Serenity Stalked

by Craig A. Hart

  “Hardly. I’d just hate to think I missed something.”

  “You can relax. No gunplay. Other weird shit is happening, but so far nothing as exciting as what you witnessed last time you were up here.”

  “Nothing like almost dying a bunch of times to make a guy want to reevaluate his priorities.”

  “That’s pretty introspective. For you, anyway. Is this why you called?”

  “Sort of.”

  “It’s Gloria, isn’t it?”

  During Mack’s last visit to Serenity, he had confided in Shelby that he suspected his wife Gloria of having an affair. Shelby had heard nothing further about the issue, choosing to keep his nose out of it, and knowing his friend would tell him when he was ready.

  “How’d you know?”

  “You were pretty worried about it when you were up here. And it’s not like we chat every weekend. We’re too good of friends.”

  “Well, you’re right. Gloria found out about my investigator friend following her around and we had it out. She got so angry she admitted to the affair and even said she wanted a divorce.”

  “Does she want a divorce or was it the anger talking?”

  “She hired a lawyer.”

  “Could be a precaution.”

  “She moved out.”

  “Every couple needs a break now and then.”

  “She moved in with her lover.”

  “Ouch.”

  “So you see…it’s looking bad.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it, Mack. I know how you feel about Gloria.”

  “I didn’t call to get sympathy, although I appreciate it. During the, er, discussions Gloria and I have been having, she blasted me with some line about you and Helen.”

  “Ours wasn’t an amicable divorce,” Shelby said.

  “That wasn’t her point. She made it sound as if Helen had designs on getting back together with you. It’s probably not a big deal, but I thought I’d let you know, given the grandbaby and all. I don’t want to see you get manipulated in the middle of an emotional situation.”

  Shelby was confused. “Thanks, I appreciate the thought. But I’m a little unsure what this means. Are you telling me everything?”

  Silence reigned.

  “Mack?”

  “Oh, fuck it. I hate to drag you into this. I’ve debated for days whether to even bring it up but decided I’d want to know if I were you.”

  “So help me, Mack, if you don’t—”

  Mack sighed. “Okay! Fine. How much do you know about Helen’s life after the divorce?”

  “Not much. Just what little I learned through Leslie. Is it relevant?”

  “I think so, but you’ll have to decide for yourself.”

  “So tell me.”

  “Did you know Helen had an affair?”

  “I know she had boyfriends after we split up. She remarried, a marriage that ended in divorce.”

  “I’m talking about while you two were still married.”

  “No…I didn’t know. And I sort of wish I still didn’t.” Shelby felt a growing heaviness in his stomach.

  “I know, buddy. As I said, I debated telling you.”

  “And what made you decide? This was years ago.”

  “The guy Helen had the affair with was the one she eventually married. Do you know anything about him?”

  “I avoided doing any research. I know he was pretty well off. An attorney or something.”

  “Right. So when they divorced, he screwed her over. She’s broke.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it, but what does this have to do with me?”

  “Keep in mind this is all coming from Gloria, who is not to be trusted at this point.”

  “You trusted her enough to pass along the information. You must believe there’s truth to it.”

  “I only believe I’d want to know this if I were you. Gloria says Helen sees you as a meal ticket, and the grandkid as a bargaining chip to get back in your good graces.”

  “That bitch.”

  “Shel—I only told you this so you could be on your guard. It may not be true.”

  “It sounds like something she’d cook up, though.” Shelby realized his teeth were clenched and forced himself to relax. This explained the use of the pet name…Bear. It explained Helen’s graciousness on the phone. And it might even explain Leslie’s desire to smooth things over between her parents, beyond the impending birth of the grandchild. Was Leslie involved in Helen’s scheme?

  “Gloria spouted this off during a fight and after a couple of glasses of wine,” Mack said. “I think her point was she didn’t want to end up like Helen.”

  A car door slammed. It was a welcome sound to Shelby, who wanted nothing more than to get off the phone.

  “Hey, uh, Mack. Thanks for calling. Someone pulled up outside. Let’s talk later, okay?”

  “Sorry to spring this on you, buddy.”

  Shelby disconnected and walked to the window. He looked out and saw a black Camry in the drive. He didn’t recognize the car, but recognized the woman walking to the front door.

  21

  Smith sat in his car and watched her house. He knew her name…Carly…but it seemed odd to use it. He liked the name, how the hard c exploded from the back of his throat and the l rolled off his tongue, yet felt strange when he said it. Perhaps it was because he knew what fate awaited her and that made it uncomfortable to assign this extra piece of humanity to her. In a way, it seemed he already knew this woman…Carly…better than any of his other victims, even though he had stalked others for much longer periods. He felt more intimate with her, connected in a way no other victim had accomplished.

  Almost no other victim.

  Lara. The name blazed across his consciousness. Lara Hawkins. His first sexual partner and his first kill.

  It had happened at the state home, after he’d been expelled from the butcher’s family. One of the other boys in the home, a friend of Smith, had a sister and older brother who visited. Smith developed a friendship with the sister, Lara, a friendship that evolved into something a good deal more serious. He didn’t love her—didn’t know what love meant—but she made him feel something, and that was new and exciting.

  They made out in a janitor’s closet and each time she let him go a little further. One day, she allowed him to remove her clothing, all but her panties. They lay on the closet floor and moved their moist, trembling hands clumsily over one another.

  With every passing week, Smith wanted her more and more. He felt something toward Lara he had never known. He didn’t know if it was love, but he wanted her and could think of nothing but her. His entire existence revolved around her. His mood and frame of mind relied on how she spoke to him, responded to him, looked at him. The week seemed long before the day of her visit.

  It happened in the janitor’s closet. Lara was naked, all except the panties, and Smith moved his hand down over her young breasts, across her flat stomach, and onto the thin fabric. She flinched, but only a little, and didn’t pull away. Smith put his hand under the elastic band. She stiffened and stopped feeling his body. She lay still. Smith reached over with his other hand and began pulling the underwear down. As the fabric slid over her hips, the girl gripped his forearms.

  “Stop,” she said. “I…I don’t want to.”

  Smith paused; his dick was hard and throbbing. His face was flushed, his desire at a level he hadn’t known was possible. A surge of fury shot through his body, so fierce it blocked out his vision for a moment. She couldn’t humiliate him like this. She had led him on for weeks and now wanted to play the part of a chaste young girl. Not likely.

  He struggled to remain calm. “It’s okay. It’ll be nice. You’ll see.”

  She remained rigid but let him remove the underwear and straddle her. His dick was inside her in an instant. He covered her mouth with his hands to muffle her yelp of pain.

  She didn’t resist, even reaching up to push his hair back from his forehead with a tender hand. She never closed her eyes
, and he looked into them, trying to find an end to their depths. They were wide, confused, wondering—and there was fear. It was the fear that captivated him. The power, the sense of authority. She was paying attention to him now.

  When it was over, Lara lay limp and trembling. The gravity of what had happened descended on the young Smith with the weight of a mountain. It wasn’t remorse…no, he wasn’t sorry for what he’d done. But he feared exposure.

  Smith reached over and grabbed his jeans. After fumbling in the pockets, he found his knife—the one thing he’d stolen from the butcher’s house. Lara saw it and her face, already a swirling mask of emotions, crumbled with fear.

  “I won’t tell. I promise I won’t tell. And you were right; it was nice. I was scared, is all.”

  Smith knew he should end it, but put the knife away. He was wrong to trust her, but those eyes held him. The helplessness and fear within them created a struggle inside Smith: half wanting to kill and half wanting to spare.

  Smith stood up and dressed.

  “Wait until I’m gone a few minutes, and then fix yourself up.” He pulled the knife back out of his pocket and waved it at her. “And remember, no one knows about this. I’d get in big trouble if anyone was to find out. You wouldn’t want me to get in trouble, would you?”

  Lara shook her head.

  No one saw Smith exit the closet, and no one saw him go to his room. He showered and changed clothes, taking the old ones to the dumpster in case there were any incriminating fluids on them.

  Months passed. Smith was preparing to leave the home and strike out on his own. A job had been procured and he’d been assigned a caseworker who would provide the bulk of support as Smith set about creating a life for himself.

  Then Lara appeared on visitation day. Smith saw her, and his knees felt weak. She was pregnant. He tried to speak to her, but she never let him close or allowed herself to be in the same room alone with him. She left without conversation, but that evening, he received a phone call.

  “Hi,” Lara said.

  Smith didn’t answer.

  “I bet you were surprised to see my…condition today.”

  “Yes,” Smith said. “I was. Is it mine?”

  “It’s yours.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Smith prior to this conversation she would ever be with someone else, and the idea she might sickened his stomach.

  “You’ll tell me when it’s coming, so I can be there?”

  “I…that’s why I’m calling.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You…you can’t be there.”

  “That’s okay. I can see it after.”

  “No…you can’t ever see the baby.”

  Smith stood dead still, holding the receiver to his ear.

  “You can’t be with the baby,” Lara said.

  “But I’m the father.”

  “My folks wouldn’t have it.”

  “What do they think happened? You’re sure as fuck pregnant.”

  “They think it’s from another boy, a boy in town.”

  “And he’s better than me?”

  “He comes from a good family. They have money.”

  “And he’s okay with this arrangement?”

  “He thinks it’s his baby. But after we did what we done, I talked to a woman I know and she told me things. So when this other boy done it, I had something up inside me.”

  Smith noticed she refrained from using this other boy’s name.

  “That’s bullshit,” he said. “That’s my baby.”

  “This other boy’s gonna marry me. His family’s got money. The baby’ll have a good life. Please—”

  Smith remembered slamming the phone down, how he had spent every free moment after leaving the home watching the house where Lara kept his baby. He had pictured it growing stronger, every day closer to birth. He would see the baby. No one would stop him.

  22

  Shelby opened the door before his visitor had a chance to knock.

  “Hello, Quinn. What brings you out this way?”

  Quinn Edwards climbed the porch steps almost gingerly and glanced over her shoulder as if checking to make sure she wasn’t being watched.

  “Would you like to come inside?”

  “Thanks.”

  Shelby motioned into the main room.

  “Take a seat wherever. Can I get you a coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long.”

  Quinn stood, fidgeting, her eyes flicking around the room.

  “Sure you won’t take a seat?”

  Quinn shook her head.

  “Suit yourself. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s about the Blair murders and the knife Sheriff Wilkes found on your property. The tests are finished. The lab sent back the results.”

  “How do you know about this?”

  Quinn gave a secretive half smile, almost a grimace. “I have my ways of getting information. I’m good around cops. I know what they want and how they think.”

  Shelby waited.

  “It was a match. It looks to be the murder weapon.”

  “Well…fuck.”

  “Wilkes is planning to come out and pick you up.”

  “When?”

  “Today, maybe tomorrow. Soon.”

  Shelby drew a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this? You’re looking at a pile of shit if Wilkes were to find out you were out here.”

  “I know you didn’t do it. I believe Wilkes is trying to railroad you. Is there anywhere you can go for a couple of days?”

  Shelby considered. “I could find a place. But I don’t see how it would help. Wilkes isn’t going to change his mind.”

  “Perhaps not. But it will give me some time to work on this.”

  “What are you up to, Quinn?”

  “Find a place to hole up, okay?” She handed him a card. “Here’s my number. Let me know when you’re away. And now we should both get the hell out of here before Wilkes shows up.”

  As he packed a bag of essentials, Shelby’s mind raced in a thousand different directions. What the hell was happening? Where had the knife come from? Who put it there? And why was Quinn helping him? He felt badly doubting her intentions. On the other hand, he was packing an overnight bag, so he must have some level of trust in what she was saying.

  His plan had been to drive to a small campground owned by a discreet friend. The campground had several cabins available for rent in the summer. They’d be unoccupied this time of year, and Shelby was sure his friend would let him crash there. After consideration, however, Shelby decided he didn’t want to be so far away from Carly, given the recent intruder issue. The campground wasn’t more than a twenty-minute drive, but it was still farther than Shelby preferred. He could stay with Carly, but it was a no-brainer for Wilkes. Once he found out Shelby wasn’t at home, Carly’s would be the first place he’d look. Unless he took Carly along. He zipped up the overnight bag and grabbed his phone. He’d call her on the way. Too much time had been wasted already.

  Shelby walked out to the Jeep and tossed the bag onto the passenger seat. He got into the vehicle and backed out of the drive. As he made the turn onto the main road leading to Carly’s house, he glanced into his rearview mirror and saw a patrol car turn onto the road he was leaving. As he watched, the car signaled a turn into his driveway. He hadn’t left a minute too soon.

  “You’re fucking with me, right?” Carly leaned against her kitchen counter, one hand on her hip, the other holding a wine glass. She regarded Shelby with an expertly mixed look of amusement, disbelief, and pity. “You think I’m going to live in an uninsulated cabin? I still wear a coat to work. I hate camping even during warm months. No, absolutely not. I’d freeze my tits off.”

  “I’m not comfortable leaving you here alone, given all that has happened.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but I’m not a helpless snowflake. And, besides, who the fuck is this Quinn Edwards person?”

  “I think she’s on the
level.”

  “Is she attractive?”

  “It’s not like that. I admit it sounds crazy. But so does Wilkes finding the murder weapon on my property.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Carly said. “Speaking of crazy things, if you want a pair of my underwear, you can ask me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I never understood the whole stealing panties thing and I’m a little uncomfortable with the trophy mentality, but if that’s how you roll, I’m okay with it. But you took one of my favorites.”

  “Carly…I didn’t take your underwear.”

  “I’m not trying to embarrass you. We all have our things—”

  “I didn’t take it!”

  Carly started at the force of his denial. “Okay…Jesus. You don’t have to take my head off.”

  “Sorry. It’s just…you understand what this means.”

  Carly’s eyes widened and she winced. “If you didn’t take them…who did?”

  “Okay, fuck this. You can object all you want, but we’re going camping.”

  “I’m not going to be run out of my house by some random break-in.”

  “Carly, I don’t have time to argue. Wilkes pulled into my drive as I was turning the corner to head over here. By now, he’s figured out I’m not at home and his next stop will be here.”

  “So move your car.”

  “I parked around back. But that’s not the point. I have no way of knowing what kind of legal legwork Wilkes has done, and I’m not about to trust a third party residence loophole to protect me if Wilkes thinks he’s hot on the trail.”

  “I’m staying put. I have to work. I don’t have the luxury of disappearing like you do. I agree you should get out of town until this blows over. But I’m staying. I’ll be careful, I promise. Besides, if Wilkes is on his way over here, I don’t have time to pack anyway.”

  Shelby glowered. “You’re pissing me off, but it’s up to you. And you’re right about one thing: I don’t have time for you to pack. I still remember the weekend trip we took last summer over to Door County. Jesus, the size of that suitcase.”

  “You’re cute when you try to be funny. Now get the hell out of here before I have to bake you a cake with a file inside.”