Inside, the scents of freshly ground coffee beans and that morning’s pastries hung in the air. A much better aroma than the stale cigarette and mystery funk that perfumed her motel room.
Once they’d settled at a corner booth and ordered decaffeinated coffees and sugar cookies, he turned up a hand, inviting her to speak. “Tell me about Abby. When did this guy—Chase Hamilton, you called him?—start bothering her?”
“Bothering…that’s such a mild term forstalking.”
“Stalking, then. And please believe me when I say, I don’t take anything about her situation mildly.”
His assurance mollified her. Probably more than it should. Hadn’t other police officers and court officials said much the same? So what made Cal different? Shouldn’t she be keeping her guard up, instead of letting the compassion in his eyes and the sincerity in his tone lull her?
“Chase worked at the physical plant at the university Abby attended as a freshman. She had an evening class three nights a week, and she noticed he would follow her back to her dorm when the class was over. She tried taking different routes to avoid him, but he still found her and followed. She reported him to the campus security, and they offered to have an officer escort her. She took them up on the offer, and Chase stopped following her at night. But…”
Cal grunted. “But.”
Their coffees arrived, and she waited for the barista to walk away before continuing. “He found her at other times of the week. He was just always…there. Popping up at random times and places. She grew scared to go anywhere alone, afraid even to stay in her dorm room alone, because he’d hang out in the lobby or outside her window and just…watch her. And because he never touched her, never verbally threatened her, the campus police wouldn’t do anything to stop him. As a campus employee, he had a right to be on campus, in public spaces.”
Cal listened patiently as she described how Chase escalated to sending Abby notes, leaving creepy gifts like dolls without arms and dog collars stained with something that looked like blood but proved to be a dye.
“She changed universities, moving to another state, to get away from him, but halfway through the fall semester of her sophomore year, he turned up on that campus as well. And it was a repeat of her freshman year down to the response of the school police and Chase’s pattern of behavior.”
“How long ago was this? How long has he been…” he caught himself and with a meaningful look, finished his question “…stalking her?”
A bit of the tension that was coiled in her gut loosened with his amended question—his effort to use her terminology and properly identify what her sister had been experiencing felt like a minor victory. Cal was at least trying to give the situation the respect it was due.
“Four years plus. Abby should have graduated this past May, but she left college after transferring a second time and having him find heragain. Not that her grades would have allowed her to graduate. She was so distressed about his harassment that she couldn’t concentrate or get any work done. Which just added to her stress. She’d always been an A student. Failing classes madeher feel like she was a failure at life. It became a vicious spiral until she couldn’t handle any of it.”
Cal muttered an earthy curse. His hands cupped his coffee, though neither of them had even sipped the drinks yet. His countenance was grim, thoughtful. “And is that when you moved her here?”
“Yes. To the Red Grove Mental Health Clinic. I read that it was tops in the field and seemed like a safe place for her. Clean and well-staffed with people who cared.”
“And you moved here with her?”
She answered with a nod. “I didn’t want her to feel abandoned. And I wanted to keep an eye out for Chase showing up—” she scowled “—which didn’t take long. God only knows how he keeps tracking her. She doesn’t have social media and changes phones constantly, and we told no one about the move here. I followed him on his delivery route one day, and when he left the gift shop I saw the sign that said the shop was hiring. I needed an income, and now I knew the gift shop was on Chase’s route, so…”
His pensive expression sharpened to concern. “Could he have followed you to her?”
Chapter 12
Cal’s question was gentle, not accusing. But it reverberated in Jules like a gong. That had always been her biggest fear. That something she did would make matters worse for Abby.
She took a moment to calm her jitters, then shook her head. “He doesn’t know me. I was in Canada, trying to finish my own degree. I attended any court hearings related to her cases via Zoom, and did my best to keep a low profile with her legal proceedings, so he couldn’t use me as a pawn or a scare tactic with her.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
“Abby was determined to protect me and her closest friends from Chase, too. When his attentions started escalating her freshman year, she deleted her social media, got rid of photographs of her with loved ones…anything she could think of to keep Chase away from us. The unintended result was it further isolated her. When she worried her cell phone was bugged, we ended up using public phones to talk to each other, the landlines at the university business office and local sandwich shop. Snail mail sent from different postal substations.”
“Paranoia or reasonable measures to buffer you and her friends?”
“Again, no proof, but I believe anything that kept her safe was a reasonable measure. She went through burner phones like they were a dime a dozen. She did so much to protect me and her best friends from unwanted attention or threats from Chase.”Tears pricked her eyes. “Which is why I can do no less to protect her, to help her heal and to get this creep off the streets.”
“And did it work? How sure are you he doesn’t know you?” he asked.
“Well, while he knows menowas the newest manager of the gift shop, I’ve never told him my name. I scribble my initials on his sheets. So I have no reason to think he’s connected me to Abby.”
Cal hummed in thought, but otherwise stayed silent, letting her say all she wanted first.
She stirred her coffee idly. “I know he’s likely aware Abby has an older sister, but I, too, have made myself hard to find. No pictures or current updates on social media. Unlisted phone numbers. Other than my name being listed in professional journals when my team published about our research, I can’t think of any way he’s pieced together who I am.” As it often did when she ran through her mental checklist of ways she and Abby had tried to minimize Chase’s ability to find either of them, an uncomfortable what-if poked her.
“What?” Cal prompted.
