The Stalked Girl

by Evan Ronan

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Because he knows what I’ll say about him if he does.”

  “And what would you say about him?”

  I give him a look. “Can this stay between us?”

  “I don’t know. That depends on what you tell me.”

  “Then forget it,” I say. “Just know he’s got some dirty laundry he doesn’t want aired.”

  Jarek eyes me. “Dirty laundry?”

  “Yeah. The captain of the men’s swim team has been misbehaving.”

  “If you’re aware of a crime, you need to report it to me or the authorities, Owen. Otherwise you’re obstructing justice.”

  I smile, then put the ice pack back up to my head. “Do you have a line on Adam yet?”

  “No,” Jarek says. “His parents don’t know where he is.”

  “You’re aware that the judge granted Lucy the restraining order, right?”

  “I’m aware,” he says.

  “So how are you going to enforce it?” I ask.

  “We will ensure her safety and Adam’s compliance with the court order,” he says vaguely.

  “How?” I ask.

  “By doing our job.” He gets up, signaling the end of the conversation. “Now I won’t say this again, Owen. Next time you’re on campus, you see me first. Before you do anything. You understand?”

  “Sure, Jarek. You got it.”

  He smiles ruefully. “You’re still a horrible liar.”

  ***

  I should go to a hospital but hell, I’m too tired to sit in a waiting room for an hour and then lie on a bed for another couple hours, waiting for them to give me meds and discharge me with common sense instructions. I want to get home and sleep. So I make the long drive down the interstate. Halfway there, I realize I’ve been riding in silence, with not even the radio playing. My mind is swirling. I find the jazz station and set the volume and cruise. It’s after midnight when I pull up to my house. When I grab my phone from out of the center console, I remember I’ve got a voicemail waiting.

  Denise sounds miserable. “Hey, Greg, it’s me. I was calling to … I want to see you. I’m sorry about what I said the other day. Can I see you? Please? Please call me back.”

  I stew on it for thirty seconds. She answers in a groggy voice on the fifth ring.

  “Greg, what time is it?”

  “It’s time to talk, Denise.” Despite the long drive and the ample time I’ve had to chill out, I’m still running hot. “Why did you want to see me?”

  “Can I come over?”

  I want to scream at her for putting me through this emotional roller coaster again. I thought this crap was done back in high school. But I’m a grown-up now. Truth is, I have no one to blame but myself. I went into this relationship knowing what she was like with me before, so expecting her to be different with me now was pretty stupid.

  “Listen, Denise, I got the hell kicked out of me tonight and I’m real tired.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to know why you called me again.”

  “Greg, I love you.”

  It’s not the first time we’ve said it to each other. But it feels like it is.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say. “I gotta lay down now.”

  “Greg, wait—”

  I hang up. Confused as ever. Instead of going up to bed, I head into the den and pour a couple fingers of whiskey. Straight up.

  D

  O

  W

  N

  It

  Goes

  The drink burns the back of my throat and I can feel the fire all the way up into my eyes. I don’t drink much anymore, especially not the hard stuff, so I’ve lost my taste for it. All the same, I’m still on edge so I go for

  Numero

  Dos

  And that goes down a little more smoothly. I’m thinking about Denise and the pool hall and Lucy and Lori and Adam and Brody. I worry about Tammy, because she’s a teenager and in six short years she’ll be going away to college also. Will she have problems like this? Chances are she’ll get her heart broken, because it happens to everybody. No avoiding that. But she’ll have to deal with drunk idiots on a college campus …

  I rub my eyes. Force myself to think about the case.

  I can just see it going on and on. Until we find Adam, Lucy will be in a holding pattern and the case will drag. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I need to be thinking about the next business venture, and it’s not going to be Ashley Madison for women who like ex-cons. But I can’t make any significant moves unless I sell the pool hall.

  I’ve got to find Adam.

  And next time, I’m going to get Brody alone so we can have a private chat.

  I’ve got to find Adam. Then I can focus on helping Lucy while she trains. Once she’s made it to the Olympic qualifier, I can bow out of this mess.

  My phone buzzes. A text from Denise.

  I miss you and I love you. Please call me tomorrow.

  I lean way back on the sofa and put my feet up on the coffee table. More whiskey won’t help, but I take down a third and a fourth, and the alcohol helps with the pain. I should drink a half gallon of water right now, but I’m so tired …

  … someone’s knocking on my door.

  Daylight.

  The sun filters through the blinds in the den and hits me right in the eyeballs. I squint against the glare, feel the headache already coming on.

  “Police! Open the door!”

  More banging.

  I grimace against the harsh sounds of the knocking and the glare of the morning sun and with eyes squinted walk through the foyer to the front door. I see two detective-looking types on through the peephole, and panic grips me.

  Did something happen to Lucy?

  I open the door. “Is Lucy okay?”

  “Are you Greg Owen?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Is Lucy okay?”

  The two men regard each other a moment, then face me again. “I’m Detective Dawes and this is my partner, Detective Vaughn. Do you mind if we come in?”

  “Sure.”

  I admit them and lead them through the kitchen, where I pour myself a big glass of water. I should offer them something.

  I should …

  “Alright, guys, I’ve let you in. Now tell me, is Lucy okay?”

  “As far as we know,” Dawes answers. “You were out on campus last night.”

  “Yeah,” I say carefully. Maybe Brody has decided to press charges after all. If he does, I might be in trouble. He can cook up a story and at least a dozen fraternity brothers will back him up. They’ll claim I started the fight with him after he politely invited me inside.

  “Why were you out there?” Dawes asks casually.

  I chug some water. “I think you already know.”

  “Of course we do. But we’d like to hear your story too.” He grins. “See if it lines up with the facts.”

  So I walk them through my night on campus. I leave most of the details of my conversation with Lori out of my account, not wanting the entire world to know the two big secrets my client keeps. Instead I give the two detectives all the details of my attempts to locate Adam.

  “That’s why I headed to the fraternity,” I say. “I wanted to see if Brody had seen Adam.”

  “Uh-huh,” Dawes says, like he’s chewing. “So tell us what happened when you got to the frat house.”

  “I asked to see Brody. Brody let me in. He showed me upstairs. Next thing I know three other guys jump me from behind and then all four of them start wailing on me.”

  “Wailing, huh?” the other detective, Vaughn, asks. “Those four kids were abused.”

  “Doubt I look any better,” I say.

  “You were a Marine, right?” Vaughn says.

  “Always will be.”

  “Why did you pick a fight with them?” Vaughn asks.

  “I didn’t.”

  I had planned on grilling Brody for infor
mation on Adam, then knocking the holy living hell out of him for what he did to Lucy. Yeah, it wasn’t the most strategic plan in the world, but I don’t know where else to go here. I don’t have access to Adam’s bank account or phone records, so I can’t track him like the police would.

  “You didn’t start the fight, huh?” Dawes chimes back in.

  “You think I started a fight with four guys in their fraternity house? I’m not the brightest bulb in the bunch, but even I’m not that stupid.”

  The detectives seem to accept this. “Then what happened?”

  “I spoke to Glen Jarek, the guy in charge of campus security, for about ten minutes in his office. Then I got in my car and drove straight home.”

  “Were you alone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was anybody else here in the house last night?”

  “You mean is there anybody who can verify my whereabouts after I left Jarek’s office?”

  “Is there?” Dawes asks casually.

  “Not really. I got home and I called a friend. We spoke for a few minutes, then I came in and had a few drinks and fell asleep on the couch. You guys woke me up.”

  Dawes and Vaughn exchange a look.

  Vaughn says, “You didn’t go back to the fraternity house after you left Mr. Jarek’s office?”

  “No.” I finish the water. But the headache is only getting worse. “I was in no shape to go anywhere. I should have driven to the hospital.”

  “Uh-huh,” Dawes says again, like he’s got a mouthful of gum.

  Vaughn folds his arms. “But you have no one to back up your story?”

  “Not a living soul.”

  Dawes takes a deep breath. “We’d like you to come with us.”

  Twenty

  They let me drive my car at least, but it’s a long ride back out to the campus even for a Saturday. My head is pounding, my aches nagging from last night’s beating when we drive past campus and up the road a few minutes.

  The police station is new and bright and shiny. I shuffle inside and they usher me into a conference room that looks suspiciously like an interrogation room. The door shuts, the lock slides into place, and I’m alone, staring at a one-way mirror and wondering just what the hell happened at the frat house after I left.

  My phone buzzes. Lucy calling.

  “Good morning, Olympian,” I say. “How are you feeling?”

  “Greg, what happened last night?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find—”

  “Lori called me,” she says accusingly. “Why did you go see her? I told you our falling out had nothing to do with Adam.”

  “What Lori shared with me, goes no further.”

  “I don’t know what she told you, but …” Her voice trails off. She doesn’t have energy this morning to lie.

  “I talked to her because I’m trying to find Adam. She doesn’t know where he is.”

  “You believe her?” Lucy asks. She’s asking an honest question here.

  “I do.”

  “Did you do that to Brody?” Lucy asks.

  “Do what?”

  “Everybody’s saying you went to the house and got into a fight and—”

  “That happened, yeah.”

  She lowers her voice. I can barely hear her through the phone. “Did you go back to the house later?”

  “No. What happened to him?”

  “Somebody tried to stab him.”

  “Wasn’t me,” I say. “I’ve got a pretty good idea who it was.”

  “You think it was Adam?”

  “He knows about the party last weekend,” I say. “When Lori confronted Brody about it, word got out. It’s safe to assume that Adam knows Brody assaulted you.”

  “Oh God.”

  The door opens. Dawes and Vaughn come back in.

  “I gotta go now, Lucy. I’ll be home later today.”

  After I hang up, Dawes smiles. “You sure you’ll be home later today?”

  ***

  For two hours they interview me.

  It gets real old, real fast.

  Because after ten minutes, they’ve run out of questions to ask. So for the next one hundred and ten minutes, they ask the same questions in different ways.

  Round and round we go.

  No, I didn’t go back to the house.

  No, nobody can provide me with an alibi.

  No, I didn’t go back to the house.

  No, nobody can provide me with an alibi.

  And around and around.

  I get five phone calls while they waste their time. One from my daughter Tammy, one from ex-wife Lorelei, one from Ashlynn at Lazarus Realty, one from Bob Hale, and one from Mary Hale. I have a difficult time sorting out the priority of my return calls, with the exception of Ashlynn. The sale of the pool hall can wait another day.

  Or two.

  Or forever.

  Since they’re the ones asking the questions, I don’t get much information out of the detectives. But here’s what I can deduce: around three-thirty, an unidentified man attacked Brody with a knife. I’m assuming the guy was wearing dark clothes and something over his head, otherwise they would know it wasn’t me. Though Brody was able to ward off the attack, the world-class asshole sustained an injury and was taken to the hospital. When his brothers stormed out of the house, the assailant escaped down the back alley running behind fraternity row.

  The attacker had to be Adam.

  Detective Dawes says, “And no one can verify your whereabouts?”

  “Asked and answered, Detective.”

  He nods. “We’ll be right back, Greg. Just give us a minute.”

  Dawes and Vaughn step out of the room once more. I stand up to stretch my legs and my back. It’s been a long two hours answering the same questions over and over. I felt like I was testifying before Congress.

  Dawes said they’d be back in a minute, but one minute turns into ten, which turn into twenty-five. Just as I’m about to knock on the door, I hear the knob turning. I step back and give them a wide berth as they come into the room.

  This time, they leave the door open.

  Dawes nods. “Thank you for your cooperation, Greg. You’re free to leave at this time.”

  At this time. Implying there would be a next time.

  “Do either of you guys have a line on Adam?” I ask.

  Vaughn shakes his head. “We can’t discuss an open investigation, especially with a person of interest.”

  “A judge has granted my client a restraining order,” I say. “And I’m a licensed private investigator. I’m trying to find Adam in order to protect my client.”

  “As soon as we have information that we can share, we will pass it along to Ms. Hale,” Dawes says.

  “Detectives,” I say, with as much calm as I can muster, “Adam is your attacker. He is obsessed with my client.”

  “So why would he attack Brody?”

  “My client and Brody went to a party together last weekend,” I say, leaving it at that. “It made Adam jealous, so much so that when he found out, he literally disappeared from campus. No one has seen him in several days. His sister and his family don’t know where he is.”

  “We are aware of all this. Thank you, Greg.”

  “Who’s more likely to try and kill Brody?” I ask, not able to help myself. “Do you honestly think I’d go back to the frat house where I’d just gotten the shit kicked out of me and try to carve him up with a knife, with fifty of his brothers around? Or do you think the obsessed stalker who’s been missing for many days tried to hurt him?”

  “Like I said,” Dawes answers, “we’ll contact Ms. Hale when we have more information.”

  Twenty-One

  We can make more money. We can make more friends. We can lose the love of our life and feel devastated, but we can always find somebody else to love just as much, if not more. That’s not a romantic view of the world, but it’s the damned truth. We can lose our job but find a better one. Our business can fail but we can star
t a new one. We can make more of a lot of things.

  But we can’t make more time.

  That’s why I hate having mine wasted.

  We only have so many minutes on this earth. We only get one race around the track. Now I’ve lost half a day I could have spent looking for Adam because I was answering these detectives’ questions.

  Pissed off, I drive back to town. I swing by the Hales’ house. Bob greets me at the door.

  “Greg.” His eyes do a little wobble as he takes in my shoddy appearance. “Good God, are you alright?”

  “I’ve been better,” I say. Everything aches. “I’m more worried about Lucy. How is she holding up?”

  Bob tilts his head to the side. “This is killing her.”

  “She’s tough,” I say. “Mind if I see her?”

  He nods slowly. “Sure. Come on in.”

  I head up to Lucy’s room. Her door is open. She looks up from her laptop when I step into the doorway.

  “You look terrible,” she says.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll get him back. One way or the other.”

  “Why did you go there? Why did you go see Brody?”

  “I don’t like guys like him,” I say. “Guys who do whatever they want and get away with it. I wanted to put a healthy dose of fear back into him.”

  She looks down. “If it was Adam—”

  “It was,” I say. “No reason to think otherwise.”

  She nods, her eyes still down. “If he’s willing to kill Brody …”

  “He’s gone off the deep end.” There is no point in dressing it up. “We have to assume that.”

  She looks up.

  I say, “He’s not going to stop you. I’ll be there when you train. When you’re not training, I’ll be looking for him.”

  She tries to smile. Doesn’t quite.

  “Now let’s go over your training schedule.”

  She pulls up a six-week calendar on her laptop and we go through it. Some days she just swims, some days she just cycles, some days she just runs. Some days it’s a little of each. Some days she’s off. At the three week mark she runs her own triathlon and nearly the full race distance and then begins the tapering. She won’t push as hard after that point in order to be at her best for the qualifier.