Mason motioned for the door. I ambled over with him. He opened it and waited in the hallway. “Remember that security camera. Call me if you—”
A car alarm blared, followed by terrifying sounds of glass smashing. We both jumped.
The cop in Mason became alerted. “Stay here!” He spun and ran for the stairs.
I stepped into the hallway. The note from Sunday popped up in my head—what if it was my admirer making a point?
Shit! Why hadn’t I told Mason?
Afraid that he might get hurt, I closed the door to my apartment and rushed down the stairs. When I reached the entry, I pushed the doors open and dashed out of the building.
I instantly froze in my tracks. My mouth fell open. The damage to Mason’s car was so clear under the bright light coming from the post in front of it.
“Oh no!” I gasped, covering my mouth.
Mason was pacing back and forth on his cellphone, reporting what had occurred. There was yellow and blue paint all over his Corolla, the tires were punctured, and the windshield was shattered. I looked at the other cars in the parking lot.
They were all fine.
People started coming out of the apartment building to see what had happened.
“Yeah, I’ll be here,” Mason said angrily, ending the call.
I hurried up to him. “I’m so sorry.”
He squinted at me, puzzled. “What? Why?” He nodded to his car. “Looks like the work of some punk.”
“No, he—” I hesitated.
“What?” Mason pressed. “What is it, Bristol?”
Releasing a long breath, I told him, “When I got back from our walk on Sunday, I found another note.”
“What did it say?” he asked, inching closer.
I cleared the tightness in my throat. “To stay away from you or he’d…get upset.”
A frustrated sigh spewed from his lips. His hands flared. “That’s a threat. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because…” I reminded him, “What can we do? No face, no name, remember?”
Mason looked at his car again. He kicked at the gravel and cursed furiously. We didn’t say another word to each other until the cops showed up.
They questioned me about the break-ins and the weird stuff I’d been receiving. Some of the people in the apartment building were questioned too. None of them had seen anything or anyone suspicious. It was late, so it had been easy for my admirer to sneak into the parking lot and damage Mason’s car without being caught.
As expected, the cops didn’t tell me anything different from what I’d already heard from Mason.
He talked with one officer while another asked the residents to go back inside. Soon after, the tow truck showed up to take away his car. We went up to my apartment to retrieve any notes I still had. They’d need everything for evidence in case they found the guy.
Mason knitted his brows at the sight of the bashed roses in the trash. He glanced at me then, but said nothing. I felt like an idiot for snapping. He probably thought I was weak.
The cops left soon after. One stayed behind to give Mason a ride. Before leaving, he stressed the need for a security camera again. “Make sure you get that installed. Bristol, there’s no—”
“Not much you can do?” I finished. “Yeah, you’ve said that.”
His jaw tightened. He massaged his temple, frustrated. “I hope this bastard slips up soon and we catch him.”
I said in a sincere voice, “I’m sorry about your car, Mason.”
“It’s not your fault,” he replied, his tone softer now. “But please, don’t keep anything that you’ve received from me.”
Feeling guilty, I glanced at my fingers and flicked my nails. Mason lifted his hand as if he wanted to touch me. I peered up, eager for him to do it. Disappointment hit me like a boulder when he stuck it inside his pocket instead.
“I’m heading to the station to fill out a report. I requested an officer to stay outside for the night, so try to get some rest, okay?”
I nodded and murmured a dry “thanks”.
“Bristol.” He gestured to the trash bin that held the remnants of my break down. “Stay strong.”
Mason turned and walked away. I immediately locked the door, fastened the chain, and activated the alarm.
I didn’t feel safe in my apartment without Mason, but after what had just occurred, maybe it was best if we kept our distance.
It was a clear warning: my admirer didn’t want me hanging around other guys. But I’d been with Tyler for more than a year, why hadn’t he shown up then? Why had he waited?
The whole thing was weird, not to mention frightening. With any luck, I’d figure out who this creep was soon and inflict on him the same kind of stress he was causing me.
I called in sick on Friday. Greg Wilcox said it was okay since they had enough covered for the fundraiser. I stayed home and had a security company set up the cameras in my apartment. Mr. Farris, my landlord, recommended them. He was starting to worry.
He’d been questioned by Amber and the police about my intruder. Now he was standing outside my door, concern blanketing his wrinkled face as he observed the security guy inside my apartment.
“What’s going on, dear? First your friend asked me if I’d seen anyone suspicious, then you requested to change the locks on your door and install an alarm. Next, a cop’s car gets trashed, he asks me a bunch of questions, and now you’re setting up cameras. Are you in some kind of trouble, Bristol?”
A lackluster smile reached my lips as I answered, “Well, uh, I didn’t want to scare you or anyone else in the building, but there’s someone who has a serious crush on me.”
He creased his forehead and narrowed his eyes. “A serious crush? It must be really serious if you’re doing all this,” he said, looking over my shoulder.
The security guy had finished installing a camera in the ceiling lamp above the living room and was heading for my bedroom next.
“I’m only taking precautions,” I said, spinning back to Mr. Farris.
He half smiled, still worried. “I see. Well, if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to knock on my door, all right? I might be old, but I can still throw a punch.” He raised a hand and clenched his fist, positioning it as if he were about to box.
I managed a titter. “Thank you. That’s nice of you.”
Mr. Farris was much older than my dad. He and his wife had purchased the building back in the eighties and they’d settled in one of the apartments on the first floor. He was always willing to help out his tenants.
“Don’t mention it. In any case, my son is around. He can help me fight.”
Stumped by what he’d said, I tilted my head to one side and furrowed my forehead. “I didn’t know you had a son who was living with you.”
“No, no. He doesn’t live with us permanently. Only stays some nights,” Mr. Farris explained. “He’s a good man who stops by now and then to take his mother out, give his old man a break.” A proud chuckle gushed out of him.
“I see.”
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your security stuff.” He patted my hand, then turned and went on his way.
I paced around the living room, waiting. A minute later the security guy rounded the corner.
“You’re all set,” he said. “We’ve set up this main frame so you can see what’s going on inside your apartment from wherever you are.”
He handed me the device. I noticed there were two frames with live feeds, one from the camera in the living room and one from the camera in my bedroom, as I’d requested.
“Thank you,” I told him, grateful. “I’m so ready to catch this guy.”
“You sure are,” he agreed, nodding. “Remember, our office is also connected to your device and security alarm, in case you need help.”
“Thanks.”
Giving me a form to complete and confirming with the company to charge my credit card for the installations, he treaded over to his equipment bag that he’d placed by the
couch.
Picking it up off the floor, he opened the door and said, “Have a good day,” before stepping outside. I locked it immediately after he left.
I grew restless sitting around the apartment. There wasn’t anything on TV that had piqued my interest and my friends were working.
Unable to relax, I hopped up from the couch and went to my bedroom to change. I threw on workout clothes and grabbed my gym bag from the closet. Perhaps I could sweat out all the stress from my mind and body.
I dropped the device and my cellphone in the bag along with a towel and two water bottles, then headed out to the gym.
I’d been on the treadmill for twenty minutes and I was still frazzled. Sporadically, my mind would drift to the device in my gym bag. I had an itch to check the cameras in my apartment.
Turning off the machine, I stepped down and walked to the lockers. When I flicked on the device, the cameras showed nothing. Both the living room and my bedroom were clear. I ran the footage back to make sure; relief engulfed me when nothing showed up.
I tossed a towel over my shoulder and wandered back inside the gym, placing the device, cellphone, and the bottle of water on a table. I wanted to rest for a while before resuming my workout.
“Bristol Armando?” a strong voice bellowed from behind me.
My head whipped around and I saw a tall blond-haired guy coming toward me. He looked awfully familiar. I turned on the device’s screensaver and rose from the seat as he drew closer.
“It is you,” he confirmed. I squinted at him. Realizing I couldn’t remember, he said, “It’s Ray, Tyler’s little brother.”
“Oh.” Of course. They had the same hooded blue-gray eyes, that muscular boxed face and aquiline nose. “Ray. It’s been a while.”
His smile broadened, showing off his pearly whites. “Yeah. The last time we saw each other was when you two first started dating back in January last year.”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “How’s it been? How’s your freshman year at college?”
A conceited expression twisted his features. “Great. New York is quite the city.”
“I bet it is.” Ray was different from his brother. Even though he was younger by three years, he partied more. He did everything more than Tyler, like they were in a competition.
I flung the towel around my neck, wiping sweat that had streamed down from my hair.
“So, uh, I heard you two broke up,” Ray carried on. “That’s kind of hard to believe.”
And so the awkwardness began.
“Yeah, we did,” I muttered, not trying to hide my uneasiness.
Ray sighed, as if he was regretful on his brother’s behalf. “I’m sorry about what Tyler did. He can be an idiot sometimes, but he does love you. You were the first girl he brought home.”
I forced an uncomfortable smile while I bobbed my head slowly.
Taking the hint, Ray motioned to leave. “Well, it was good seeing you again, Bristol.”
“You too, Ray,” I breathed, thankful that the conversation was over.
He started to leave, but then turned abruptly and said, “Tyler’s a fool. You’re a rare gem.”
My body tensed at his words. “What did you say?”
Ray frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Y-you said…you said that I’m a rare gem.”
He snorted. “Yeah, so?”
“Is it you?” I blurted, clenching my fist. “Are you the secret admirer? Are you the pervert that’s been sending me shit and keeps sneaking into my apartment?”
Ray stepped back in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I got up in his face, yelling, “Stop playing games already!” He winced. “You waited. Was it because I was with your brother? So what, now that we’ve broken up, you think you can be with me?”
Repulsed, Ray’s features warped into a scowl. “What the—Bristol, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t want to be with you. I have a girlfriend.”
“Liar!” I barked.
Everyone inside the gym turned their heads our way, bewildered. It sounded as if they’d lowered the volume of the music too.
Over Ray’s shoulder, I glimpsed one of the employees approaching.
“Look, you’ve got the wrong guy,” he said calmly. “My brother loves you. I would never try to get with you.”
“Is everything okay?” the employee asked as she reached us. She regarded Ray for a passing second, then cut back to me. “Is this guy bothering you?”
“Bothering her?” Ray scoffed. “She’s the one accusing me of something I have no idea about.”
“I’m calling the police,” I told him and spun to pick up my cellphone from off the table. “They’ll uncover your extracurricular activities, which includes tormenting me.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he huffed at my back. “I wasn’t even in Rhode Island until two days ago.”
Just as he said that, my hand jerked the device and the screen flicked to the live feeds. A man wearing a dark hooded jacket and black gloves was standing inside my bedroom. At the side of his hidden face, I could see black hair sticking out of his hood. He placed a bouquet of roses, a medium-sized box, and another blue note on my bed.
“No…” I whimpered, confused. A second ago I’d been totally convinced that Ray was the creep.
“What’s that?” the employee asked.
Ignoring her, I snatched up the device and my phone. I continued to watch my intruder while I dialed 911. A chill ran through me when he strolled over to my dresser and opened the top drawer. He began running his gloved hands over my underwear.
Bile burned my throat as he picked up one of my panties and brought it to his nose, sniffing it.
“Ugh! Turn around!” I shrieked. “Damn it! Look at the camera.”
“911, what is your emergency?”
“There’s someone inside my apartment!” I yelled. “It’s at eighteen Wellington Ave. Number five. Send the police now before he gets away!”
Anxiety stabbed at my insides. I prayed the police would arrive in time to catch the pervert; I thought they might have a chance since he was so engrossed in my clothes.
“Bristol, what’s going on?” Ray asked.
I dismissed him and continued to watch my admirer. He moved over to the closet and started caressing my clothes. Not once was his face caught by the camera, like he knew how to position himself to stay hidden.
He knew where the camera was. How?
Confirming this, he draped the hood further over his head and moved alongside the wall, keeping his head low. He disappeared out of my bedroom and appeared on the camera in the living room.
He was leaving. No!
Why were cops always late?
Smartly, he covered the left side of his face with one hand as he headed for the door. Then he left, as easily as he’d snuck in.
How had he gotten by the security alarm again without it going off? I’d changed the codes. It was obvious he knew about the cameras too.
What the hell! Who was that guy?
When I reached my apartment, the cops were outside the door looking perplexed. I had to explain everything to them. I showed them the camera footage of my admirer snooping around my room, and then they went through the stuff that he’d left in the box: kinky lingerie, a leather cat suit, blindfolds, handcuffs, and a long whip.
Damn. This guy was a piece of work.
What a freak.
I wanted to snap at one of the officers for the sleazy grin he had a hard time hiding as he went through the stuff.
Of course, once again, they said there wasn’t anything they could do because they didn’t have a name or face to start with.
I told them about my theory of the apartment being bugged, since the guy had known how to evade my security. They checked around the place but found nothing.
There was no way I could stay in the apartment that night. An alarm didn’t faze the moron, much less cameras. He seemed unstoppable. It made every shr
ed of safety that I’d once felt inside my cozy apartment slip away.
Not long after the officers left, I caved and called my dad. He was freaking out. I packed a few things into a duffle bag and drove for ten minutes until I reached Dad’s condo in Middletown.
The second I parked in the garage and ran up the entrance, he yanked the door open and wrapped me in his protective arms.
“Sweetheart.” Easing me away, he asked, “Are you all right? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”
I stepped inside and shut the door, then peered around the contemporary space. He’d painted over the white walls in the living room with a light blue and had finally added a small table with two chairs in the kitchenette. This was the most he’d done to the place since moving in after the divorce.
“I’m fine,” I said, looking back at him. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
He took my bag from me and ushered me over to the leather couch. He continued to question me when we sat down. “What did the police say?”
“That there isn’t anything they can do at the moment. This guy is smooth. He’s so hard to catch.” I wobbled my head, frustrated. “He could be anyone, Dad. Someone I’ve passed on the streets and had no idea.”
Dad hunched over and combed a hand through his graying auburn hair. “What about Tyler?”
“The cops questioned him. He has nothing to do with this. I know it’s not him.”
“My god, Bristol…” he sighed in distress. “How many times has this guy broken into your apartment?”
I gulped, nervous about telling him the truth.
His head shot up. “How many?” he asked again.
“This is the third time I know of,” I replied in a murmur. “But who knows how many are unaccounted for.”
The muscles in his face went rigid. His nostrils flared. “What the hell, Bristol?” he scolded. “Why were you still there? The moment you realized it you should have left. What if he’d broken in while you were there and tried to hurt you?”
A sharp breath rushed from my lips as I remembered that he had been there with me before, to watch me shower.
Dad didn’t need to hear that.
Chasing Bristol (The Finding Trilogy Book 2) Page 7
