by C. A. Harms
“Why can’t you?” she asked with a laugh.
I looked to my left as I tapped the Up button next to the elevator, and realized she was completely serious, which only made me laugh.
“Though I truly appreciate the two of you allowing me to crash at your place for a while, I could never live with you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and I realized I should probably explain what I meant. “Both of you were amazing, but it was awkward. Rick was walking around the house fully dressed at all times, even though I know from the stories you've shared that isn’t what he normally does.”
I dared her to argue, but she only bit her lip as if to get lost in memories of him doing “the naked stampede,” as she often referred to it. They had naked Tuesdays…and Thursdays….hell, they had naked every day prior to me invading their space.
“And let’s not forget that your guest room is directly across the hall from your bedroom,” I said as I stepped into the elevator and leaned against the back wall. “May I suggest you rethink that whole setup should you ever invite in-laws to stay.”
She tried to fight her smile as she followed me in, but it was inevitable. She knew exactly what I was referring to.
“I’m vocal,” she said with a laugh just before shrugging as if it was no big deal.
“Yes, I know, and now I’m scarred for life.” I chuckled. The sounds felt as if they were permanently imbedded in my mind.
I pushed off from the wall when the elevator arrived on the fifth floor and stepped out into the hallway.
She trailed behind me, laughing. “I was quiet,” she insisted.
“If that was quiet, then I’d hate to hear you at full capacity.”
I rounded the corner with my key in hand as I looked back over my shoulder, intending to torment Kim a little more, when I collided with something hard. Slowing turning my head, I looked up and locked eyes with a man I could have gone without seeing. I knew it would happen. I mean, we live in the same building on the same floor. The problem was I still had absolutely no idea what to say when we did meet again.
“I’ve stopped by a few times, but there wasn't an answer,” he said with a look of concern. “I wanted to check on you after the scare we all had.”
“I, uh….” I looked back toward Kim just as she moved to my side. Suddenly I felt more confident. “I’ve actually been staying with a friend. You remember Kim.”
He looked from her to me, confusion covering his features. “If you were scared, you could have come by my place. I would have—”
“She was exactly where she needed to be,” Kim assured him.
He shifted his gaze in her direction and just stared at her a moment before offering an accepting nod. “Well, I better be going,” he said a little more stiffly now. “I’m already late.”
Neither of us said anything in return. We simple waited until he passed, then moved toward my apartment in silence.
Once I had the door unlocked and we stepped inside, Kim grabbed one of my chairs and positioned in under the handle.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked as I placed my bag on the couch and looked at her in confusion.
“There is something off with that guy,” she insisted. “He was all calm and cool, sexy even, that first night. Suave maybe, in that beach-boy, tan-bod, buff kind of way. Now he just freaks me the fuck out. He had this weird look in his eyes, like he thinks he owns you or something.”
There was just no connection between him and I. He seemed normal at first, but hearing her say it that way gave me chills. I shivered as I walked to my kitchen with Kim close behind.
“He was nice and interesting, actually,” I told her as I reached inside the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water. I handed one to her and leaned back against the countertop and stared into space as my mind wandered back to the first time I met Andrew.
He was sweet, a little presumptuous maybe, but cute about it. But I love confidence in a man, even a little cockiness. I didn't like men that stumbled over their words, unsure of themselves.
But some men just can’t pull off that type of dominating attitude. When they try, it just gets creepy. And the more I thought about my evening with Andrew, the more I realized the uneasy feeling inside me wasn’t only related to my nerves, which is what I blamed it on that night. I didn't date much, so I just thought I was overreacting at the time. But going over it now and remembering the way he looked at me, scanning over me every chance he got, made me nervous. Even the words he spoke throughout the evening weren't those of a man wanting to truly get to know a woman. They were creepy innuendos and sexual advances. He delivered them as if he was only joking, but know I realized he wasn’t.
“You can choose dessert,” I said with distaste.
“What?’ she asked, giving me a look like I’d lost my damn mind, which only made me laugh. Her brow was arched, her nose wrinkled, and she gaped slightly. She looked more ridiculous than confused.
“It’s just something Andrew Suave said that night after he practically sucked my face off,” I told her, which only had her wrinkling her nose even further.
“Sucked your face,” she started to say before holding up her hand. “Never mind, I don't want to know. Just the word suck in the same sentence as Andrew makes me wanna puke up my waffles. I bet he has a fungal infection in his dick or something worse.”
I shuddered and laughed at the same time, then choked and spit out water as I attempted to take in a deep breath.
Kim began patting me on the back. “You poor thing. The entire situation has you two seconds from needing the Heimlich.” She continued to pat my back as she shook her head, trying to appear dramatically concerned with my well-being.
“Will you stop,” I said, shooing her hand away as I moved to the left, laughing at her craziness between further fits of coughing. “You are awful.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.” I walked away from her, shaking my head. “Exactly, you can’t,” she hollered after me.
After spending more than an hour trying to convince Kim I would be safe alone in my apartment, I’d gotten nowhere. She even went as far as calling Rick and telling him she was moving back in with me unless he sent someone to my place to install a top-notch alarm system.
He would have done it, too, just to please her, had I not snatched the phone from her. I proceeded to tell him to send the car for her, because I was kicking her out and she’d be waiting at the curb outside my apartment. Kim huffed, pouted, and may have even stomped her foot once or twice, but I’d heard enough.
When I was alone and the darkness had set in, I grew leery of my choices. Even when I attempted to sleep, I couldn’t. Every noise made me jump. I was tense, and the only thing that managed to do was make me feel sick. I tossed and turned until I finally gave up and made a cup of tea to settle my stomach.
I sat at the kitchen table and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one wall of my living room. The city lights flickered below, giving me something to focus on besides the odd feeling I wasn't alone, which had hit me the moment I entered my kitchen.
I knew I was just being paranoid. I’d locked the deadbolt on my front door as well as the lock on the handle. I knew that no one was here but me, but damn it, the feeling would not subside.
I had to shake this or I would be packing my bag once again and calling my best friend, who would just say, “I told you so.” I refused to allow her to be right. She’d never let me live it down if I called her begging to be saved.
I stood from the table and went to my room in search of my phone to call the one man I knew would make me feel better.
My father answered after the first ring. “Sweetheart, it’s late there. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” I assured him. “Just get my hours mixed up sometimes after working odd hours.” A little fib would ease his mind and make our conversation seem normal. I needed normal right now.
“Your mother is the same way,” he said with a chuckle. “Sometimes she’s up
watching television at two in the morning wide awake because she had a stretch of working thirds.”
I remembered those days. She would always sneak me out of bed on weekends when she’d get home early in the morning, and we’d share cookies or ice cream before she tucked me back in like it had never happened.
“So how is the big city treating my little girl?” he asked.
I’d come to the conclusion that no matter how old I got, I would always be his little girl. “It’s great, Dad,” I assured him.
“And Kimmy, how is she?” She was like a second daughter to my parents. “How is that man treating her?”
“Like a queen,” I replied without hesitation. Because it was true. Better than a queen, really.
“We got her wedding invitation in the mail the other day,” he added before a silence set in.
“You’re coming, right?”
“Of course,” he said. “We wouldn't miss it for anything.”
He went silent once again.
“Why so quiet, Dad?”
Carl Kramer was never quiet. He was opinionated and at times intimidating, but he was also a big, burly bear of a man that had an amazing heart and wanted the best for me. He made sure to tell me that often.
“I hate that you’re alone in that city, Elle,” he said, and my heart instantly ached. “And before you start this bullshit about not being alone, I know Kim is there. But she’s off in that big ol’ house and you’re there in that apartment alone. You work your ass off and come home to a quiet place, no man, no roommate.”
“Dad,” I interrupted. “I don't need a man to be happy.”
“I know,” he said with a chuckle. “You tell me often.”
He grew quiet once again, and I didn't say anything. I just waited it out.
“I want to come to New York and walk my daughter down the aisle one day,” he stated, and I closed my eyes. This was supposed to be one of those fun-loving, hassle-free conversations my dad gave me often. I needed that right now. What I didn't need was a heart-to-heart that would only keep my mind racing when it needed to sleep.
“That man is out there somewhere, Dad,” I said, trying to ease this conversation back into the safe zone. “And when he’s ready for me, he’ll find me.” I smiled when he chuckled.
“He better be a strong man with good intentions,” he said, and I could tell he was smiling now. “I know you’re alright, kid. I just worry.”
“I know.” And I did; both my mother and father didn't like the idea of me being so far away. When I chose to leave home and move to the city, they tried everything they could think of to change my mind. And when they realized they couldn't, they let me go, but they’ve never really accepted it. If they had it their way, I’d still be living at home with them.
Soon, our intense conversation turned into silly banter and teasing. We ended the call with smiles on our faces and happiness in our hearts.
I went to bed feeling lighter than I had in days. And when I dozed off, I dreamed of white gowns and flowers. Although my groom never showed his face in my dream, it felt so real.
I opened my eyes and blinked a few times to clear my vision. Instantly my heart began to race as I focused on the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway to my bedroom. I could tell it was a male due to his build, which was highlighted by the light flowing down the hallway from the lamp I always left on in my living room. Fear shocked through me and I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.
The person didn’t move. He stood in the same position as if mesmerized by my sleeping form. I tried to refrain from showing any signs I was awake. I prayed like I’d never prayed before that he would be satisfied with simply watching me.
But with each passing second, it only became harder to hold back frightened tears. I knew I was holding my breath, even as I tried over and over to make myself breathe evenly.
I couldn’t remember ever feeling as helpless as I did then. I could scream, but the chances of someone hearing me were slim, at least before the man watching me from my doorway decided to make me stop.
I could run, but I wouldn’t be able to get past him. The cool tears that rolled over my cheeks and ran toward my temples as I continued to lie perfectly still only made the moment more real.
This was happening.
It was really happening and I was powerless to stop it.
I wanted to take it all back. I wanted to be standing in my kitchen telling Kim she was right and I would move in with her and Rick. I wanted to be lying in the bed in their guest room holding the pillow over my ears as I tied to drown out her moans.
But that time had passed, and I felt like I may never see my best friend again.
And then there were my parents. The thought of them only made it harder to hold back my fear, and a cry of terror escaped me. The figure shifted slightly, and the fear that shot through me was so powerful that I sat up straight and grabbed for my phone on the nightstand.
My hands shook as I swiped my finger across the screen, and its light illuminated the area around me. With all the concentration I could muster, I dialed 9-1-1 and glanced toward the doorway.
It was empty.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
I began to sob in a mixture of terror and relief. “There’s someone in my apartment, please help me,” I whispered, still fearful he’d return. I remained in my bed tucked beneath the covers and frozen with fear as I stared ahead at my door.
I don’t remember the questions the woman asked, and I don't remember the answers I gave her. The only thing I remembered was the sound of the police announcing their arrival.
I remained in my room, lost in the chaos as they swarmed my apartment, checking every corner, searching each closet and room. I trembled when I looked up into the eyes of the officer that approached me. I could see his mouth moving, but I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. Everything seemed muffled as I scanned the room, watching strangers come and go.
A female officer sat on the bed beside me, and when she placed her hand on my arm, the dam broke.
I don’t think I’ve ever cried so hard.
BECKETT
“Female victim, reports an intruder entered her apartment and she woke to find him standing in her bedroom doorway,” Officer Tillman told me as I exited the elevator and moved toward the complainant’s apartment.
“Can she ID him?” I asked, and Tillman shook his head.
Just another break-in that would go unsolved, I thought. That seemed to be the story with this damn place.
The door to the apartment was ajar, and I pushed it open farther and stepped in quickly to get things moving.
The woman sat on the couch, her back to me as an officer sat on either side of her. I immediately scanned the room, going into detective mode. Check the area, look for signs of struggle. Look for anything that could indicate forced entry.
“There was someone in my apartment,” the woman said defensively. “They were standing in the doorway of my bedroom watching me. I’m not crazy, damn it. They were there.” Her voice broke on the last word, and the pain in it made my chest ache. The terror and obvious devastation this had inflicted on her was like a punch to the gut
“Please don't act like I’m making this up,” she practically begged, and without another thought I moved toward her.
“Miss,” I said as I knelt in front of her, fully intending to explain we had to ask the questions we did to get clarification. Officers don’t always have the best bedside manner, but in no way was anyone saying this didn't take place.
The moment she lifted her gaze, I swear I felt the floor shift beneath my feet and my stomach grew weak momentarily.
It was her, the woman from the club that night. The one I’d thought of often since she walked away from me that night, and though I barely knew her I’d felt the loss every day.
She’d looked so confident then, but now she looked so delicate and frail. The scared look in her eyes made my stomach feel hollow. It was
a strange sensation, really. Over the years on the job, I’ve looked into the eyes of terrified women countless times. I’ve listened to them explain their fears and describe the terror they lived through, and watched them break in front of me. But I’ve never felt the kind of things I did now.
I wanted to find the asshole that had placed her in this state and strangle the life out of him.
“It’s you,” she whispered. I was surprised she recognized me in her current state of mind. Our initial meeting was so brief it probably couldn’t have even be called an introduction. “Beckett,” she said, and I took a seat before her. “Right?”
I nodded and ignored the curious looks of those around us. “Yes,” I replied as she continued to stare at me. “Beckett’s right. Detective Montgomery, actually,” I clarified, and her eyes widened just a bit.
Her lip trembled even though I could tell she was attempting to appear strong. I wanted to take her into my arms and hold her close. I wanted to whisper that she was safe now, but I refrained. Fuck, I’d never had this type of battle when it came to my job. Putting my emotions aside had never been a problem until now.
“There was someone here,” she said, staring me in the eyes with a look of determination. “I saw him. He just stood there in the doorway watching me. And I was so scared to move because I had no idea what he wanted. I wanted him to leave, but he stood there, watching and waiting. I don't even know for what.” She took in a deep breath. “I’ve never felt that kind of fear before.”
I allowed her a few moments to just breathe before I began my own series of questions, doing my best to sound supportive and genuine.
“I know it was dark, but was there anything about him you recognized?” She shook her head. “Could you tell if he had short hair, long hair?”
“He wore a hat. A baseball cap,” she clarified.
“Did he say anything? Do anything that you remember?”
She shook her head again.
“Did he turn in the doorway? Was there any lighting illuminating the room that gave you the chance to see his side profile?” Another shake of her head left us with no answers. Tears rolled along her cheeks, and my chest ached. “It’s okay,” I assured her as I placed my hand on her forearm. “I’m gonna take a look around,” I said as I began to stand, and panic took over her features.
