by Adam Croft
‘Have you spoken to the police about it?’
I flick my eyebrows upwards and look down at the table. ‘Not much they can do, apparently.’
‘Always the way. What was it? Short-staffed? Not a priority?’ The way he says it makes me think he’s got a certain amount of dislike for the system at the moment.
‘Not enough evidence,’ I say.
He smirks. ‘Ah. That old chestnut. Yeah, that’s another one.’ He pauses for a moment before the penny starts to drop. ‘You said you wanted to ask me a favour, though. I mean, if it’s to do with a crime that’s been reported, I can’t—’
‘No, no. I’m not asking you to go behind anyone’s back or anything like that. It’s all legal and above board, I promise.’ I can’t actually promise him that because I don’t know what’s legal and above board, but I can’t imagine I’ll be breaking any laws by showing him a photo and asking him the guy’s name. ‘Thing is, I managed to get a photo of the guy who’s been doing this to me.’
‘Do the police have it?’ Darryl asks.
‘Sort of... Here, I’ll show you.’
I open up the Photos app on my phone, load the full-screen picture of Gavin Armitage’s photograph and show it to Darryl. I’m careful to make sure I’m watching his face. Closely. He blinks a couple of times, and I think I see his eyebrows twitch. Without moving his head, he flicks his eyes towards me.
‘That’s him?’ he asks.
‘Yeah. Why?’ I don’t ask him if he recognises him. It’s clear to me that he does. I need to hear him say it for myself. I need to know how open and trustworthy Darryl is. Kieran seems to clock this, too, and stays silent.
‘Where did you get this photo?’
‘I took it,’ I reply. I’m not technically lying.
‘Do you know who this guy is?’
All of a sudden Darryl seems to be the one asking the questions. I’m now surer than ever that he knows exactly who this man is. He is the person who can identify Gavin Armitage. He can help me. But I need to hear him say it.
‘I don’t know his name,’ I say.
Darryl swallows.
‘I do.’
44
‘This is why you asked me here, isn’t it?’ Darryl says. ‘This is a police staff photo. Where did you get it?’
‘The police showed it to me. When I reported it. They showed me photos of some officers to see if I could identify him.’
Darryl blinks a few times. ‘But I thought you said they weren’t investigating? You said there was a lack of evidence.’
‘There is. That’s why I need you. That’s why I need you to tell me who this man is.’
‘But surely the police would’ve told you. I mean, when you identified him they would have... You didn’t tell them, did you? You told them you didn’t recognise any of the pictures.’
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ I say. ‘The fact is, this guy’s covered his tracks so well they wouldn’t be able to prove a thing. Besides which, the police will have two options. They can either speak to him and investigate him, in which case he’ll be made aware and could turn dangerous, or they’ll not do anything at all. Either way, I can’t risk that. He’ll get away with it no matter what.’
Darryl scrunches his eyes up for a moment before speaking. ‘But what’s the point?’ he says. ‘I mean, what’s the end game? You find out who he is, and what? You going to go round there and arrest him yourself? Search his house for evidence? What?’
I sigh. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. But all I know is we can’t go through the police. He’s one of them. I just... I don’t feel like they can protect me. I did, but now I don’t. I’ve lost all confidence in them.’
‘You can trust them, you know.’
‘I’d love to,’ I say. ‘I really would. But I can’t. What if he gets word he’s being investigated and decides to step things up? He’s been in my house, Darryl. He’s been following me. What if he does something else? Something worse?’
‘There are units for that. Internally, I mean. For investigating serving officers without them knowing. Files they won’t be able to access.’
‘Without evidence? On the say-so of some random woman who points to a photo of a police officer and says “That bloke’s stalking me”?’
‘Well, no. They’d need a bit more than that.’
‘Exactly,’ I say. ‘And that’s why I need your help. You’re the only one of the three of us who knows who this man is, Darryl.’
He looks up at me, as if he’s just realised for the first time what I’m asking. ‘What? Woah. No, no. No way. I can’t go getting involved in this. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s shit what you’re going through and I really hope they catch him — if it’s him — but I can’t risk my job by getting involved.’
I shake my head vigorously and place my hand on his. ‘I’m not asking you to get involved. Seriously. Just tell me his name. That’s all I’m asking.’
He looks uneasy. ‘I dunno...’
‘Oh come on,’ I say, trying the other approach — firmness. ‘If I walk up to an officer in the street and ask for their name they have to give it, don’t they? It’s hardly top secret. They go around introducing themselves to everyone. But I can’t go up and ask him, can I? So I’m asking you.’
He seems to consider this. ‘This didn’t come from me, alright?’
I nod. I can feel my heart racing, the adrenaline pumping inside me as I wait in anticipation.
‘He’s PC Toby Sheridan. He works on the first response unit.’
I don’t know what I expected, but I don’t feel anything when I hear his name. Then again, I wouldn’t. I’ve never heard it before. It means nothing to me. But this is the man who’s been stalking me. This is the man who’s been trying to ruin my life. And now I have his name. Toby Sheridan. Immediately, the name takes on all sorts of negative connotations. I’ll never be able to look another Toby in the eye again. I’ll never be able to read anything by Robert Brinsley Sheridan. Not that I ever did anyway.
‘Do you know him?’ I ask. I’m surprised to hear my voice cracking slightly. I realise my throat has tightened.
‘Not personally. I mean, I know of him. I know most of the people there. We aren’t mates or anything, if that’s what you mean. But I know who he is, yeah.’
‘What’s he like?’ Kieran asks. It’s the first time he’s spoken since I broached the subject with Darryl.
‘Erm. He’s alright, yeah. To be honest, he’s not the sort of guy I’d expect would be involved with something like this. Are you sure this is him? You’re certain?’ he says, pointing to my phone. ‘I mean, he doesn’t just look a bit like him or something?’
Him asking this makes me think for a moment. But yes, I’m certain. I know I am. I know it.
‘No. That’s him,’ I say.
‘Wow. Okay. Well I wasn’t expecting that.’
A look passes between me and Kieran as we watch Darryl mulling this all over in his head.
‘Listen, Darryl. I desperately need your help here. A name is great, but I need more than that.’
He looks at me for a moment, almost suspiciously. ‘Why? What sort of thing?’
I swallow. ‘I don’t know. An address? Something about him? My head’s in a right mess right now, but all I know is I need something. Some way of being able to prove he was in my house. Something that links him to it.’
‘But I thought you said there isn’t any proof? We can’t just make something up.’
‘No, but we can give him enough rope to hang himself with,’ Kieran says.
I look at him and I recognise something in his eyes that I haven’t seen for a while. It’s determination.
Kieran looks back at me. ‘I think I’ve got an idea.’
45
‘Well it make sense to me,’ he says, as Darryl and I exchange glances. ‘You’ve got the connections, Darryl. It’d be stupid not to use them.’
Darryl shifts uncomfortably in his
seat. ‘Yeah, I don’t think you quite get it, mate. This is my job. I rely on it to keep a roof over my head. How do you suppose I’m going to do that when they find out I’ve been abusing my position?’
‘Simple,’ Kieran says. ‘You make sure they don’t find out.’
Darryl makes to laugh. ‘It’s not quite as easy as that.’
‘And what’s the alternative? You can see what it’s doing to Alice. Well, you probably can’t, but I can. I know her. She needs your help.’
I’m not sure I’m keen on the way Kieran is talking about me as if I’m not in the room. ‘Listen, don’t worry about it. I’m sure we can sort something out. I don’t want Darryl to risk losing his job.’
I imagine Darryl might seem placated by this, but he still has an awkward look on his face. I take that as meaning he’d love to help, but he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place.
‘What sort of thing were you thinking?’ he asks Kieran.
‘I dunno. I hadn’t got that far. But as I see it, we’ve got two options. We either try to gather some evidence... somehow... or we play the fucker at his own game.’
I raise my eyebrows. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Kieran swear. I can see a passion in his eyes that I’ve never seen before — a fire, stoking him.
‘What, you mean stalk him?’ I say.
‘Well I wasn’t going to put it quite like that, no. But shit him up a bit. Let him know we’re onto him. Let him know what it feels like to be scared, not knowing where the next threat is coming from.’
‘I’m not sure I can do threatening,’ I reply.
‘No-one has to do threatening. It’s all about him feeling threatened. Think about it. What’s he done to you? He’s taken a few pictures, managed to mess with your head by taking his studio away.’
‘He’s been in my house, Kieran!’ I’m surprised by how upset I sound. It’s as if Kieran just doesn’t get it.
‘I know, I know. And I’m not suggesting we do that, obviously...’ He looks at Darryl, as if for reassurance or a nod that it might actually be possible. Darryl just stares him out. Kieran gets the message.
There’s a long silence. Kieran’s the first to speak.
‘So what do you suggest we do? Nothing? I mean, you obviously want to do something, Alice. You took that photo of him for a reason. You lied to the police about not recognising him for a reason. You asked us both here for a reason. So why don’t you tell us what you want to happen next?’
I guess it’s a fair point, but I can’t help feeling somewhat overwhelmed and under pressure. Whichever way I turn, the road seems to be blocked off. I can’t just carry on as I am. I can’t. How long will I have to live looking over my shoulder, checking every car window, never knowing if he’s been in my house that day? I’ll never feel safe, and I can’t go through life like that. But I can’t go to the police, either. That risks making things much, much worse. Without any evidence, they won’t be able to charge him with anything and he’ll know I’m onto him. He’ll step up his game. Before I go to the police again — if I go to the police again — I need more. Much more.
But how? I don’t know where he lives, and even if I did I couldn’t just break into his house in the hope he’ll have Stalk Alice Jefferson written in his diary. But there’s no evidence at my end. He’s taken it all. Except the emails, of course. The police said they were untraceable.
‘What about the emails I received?’ I asked Darryl. ‘They’re evidence.’
‘They’re pictures of you, Alice,’ Kieran says. ‘That’s not actually illegal.’
‘No, but surely it’s harassment or intimidation? At the very least, if we can trace them we’ll be able to see what computer he was using or something. It can’t hurt, can it?’
‘Didn’t the police investigate the emails?’ Darryl asks.
‘Yeah. They said they’re untraceable. Sent from a Gmail account through a... VP something or other.’
‘VPN?’
I nod.
‘Then there’s nothing we can do,’ he says. ‘Not a chance, I’m afraid. Put it this way. The FBI find it impossible to track computer hackers who use VPNs. They tend to have to use some other trick, usually either impersonation, honey pots or some elaborate form of phishing. They need the bad guys to let their guards down, as the technology itself protects them like you wouldn’t believe.’
I blink a few times, thinking. ‘But couldn’t we do something like that? Get his guard down somehow.’
Darryl shrugs. ‘How?’
‘I don’t know. You know him. Well, you know more than I do anyway.’
Kieran interjects. ‘This is all far too elaborate. We’re not super spies, for Christ’s sake. Either we break into his house and give him a taste of his own medicine, or we hire a group of thugs to go round and kick the fuck out of him.’
Again, I’m shocked at Kieran’s language. He’s clearly fired up about this. It’s sweet in a way.
‘Yeah, well I’m definitely not getting involved in that,’ Darryl says. I don’t blame him.
‘You don’t have to,’ Kieran replies. ‘Just tell us where he lives.’
I look at Kieran. So does Darryl. I can’t see Darryl’s face, but I imagine it’s much the same as mine right now.
‘No, Kieran. Just no,’ he says. ‘Not in a million years.’
‘It’ll sort everything out. No-one needs to know it was you.’
‘Do you think they’re stupid? Of course they’ll know. We’re linked. And I’d have to use the computer system to find his address. That sort of thing leaves traces.’
‘You’re the IT guy. You can delete traces.’
Darryl looks up into the corner of the room and shakes his head. He doesn’t deny the point Kieran just made about deleting traces, though.
‘It’s not happening, alright? End of.’
The look on Kieran’s face is something I’ve not seen before. It seems as though this is starting to affect him almost as much as it has me. And I’m starting to seriously worry about what he might do. What he might be capable of.
46
I get home at a reasonable hour, and I’m quite proud of myself for not drinking too much either. I’ve felt somewhat safer since I’ve had Toby Sheridan’s photo, and even safer now I know his name. He’s no longer the anonymous figure lurking in the shadows. He’s a man with a name, a job, a life. He’s now human, and that makes him feel less threatening somehow. Besides which, I’ve heard nothing from him since seeing him that day at the police station. But even if he should decide to start up again, with the locks on my doors changed I now feel better guarded against him.
There’s one thing I’ve been itching to do ever since I found out Toby Sheridan’s name. All I’ve wanted to do is find out more about him, try to discover what makes a person like this tick. I boot up my MacBook and head to Facebook.
As it’s loading, I wonder whether he’ll even have an account there. And if he has, will it be under his real name? He’s a police officer, so possibly not. I don’t even use my real name on Facebook — I’m listed as Ali JaJa. Unoriginal, and inaccurate, too — it’s a play on Ali Baba, for absolutely no reason at all, even though no-one ever called me Ali and it should strictly be JeJe, if I’m contracting my surname. I changed it a couple of years ago because I didn’t fancy pissed-off former employees from work looking me up after being made redundant. So I can’t imagine many police officers have an open and public Facebook account.
When the site loads, I ignore the dross in my newsfeed and type Toby Sheridan into the search bar at the top. A few results load immediately, but I hit the Enter key to take me to the full results page.
My heart jumps as the first result shows, accompanied by text that says:
1 mutual friend: Cindy A. Lennox.
I glance at the picture. It looks nothing like the man who’s been stalking me. I then read the rest of the text.
Lives in King George, Virginia
Studied Marketing at University of Mary
Washington '11
Thankfully, just a coincidence. Cindy’s a friend I met on holiday a few years ago. She lives in Devon, but is originally from America. This must be someone she knows from back home who just happens to have the same name as my stalker.
I feel myself calm down slightly, and I carry on scrolling down the page.
Then something catches my eye.
Amongst the handful of Toby Sheridans who don’t have a profile picture set, and instead are showing the default white-silhouette-man-on-grey-background, is one which is similar yet different. It’s the same silhouette, except this one’s wearing dark sunglasses. And next to the picture, under his name, is written:
Studied at Gardensview Upper School.
That school is in a neighbouring town, no more than three or four miles from here. What are the chances that there are two Toby Sheridans locally, with this one wanting to hide his identity just as much as the other? I click on his name and his profile loads.
It seems to take an age.
But when it finally loads, I wish I hadn’t bothered waiting.
The profile picture is the only thing showing in the newsfeed. He updated that four weeks ago, apparently, but it doesn’t show me what was there before. Even clicking through to his pictures, to the Profile Pictures album, shows me nothing except the one that’s currently displaying on his profile. Four weeks ago. Not long before he entered my life. Coincidence?
In any case, it’s all that’s there. And it has to be his account. It has to be.
Either way, there’s nothing I can do with it. There’s no information. There’s not even a picture.
But I have gained one thing. I’ve found him. The tables have turned, and I’m the one watching him.
47
Even though I know I’m dreaming, it doesn’t help. I’m being chased down the street, but my legs can’t carry me at the speed I want to go. They’re slipping, as if on ice, like a cartoon character trying to run away at speed. The dark figure moves slowly behind me, stalks me. Although he’s only walking, he’s gaining on me. My heartrate increases as I panic more and try to run faster. But the more I try, the more I slip. The slower I get. The more he gains.
