Gwen had given her statement at the hospital, but it hadn’t been much. Her attacker was tall. Same black balaclava as always. Same angry eyes and violent hands.
“We assume he’s an outdoorsman,” Lucas began. “He was comfortable spending hours on the ground among the trees at the hike-and-bike trail, watching for you. He owns a high-caliber ghillie suit and knew how to use it to his full advantage in the woods. Your original attack was outdoors, also. Some criminals would have followed you home that night, where there were walls to shield sound and view. He didn’t do that. Maybe because he knew you spent most nights with me. Maybe because he prefers to be outside.”
Blaze pointed to Lucas in agreement, but clearly with something to add. “This guy was patient in his stalking. Painfully so. Unrushed for at least two years before the first attack. And we know he kept watch for six years afterward. He has a job with a flexible schedule, and given the number of photos taken in public spaces, he moves through society unnoticed.”
Gwen struggled to keep up, but her mind had hooked on the word outdoorsman. It was a polite way to summarize him, but her stalker was much more than that. Lucas just hadn’t wanted to say the more accurate and on-the-nose word in his mind.
Hunter.
She thought back to the analogy he’d made in the truck about the cat and its mouse. Her stalker was a hunter, and she was being hunted.
Lucas looked pained as he watched her processing the profile. “We think his patience only lasts as long as he feels in control. You never knew he was there until he wanted you to know. So, we can assume something changed to make him want to scare you this time. Something made him feel as if he was losing control of his fantasy. Based on timing, we can guess that our engagement was the catalyst before.”
Gwen considered the notion of letting the punishment fit the crime. “You think his reaction was extreme because marrying you would have been permanent.”
“Possibly,” Lucas said. “He was younger. Newer at this. Age and maturity could have been a factor in him losing control, or there could have been another factor in his life that had him already on the edge.”
His brothers grunted their agreement.
“Unfortunately, there’s no real profile for rapists,” Lucas went on, speaking gently, but factually. “These are all just guesses, but it would explain the extreme violence and timing of the first attack. Presumably his attempt to assert control and ownership over the object of his obsession. You.”
Gwen abandoned the spoon in her soup. Her arms wound protectively around her center. “Ownership?”
Lucas nodded, emotion thick in his cool blue eyes. “The profilers at the precinct will have a more complete profile soon, but they say someone who’s devoted so many years of his life to watching you probably believes he’s part of yours. He’s invested.”
“He thinks he’s part of my life,” she echoed. “He’s what? Delusional? Had a psychotic break?”
Lucas offered the saddest of smiles. “Extreme stalkers are often delusional in that regard. He probably imagines himself at the restaurant tables with you and your friends. Jogging beside you in the mornings. Curled on the couch with you at night. And in those moments, he’s happy. And so are you. Together.”
She pressed her lips tight, unable to stop the shudder rocking through her. “And when I accepted your proposal, I rejected him. A husband would have ruined his fantasy.”
Blaze dipped his chin. “That’s the working theory.”
“Okay.” She took a breath to center herself. “So, what upset him this time?”
“You tell us,” Blaze said. “The infringements started small and in your town. Small punishments for a small infraction, likely. You came back to West Liberty, and the behaviors escalated.”
Gwen’s eyes fell slowly shut. “I came back to Lucas. The man I’d planned to marry.” She peeled her eyes open with a groan. “But what did I do to deserve the small punishments back home? I haven’t done anything unusual. I jog. Go to work. Go home. Same old. Everyday. Sometimes I get drinks or dinner with the ladies from the office, but not often, and I’ve been doing that for years.”
The men didn’t look convinced.
Derek kicked back in his chair. “Something changed.”
“If not with you, then with him,” Blaze agreed.
Gwen looked to Lucas. “Nothing. I swear.”
Lucas heaved a sigh and raked his fingers through his hair. “We’ll figure it out.”
Gwen returned to her soup, running mentally over the past few weeks. Reviewing the days before the flyer arrived on her windshield. Had something changed?
She set the spoon down again. “Collin.”
Lucas tensed beside her. Whatever he’d been saying to his brother was cut off at the sound of her voice. “Who?”
She covered her mouth, unsure how she hadn’t thought of him before, while wondering if she was completely off base. “There’s a man at work,” she began. “He’s an architect at the firm. He walks me to my car at night.” She grimaced, recalling the big deal her coworkers made of it. “He’s asked me out a couple of times, as friends. For a drink or dinner after work, but I don’t go,” she assured him. She’d considered accepting his offer more than once, but she couldn’t. Collin was a good guy, and he deserved a normal, uncomplicated person in his life. Gwen had stopped being normal the moment a psychopath had decided to hunt her.
Did her stalker know Collin? How else could he know about the flirting and invitations?
And then she remembered.
“I had dinner with him.” Her eyes widened at the recollection. “We went for drinks as a group, but everyone else left before ordering any food. He and I had nowhere to be and were talking about ideas for a new client, so we stayed.”
“How long ago was that?” Lucas asked.
“A few weeks.” Right before she’d started feeling watched.
That accidental dinner had set her nightmare back in motion.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucas cleared the breakfast dishes, tired from a long night of rehashing ugly details with Gwen and his brothers. He’d barely slept afterward, and when he had, he’d woken to images of Gwen being choked out. In his dreams, she didn’t wake up. And every time, he’d found his way to her bedroom to be sure she was still okay. He’d made the trip so many times before dawn, he’d considered sleeping in the hallway outside her door. Ultimately, he’d stuck it out in the guest room across the hall, door open and hypertuned to her every deep breath and rustle of blankets.
Now, on his fourth cup of coffee and her second mug of tea, they’d passed the morning in companionable silence, more lost in thoughts than conversation.
“Any luck?” he asked, moving to sit with her on his couch in the study. He should’ve known he’d find her curled up among the books. It was his favorite room in the house. He’d practically lived out of it while he’d renovated the rest of the home, undoing all the awful and occasionally unsound updates that had been made over the years. Thankfully no one had dared touch the study. It was architectural perfection without need of anything more. Grand built-in bookcases soared floor-to-ceiling on his left and right, flanking an expansive set of windows in the exterior wall. It was impossible not to marvel at the extensive detail and craftsmanship of everything in sight. He’d even salvaged the historic stained glass pendant chandelier hanging high above.
She shifted when she saw him, tucking her slender legs beneath her and setting her phone aside. “Not yet.” Her bruised head was losing its knot, but the sickly shades of green and yellow made the healing mark look even worse. The dark marks on her neck were another story. “Collin hasn’t responded to my texts from last night, and he didn’t answer when I tried him again a few minutes ago. I’m starting to worry.” She lifted the teapot from a tray on the coffee table before her and refilled her cup. “What if something’s happened to h
im because of me?”
“Let’s not worry until there’s a reason to worry,” Lucas said. “Remember. We’re running on theories. Trying to troubleshoot and get ahead of this mess somehow.” Not an easy task when they didn’t know anything about the stalker’s life or personality beyond his obsession with Gwen. Lucas took a long swig of coffee, then set the mug aside. “I have an idea.” He turned his phone over and brought up the number to the design firm where Gwen and Collin worked, then dialed. “Maybe I can catch him at the office.”
Gwen frowned. “I hate to bother him at work. Especially if we’re wrong.” She sighed, raising her teacup higher and inhaling deeply. “Honestly, I hate to tell him anything about this at all.” She tucked wild red curls behind her ear a moment before they sprang free. She repeated the effort immediately, earning the same result. “He’ll likely freak out and ask my coworkers if they know anything about my past or my absence beyond what you told my boss after the copier incident. No one knows anything, so they’ll all go to the internet, if they haven’t already, and just like that.” She paused to snap her fingers. “All my carefully laid plans to keep the past and present from mixing are ruined.”
Lucas shook his head. “I hate to break it to you, but your past and present have been mixing for years. You just didn’t know it until recently. You haven’t done anything wrong, so whoever finds out about what you’ve been through will just have to deal with it and get over it. However complicated that might feel to them, it doesn’t hold a candle to what you’ve been through. What you’re going through,” he corrected.
The call finally connected, and a woman answered.
“This is Detective Winchester, West Liberty PD,” he explained. “I’d like to speak with Collin...” He looked to Gwen, realizing too late that he didn’t know her friend’s last name.
“Weinstein,” she said, filling in the missing name.
“Collin Weinstein,” Lucas repeated.
The receptionist put him on hold, and he smiled at Gwen. “She’s putting me through.”
Ten minutes later, Lucas hung up, having provided Collin with an incredibly loose rundown on the situation. He’d left out the details of what happened to Gwen six years ago, because she was right, that was personal and irrelevant to Collin or anyone else. Instead, Lucas had concentrated on the possibility Collin’s dinner with Gwen had provoked her stalker and launched him into action. Gwen had been targeted repeatedly this week, and Collin could possibly be next.
Gwen breathed easier when Lucas disconnected the call. “What did he say?” she asked, having hung visibly on every word from Lucas’s mouth. “He’s okay? Not hurt or abducted. So, why didn’t he answer my calls?”
Lucas fought the pinch of rejection and jealousy her concern for Collin created. Gwen had only returned to Lucas’s life out of necessity, he reminded himself. They weren’t in love anymore, and it would do him good to remember that. “He said it was late when you messaged him last night, and he’s been busy at work this morning, but he planned to return your call during his lunch break.” Lucas traded his phone for the cooling coffee and sipped to hide a frown. “He also said he dropped by your house to check on you after word got out about the copier incident. You weren’t home. Does he stop by your place often?” Lucas asked, hoping she couldn’t hear the intense curiosity in his words.
“No. Never. I didn’t even know he knew where I lived,” she said. “I guess he asked Marina.” She touched a fingertip to her bruised forehead and frowned. “I hate being seen as a victim.” Her wide brown eyes narrowed. “I know that’s silly and petty in the face of everything else, but I really hate it.” She sighed. “I’m trying to remind myself that everything is a matter of perspective. I’m still alive. That’s good. And my attacker has gone from bold to flat-out reckless, which is strangely good, as well. He’ll be caught for sure if he keeps that up. Right?”
The hope in her eyes nearly stole his breath. He couldn’t keep letting her down. “Yes. And you did the right thing by making sure Collin had the facts he needed to stay safe. Even if nothing comes of it, it was good to let him know there was a possibility of danger out there. Now he can be more vigilant and let us know if anything strikes him as odd.” Better to tell him the truth and nothing happen, than to tell him nothing and he’s ambushed. “You’d never forgive yourself if he was hurt and you hadn’t told him to be careful. You’ve got a big heart. This is just one more way it shows.”
She sat straighter at the compliment, and an odd expression washed over her face. “I helped on a school hotline freshman year,” she said. “I completely forgot. It didn’t last, so it wasn’t part of a lasting routine or anything, but for a few weeks, I tried helping strangers that way.” Her gaze went distant with the memory. “The callers struggled with loneliness, homesickness and feelings of isolation. I thought I could help because I was going through something similar, so I signed up.”
“Did any of the male callers you spoke with seem attached? Did you have repeat callers? Anyone who asked for you by name, perhaps?” Lucas asked, inspecting her beautiful face as it crumpled in thought.
“I don’t think so, and we didn’t exchange names. That was against the rules.” She marveled a moment, lost in thought. “It feels like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since.”
“I don’t even remember a hotline,” Lucas said. “Was it advertised campus-wide?”
“No. It wasn’t a Bellemont-sponsored project, but there were flyers on the community boards in the student center, library and common areas.”
“Did you take the calls at the counseling center?”
“No, in the psychology department. The hotline was a short-lived research project for a grad student’s thesis on loneliness in highly populated spaces and small communities like college campuses. The lines were set up for temporary research, though some of the volunteers thought the school might implement the number permanently if there was a large enough response. There wasn’t. The whole thing was done and over before the semester’s end.” She finished her tea, then set the cup aside once more. “I suppose it’s possible that someone I helped on a call became attached. Being lonely is rough. It can play with your self-esteem, your emotions and your mind. Even one friendly person can make all the difference.”
Lucas rubbed eager hands against the denim on his thighs. There was something to this worth looking into, but they needed a string to pull. “Was there a staff member overseeing the project?” The grad student was likely long gone by now, but maybe the teacher assigned to the project was still around. “If we’re lucky the teacher might remember something worth knowing.”
“I loved the teacher. She taught social psychology, I think. She was the nicest woman. She might’ve even been head of the department at the time,” Gwen said.
Lucas brought up a search engine on his cell phone and found the Bellemont staff directory. He scrolled to the list of names in the psychology department, then handed the phone to Gwen. “Any of those look familiar?”
“Bloomsbury,” Gwen said, tapping the screen with her fingertip. An image of an older woman in a black suit jacket and white blouse smiled back. “That’s her. She had longer hair then, and it was darker, but that’s her.”
Lucas took the phone with a grin. “I’ll give her a call.”
He dialed, waited, then left a voice mail. “I’ll follow up with an email,” he said, thinking out loud as he went. “And I’ll let her know we’re coming in to see her during her office hours.” He dared a look in Gwen’s direction when he finished. He probably should’ve asked her if she felt up to another trip to the college before volunteering her appearance, but she always had the option of saying no. Or changing her mind at any time. “Feel up to another trip to Bellemont?” he asked, hoping she would agree.
Gwen had the relationship with this professor, not him, and being back in the building might help Gwen recall more details about her tim
e on the hotline and the people she spoke with while she was there. Not to mention the fact that he refused to leave her alone anywhere again. So, if he was going, she was going, and there wasn’t a better team for the job.
“Absolutely,” she said. “I wouldn’t miss it.” She pushed slowly to her feet, a small grimace tugging her lips. “I’m going to get showered and dressed. I’ll reheat the kettle for tea when I get back and maybe take a couple more aspirins.”
“How about you just take your time and enjoy your shower,” Lucas suggested. “The tea will be ready when you are.”
Gwen smiled. “Thank you.” She tipped carefully at the hips and pressed a light kiss to his head, then she was gone.
Lucas moved to the doorway, longing to call to her. To ask her what the kiss was for, and if she’d like to do it again. But he knew the kiss had cost her. After what she’d been through, every physical touch had a price. Lucas worked with rape survivors every day, and he knew how hard the simple gesture had been. He also knew it had taken serious thought and much motivation for her to do it.
He smiled as he crossed the room to his desk and powered up his laptop. He searched for information on the hotline project, hoping the grad student had published a paper on the topic. If he or she had, it wasn’t available online. Lucas was sure, however, that if the published paper existed, it would be available in the Bellemont library. A special second-floor section of the library was dedicated to papers, studies and books published by faculty, alumni and staff. Until then, he’d have to wait and wonder.
He scrubbed a palm against his stubble-covered cheeks. He needed a list of people who’d used the hotline number while Gwen had been working there. A line like this would likely have been confidential, but it was also a research project, so there was a chance that some amount of information had been collected for the purpose of documentation. It’d take a warrant to get the details legally, if the teacher wasn’t sharing, but that wouldn’t be a problem. Finding information on a defunct temporary research project from six years ago was the problem.
SVU Surveillance Page 12
