The Stalked Girl

by Evan Ronan

  “That’s her,” I say.

  Lori puts the drink down and stands a little taller. “How do I look?”

  “You look great,” I say.

  “Thanks again, Greg.”

  “Even-Steven?”

  “Not even close!” she says. “You asked me to spy on my parents.”

  “Alright, I still owe you.”

  We step out into the hall, where Lucy is waiting by the register. Lori tentatively approaches, and for a moment the young women just look at each other, neither wanting to speak first. Just when I think it’s not going to work, Lucy steps forward and embraces Lori.

  “It’s good to see you,” Lucy says.

  Twenty-Nine

  Three days to go.

  Lucy doesn’t even know if she can compete in the qualifier now. She hasn’t slept much since Adam had roses delivered to her house, and when she does her brain treats her to an endless parade of horrifying nightmares, where Adam is forever pursuing and trying to murder her.

  She’s as low as she can be.

  Which in a weird way frees me up.

  Things can’t get worse for her. She’s in danger of not even showing up for the race, so I might as well try the batshit crazy idea I have.

  Out once more to campus. The semester ended a few weeks ago now and the place has an abandoned coal mining town feel to it, though there are a few stragglers around in the summer.

  Including the swim team.

  I drive past fraternity row and head to the student center where I sit down in a quiet corner of the cafeteria. It’s ten-thirty, between meals, so there’s hardly a soul in here.

  Glen Jarek is the first to arrive. Dressed professionally in a nice suit with a power tie, he comes over to the table and doesn’t sit.

  “The rules,” he says.

  “I know, I know.”

  “One more time.” Jarek folds his arms. “You don’t touch the kid, you don’t raise your voice at the kid, and you don’t threaten the kid.”

  The last rule is the first—and hopefully, only—rule I’m going to break.

  “You have my word,” I say.

  He smirks. “You have to work on your lying, Marine.”

  “I won’t hurt him, Army. I promise.”

  Jarek nods. Three more of his guys come in and take up position at about the midpoint of the cafeteria.

  “Now,” Jarek says, “off the record. What are you going to say to him?”

  “Off the record?” I ask.

  “It’ll stay between us.”

  I don’t know whether I can trust him. Though I want to. My initial suspicions of the school and its security force not taking Lucy’s allegations seriously weren’t borne out. Jarek seems competent and genuinely concerned about the students here.

  “Tell you what,” I say. “If he agrees, and it works, I’ll tell you everything over a couple beers.”

  Jarek nods. “Fair enough.”

  And then Brody enters. Though it’s long walk inside from the entrance down to the cafeteria, he’s still got his shades on. His dress is stereotypical: the red lifeguard shorts and a white tank top. He’s already got a deep, deep tan. Like a peacock, he struts over.

  “How’s that stab wound?” I ask.

  His nostrils flare.

  “Thanks for meeting,” I say cheerily.

  Jarek gives Brody a fatherly look. “If you feel uncomfortable at any time, you get up and walk away. My men will take care of the rest.”

  Brody is slow to answer, making his show of bravado laughable. “I can handle myself. Thanks.”

  Jarek almost smirks. “I’ll be right over here.”

  The man in charge of campus security walks away, giving us our space. I can now speak to Brody privately.

  He sits across from me. If I wanted to hit him, I’d have to jump halfway across the table. It should make him feel a little safer.

  He keeps his shades on, like he’s playing Hold ‘Em down in Atlantic City. “What do you want?”

  “Your help.”

  He folds his hands and sits forward. His voice is cocksure, but his body language is not. “Why would I help you?”

  I lean in and keep my voice really low. “Because you want to do the right thing.”

  He doesn’t know what to say to that.

  “I think you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted in life,” I say. “You’re not used to hearing the word no.”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “You’re used to having. But despite all that, I think deep down you have a conscience. You are a leader in your fraternity and you’re a leader of your team. There’s a reason you’re in those positions. It’s because part of you cares about other people.”

  His lip curls ever so slightly. A dead tell.

  “You and I both know what you did to Lucy,” I say. “And I think you’re sorry. You can’t make it up to her, because … well, how could you ever make something like that up to her?”

  “She wanted it,” he says.

  “She didn’t say yes, Brody.”

  “I will sue her and her family for everything they’ve got if she tries to set me up for this.”

  “I’m sure you will,” I say. “But you don’t want it to come to that. And you want to do the right thing, don’t you?”

  He folds his arms and looks sideways.

  “Why would you?” I ask. “Why would you want your good name to be ruined? When the university finds out there is a sexual assault charge or a civil lawsuit pending, what do you think’s going to happen to you? You think your senior year will be normal? You think they’ll let you swim for the team?”

  His mouth hangs open.

  “I don’t know what your plans are after school, kid. But I know that swimming is important to you.”

  “What do you want?” he spits out.

  “Your help.”

  “I don’t know where Adam is. I haven’t seen him or heard from him. Nobody at the house has. His shit’s still in his room. I can’t help.”

  “But you want to.”

  He won’t admit it.

  “Come on, Brody. You know it was Adam that tried to kill you. You want him caught just as much as Lucy does.”

  “What’s in this for me?” he asks.

  “You’re all square with Lucy.”

  He turns back to me, with arms still folded. Peers at me from over top of the shades. “You guarantee that?”

  “She does,” I say.

  “Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “What do I have to do?”

  Thirty

  The whole drive, I keep one eye on the road ahead and one eye on the road behind. Several times during the long trip I think there’s a car following me. But each time the vehicle makes a turn or pulls off the interstate. By the time I get near campus, I’m reasonably certain I haven’t been followed.

  I drop my car several blocks from campus and pull into the empty lot across from the grocery store. The first sign of real nerves hits me when my stomach begins to tighten. I take deep calming breaths and close my eyes for a full minute, trying to visualize how I want this to go.

  It probably won’t.

  Through my closed eyelids I see headlights pointing at me. I slip down in the seat instinctively and shield my eyes as the other vehicle pulls into the empty lot as well and slowly makes its way back to where I’ve parked, in the darkest section of the lot, away from the lone sodium lamp and far from the street lights.

  The other car sidles up to mine. Window goes down. In the darkness of the vehicle’s interior, I can barely make out Brody. His face is awash in a blue glow from the dashboard lighting.

  I give him the nod, then turn back to the street.

  “Stay in your car a minute,” I order.

  “Fine.”

  We sit there, two enemies sort of working together for one night. I watch the road to see if Brody was followed here. A minute passes. And another.

  I don’t see anybody.

  “Turn your dome light
off,” I say.

  “Huh?”

  “Your interior lights.”

  He flips a switch, leaves the car running, and gets out. I do the same thing.

  “There better not be a scratch,” he says.

  He’s driving a BMW that’s newer than my car. That doesn’t piss me off. Really. If his parents want to spend their hard-earned cash on spoiling the little shit rotten, it’s their money to waste.

  What pisses me off is the attitude. He sexually assaulted Lucy. He knows it. I know it. He knows I know it. Doesn’t matter that he’ll never suffer any repercussions for his horrific act. That doesn’t matter at all. What matters is, he knows what he’s done and he’s unapologetic.

  That’s what pisses me off.

  I shouldn’t hit him.

  But I do.

  Slug him right on the jaw.

  The punch doesn’t have all my stuff, but it’s got enough to get the point across. He staggers back against his precious car. His sunglasses fly off his head.

  “I’m going to—”

  He throws a punch but I catch his hand halfway through its arc, then I twist his arm behind him and apply a little pressure, just enough to make him yelp.

  “If you ever treat Lucy with anything but respect, I will kill you,” I say. “If you so much as look at her funny, I will kill you. From here on out, you will be a perfect gentleman toward her. If she’s in trouble, you will help her out but always from a distance. You get me?”

  “Yeah! YEAH!” He squirms. “Don’t break my arm!”

  I let go and shove him away. Then stoop to pick up his sunglasses. Instead of giving them back, I put them on the top of my head.

  Brody shakes the arm I bent back behind him and looks at me miserably. “I’m sticking my neck out for Lucy here. This better work.”

  I shake my head. “If you really wanted to help, it’d be you in this car.”

  I get into his BMW and make sure to unceremoniously slam the door. Then I peel out of there. On my way back to campus in Brody’s car, I go over the plan one more time. It’s full of holes, but at least I’m doing something proactive for a change in this case.

  After getting Lucy’s and Brody’s buy-in, things happened quickly. Brody sent an email to Adam’s account, and in that message he said a number of untrue things. First and foremost, he taunted Adam by saying he and Lucy were a couple. He told Adam how many times they’d slept together and how he was planning to ask Lucy to marry him. He closed the email with a challenge. He called Adam a pussy and wanted to settle their differences over Lucy man-to-man. Brody picked a place and time, that quiet corner tucked away on campus, inside the nature preserve, where nobody would be late on a Friday night.

  I’m headed there now.

  Adam didn’t respond of course, but I’m absolutely certain he read the email. Whether he shows is anybody’s guess. This is officially a Hail Mary play. But I’m banking on Adam’s jealousy overwhelming him. He nearly knifed Brody to death a few short weeks ago, and that was merely because Brody had slept with Lucy. I have to imagine the response will be similar in type and even worse in degree when he thinks that Brody is planning to ask for Lucy’s hand.

  Later that day, Lucy logged into Facebook account for the first time in weeks and updated her status to—

  Engaged

  Admittedly, this is a long shot but nobody else can think of anything better. So we’re going with it.

  Monroe has a pretty big science college. Many consider theirs one of the top earth science programs in the area. With all the money pouring in, Monroe is able to afford this nature center, a one hundred acre preserve, right on campus.

  I take the long approach. It’s been closed since dinner time. I park in the dark, lonely lot. Sycamores and oaks surround me. A half dozen trails lead away from the parking lot throughout the woods. The visitor center is closed, all the lights out.

  I keep the car running with the lights on. I don’t want Adam getting a good look inside the car and realizing it’s not Brody behind the wheel. I sit low in the seat and pull on Brody’s favorite baseball cap.

  He’s got a pinhead, of course.

  I adjust the strap and slip it on. And wait. I’m fifteen minutes early. And I don’t expect Adam to show up on time.

  A half hour later my rear end is falling asleep. I’ve sat behind the wheel of a car for several hours today and now I’m getting uncomfortable. I plant my feet under the pedals and lift my legs and lower back off the seat, bridging myself a moment just to stretch out.

  I wait longer.

  My phone rings twice. After checking the caller ID, I ignore it twice.

  I realize a car idling for nearly forty-five minutes is a weird sight, especially in a dark lot outside a closed building, so I decide to kill the engine. Not wanting Adam to get a good look inside the car, though, I do keep the headlights on.

  The longer I sit, the more I think this is a bad idea. Performing a cost-benefit analysis, I have to admit this is high-risk with a low return. Adam might not show up. Or he might show up and not approach the car. In which case I’ve sat out here risking my middling health for nothing.

  And if he does show up and decide to engage the occupant of this vehicle? He’ll be carrying a knife, his soul filled with a murderous intent.

  “You’re an idiot, Greg,” I say.

  Yeah, yeah. I’m an idiot.

  But there’s also Lucy.

  This poor girl is out of her mind and about to walk away from her dreams of competing in the damned Olympics. All because this guy doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no. It’s not fair and she deserves better, and I’m in a position to help.

  So here I sit. In this par—

  The windshield cracks when the bullet hits it.

  Thirty-One

  Never bring a knife to a gunfight, is the saying.

  I try to live by that rule. On my last case, the murderer surprised me by bringing a gun I wasn’t expecting and I vowed to never let that happen again.

  But here I am. Same guy, same mistake.

  Because he attacked Brody with a knife a few weeks ago, I wasn’t expecting Adam to bring a firearm. So foolish me, thinking inside the box, assumed he’d come armed with a blade this evening too.

  Apparently not.

  Before the second shot hits the windshield, I’ve flopped sideways so I’m out of view. Judging by the angle of the bullets, Adam is directly in front of me. My gun is already out and with my free hand I push open the passenger door. I want him to think I’m going that way.

  A half second later there are more shots in that direction. A bullet shatters the window.

  I spring up and go the other way. Pop the driver door open and roll out of the car, hoping against hope that Crazy Adam has committed to the other direction so I can get behind the car for cover. In the glare of the headlights I see him flashing across the parking lot.

  I don’t want to shoot. As much as I loathe him, I don’t want to kill anybody. I saw enough of that back in the Marines overseas.

  But I also don’t want to die.

  I raise the gun as he brings his to bear. He’s moving at a good clip, making him a difficult target to pick off with a handgun. But moving that quickly is a double-edged sword. Adam will have a hard time hitting me while he runs that fast.

  I aim low and squeeze. The deadly boy goes from running to flying through the air. I can’t tell if I’ve hit him or if he’s diving on purpose to avoid my gunfire. He crashes to the ground.

  There is a lot of ground between us. Too much to cover. So I train my gun on him. He does not seem to be in any pain, so I must have missed.

  “Don’t move, asshole,” I say, hoping he doesn’t. I was always a good shot in the Marines, but I’m out of practice and hitting somebody with a handgun from twenty yards away isn’t as easy as it looks in the movies.

  Adam’s head comes up off the ground. I can’t see his face in the darkness, but I sure as hell can see him bringing the gun up.
/>   “DROP IT!”

  Before he fires, a half dozen police officers materialize and descend on him. How Adam managed to slip through the woods unobserved, with all these cops wandering around, I’ll be interested to know.

  You know, for the next time I serve as bait on a stalker case.

  A burly cop kneels on Adam while another one swats his weapon away. A third collects Adam’s weapon, takes out the clip, removes the lone round in the hole, and safeties it before putting it into an evidence bag. The other cops cuff Adam and then literally sit on him while police cruisers tear into the parking lot. I safety my weapon and put it away. Hope I never have to fire it again.

  Jarek comes running up to me. “You okay, Marine?”

  “I’m good, Army.”

  Jarek shakes his head. “Your crazy plan actually worked.”

  I say nothing. It was crazy. It shouldn’t have worked. But sometimes you get lucky.

  A cruiser pulls up close to where Adam is pinned to the ground. Another cop opens the back door of the car, where arrestees go, and then the police work as a team to shuffle Adam into the cruiser. He doesn’t struggle. Doesn’t fight. Doesn’t yell or scream. Or speak at all. With his head down and with eyes vacant, they push him into the back of the car and shut the door. Then a couple cops jump into the front of the car and take him out of there.

  As the cruiser slowly moves past, I get my first real, live look at Adam. Not a photo on Facebook where he’s pretending to be a human being. His eyes are haunted. He gazes at me, unblinking. Unaffected by what just happened. Those bottomless eyes just stare at me while he goes by. They’re like black holes, sucking in all light—all life—and emitting none in return.

  “So long, asshole,” I say. Then I turn to Jarek. “He waited till I killed the engine, so I couldn’t drive away as quickly. But how come nobody saw him till he nearly blew my head off?”

  Jarek points. “He must have been up in a tree.”

  The police and campus security set up shop two hours ago. That meant Adam was lying in wait for over two hours.

  “That means he got here first. That means he saw all your guys and the cops get set up.” I shake my head. “The crazy son of a bitch knew you were all here, but he came down anyway to kill me.”