Stalk Me

by Richard Parker

  “Elkhorns?” A shrill female voice said over the lunchtime drone.

  “Hi, I know this may sound odd, but I’m trying to locate a family, the O’Dooles, who are staying in West Glacier...” She could almost feel a current of indifference wafting against her ear. “A mother and two sons; it’s really important I contact them... it’s an emergency.”

  “We get a lot of families in here.”

  “I think they may have had dinner there in the last couple of nights.”

  “Like I say, we seat sixty most evenings.”

  “Can you think a little harder? This is really important.”

  “I wasn’t working last night. I had an ear infection.”

  “Is there somebody else there I can talk to?” Beth instantly regretted asking.

  “I’m the head waitress.” The girl was obviously affronted.

  “I mean, somebody who may have been working the past few nights who might have seen them. Perhaps they reserved a table and left their number.”

  “We don’t make reservations.” There were some extra ice crystals in her voice now.

  “I appreciate that, but this is vital. I need to get in touch about something very urgent. Life or death.”

  “I can keep an eye out for them. Who shall I tell them is trying to get in touch?”

  “I’m... just a friend.”

  “And it’s a Mrs O’Toole?”

  “O’Doole.”

  “And her son?”

  “Two sons.”

  “What’s her first name?”

  This was going badly and nowhere. Beth hung up, called the number for the West Glacier general store and got an answering service. She left a message asking if an O’Doole family came into the store, could they please call her iPhone number. She could always pick up any messages when she felt safer about using it.

  Beth seated herself back at the monitor and found a dialogue box had popped up at the bottom of the screen.

  I’ve just attempted to kill you twice. Why would you want to talk?

  Chapter 51

  Beth checked the window again before typing.

  You were going to tell me something outside the Oyster Shack.

  There was a few seconds pause before his reply appeared.

  First, I need an assurance that there aren’t any cops at your shoulder. Believe me, they really can’t help you.

  Perhaps he didn’t know where she was. Or did he just want her to think that? She tapped in a response.

  I’ve just left police custody.

  She felt even more exposed as soon as she hit enter.

  If you haven’t and value Jody’s life, I suggest you do so right now.

  Seeing her brother’s name become part of their dialogue sent a new dread reverberating through Beth.

  Why are you doing this?

  I’m meeting with Allegro tomorrow afternoon in Las Vegas. Maybe you’d like to join us.

  So you can kill me?

  I have a different agenda to pursue first.

  First? Every part of her knew it was a trap.

  Besides – how could I kill an expectant mother?

  Revulsion trickled like powder between her shoulder blades. How had he known?

  As if allowing her to absorb this, he continued. I have a schedule to maintain and I’m running behind. You can catch me in Vegas tomorrow afternoon. It’s your choice. Maybe we can have a dialogue about the meeting with Allegro when you get there.

  Beth’s fingers remained poised over the keys.

  Deal? I have to hit the road now. I’ll be watching. If there’s a sign of any cops, I don’t need to reiterate the consequences – and not just for you.

  If he had access to her personal emails, he must have already known she was pregnant when he tried to kill her at the Oyster Shack and again at the hotel. But she still didn’t want to sever their dialogue.

  Contact me here as soon as you’re in town.

  He logged out. Maybe it was another game. Perhaps he was only feet away from Beth and the Vegas dialogue was a way of misdirecting her. But if he knew exactly where she was, wouldn’t he have already disposed of her instead of engaging her online?

  Beth had to work on the assumption he didn’t and was reeling her in to Vegas so he could track her there and finish the job. Could she refuse if he was now threatening Jody’s life?

  She searched the remaining names Sauveterre had given her, looking for their Facebook pages. When she located one for the sixth person, Ramiro Casales, Beth found he’d posted only nine days ago. In his profile she could see he was studying radiology at Spring Valley Hospital, Las Vegas.

  Beth looked at the black-and-white still of his youthful features and him squinting through the smoke of a cigar he held in his fingers. Spikes of dark hair were gelled into a ridge down the middle of his scalp. Was he dustboy? Allegro? Or did the gunman just want her to believe that?

  She used the payphone to call the hospital and asked to be connected to the radiology department. The receptionist had never heard of him but put someone on that had. It was another trainee who said Ramiro wasn’t on duty, but might be on site, studying. Beth asked if she had an address for him. The trainee said she didn’t. She left her iPhone number, stressed the urgency and asked her to pass it on as soon as she saw him.

  Beth put Las Vegas into Google Maps. It told her it was 278 miles away and that it would take over four hours to get there. She stared at the route and another wave of nausea crashed over her.

  Outside, Beth hailed a yellow cab. She felt a little safer once they were moving.

  “Where to?” the head wearing the knitted blue yarmulke asked.

  Good question. Now was the time to make up her mind. “What’s the best way to get to Vegas?” She watched the cab driver’s shoulders tense. “It’s OK, I don’t want you to drive me there; I’m going to rent a car.”

  The cab driver turned his craggy berry nose in her direction. “Don’t follow your GPS. Take 405 and head up to Lancaster. Go through the Antelope Valley. I travel to Vegas a couple of times a year and I never have any problems that way.”

  “Thanks.” She sat back, not knowing what the hell she would do when she got there.

  “You afraid of flying?”

  “No...” But she couldn’t deny she was afraid. “Can you drop me off at the nearest car rental?”

  “You’re in luck. My brother-in-law has got a place. He’ll do you a good deal... and he won’t rip you off.”

  “OK.” She looked at the meter. What choice did she have? “Where do you recommend staying when I get there?”

  The cab driver slitted his wet blue eyes at her in his mirror. “Business or pleasure?”

  “Unfinished business.”

  The cab driver nodded, as if he understood the place generated plenty of it. “I usually stay in Fremont Street. It’s cheaper than the Strip, but it may be a little seedy for a girl on her own. You are on your own?”

  She nodded at the reflection of his eyes. That was the truth. She’d never felt more alone. No Luc on the end of a phone to reassure her. Beth thought about Jody. Wondered if he was worrying about her or just relieved to have his personal space back for a while. It felt like such a long time since she’d seen him but it had barely been two days.

  “I stay at the Golden Nugget. It’s a bit old-school but I kinda like that. I think I’ve still got some two-for-one cocktail coupons here in the glove compartment.” He started rifling with one hand while keeping his other arm rigid to the wheel.

  Beth didn’t hear him. She was questioning the insanity of what she was about to do. Why follow the gunman, especially given his acknowledgement of her child? Beth and the baby were now intertwined, but the more her instincts told her the man who had left a part of himself inside her was a stranger, the more desensitised she became to what she yearned to have before. She remembered Jody’s reaction and how relieved he’d been that she hadn’t been considering a termination.

  A mother and baby both with
a grim truth to face in their futures – her empty life without Luc, and her son or daughter’s fate dictated by their father’s genes. How easy could one of the gunman’s bullets make it for both of them?

  She quickly chased the thought away, disgusted with herself for letting it out. But Beth knew it had been waiting to be released for some time.

  Chapter 52

  Marcia O’Doole was sitting in her grandmother’s rocking chair on the decking at the back of the lodge and watching the darkening blood-orange sky being reflected in the Flathead River. She’d rescued the piece of furniture from the attic and brought it to West Glacier the summer before last. One of the runners was split – courtesy of Tyler – so you couldn’t actually rock, but she was glad to be using it. She didn’t often get the chance to sit still without immediately falling asleep. Like her mother, she dropped when she stopped.

  It was an unusually warm night for March, and Tyler and Kevin were stripped to their boxers and wrestling each other on the edge of the jetty. The water was freezing and whoever was pushed in – usually Kevin – semi-feigned hyperventilation when they broke the surface. Their commotion echoed off the other bank.

  She watched Tyler as he tussled with his brother. He had Ted’s muscle tone and skin colouring. Marcia never tanned and, despite nagging everyone to smear on sunblock, was usually the one who ended up getting burnt.

  Tyler’s condition had made him lose a little weight, but he looked like any kid his age. The doctors had said the cancer cells in his cartilage didn’t respond well to radio or chemotherapy, but they’d put him through it anyway. Surgery on his pelvis was the next step, and he was booked in for June. Tyler had had a few months to regain his strength and, bar some dizzy spells and bladder complaints, was miraculously back to his old self. She knew appearances were deceptive, though. They had to make the most of his break from treatment, and it was good to be away from the usual distractions – no Internet or landline connection, and she’d confiscated the boys’ iPhones for the whole fortnight. Marcia only kept her cell switched on in case her sister needed to contact her. Kevin was finding it hard. He’d sneaked off and spent an hour in an Internet café updating his Facebook page when they’d gone into Martin City for extra provisions that morning.

  Some harlequin ducks barked eerily. They were early this year. She breathed the earthy air in and took a swig of her third Blue Moon beer. She couldn’t relax, didn’t like to take Kevin out of school, but they had to work around the time she could get off. Tyler wasn’t trying with college, and there was only so far she wanted to push him. He’d figured he might not need an education. It was a regular argument, and Marcia didn’t know if she yelled at him because he was so dismissive of his future, or because she wondered if he was right.

  She still hadn’t made her mind up if every day should be more precious, or if they should carry on as any normal one-parent family would, despite the prospect of what could be waiting for them at the next doctor’s appointment. Marcia had opted for the latter, but that didn’t mean she didn’t question the decision every time she had a screaming match with him.

  Both the boys missed Ted, and she knew they were suspicious she’d been responsible for his absence from their lives. Fact was, their father was a coward, and how could she tell them that?

  Kevin lost his balance again and fell in. As he clambered out it sounded as if he was exhausted.

  “Tyler, let your brother catch his breath!”

  Tyler ignored her and pushed down on Kevin’s head. Kevin was halfway out and resisted, his shoulders trembling with the exertion.

  “You’re going down, cockwad.” Tyler wouldn’t let him up.

  Kevin slipped back underneath the water.

  “Tyler!”

  He didn’t turn but helped his brother out this time.

  She knew that, even though he tormented him, Tyler looked out for Kevin. During one of their scraps, she’d overheard him tell his little brother he had to toughen up because he might not always be around to protect his ass.

  Marcia finished her beer and put the bottle between her feet on the deck. Maybe a glass of merlot would relax her a little more. Why couldn’t she enjoy these moments? Was it being back in this place without Ted? There wasn’t a snowball’s chance of him turning up. But something else was disquieting her, and she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  She could see a couple of brown bats circling on the far bank, hear their squeaks piercing her eardrums when they swooped close. She always got itchy before a storm. But as Marcia surveyed the vista before her, there were only a few flattened wisps of cloud in the orange sky.

  Chapter 53

  Beth’s journey to Vegas made her feel even more disengaged. For brief stretches, she was the only car within the voluminous darkness of the desert. She’d been expecting to travel through the classic American panorama – layers of deep blue sky, red mountains, grey scrub and blacktop. However, the cabby’s brother-in-law had advised her to avoid the traffic and drive at night. She’d been glad of the suggestion, as when he’d shown her around the SUVs, she’d felt dead on her feet.

  The smallest model on the forecourt had been the ‘Atlantis Blue’ Chevrolet Equinox she was now seated in. She felt dwarfed by its cabin, but the elevation made her feel safer. It was like guiding a bus along a monotonous reflective chain.

  He’d recommended a stop off at the Barstow station and had told her to try the Cuban snacks there, but hunger was the last thing on her mind. The only clothing store she’d spotted en route to the freeway was a Timberland. She’d quickly stopped off and had bought a tan leather jacket, some plaid shirts, jeans and Chelsea boots.

  The yellow line to her left and the white to her right illuminated by the car’s lights became hypnotic. Her brain skimmed sleep. Luc was beside her in the passenger seat. She turned but he didn’t, just stared intently ahead before his profile addressed her.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, his lips motionless and features impassive.

  Beth blinked him away and hit the button for the window. The icy breeze buffeted her left eardrum as she drove with the window half down. The side of her face was soon numb but it kept her awake. She wondered if the gunman was sharing the same highway as her, peered in the mirror and scrutinised every driver that passed.

  The sun rose just as she reached Vegas, the city silhouetted and spread out in a thin band of lights beneath strata of sky shades: cerulean blue, pink and yellow. She’d expected to see a conglomeration of the major Strip hotels spring up in front of her, but it looked more like a crouching desert encampment. As she approached, its coloured neon started to wink at her from within the glitter ribbon, delineating its different buildings. She remembered once joking with Luc about them getting a quickie Elvis wedding here. But other than seeing it in the movies, it had never really been on her radar.

  It wasn’t a place she’d ever wanted to come to. Heading towards such an unfamiliar environment in the rented vehicle, Beth felt like the last of the girl who had got into the car with Luc had trickled away.

  She waggled her buttocks in her seat and sat up in readiness to negotiate the traffic. Quickly checking her messages, she found none from Ramiro’s fellow trainee. Beth switched off her iPhone again and knew exactly where to head first.

  She used the satnav to negotiate her way to the sandstone façade of Spring Valley Hospital and parked. From the plaque on the wall in reception, Beth could see it had recently celebrated its tenth anniversary. She followed the signs in the pristine air-conditioned corridors to the radiology department, but none of the blue-smocked staff on duty knew where Ramiro Casales or his temporary apartment was.

  In the absence of any other place to go, Beth drove to Fremont Street and found the gilded canopies of the Golden Nugget. She walked in and waited in line, detecting the faint aroma of steak and looking up at the ornate chandeliers before checking into a Carson Tower room.

  The bed there looked like it could sleep six and probably had. Beth collapsed onto
it and painfully wrenched off her boots. It felt like they’d grafted themselves to her feet. She lay back on the soft mattress and stared upwards, her mind as blank as the plastered ceiling. Her eyes half closed, and the weight of sleep drove them the rest of the way. When Beth sat up again, she realised she’d been out for over four hours.

  It was just before midday. Beth felt panicky, didn’t know what window of opportunity she had with the gunman. She wasn’t about to use her iPhone to contact him and decided against using the hotel Internet. Electing to find a café and try to establish a dialogue, Beth considered exactly what she was going to do when she did.

  She quickly showered and put on her new clothes. Leaving her room, she made her way over the garish carpets, past the rows of pensioners feeding gaming machines and onto Fremont Street. A canopy of tiny lights switched off for daytime and a zip wire awaiting its first passenger ran the length of it. A sign for it demanded a passport for each rider. For identification in case of death? Hers was still in her pocket and felt as if it was about to serve the same purpose. The go-go bars were being wiped down, and she recognised the famous waving cowboy cut-out at the far end.

  *

  Beth found an Internet café with a gaudy Aztec theme further along.

  You’re here?

  Beth could almost sense incredulity in the response to her Facebook message. It was almost immediate, which she assumed was because his alerts went straight through to his phone.

  I don’t want to interfere with your schedule. Am happy to exchange dialogue here. Beth waited and imagined the gritted smile he’d given her in the alleyway on his face as he deliberately delayed a reply.

  I still feel a face 2 face dialogue would be better.

  She typed quickly. That would certainly be convenient for you. Have your unfinished work follow you here so you can kill two birds with one stone.

  It’s a risk you’ll have to take.