Chapter Eighteen
Sara had been right about Detective Cordova. I felt a little guilty about hiding him from Roman and Lydia alike. Aside from the fact that I’d yet to tell Roman about the notes and everything else, it felt wrong to invite the detective over to Roman’s house to discuss what had been happening. It wasn’t my house, after all. Lydia was a different story. I knew she was still watching Roman’s house, and if she saw a cop car parked in the driveway, she’d freak. We still weren’t on great terms and I did not want to deal with her hysterics.
So, even though I wasn’t supposed to be driving myself around, when Roman left for work that morning, I grabbed my keys and carefully made my way to a nearby coffee shop. Detective Cordova walked in, not dressed in uniform, but in jeans and a light sweater, badge clipped to his belt. The badge wasn’t the only thing that clued me in to who he was. Just as Sara had said, he was a doll.
He had a kind face, his dark skin showing just enough hint of age that his welcoming expression didn’t trick you into thinking he was too young to know what he was doing. A thin layer of black stubble coated his cheeks and jawline, taking away some of the boyishness I felt sure would be there without it. His walk was confident as he approached me. Something about it set me at ease and I shook his hand when he approached.
Detective Cordova gestured at my hand after sitting. “How have you been feeling?”
I’d told him about my broken hand over the phone so he’d be able to recognize me, even though I suspected Sara had already given him a lengthy description of me. “Pretty good,” I said. “I still have to be really careful until they cast it, but it’s not hurting nearly as much.”
“How did you break it?” His expression remained politely interested, but I swore I could see more than average interest in his expression as he spoke.
“Baseball. Foul ball came down right on all those little bones, and snap.”
He flinched. “Ow. I can imagine that hurt.”
“I think I was too shocked to feel it at first. After that wore off, yeah, it hurt.”
Shaking his head, he removed a small notebook from his back pocket, evidently ready to get to work. “I hope it heals fast, but I don’t want to keep you longer than necessary. I’m pretty sure your neighbor mentioned you aren’t supposed to be driving yourself places.”
Flushing slightly, I said, “It wasn’t far.”
Whatever questions Detective Cordova had, he seemed to put them on hold. “Can I ask why you wanted to meet here? Your neighbor mentioned you were staying at a friend’s for a while, what with your broken hand and all, but I got the impression when we talked that you don’t want anyone else to know what’s going on.”
“I just don’t want to worry anyone,” I said defensively. “My sister or Roman.”
“Roman?” he asked, interest piqued. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“I, well, kind of. I guess. Yeah.” I sounded like an idiot. “It’s complicated.”
The corner of Detective Cordova’s mouth inched up. “Apparently.” Schooling his expression, he asked, “Which one are you staying with, your sister or your maybe boyfriend?”
“Well, I was staying with my sister, but we got into an argument and now I’m staying at Roman’s.”
“What did you and your sister argue about?”
Pulling back, I tried to fold my arms, but the stupid splint got in the way and I only succeeded in hitting my arm on the table and sending a wave of pain up my arm that made me nauseous for a moment. By the time I got a hold of myself, I found Detective Cordova had leapt to the rescue. His hand on my shoulder steadied me and I felt equally grateful and annoyed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, just not used to moving around with this bulky thing.” He pulled back, for which I was grateful, and I went back to eyeing him. “Why do you want to know what Lydia and I argued about? It doesn’t have anything to do with this guy sneaking around my apartment building.”
“Probably not,” he admitted, “but with a stalking case, you never know what could play a part.”
My mouth went dry. I felt nauseated again, and this time it had nothing to do with pain. I must have gone pale, too, because Detective Cordova reached for me again. I waved him off and took a very deep breath. “Stalking?” I whispered. That sounded so much more serious that some creep trying to get a look at young women undressing. I’d been trying to downplay this whole thing so much, I hadn’t let it really get to that level in my mind.
“Taking into account the notes, the eye witnesses, and the extended timeline,” he said slowly, “I don’t think this is just some random sicko. Whoever this guy is, he seems to be fixated on you, Greenly, and he’s intent on pursuing his interest. This is serious and could be dangerous.”
I nodded slowly. I heard his words, and I was trying to process them. Actually wrapping my head around what he was saying was a million times more difficult. “Do you…have any ideas?” I swallowed slowly. “Of who it could be, I mean?”
“Right now, I don’t have enough information,” he said. “The people who’ve seen him have been able to describe his height and build, a few general facial features, but nothing concrete. The hood or hat he usually wears makes it difficult to see his face.”
He stopped talking, the pressure of his silence somehow pushing me to meet his gaze. When I finally looked at him, he nodded, like he’d been waiting for me to reconnect with reality. “I’m going to need your help to identify this guy. Can you do that?”
“What…do you need?” I asked. I really didn’t think I’d be much help. Even though I’d tried not to think about this over the last few weeks, it was impossible not to consider options.
“What I’d like you to do is start making a list for me. Every guy you’ve dated recently, anyone who’s been confrontational or aggressive, enemies, anyone you can think of who might have reason to do something like this.” He focused his gaze on me more intently. “This could be someone from your past as well. Don’t rule someone out just because it’s been a while. This could be something that’s been brewing for months or years.”
It all seemed simple enough, but what he was asking seemed like a monumental task. I tried to consider all the blind dates Lydia had set me up on, weird confrontations with seemingly random people, patrons at the library who might have…. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t thought to ask the campus security guy when I’d shown him the second note.
“Could you ask the library where I work to see their security tapes?”
Detective Cordova’s shoulders squared. “Do you have a particular date and time I should look for?”
I’d brought the notes with me with the intention of showing them to him just in case he hadn’t already seen the copies I left with campus security. Dragging them out of my purse, I set them in front of him and pointed out the second note. “This one was left on my desk at work. Maybe a camera saw who left it.”
He scribbled down the date and time range for when the note could have been left, then refocused on me. “I still want you to start making that list, okay? This guy is careful, so even if he was caught on camera, his face might not be visible. Your list can help point me in the right direction.”
“I’ll start making a list,” I said, “but what about Jason? I told the police about him a few weeks ago. Could he be behind all of this?”
Detective Cordova frowned. “I can’t rule him out completely, but he was my first stop after getting this case. He has alibies for some of the instances, but not others. We’re keeping an eye on him, though.”
I felt better knowing he’d be watched, but more unnerved that the most likely suspect probably wasn’t involved. From what it sounded like, this person could be someone I didn’t even know, or met in passing. What if they couldn’t find him before…?
“You said, earlier, you said this could be dangerous.” I forced myself to take a steadying breath. “Do you think he wants to hurt me?” I didn’t w
ant to look at Detective Cordova. Most people’s expressions were more honest than their words. Dread ate at me, but I forced myself to meet his gaze.
Brows pinched together, his mouth was firm as he choose his words. “If it were just him creeping around your building, I’d be inclined to say this was more of a fascination for him than aggressive interest, but taking the notes into account and the fact that he’s becoming bolder with his investigation of your apartment, he seems to be escalating.”
“Escalating to what?” I begged.
His expression stayed neutral, but it was his body language that gave him away. Drawing himself up protectively, he said, “To physical confrontation.”
It took everything I had to not to lose it. Things were getting completely out of hand. Lydia and I weren’t getting along, I was on the verge of jumping head first into a relationship I was almost certainly not ready for, and there was a crazy person out there who may or may not want to hurt me. I had come to Sacramento to get my life under control.
“Greenly?” Detective Cordova asked. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but I want you to know I’m doing everything I can to get this guy and keep you safe, okay?”
I nodded. I think I did, anyway.
“I need you to do something else for me, okay?” He said it slowly, like he was talking to a scared child. “Greenly, can you do one other thing for me?” He waited patiently until I acknowledged him. “I need you to tell your sister and Roman about all of this.”
That snapped me out of my thoughts. “What? Why?”
“So they can be aware and watchful. They may notice something you don’t, and if this guy does come after you, you don’t want them to be caught unaware. It could put everyone in more danger.” He held my gaze, making sure I was listening and understanding. He knew the second it sank in.
I sucked in a breath as my eyes widened. “I need to go home, back to my apartment. What if he finds me at Roman’s, or my sister’s? What if they get hurt? I have to go home.”
I hadn’t realized I’d started to move until Detective Cordova grabbed my arm. “Greenly,” he said sharply, “listen to me. Do not go back to your apartment alone. Putting yourself in danger will hurt your friends and family, too. You need to stay away from your building until we have a better idea of who’s harassing you. Do you understand me?”
“But, but Sammy and the boys,” I argued. “I could be putting them in danger.”
Detective Cordova’s grip softened on my arm. “I wasn’t trying to make you panic when I said this guy could be a physical threat. I just wanted you to know the risks, okay? It’s possible, yes, but you’re making the safest choice for everyone involved if you stay with Roman or your sister for a while. There’s a better chance he’ll stay away if you’re surrounded by other people. Look at when he’s tried to contact you so far. He left the notes when no one else was around and he’s only come prowling late at night when he thinks no one will see him. You need to stay away from your apartment and keep yourself surrounded by other people, okay?”
I repeated everything he said in my mind as he was saying it. I had to. I had to hear it all one more time, convince myself what he was saying made sense, and tell myself to listen to him. Slowly, I started nodding. “Okay…okay.”
“Okay, you’ll stay at Roman’s house?” he asked. I nodded again and his hand slipped from my arm. “Good. Thank you.” He released a breath he must have been holding since I tried to bolt. “You still need to tell them what’s going on, though. Can you do that? I’m happy to be there to explain and answer questions if you’d like.”
An argument flashed through my mind as I debated which would be less frightening for Lydia and less likely to make Roman think he’d made a huge mistake getting involved with me. I seemed to have no limit when it came to crazy. Eventually, I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. I can explain things. It will freak my sister out a little less if I don’t show up at her house with a cop on my heels.” I glanced up at him and cringed. “No offense, or anything. I just know my sister and her low panic threshold.”
Detective Cordova chuckled. “Trust me, I understand.” He held his smile a few seconds longer before it faded completely. “What about this Roman guy? You seem uncertain about your relationship with him, yet you’re staying at his house right now. Why don’t you want help explaining things to him?”
Where did I even start? “We’ve had a rough start and I’m afraid of scaring him away.” Without getting into the details, I felt like that pretty much summed things up.
Detective Cordova’s eyebrow rose. “Scare him off?” His skepticism mellowed into a bare smile. “I doubt that would be as easy as you seem to think.”
Red flooded my cheeks, not just from the compliment, but because if he knew the entire story it was hard to believe he’d think that still.
“Regardless,” he continued, “you need to tell him and whoever Sammy is.”
“Sammy is his son. He’s only seven, so I don’t think he needs to know about this.”
He nodded. “Ah, it didn’t realize.” He closed his notebook and set it aside. The pen was abandoned as well. “I’m going to check in with you tonight. See how you’re doing and make sure you told Roman and your sister. If you need anything in the meantime…” He took a card from a pocket on the inside of the notebook cover and handed it to me. “Call me right away if you see someone suspicious, remember something important, or need my help.”
I stared at the card, still a little shocked by this entire experience. Detective Monroe Cordova. I remembered the last time an officer handed me his card. He had come to find me at school. Lydia was halfway across the country and I was the only other family member in the area, my dad’s next of kin and emergency contact on file at the hospital where he’d been taken after collapsing at the hardware store. Somehow, as soon as the officer stepped into my Intro to Biology classroom, I knew he was there for me and my entire body had gone numb.
It was impossible not to imagine Lydia answering her front door to find Detective Monroe Cordova standing there. She would know, too, as soon as she saw him. I was the one who told her about Dad. There was no one else. If something happened to me, there wouldn’t even be a family member to tell her, just a stranger. I knew what that felt like and everything that had been building since I sat down at the coffee shop table finally spilled over.
“It’s okay, Greenly,” Detective Cordova said reassuringly as he squeezed my hand. He didn’t sound surprised that I had dissolved into tears. He didn’t sound annoyed or impatient, either. Maybe it was just part of the job. He sat with me, holding my hand just tight enough to remind me he was there as I cried and wiped away tears.
The Crazy Girl's Handbook Page 22
