What does that even mean? He’ll see me soon? Looking around quickly. He didn’t sign a name either. Chills traveling up and down my spine and a cold sweat forming around my face and neck as I try not to panic, for the second or third time today.
I look back at the cameras again. All open so I can see each view, both inside and out. I know I was in the parking lot for a while trying to calm down before I left. He had time to get here and out. But how the hell did he with Eli being home? Unless Eli had his headphones on after I called. Still, nothing. Suddenly all views go to static and I can’t see anything at all. Maybe they’re broken? They can’t be.
My heart, still pounding, drops into my stomach and bile creeps up my throat. How is this possible? There is no proof anyone was in here. If I call the police, there’s nothing they can do. Even if they can, Eli wouldn’t let them inside. There would be hell to pay if I let them in. And if I tell him, he’ll accuse me of cheating. He does that whenever there’s another man simply in the same place as me. Even though I know whathe’sbeen doing. It just isn’t worth opening my mouth about it.
I block the door again and turn all the lights out, then double check the window. There is someone standing in the dune grass. If I hadn’t turned the lights off before I checked the window, I wouldn’t have seen him. But he could see me the whole time.
He’s tall and broad, wearing a mask with dim L.E.D. lights on the front for fuck’s sake. A dull green X on each eye, with the cheeks coming down to his jawline, leaving only his mouthexposed..
A cold chill runs down my spine and arms, causing me to shake violently as I pull up my phone. I start to dial 911 and stop. Flipping through the camera app again… still static. It vibrates while I’m still entranced by the sight.
Unknown Number:Don’t call the police. I’m not going to hurt you.
Looking back through the window, he’s gone. Just fucking gone. What the hell? What would happen if I called and there was no stalker? Would they take a statement or would they just leave?
Taking the books off of one of my least filled shelves and putting them into the cart where all the new books are. I pull the shelf out and jam it down into the window, even though the window is still locked. I don’t want to take any chances.
Then, I call the police. Paying hell doesn’t seem too bad right now. I’ll deal with Eli’s consequences when the time comes.
7
Anthony
Through the window, Ican see Lila bolting into her library, her movements frantic and desperate as she shoves that lavender chair against the door. After a few minutes, a bright red BMW peels down the driveway, tires spinning on the pavement, the engine growling like an angry beast. Her fear is a physical thing, radiating through the glass. I step deeper into the shadows of the dune grass, my mask still covering most of my face, watching as she sinks into her chair. Not long after, she notices the stack of books I left by the window. The books that weren’t supposed to scare her, but clearly have. I didn’t think this through.
I can still picture the moment I discovered the key earlier, a poor hiding spot under the welcome mat. I almost laughed when my fingers brushed against it. Most people think they’re clever, hiding keys in fake rocks or under flowerpots. Not Lila and her husband. They went with the most obvious spot in the world.
The lock had turned easily. I’d expected an alarm to blare, but nothing happened. Just silence greeting me as I stepped inside. The house felt empty, hollow, like those model homes they stage for open houses, beautiful but unlived in. I moved through it like a ghost, careful to avoid creaking floorboards, holding my breath at every sound.
Somewhere in the house, a shower was running. Her husband, I assumed. I didn’t have much time.
The library was easy to find. First floor, in the front of the house. Right off the living room. The door stood slightly ajar, and I pushed it open, holding my breath. The smell hit me first, honeysuckle and vanilla, but underneath that, the unmistakable scent of books. Hundreds of them, lined on shelves from floor to ceiling. A sanctuary. Her sanctuary.
That chair by the door, massive and lavender, the size of a twin bed, it seemed out of place, facing the window instead of one of the bookshelves. But I understood when I saw the throw blanket and small pillow. She sleeps here. Not with him. That told me everything I needed to know.
I placed the books on the small table near the window, arranging them carefully, then scribbled the note on a piece of paper I’d torn from a small notebook nearby. The words seemed fine then, friendly, non-threatening. I wanted her to know I wasn’t some random creep, that I’d seen her distress at the bookstore and wanted to help.
Now, watching her through the window, I realize how badly I’ve fucked up.
Backing away from the table, with my note in her hand, she looks around frantically. Checking in her bathroom. Her closet. Around her window, then walks into her living room and then back into the library. The fear in her ispalpable, and I caused it. I never meant to scare her. Fuck, I only wanted to be romantic.
She’s looking at the note now, her hands trembling as she unfolds the paper. I should have signed it. Should have explained better. The words I wrote seemed fine at the time, but now, watching her panic, I realize how threatening they must sound. “I will be seeing you soon.” What the hell was I thinking?
Pulling out her phone now, scrolling through the cameras. But with the basics Cainen sent and the jammer I picked up from my townhouse, they should all be static now. I look down at my jammer and realize I hadn’t turned it on. So, I switch it on and suddenly her face looks more worried than before.
The lights go out and I can barely see her as she looks through the window. I try to duck, not wanting her to see me yet. But she does see me, she looks directly at me. With my mask on, standing in the shadows like some horror movie villain. Her face goes pale, eyes widening as she spots me in the dune grass. I freeze, not daring to move again. Our eyes lock for a heartbeat that seems to stretch into eternity.
I pull out my phone, blocking my number before typing quickly.
Unknown number:Don’t call the police. I’m not going to hurt you.
I hit send, watching as her phone lights up in her hand. She reads the message, looks back toward the window, but I’ve already shifted position, hidden from view behind a tall clump of grass.
Through the window, I can see her dialing anyway. Three numbers before she places the phone to her ear.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pulling out my phone again. I hit Dillian’s number, not his personal line, but the direct line to his desk at the police station. He picks up on the second ring.
“Maryland State Police, Officer Reynolds speaking.”
