She hadn’t. Her first passport photo. The head and shoulders shot. She’d gone with her parents on a holiday. They needed a passport for Vanuatu. Then, she was young enough to go on her parents’ passport, but they still needed an ID photo for a visa.
‘Where is it?’ she muttered.
Quickly she flipped through the more recent pages. A copy of her driver’s licence photo. And a photocopy of the actual licence. She’d been so pleased after backing crookedly twice. The bridesmaid photos at her cousin’s wedding where she’d been partnered by that nerd.
Mum wouldn’t have borrowed it. Her parents had taken a duplicate key to her flat, before they left, so they could have got in, but they were thousands of kilometres away. But why would Mum want that photo when she already had a copy herself? That guy at the PHOTO SHOP knew she always got doubles.
Could the photo have slipped out? Lily shook the album. No. All the other photos were held firm. Could someone have taken it? Why? Cold fear started in her tummy again. Things were going wrong too often. It wasn’t just co-incidence. The cold feeling grew, like a paralysis. It was as if she couldn’t think straight or do anything. Would she ever be able to do ordinary, little things again without the dread that maybe the stalker was orchestrating her?
She must move. She must do something. She must not let this guy freak her out. He must not invade her mind and her life.
She lifted up her arm. The watch looked different. No. It was just the same as always. Same shape. Same colour. Why was she looking at her watch?
Time to do something. What was it? The mail. She’d forgotten to collect the mail. Perhaps there’d be a card from her parents? Six months was a long time to work as a volunteer in another culture. Sometimes, like now, she really missed them, but the international time differences made ringing difficult, and expensive and their island phone wasn’t reliable.
Move, she told her legs.
It was dark outside. Street lights shone. She fumbled in the letterbox. A large envelope. Another bill for Genevieve. But no postcard. And another big envelope. Like the last time.
Not again! The paralysis started. The cold feeling. It ran along her back and down her spine. Remembered fear.
Her fear started with that first hate-mail. That envelope changed her life. Usually Lily liked getting letters. Invites. Birthday cards. Even post cards from places she’d never visited. But hate mail wasn’t something she expected. It was so personal.
That someone took the trouble to hate her so much that they wrote, selected an envelope and stamp, find a letter box and posted it. With a 70 cents stamp that meant it had been bought especially. Not an ordinary 45 cents. Who hated her that much?
That was the first time she realised that ‘going public’ was dangerous. The ‘Lily’ this person thought he or she knew and hated was not the real Lily.
A page torn from the community radio magazine—the one with her photo on the cover. Bright blue texta. Strong, downward strokes. A noose was drawn around her neck and drops of blood dripping from her mouth. Not red-red blood. Brown rusty-red, so it looked like real stuff.
No postmark. What had that meant? Hand delivery? Or had the post office franking machine just missed one? But why this one? No clue as to where it had been posted. She hadn’t told Bernie about that one. No reason to think it was the same Stalker.
And here was another one, in a computer printout. Lily handled it like it was a bomb. One sheet. Printed.
Amazed, she read on. Bits of her life were listed on a sheet. Her personal belongings. And her reactions! She was being shadowed. She looked up. Was he watching now?
It was an A4 sheet, rather like a shopping list. Shock overcame her, like an icy wave. He was shopping in the privacy of her life! Even some dates were noted alongside, to show when he’d been in her house!
Items Taken or Moved.
Tissues from Box No reaction
Green folder moved. Thought it forgetfulness
Pen No Reaction
Toothbrush Noticed. Bought two new ones.
Hairbrush Didn’t notice
diary pages Days later
photo (passport) ……….
audio dup. of clairvoyant’s tape Reaction on phone.
T-shirt writing 4th Public reaction at nightclub 10th
Changes
Car clock time Reaction at garage
Front door lock tumbler Reaction
Car` electronic security Big reaction
Squash appointment time with brother Reaction
Credit card signature Reaction to florist
Credit card number Reaction later
Signs
This list! Today! 12th
*handscribble other dates to show added later
***********************************************************
At first it was enough just to ‘play’ with your life and just listen to your voice. I entered your home. Moved things. But you didn’t even notice, at first. Seriously messy, you are Lily, and that didn’t change. So then I started to leave more clues. To push you into reacting. You had to notice the car security. Or the clairvoyant’s tape on your phone. How long would it take you to realise that I had you on my list and was working through priorities.
You shouldn’t have asked that Jamie to help, Lily. It made me cross.
He started checking and monitoring envelopes in your pigeon hole. So I started to e-mail you at the station. Multiple messages from The Follower. Hotmail. And when you just deleted me, I got upset. Anyone who took the trouble to compose such long e-mails would be upset if the person trashed them.
I shouldn’t have called the station hot line thirty-nine times in the one day. Even though I changed my voice and my message, but because I always said how good Lily’s program was the other complaints I made up about The Y. Public radio stations invite comments. They should have been grateful that I cared enough to call, at my own expense. I did use the phone at home, but the bill won’t come in until after my parents get back. They’ll be pleased I’m supporting a community project.
As for that Neanderthal brother of your Lily, he nearly caught me, near the car. He’s a bit big to miss, but he didn’t see me. I blended in.
Of course, I like to feel organised and that everything is under control. Lists help. And I’m making a new one.
10
Re-Act
‘There’s a call for you. A Dr David’s surgery, it said. Wants to speak to you,’ Since retiring, Georgio did all the fiddly jobs in the studio like messages, filing or fixing up the volunteers’ time sheet. He also kept changing his on-loan bonsai plants around the reception area.
‘Who?’ Lily had been thinking of something else. For a moment, she didn’t connect… Her doctor. Dr David. The blood tests.
‘What for?’
She didn’t think they gave that information out on the phone. Certainly not to hot goss. switchboard operators like the ones at the studio.
‘Lily Noelle? There’s been a break- in at our surgery. Patients’ files have been scattered all over the street. Just letting you know,’ said a light masculine voice.
‘You’re not Dr David?’ challenged Lily.
‘Could you tell from my voice?’
‘Of course.’ Dr David was overweight, breathy and considerate.
‘I’m an assistant… clerical assistant… temporary. I’m speaking for Dr David,’ the voice tried to sound reassuring.
‘Aren’t medical records confidential and kept locked?’ Lily was surprised.
‘Yes. Of course. In a locked filing cabinet,’ said the voice.
‘But I thought that everything I said to a doctor was private, even if he wrote it down,’ said Lily in surprise.
‘What’s the problem? You got AIDs or something and don’t want people to know?’ The unidentified voice changed to a quicker, higher one.
‘Get real.’ Hep B was her worry. ‘What proof do I have that you are from my Doctor’s surgery
?’ Lily’s voice was suddenly sharp. Would Dr David be that careless? Her brain started to work again.
‘I don’t think you’re genuine.’ Suddenly she lost it. All the stalking was getting to her. Trembling, Lily said, ‘Why are you doing this? You’re deceitful and dishonest. Piss off.’ Then she hung up.
*************************************************************
How dare you Lily, you stupid bitch. I’ll show you that you can’t hang up on a fan like me. I’m special and since I’ve chosen you, now you are special. You only matter because of me and my attention.
At first I thought you were like your name. Your voice was sort of white-blonde and slim. Your voice was perfect. I imagined that you looked like that too. . On air, you had some strong views… not radical feminist… just independent… feisty almost. That’s what I liked.
But now I know that you are not like your voice! You’re fat, not thin. And you’ve even got the odd zit. Even when you were younger in that passport photo you were a chubby kid. And you’re not even blonde, like your voice. That was a disappointment. Someone like me needs an opposite. Now I know you can’t ever be that. So it is me making the decision to say ‘No, I don’t want you’. It is not you rejecting me! Nobody would ever reject a person who has qualities of my genius.
You asked me why I did it Lily! You! That was a disappointment. At first I thought you were seriously intelligent. That’s why I knew you’d be interested in me. You asked some great questions on air. But maybe you didn’t write them? I was paying you a great compliment, making you the centre of my life for a special time. Who else has a genius for a fan?
Why did I do it? There was a time-free zone in my life. My parents were away on business in Los Angeles, so I was house-sitting. No rent. A freezer stuffed with food. Only had to walk the cat. Our house was programmed. When you have a Mum who is an electronics consultant, why do anything if it can be programmed? After the offspring-robot malfunctioned and dropped out, they let me stay at home, ‘inventing’. Less embarrassing than saying ‘unemployed’. Some nights I was so bored, I’d drive and drive. Even did circuits of the booze buses, so they’d breathe-test me. Other times I watched passengers arrive at the interstate bus depot. I’d sit in my car. I hopped stations on the radio. By accident one night I found your voice on the dial when I was driving. That may have been an accident, but everything since, has been planned by me!
Lily made a decision about her stalker. The waves of fear were getting to her. She had to tell someone in authority at the studio. This public radio station only had one paid employee: Bernie.
On Bernie’s office wall were all the awards the station had won or been given for donating things. Gold seals of approval. He’d only been in the job at 3BC for a few weeks but Bernie, attracted money. So the place had been painted. New sound equipment. Even a swivel chair for each of the presenters.
Bernie leaned back so far in his swivel chair, his tummy stuck out like a wide roll, but he spoke in a common-sense way.
‘Someone stalking you? Trouble is, you’re doing your job too well. The best communicators–like you–are not talking to everyone. You are talking to individuals. Well, that’s how they hear it. They think you’re talking to them, personally. Especially the fruit loops.’
Who was sane and who wasn’t? Ben seemed to be hanging around since their squash chat, and like him, Bernie sounded practical, ordinary and down to earth. Daylight also helped Lily feel that the problem was being tackled.
‘Fan, fruit loop or fanatic?’ asked Bernie.
‘I don’t know. I’m not even sure exactly who he is, but he’s been in the studio, in my place and fiddled with my…your sponsors’ car.’
‘Monty’s car?’ That got a response. Bernie wanted to keep his sponsors happy.
‘Just the electrical security and it’s fixed again. But now he’s phoned, pretending to be from my doctor, well, I think it’s him.’
Bernie patted his tummy roll as if it was an achievement. As he leaned forward, it rolled like clothed wobbly meat.
‘You’re not the only one this has happened to. There was the weekend magazine interview with the Sydney personality. And a whole site on the Internet. Stalkers Home page. Advice on how to track people. Even a Terrorist Profile for airlines to check passengers.’
‘I know. Jamie told me.’
‘Your voice attracts.’ Bernie brought the tips of his fingers together, as he thought.
‘But isn’t that what professional radio and TV, presenters are taught to do? I’ve just been trying to do my job.’
‘True,’ agreed Bernie.
It was creepy to think that someone was collecting bits of info about her. Personal things. ‘I’ll be there, with you, listening every night’ his e-mail flooded her In File. Even called himself DISCIPLE on the address. Or signed it THE FOLLOWER. Jamie was tracking the e-mail source but most of them came from netcafes or public kiosks.
‘So what can I do now?’ asked Lily desperately. ‘I might be able to identify his voice, although he changed it several times. But I’ve never seen him face-to-face. So I wouldn’t recognise him in a line-up if I went to the police.’ Lily was trying to remember the TVTV cop shows. ‘And I don’t even know his name.’ This was more than the Y’s short term memory problem about flower names.
‘You could take out an intervention order.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Stops him hanging around. If he breaches the order, you’ll be responsible for him being thrown in jail.’ Bernie looked serious. ‘We would support your application if you insisted, but….’
‘I don’t want an order making this public.’
‘Neither do we. Lily, Management doesn’t want you talking in public about these incidents. They’re afraid of copycats. They want to keep their network security confidential.’
‘You mean Max the security guy? He’s all we’ve got,’ blurted Lily.
‘Anyway I can’t take out an order against someone whose name I don’t even know.’
**********************************************************
I knew I’d get away with it. A person as clever as me can control anyone he selects. And I chose you, Lily. It wasn’t really stalking, just controlling. People like you, Lily, are more trusting than they realise. You assume that people you deal with are telling the truth. If you’d met me early on, and I nearly arranged that, you would have thought, ‘Why should someone like that who already has everything, need to “control” my life?’
So you lower your guard. Why should a rich techno ‘nerd’ with the latest in electronic gadgetry need to make things up or play electronic games with Lily’s life? Even if you knew who I was, you’d have thought I was more trustworthy than most and more “together” than the average person. Or that’s what I let people think.
I didn’t expect you to yell at me when I was being the Doctor’s office assistant on the phone. Should have said I was a locum doctor, but I wasn’t even in the surgery. And I didn’t think you’d turn , then. I thought I’d just get closer and closer, and you’d never really know for sure.
All I had to work out was, 'What does this person, Lily, want?' What are her needs? Her weaknesses? What is she proud of? I have an ability to identify vulnerable people, and work out how to control them. I arrange whatever they want so that I can take advantage of them a bit further down the track. You wanted to be a celeb and didn’t even mind having a stalker at first, because that meant you must be a celebrity. Admit it. You loved applying for another phone number. So I decided to ‘play’ with your life, which is more fun than a computer game which is programmed. A nervous person is more of a challenge to predict. And there are more choices than yes or no.
Lily, I thought you were a worthy choice, but you let me down. You didn’t look like your voice and you didn’t appreciate me. I gave you so much of my time. I watched over you for days and nights. Then you interviewed that Y from The Cult. It sounded as th
ough you believed all that God Business, so I went into your house to warn you. To give you little clues. To show you how easily someone could change your life, if you let them. But at first you didn’t even realise. Maybe now that I have made all those changes… you realise.
Of course, I kept a record of what I had changed, all on backup disks clearly labelled in green pen. In my backpack. Now the hard disk is another matter. At any time I can wipe out the record of an electronic life … changed… rubbed out… deleted. All I need to do is to hit the delete button.
11
Bank on It
The bank queue wound around like a bored snake. Lily glanced up at the video which blurted extra services like tele-banking. Excellent idea. But she’d seen that ad four times already. You could tell a lot from the way people stood in a queue: patient acceptance or foot moving frustration. She was last. Then footsteps and another person joined the queue.
Stalker Page 7