.

  That’s for damned sure.

  He explains. “You appreciate my getting everybody to pay.”

  “How is it I understand every word that you just spoke but have no idea what you mean?”

  “The correct way to have said that is, I appreciate your getting everybody to pay.”

  Now Bernie is correcting my grammar.

  “My grammar notwithstanding, food remains not one of the perks here.”

  Bernie gives me a look. “Are there any perks to this job?”

  “If I recall, Bernie, you get to work on your Great American Novel while you mind the register.”

  “It’s mostly downtime anyway, though.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “You know.” He shrugs. “If I wasn’t working on my book, I’d just be on my phone or the internet all day anyway. That’s what people do when they work jobs like this.”

  “Jobs like what?”

  “You know.” He motions. “Like this. Minding the register doesn’t require my constant attention.”

  I shake my head, want to say something ridiculous like kids these days. But I don’t want to make myself feel old.

  Roy and Wally are going at it again. They’ve taken a break from their endless match of straight pool to play one pocket.

  “Greg, when are you going to hire somebody?” Wally asks.

  “I did.” I point at Bernie, not getting the joke until it’s too late.

  Wally repeats, “Greg, when are you going to hire somebody?”

  “Give him a break. He’s writing the next Great American Novel.”

  “I’ll give the book a try,” Roy says, surprising everybody.

  Bernie looks up from his laptop. “You will?”

  “Yeah, to see how much of a shit show it is.”

  Bernie flips him off, employing the double bird gesture. Not just one, but two fuck you’s. It’s a power move.

  Bernie adds, “Didn’t know you could read.”

  “Yeah, there’s a lot you don’t know,” Roy quips.

  Bernie is just digging himself in, deeper and deeper. Wally and Roy have been around the block. I know better than to play the dozens with them.

  “I look forward to you buying my book,” Bernie says.

  “Wouldn’t that be your buying my book?” I can’t help myself.

  “That’s what I said,” Bernie adds quickly. “Anyway, each sale will help me make the bestseller list.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not going to buy your book.” Roy shakes his head. “I’ll wait till it’s at the library.”

  “That doesn’t happen right away,” Bernie says. “Publishing houses usually window book releases so—”

  “Believe me, Bernie, I can wait to read your book.”

  Bernie’s face has turned bright red.

  “Hey, Bernie,” I jump in, actually beginning to feel bad for the guy. “Quit while you’re behind. Write a great book so these guys have to eat their shit.”

  Wally claps in my direction. “The hero
comes in to save the day.”

  “Somebody’s gotta do it.”

  Back in my office, I try to reach Lucy but she doesn’t answer my call. I try again, still nothing. I leave her a voicemail telling her we need to talk.

  I hop online and try to dig up more information on Adam. With my PI license, I can access several databases. I verify his home address, see that he’s got a driver’s license about to expire in a month, and learn his last job was teaching at a swim school for kids during summer and winter breaks from college. There’s nothing online about what happened between Adam and Casey, or Casey’s old man and Adam.

  I call Ashlynn from Lazarus Realty back but it goes straight through to voicemail. I leave her a quick message.

  It’s getting near dinner time but I’m not hungry. I feel like Adam’s disappearance is no mere coincidence a few days before the hearing. And I don’t know what drove Lucy and Lori apart, and I don’t know what happened between Lucy and Brody, and all of this is irritating.

  I hop in the car.

  Thirteen

  “Greg,” Mary says. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “Hey, Mary. Is Lucy here?”

  She nods then looks over her shoulder, as if checking to see if anyone is listening. Then she lowers her voice.

  “Do you know where Adam is?”

  I shake my head no. “Is Lucy okay?”

  Mary’s jaw nearly locks up. “She’s been in her room since you called Bob.”

  “I really need to talk to her.”

  “What is it?” She grabs my forearm. “Did something happen today?”

  “No.”

  We stare at each other awkwardly a moment, till she realizes she’s holding onto my arm. Abruptly, she pulls her hand back.

  “I just met with a few people and asked some questions.”

  “Who did you see?”

  I get that Mary’s curious about what I did today, but she’s also sending out a strange vibe. I can’t put my finger on it.

  “I went to Adam’s fraternity and spoke to a boy named Brody.”

  Her eyes do a little thing. If I hadn’t been watching them, I would have missed it entirely.

  “Has she ever talked about him?”

  “She told me they were dating.”

  “Dating?” Brody either failed to mention that, or in his mind he characterized their relationship a little differently.

  Mary nods. “Why do you say it like that?”

  “He didn’t tell me that.”

  “Oh.” Mary absently looks away. I can tell she’s rolling some things around inside her mind. “Who else did you speak with?”

  “Lori.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Not much. Can I come in?”

  “Oh.” She smiles apologetically. “Sure, yes. Sorry. We’re a little on edge.”

  Mary opens the door wide. I wave at Julian, who’s sitting in the kitchen.

  “How about Bob?” I ask. “Is he here?”

  “He came straight home from work after you called. He took his calls from here.”

  “Can you point me to his office?”

  “Sure.”

  I feel like there’s something Mary knows, or suspects, and is holding back from me. But I keep that concern to myself for the moment as she leads me through the house. She knocks at a door and shows me into Bob’s home office. He swivels around in his chair.

  “Hey, Greg.” He pushes his great bulk up off the chair quickly. “Has something happened?”

  “No,” I say. “But I wanted to talk to both of you for a minute.”

  “What is it?” Mary closes the door behind us.

  “Do either of you know what happened between Lori and Lucy?”

  They exchange a look. I don’t know what it means, but I get the sense they have differing opinions on the subject. Mary waits for Bob to answer.

  “We don’t know,” he says. “They had a falling out.”

  I look pointedly at Mary. “Lucy ever share any details?”

  Mary looks away. “No.”

  I let my gaze linger a moment, but Mary doesn’t open up. “Lucy’s not the first girl that Adam has stalked. There was another girl back in high school.”

  “No!” Mary gasps.

  Bob shakes his head. “What happened?”

  “Her father had a short, but pointed, conversation with him.”

  Bob understands. Nods.

  Mary looks at me. “Could you do that for us? Talk to Adam?”

  “He means,” Bob says, “that the girl’s father beat him senseless. Am I right?”

  “Something like that.”

  Mary regards her husband. Her eyes ask the follow-up question.

  Bob shakes his head. “No, Mary. We are not going to do that.”

  “It worked before,” I say.

  He gives me the stink eye. “I consider this discussion closed. Besides, our attorney says that could muck up the process of getting a restraining order.”

  “Fair enough,” I admit, “But it might come to that eventually.”

  He wants to challenge me but in the end he knows I’m right. It’s okay to hate violence. In a perfect world it’s okay to never want to commit violence. And if it’s just you, I guess it’s okay to turn the other cheek.

  But the whole equation changes when you’re a father. Fair play to Bob if he wants to follow in Christ’s footsteps, but he’s got a daughter, and right now she needs protecting, and sometimes protecting requires getting your hands dirty.

  “I’d like to talk to Lucy for a moment,” I say.

  ***

  Lucy’s room reminds me of my daughter’s, which is sobering because there’s an eight year age gap between them. A couple rock band posters cover one wall, several movie posters hang on another. The only major difference is that Lucy has posters and pictures of many famous athletes as well.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  “I’ve been better.”

  Lucy is sitting on the floor, her back cinched up against the side of her bed. She points her toes toward the ceiling and bends forward and easily grabs her feet. She’s able to wrap her whole hand around them. Next thing I know, her upper torso meets the top of her legs.

  I don’t think I was ever that flexible, not even in the womb.

  From what looks like a painful stretched position, she breezily asks, “What did Lori tell you?”

  I’m about to say, not much. But then decide to try something.

  “A lot.”

  Very slowly, she comes out of the stretch that would leave me paralyzed from the waist down. She flays her legs and then bends forward again, flattening her arms on the floor with the greatest of ease.

  “What did she say?”

  “She and her brother aren’t on speaking terms right now,” I open with. “And she’s very upset with you, for reasons that are beyond me.”

  “Yeah.” Lucy takes a deep breath, then deepens the stretch on the exhale. “She’s like that.”

  “Volatile?”

  Lucy’s head is almost on the floor between her legs. As she nods, her ponytail flops back and forth.

  “What’s she so mad about?” I ask.

  Lucy comes out of the stretch, then rolls her eyes. “Everything.”

  “Come on, Lucy.” I give her the look. “This all feels related to Adam. I need to know more.”

  “It has nothing to do with Adam!” she snaps. “If it did, I’d tell you.”

  “Alright.” I hold out a palm, still not believing her for a second. “Fine. If you’re going to hold back on me, I can’t help you. Just understand that’s your decision to make.”

  “I already told you,” she repeats, in a more respectful voice, “that it has nothing to do with Adam.”

  “Okay.” I fold my arms and lean against the doorway. “I talked to Brody this morning.”

  Lucy grabs a foam roller from next to her bed. She lays her upper back on it and begins rolling up and down.

&nbs
p; “What did he say?”

  This is getting old. This young woman is my client and yet I feel like she’s trying to get more information out of me than I’m actually getting out of her.

  “He didn’t mention you were seeing each other, for one thing.”

  She stops, mid-roll. “He wouldn’t.”

  “Is that because you’re not actually dating?”

  After a brief pause, she starts rolling again. “No, we’re not dating.”

  A-ha.

  “Stephanie also approached me.”

  Lucy rolls her eyes, in time to her rolling on the foam cylinder. “And she wanted to know everything, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Please don’t tell her anything,” Lucy begs. “If she finds out, the whole campus will know.”

  “Lucy, I wouldn’t tell that girl what I was going to have for breakfast if I could help it.”

  She kind of laughs. “College is no different than high school. Everybody talks.”

  “So I have to admit I’m confused,” I say, trying to pivot. “Your mom thinks you and Brody were dating. You tell me you—”

  “What does this have to do with Adam?”

  “Come on, Lucy. You’re an intelligent young woman. Brody and Adam are fraternity brothers. I’m assuming they are, or were, friends at some point. Brody knows how Adam feels about you. Adam knows what happened, or didn’t happen, between you and Brody, right? How do you think Adam is going to respond?”

  “I don’t care!” She shoots up. “I don’t care how Adam feels! No, I take that back. I hope he’s annoyed. I hope he goes after Brody and then Brody kicks his ass or … God!”

  She covers her face and starts sobbing. I hear footsteps on the stairs down the hallway. Looking out the door, I hold up a palm at Mary as she emerges on the second floor. Her eyes wide, she pauses then nods slowly.

  I step a little further into the room and lower my voice so only Lucy can hear.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “Brody …” It takes her a moment to get herself under control. “… he took advantage of me.”

  There is a lead ball in my stomach.

  “What did he do?”

  “We were at this party and, you know, I always liked him even though I shouldn’t have. Brody’s a player, you know?”

  “I got that vibe.”

  “I can’t explain why I … anyway, I always liked him but Adam was always around. And … I was drunk. I was really, really drunk. I never get like that, but all this with Adam, it’s just too much. And Brody made me feel safe, you know? We just kept drinking, and drinking, and I couldn’t even stand up after a while. But I remember … oh God.”