Shadow Stalker

by D W Cooperstein

  Tears rolled down my face. Uncle Willy had touched my soul from beyond the grave. I never realized just how much love this man had to give. I’d now use my wealth to help people who are truly in need. In his unpretentious style, my uncle had shown me the way. At that moment, I decided to retire from the Bureau. I wanted to seek out the poor and desperate people struggling in life. My uncle learned through hardship that the real joy in living was giving. To give ourselves to others is the greatest gift we have to share.

  I returned to the Bureau one last time to say goodbye to all of my friends. They came to wish me well. Joanna Peavey brought her baby girl. She was the cutest little thing I’d ever seen. It came as no surprise that everyone was still buzzing about Colonel Richards. I tried to console those I knew with the knowledge that a monster was behind bars, but I could see the pain of betrayal in their eyes. Some of them had looked up to the Colonel as a leader. But now it was time for me to move on. When I stepped out of the Waverly Building for the last time, tears rolled down my face as I walked to the subway. On the ride home, I thought about the many years I’d spent working for the government. In the end, I felt it was all worth it.

  I decided to enter into negotiations to buy Highgate. I loved my apartment, and It didn’t make any sense to leave such a supportive environment. In my negotiations with the landlord and representatives of the building, I came to a price that was fair. I took ownership of my new home in less than a month. I hired an interior decorator. In a matter of several weeks, all the work was completed, and the new furniture arrived. I refurbished my workshop with new and more powerful equipment. Fortunately, I could now afford to buy some of the same high-tech equipment that the Bureau used.

  Brandon kept me abreast of what was happening with the captured killers. It would be months before Caroline and Colonel Richards would stand trial for the Shadow Stalker killings. All the Colonel could hope for was a quick and merciful end. Caroline’s fate and involvement in those murders was still unknown. One might surmise, however, that because she was the mastermind behind the bombings, she’d probably spend the rest of her life in jail, or worse. I still had feelings for her, but I was resigned to the fact that she was beyond hope. So now, as I waited the long months for their trial to begin, I decided on a new challenge. Given my newfound wealth, I’d search out those people suffering in hardship; I’d try to help. To be able to do this was a dream of mine even before I started working at the Bureau.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  For the next several weeks I looked for opportunities to contribute my services, help and goodwill. My beneficence was kept a secret on purpose. I didn’t want the people I helped to know who their generous benefactor was.

  One day, I was traveling outside lovely Branshire County. I decided on a whim to pass through Cogswell. This was a small town of no consequence among the many towns and villages that dotted this lovely landscape. When I stopped in Cogswell for a bite to eat, I came across an interesting curiosity in the local newspaper. A bold headline arrested my gaze. A young woman was found murdered in her apartment. I read the newspaper article to see what I could learn about this unusual homicide. Such a thing as murder was completely unexpected and unusual in a peaceful town like Cogswell. What piqued my curiosity, beyond the horror of the crime, was the absence of a motive. Evidently, this young woman was murdered in cold blood for no apparent reason. The victim was single and living alone. I enquired into the details of the case from the local police department. My old friend and colleague, Brandon Goloft, was instrumental in helping me gain access to this information. I learned from the police that the woman was discovered in her apartment lying on the kitchen floor. She was found in a pool of blood, her throat slashed.

  The investigation by local police revealed nothing. There wasn’t any trace of a struggle, no incriminating fingerprints, or anything else found to suggest a motive. This was a brutal murder with nothing to go on. In our phone conversation, I asked Brandon if I could tag along with the police here. He told me that it was against police protocol, but he’d put in a good word for me with Captain Dan O’Malley. He knew Dan personally. I thanked Brandon for his help.

  The reason this case piqued my curiosity was the unusual position the body was found. It was like an invisible killer had walked through the wall of the victim’s kitchen and slashed her throat while she was standing in the middle of the room doing some unobtrusive task. Why was there no struggle? Why was there no evidence of a motive or a murder weapon?

  I found out in conversation with Captain O’Malley the particulars of the case. It seemed that police investigators were completely baffled. I asked O’Malley for permission to assist with the investigation. I explained to him that I’d recently retired from the Bureau. At first, he was reluctant. As time went by, however, especially with no leads on the killer, he agreed to my request. He steered me in the direction of one of his lead detectives, Geoff Brigham. I met with the police detective in his small office.

  “Mr. Watson,” he said, “you’ll be no super sleuth here. You’ll just provide us with whatever help you can. Is that understood?”

  “Of course. I’ll comply fully with your expectations of me.” I agreed with a handshake to the detective’s wishes, then entered into a collaborative discussion concerning the details of this strange homicide.

  According to Detective Brigham, the police lab found no trace of anyone in the apartment when the young girl was murdered. There wasn’t any sign of a struggle between the victim and her killer. There were no fingerprints found in the apartment, other than those of the victim, and no murder weapon was found. The motive of robbery was completely ruled out.

  “Usually there’s something to be found in a case like this,” the detective told me. I listened intently to what he had to say, then compiled a mental list of what the police had found at the murder scene. I asked the detective if I could visit the young woman’s apartment. He told me that he’d need to check with his boss. Brigham returned several minutes later, saying Captain O’Malley had approved my request.

  The victim’s apartment was within walking distance of the police station. When I arrived at the murder scene, it was all cleaned up and put in order. The police lab had completed their investigation. The body of the young girl had been removed and taken to the local funeral home. I carefully examined the contents of each room. After I finished my investigation inside the rooms, I searched the area outside the apartment. I returned to the police station and asked to see the body. The victim’s name was Cheryl Compton. She was twenty-three years old and had lived in Cogswell her entire life. Her parents were both deceased. She was survived by an older sister. Since my own grief for Uncle Willy was still fresh in my mind, I let the dead woman’s sister mourn her loss privately. There would be plenty of time to question her after the funeral.

  The funeral for Cheryl Compton was a private, graveside affair. She was buried next to her parents in a small cemetery. There were five people in attendance, including me. What a shame something like this had to happen to such a young woman. After the simple ceremony, Cheryl’s sister remained standing by the open and freshly dug grave as people started leaving the cemetery. I was about to return to my car and drive home myself, when I noticed the dead woman’s sister kneeling at the gravesite, sobbing. The sight of her weeping into the freshly dug earth touched me. Alone in the world, this person was saying goodbye to her only sister, who was brutally murdered by a coward. I returned to the gravesite and approached this woman. I wanted to comfort her in her grief. I could totally empathize with her in the pain of her loss.

  She looked up at me with tears running down her face. “Who would do this to my sister? She was the only family I had. She never hurt anyone.”

  I reached out to help her up from the grave. She trembled as she tried to stand. This woman was younger than I thought and very attractive. She had long, flowing dark brown hair and gorgeous bluish-green eyes. She had a medium athletic build. The fine features of her smooth f
ace were quite beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

  I tried to console her as she continued sobbing for her sister at the grave. I noticed that my car was the only one left. I wondered how she’d gotten here. “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Angelina Compton, but my friends call me Angie.”

  I told her my name, and that my friends call me Jim. She smiled through her tears. “Listen, I’m sorry about your sister.” I asked how she got to the cemetery.

  “I walked.”

  “You walked! But the center of town is five miles away from here.”

  “I know that.”

  “How do you plan on getting home?” I asked.

  She looked at me in silence. I offered her a ride.

  “Jim, I appreciate your kind offer, but I prefer to walk. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” She quickly walked away and headed home. As I watched her walk away from the cemetery, my heart went out to her.

  The figure of a distraught young woman walking towards emptiness moved me. Where was she going? Who was in her life now to support her while she mourned the death of her last immediate family member? Her singular figure draped in black finally disappeared from view. The sun was about to set, and thick dark clouds were rolling in from the ocean. The biting cold air was bone-chilling. I lingered at the gravesite.

  This kind woman’s profound agony over the loss of her sister made me think about my uncle and the letter he’d written. When I thought about that letter, I started to cry. I thought about my uncle asking me to forgive my dad for abandoning me and my mother. As I stared down at the wooden box at the bottom of the grave, I thought about my father. I wept for my dad like never before. My emotions gushed out and I felt vulnerable. I wanted him to forgive me for the way I treated him, despite how he’d hurt me. I cried at that lonely grave for several minutes. The casket not only contained Cheryl Compton’s remains, but also the spirits of my dad and uncle. With the cleansing tears of forgiveness, a new spirit of love and kindness was ushered inside of me. As my tears subsided, I could no longer hate my dad for what he did to me and my mother. He abused me as a child, and abandoned his wife in search of other women, but that didn’t matter to me anymore.

  The setting sun gave way to dark and heavy clouds rolling in from the ocean. It was time to leave. I left the cemetery a stronger person. This woman, whom I knew nothing about before today, had given me a special gift. I thought about how miracles in life come about and felt that I’d taken another major step in healing the emotional pain that was deep inside of me. A large part of the pain and anger I carried around for many years was already gone thanks to Caroline, and now I was feeling more whole and alive than I’d ever felt before. As I stood up from the grave, I took a deep breath of fresh air, feeling unburdened by the demons of my past.

  I got into my car and started driving back to Cogswell. The dark clouds covering the sky blocked out the last vestiges of the setting sun. The cold ocean wind swept across the deep and dreary landscape. It was getting dark. I turned on the headlights so I could see, and soon up ahead recognized someone walking along quickly. The shadowy figure appeared cold, walking hard against the wind. I slowed the car down, and there she was. Angelina Compton was still walking into the biting and penetrating wind.

  I pulled up in front of her and stopped the car. I rolled down the passenger side window.

  “Angelina,” I yelled out, “the ocean air is awfully cold. Can I give you a lift?” She recognized me from the cemetery and stopped walking. I got out of my car and walked up to her. Her entire body was trembling. She looked at me and said nothing. “Please,” I said, “I’d be honored to drive you home.” She paused for a moment and looked at me. I took her hand and we silently walked back to my car. I opened the door and she got in. I turned up the heater and watched her shiver in the passenger seat. “It’s freezing out there with that strong wind,” I said. She sat in silence, just shivering. “Where do you live?”

  “Near my sister’s old apartment.”

  At least I knew where that was. As I drove along, we chatted. She wanted to know why I stayed at her sister’s grave.

  “I recently lost a family member who was as important to me as your sister was to you,” I said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She continued to shiver, sitting in the seat next to mine. She kept staring at me.

  Soon we arrived at her apartment in Cogswell. She thanked me for the ride and opened the car door. I got out and escorted her to the door of her apartment building. She thanked me again, then went inside and closed the door. I heard her walk upstairs to her flat, and she was crying. I continued standing outside her apartment building in the biting cold wind. For some strange reason that I can’t understand and never will, something incredible happened to me at that moment. It was the realization that I might be in love with this woman. I continued standing at the front door to her building for ten minutes in the freezing cold. Finally, I got up the courage to ring her apartment buzzer. I heard her walking downstairs. She opened the door and was surprised to see me still standing outside. Her eyes were red from crying; she tried to hide her face from me.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you’d already left.”

  “I need to tell you something. May I please come in? It’s freezing out here.”

  “Of course,” she said, and waved for me to come inside. We stood at the bottom of the staircase, leading up to her apartment door.

  “Angie, what I wanted to tell you is I think you’re a remarkable woman. I wasn’t being completely honest with you before in the car.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After you left your sister’s grave, I stayed at the cemetery for almost half an hour.”

  “Why?”

  “It had to do with the recent death of my Uncle William, and some unfinished business I had to complete with my dad.”

  “I’m sorry. Can I be of any help?”

  “Tonight, I discovered that I had more strength in me than I ever realized. I felt feelings I never knew I had. Angie, you were the catalyst in helping me to confront something inside of myself that I was afraid to face.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It was my fear of facing the pain and vulnerability of being a man. I’ve always felt that I had to be strong and protect myself from others. I could never really open myself up to the hurt and vulnerability I felt inside as a little boy.”

  She looked at me and smiled. “I admire you for that. It takes a lot of courage to do that.”

  “Yeah, I know. Angie, I also wanted to tell you that I’m attracted to you. I just wanted you to know that.” I felt awkward just standing there in the hallway looking around.

  At first, she looked at me with hesitation, then she hungrily reached out for me. We passionately kissed at the foot of the stairs for several moments, then I carried her upstairs to her apartment, kicking the open door closed as we entered, still kissing. I carried her into the small and cramped bedroom, putting her down on the bed as we removed each other’s clothes. I kept kissing her body all over while she kissed mine. Angie’s gentle and loving ways fired the passion that burned inside of me. We continued making love on the bed. She started to moan as the small, noisy bed began to rock and squeak loudly. I watched her expression as the intensity kept building. She cried out many times before climaxing. Our warm and naked bodies suddenly relaxed, breathing gently, as both of us were swept up in primordial ecstasy.

  We were both a little shocked at what took place. Neither one of us expected to end up in bed, making love, but with her I felt something very special. I felt the strongest emotional connection with a woman that I’d ever known. And with her, it was like the floodgates of her emotions had finally burst open.

  “Angie, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “I just think it was too soon to express what I was feeling for you. I shouldn’t have reacted so strongly to
my emotions.”

  “Is that what you think you did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t feel sorry. Besides, I wanted to make love. You’re a gentle person, and someone I feel I can trust not to hurt me.”

  “Have you been hurt before?” I asked.

  “Someone took advantage of me once when I was much younger, and that scared me in being with a man. I’ve also been struggling with feelings of anger towards men. But, you’re not like that. There’s a kindness in you, and I wanted to be with you.”

  “Angie, I wanted to be with you, too.”

  As I held her warm body close to mine, I felt lucky. Angie was the most beautiful spirit I’d ever met, possessing those qualities I admired. Removed from the luxury of Highgate, I stayed with her on that long and rainy night. I wanted to be there for her as the pain of losing her only sister hit her very hard. I held her body close to mine as she cried over the loss of Cheryl. The night was cold and wet outside, but our hearts and bodies were warm and loving. It felt wonderful to be with this woman, but I was scared. I was uncertain now where life’s journey would take me. Everything was happening so fast. I thought about Caroline and how that relationship tragically ended. I wondered if I was emotionally ready to be swept up in love again. But at least now I was with a woman who made me happier than I’d ever felt before. And that was a good thing.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Dawn broke with a scattering of light across the rolling landscape, drenched in color. I watched Angie’s gentle breathing. I wanted Angie to come with me to the city. I wanted to show her my world, but I was afraid. She didn’t have much money and lived in a small and cramped apartment. I looked around and wondered why such a beautiful person had to live in a place like this, but it didn’t matter. I’d change this in an instant if she wanted me to. And yet it was her unassuming way that first captured my heart. She didn’t want or need the trappings of wealth to be happy. She was a simple woman with love in her heart and kindness in her soul. This was the woman that I was desperately searching to find.