Stalk me. (The Keatyn Chronicles)

by Jillian Dodd

  Cush: Well that was easier than we thought :) Now we can sit wherever we want. Hope everything’s okay. Call me as soon as you can. No matter how late. I’ll be waiting. I had so much fun tonight. And you told me you love me, so that makes it the best night of my life. Even better than the night at the hotel.

  He’s so sweet. I start typing my reply.

  Garrett practically rips my phone out of my hands. “What are you doing? You can’t have this.”

  “I need to talk to my friends. Explain to them what’s going on.”

  He sits down next to me. “This is going to be the hard part. You can’t talk to your friends. You can’t tell them anything.”

  “I can’t just leave. I have to explain it to them. Like Cush. He and I . . . like, I can’t just disappear with no reason.”

  “You have a very big reason why you need to do just that. Was he the other boy in the photos?”

  “Yes, that was him.”

  “What does Vincent think your relationship with him is?”

  “Um, Cush was my date at one of the parties in the pictures, but I told Vincent he was just my friend . . . wait, do you think he’s in danger? Do you think my friends could be in danger?”

  “I think he will use any means necessary to find you.”

  “Last Vincent heard, I was dating Brooklyn. I told him about our summer in Europe.” I think about Cush and how happy I felt tonight. I lower my voice so only he can hear. “You don’t understand. I told Cush that I loved him tonight. We’re getting back together. Like, I finally figured out who the right guy for me was. Please don’t make me leave without talking to him. I can’t do that to him. He would be so hurt. He got hurt once because of me already. Please, I’ll lie to him if I have to, but I have to talk to him. I have to.”

  Garrett pulls up my last text and shakes his head. “You already told him too much.”

  “People are saying I’m a drug addict.”

  “The more false rumors about you the better.”

  Tears start streaming down my face.

  Garrett leans closer to me. “You care a lot about him, right?”

  I nod. “He loves me. All of me.”

  “Why did you agree to boarding school? Why, when your mom wanted you to go somewhere with them, did you agree to go off on your own?”

  “Because I’m afraid for my little sisters. I’d rather leave them and never see them again than have anyone hurt them.”

  “You should be afraid for Cush too. If you love him, you won’t talk to him. I know it’s hard. It’s awful, but he can’t know. Sometimes when people enter witness protection we have to make their families believe they’re dead. We hold real funerals, the whole deal. If killers see real emotion from the family, the family is safe from harm.”

  “Are you going to say I died?”

  “No. If Abby Johnston’s daughter died it would make the news. We have to keep the press in the dark. In a few days we’ll have a plan worked out. I’m personally going to check out this school and make sure the security is good enough.”

  I wipe my tears and smile a bit. “Thank you.”

  Mom sits down next to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder.

  Garrett says, “And when it’s all over, we’ll tell everyone the truth.”

  I say softly, “And when will that be? After he succeeds in kidnapping me, or when I’m dead?”

  “Keatyn Elizabeth!” Mom screeches. “Don’t you dare say such a thing.”

  “It’s what everyone is thinking, Mom.”

  Tommy steps in. “Abby, try to stay calm. She’s right. We all thought it, and we all pray that never happens.” He turns to face me. “You seem better. More sure of yourself. You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you? You have that same stubborn look Gracie always gets.”

  “Yes, I have. It feels like the right thing to do.”

  Garrett says, “We’ll figure this all out. If you go to boarding school, which I think is an excellent idea, you can’t go as yourself. Mr. Moran,” he turns to Damian’s dad, “you can’t even tell your friend who she really is. You can't tell anyone who you are, Keatyn. Not only can you not use your phone, but I also want a list of all your social media profiles and passwords. We’ll change your passwords, so you won’t be tempted to get on, and we’ll monitor them.”

  “Got it. No phone. No social media. So who am I going to be?”

  “Keatyn Monroe,” Mom says. “That was my great grandma’s maiden name. That’s what I almost named you. Monroe Douglas. But Keatyn Monroe sounds better, don’t you think?”

  “That’s a good name,” Millie says. “I like it.”

  Garrett adds, “And you’ll need a cover story. A backstory. You're going to have to tell people lies about who you are. That's the hard part. In these situations, we find the more we can leave about you that’s true, the easier it will be to lie about who you are.”

  I set the computer back on my lap and click through more pictures.

  Students at football and soccer games. Students in classrooms. The gorgeous old buildings. It looks like a nice, safe place.

  I click on the school’s calendar.

  “We’re gonna have to do all this pretty quickly. Orientation is this coming Thursday.”

  “Okay,” Mom says. “Do you think we could try and eat some of this food?”

  Tommy and James go around the house and double-check every door and window. They already have security surrounding the house.

  I pick at some of the food and look out at a guard standing on the deck.

  And realize I still don’t feel safe.

  Wednesday, August 24th

  Click your heels together.

  1pm

  The last few days have been awful. Damian went back to Europe on Sunday, and I’ve been going stir crazy. They won’t let me leave the house.

  Not that I want to.

  I’m too afraid.

  Cush tried to stop by a couple times, and it breaks my heart to know I’m hurting him. He’s going to hate me, but I don’t want to put him in danger. James told me that Vincent could be watching the house or the guard booth. He already has a photo of me and Cush from before school was out, I don’t want him to think there is anything between us.

  The neighbors have started complaining about their guests practically being accosted at the guard booth. I don’t know why security is making such a big deal out of it—we know what Vincent looks like—but Garrett and James both started talking about disguises and hiring someone and all sorts of other ways he could get to me.

  I’ve had enough bad dreams lately that I don’t want to listen.

  I finally told James that I didn’t care what anyone said, and that I was sitting out on the deck.

  I put on a bikini and laid out in one of the chaises.

  I closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else. Brooklyn has been scarce. He’s been busy packing, since he leaves tomorrow too. His first tournament is in Zarautz, Spain. One of the places we visited this summer.

  Normally when I lay out, I listen to music, doze off, and have a nice little daydream, but instead of daydreaming about boys and kisses, I’m envisioning spy movies. A sniper who takes out the two guards next to me with barely a sound. Cables dropping from a stealth helicopter and a team of black-suited ninjas on our roof. They move silently through the house, taking out the rest of the security detail. Then the door to my bedroom bursts open. They’ve killed everyone else; no need to be subtle now. One of them rips off his black outfit. Underneath is Vincent in a black Armani suit, black shirt, and black shoes, his dark hair slicked back. He grins at me, grabs my wrist, and says, Perfection. We’ll make perfection together.

  I wake up with a start, leave the deck as quickly as I can, go to Tommy’s study, and flip open his computer.

  I’ve practically memorized every page of my new school’s website. I’ve looked at all the photos, studied the map of the campus, read their student handbook twice, wondered how many of the rules they actually
enforce, read about every athletic and academic club, and all the other student activities. I’ve read about their famous graduates. I know that 37% of their graduating class goes on to an Ivy League college. I know that they recently revamped their meal service to give the students more healthy choices. I know they have three coffee shops located on campus. I’ve memorized the names and photos of the faculty. I’ve been prepping for my role much the way Mom does before a film.

  Delve into your character. Know her background. Become her.

  Since I have to become me, I’ve also made a list of all the clubs and activities I want to be a part of. I was bummed to learn that dance team is out, since they had their tryouts in May, but I’m going to sign up for all the other stuff.

  I read and reread the dress code.

  Kym was sent to New York City to shop for me. We aren’t allowed to ship anything from L.A. to my new school lest it be tracked. I get to bring a suitcase-worth of stuff from home. And all of that is being screened before I’m allowed to pack it.

  The good news is that Kym’s great at shopping and totally gets my taste. She’s shopping for all my dorm decor as well as clothes to go with my uniforms. She’s super excited to use her talents to make them look amazing. She’s already bought the uniform pieces and had a seamstress tailor them to fit me perfectly. She had the plaid skirts made just a little shorter than they should be. And she’s making me my very own Look Book. She does Look Books for Mom whenever she goes out of town. She figures out the outfits Mom is to wear every day and sends her a little book of photographed combinations. That way, Mom knows she’ll always look her best. I guess at least I’ll look good there. And Kym is sweet. I know this is her way of trying to make me feel better about things. She always says the right clothes give you confidence.

  I put the computer down.

  It sucks not being able to get on any social media sites to see what everyone is doing.

  Or, more specifically, what they’re saying about me.

  Come to think of it, I probably don’t want to know.

  James walks in. “How you holding up?”

  “I’m okay. I’m having a hard time playing with the girls though. It makes me sad to have to leave them.”

  “It makes us all sad. I really think I should be going with you.”

  “I think that would make me stand out. People would want to know why.”

  “I couldn’t be a body guard. I’d have to get a job there or pretend to be your dad or something.”

  “I’ve been looking at the website. I think I’ll be okay there, James. There are people here I don’t want to leave but, honestly, even though I know you have lots of security and stuff, I just don’t feel safe. Even with an armed guard outside my room every night, I can’t sleep.”

  “You’ve been handling this better and more maturely than anyone expected. Are you sure you’re doing okay?”

  “You know how that night, how I thought my dad talked to me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The same voice sort of popped into my head later that night and told me I should go to boarding school. That I’d be safe.”

  “Really? That’s pretty cool. Garrett is coming over soon. I don’t know if you know this, but he’s the president of the security firm. You noticed as soon as we found out the police weren’t going to be able to hold him, he asked them to leave. He didn’t want anyone in on our plans for you. We can’t afford any leaks.”

  “Okay. What does he want to talk to me about?”

  James smiles. “He’s meeting with you first, then with everyone else. There are security protocols that need to be in place.”

  I hear the doorbell ring. “That’s him,” James says.

  Garrett shakes my hand. He’s built much like James. He’s about six feet tall, lean, and has the kind of look in his eye that lets you know you’d better not fuck with him. I don’t doubt he has a military background.

  “Let’s have a seat.”

  I sit.

  “First of all, I didn’t say this the other night, but congratulations on your escape.”

  “Uh, thanks?” Seriously? Can you picture that on a greeting card? Congratulations on your recent escape from being kidnapped. We’re so proud of you. Or. . .

  “I want to talk to you about fear.”

  That gets my attention. “Fear?”

  “Yes, fear. Fear is like a sixth sense. When you feel scared, there’s usually a reason. Have you ever been in the house alone and heard a strange noise?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know that tingly feeling you get in your stomach? Or when it feels like the hair on your arm or the back of your neck is standing on end? That’s fear. Your body is telling you that something is wrong. You must learn to trust that fear. If you feel fear anytime, no matter how ridiculous you think you’re being, run. Run and find someone. Call someone. Go someplace where people are. Get yourself to safety. Scream. Whatever you need to do. It’s the number one thing that will keep you safe.”

  “So why didn’t I feel fear all those times I was with him? I sat with him. I talked to him. I flirted with him. I never felt scared.”

  “There were times he tried to get you to go somewhere with him or meet him. Why didn’t you?”

  I think about that for a minute. Why didn’t I? “Warning bells, I guess. Like in my head. I wondered why this hot older guy would be flirting with me. Why he’d want an unknown like me for the role. Why he didn’t go through an agent. It sorta didn’t add up.”

  “That’s what kept you safe. James tells me you’re a very bright girl. I’d have to agree with him. Trust your intuition. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t.”

  “Okay.”

  “My job is to figure out all the possible ways he could find you, think of them first, and then do something different. One way we often find people is through social media. I know James took your phone and your computer.”

  I nod while he reaches into his bag. He pulls out a new phone, iPad, and laptop. “These are your new toys. We’ve preloaded your phone and email list with the only people you are allowed to contact.”

  I scroll through the list and read. “B, D, Garrett, Grandpa, James, Kim, Mom, Sam, Spa, Tom. Not very many. Are the B and D for Brooklyn and Damian? Why did you spell Kym’s name wrong, and who is Sam? And did you already find me a good spa to go to?”

  “Both Brooklyn and Damian have unusual names and are in the public eye. We didn’t want to list Tom as Tommy or make Kym stand out with the unusual way she spells her name. We don’t want anyone to connect any dots. We’ll talk about Sam in a minute. Notice I added myself. You need anything—help, advice, anything, anytime, twenty-four hours a day—you call me. No question is too stupid regarding your safety. If for some reason I don’t answer, call the spa. The spa is code for my security firm. They will always answer the phone and can get you whatever you need very quickly.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “Now, for social media. I know it’s part of your world, but trust me, with facial recognition software, finding any new account you might form on the sly would be detrimental to your well-being. Just don’t do it.”

  “Okay. What else do I need to know?”

  “Money is the other way to track people. Your being a minor complicates the issue, so we had to take a few drastic measures.” He reaches into a file folder and hands me an official looking document. “You’ve been emancipated from your parents and are officially an adult.”

  “How does that help?”

  “It helps us in quite a few ways. You know all those notes you bring home from school that your mom has to sign?” I nod my head yes. “Obviously, they can’t know your mom is Abby Johnston, so we can’t have her signing anything. With this, you are able to sign for yourself.”

  “All right.”

  “This is a lot of responsibility that we’re putting on you. James seems to think you can handle it. Can you?”

  “Considering the alterna
tive, I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Um, yeah. Shouldn’t I be?”

  “I want you to stay scared. The problem is, once you get there, you’ll probably start to feel a level of safety. That’s when people slip up. You can’t slip up. This is your life.”

  “I won’t slip up. I promise.”

  “Good. So, back to money. James and I have been working closely with your grandfather. He says you are aware of a trust fund he set up for you. You were supposed to get part of it when you turned eighteen and the rest when you turned twenty-five. You’re getting it now. I’ll give you your new identification and account information later, but it’s important that you understand how it all works. Your grandfather asked a friend of his in Atlanta, Sam, to come out of retirement to handle your accounts. All your bills for school, your phone, your credit cards, etc., will go through him. Your grandfather trusts him completely, but it’s my job to not trust anyone. We had his background completely checked, and I feel comfortable letting him handle your accounts, but I couldn’t allow him to know who you really are. The story your grandfather told him is that you are the granddaughter of a friend of his. Your parents recently passed away, you have a large trust, and he was afraid someone unscrupulous would rip you off, so he asked Sam to handle it. Sam only knows you as Keatyn Monroe. Your trust money was run through numerous accounts, a few shell corporations, multiple countries, scrubbed clean, and finally, put back into a trust in your new name.”

  I nod my head and try to absorb everything he’s saying. Keep memorizing my new script.

  “Any questions so far?”

  “What about a car? Am I going to need to get around?”

  “As soon as you get settled at school, you will need to buy a vehicle. Be sure to do that right away. I want you to have a car at school. Keep your gas tank full and your keys with you at all times. Your car is another way for you to escape, should he find you.”