Rob wrapped his arms around her. “It won’t take years. I know it won’t. I have a feeling you’re going to find the missing journals and the answer’s going to be there. If not that, then he’ll slip up and the cops will find him. Either way, they will get him.”
They curled up together. Exhausted, Rob soon fell asleep.
Laura lay awake and an hour later turned on the TV. Her body was worn out but her mind raced. Not for the first time, she wondered if there wasn’t some key clue she had overlooked because she didn’t recognize its importance.
And where were the journals?
For once, she wished Rob had been nosy and knew where and how she wrote her journals.
The enormity of the situation hit her and she broke down and cried, first upset but then angry and finally enraged.
Who the fuck is this guy to think he has a right to interrupt my life? Why does he think he has the right to torment me like this? And why the fuck is he picking on me?
There was no doubt of the crossroads before her. Either she hid until MedicineMan got bored and left her alone, or killed her, or she needed to fight back.
Rage stewed and boiled and finally bubbled over. Storming out into the living room, she opened her laptop and turned it on. Her fingers flew across the keyboard and she quickly re-read her message before punching the send button. Going to bed didn’t feel like a good idea, and there was nothing good on TV. After a few minutes she checked her email.
Nothing.
Of course he probably wouldn’t reply tonight, if at all. It was late and whoever—wherever—he was, it wasn’t likely he’d seen the email yet.
I hope I didn’t just screw up.
Whatever happened, she would go down fighting. It felt clichéd, it scared her to death, but to fully reclaim her life meant facing this madman down and she was tired of running.
When the yawning started she finally felt satisfied enough to try sleep again.
* * * *
The dream centered on the condo once again, different than the ones she’d had before. It felt more like watching a TV show than living through a memory or a creation of her own subconscious. There was no way to tell if this was recall or simply terror spilling over into her imagination, but unlike the Montana dream, she recognized it as such and let it play out even though she knew it would scare her.
She watched from above and to the rear, like a camera on a boom, as her dream self toured the condo. Dark stains streaked the walls, pictures were knocked askew or broken on the floor, the back door stood open. A coil of rope lay tangled on the floor near the sofa.
Her dream self turned, looking around. The condo lay empty except for her and the mess. A dark shadow crossed the threshold in the back hall and stopped short in the doorway. Facing it, dream Laura shouted, “I’m not afraid of you!”
The shadow settled there, motionless, silent, more like a dark fog than an absence of light. A vague outline of a person coagulated somewhat, nothing recognizable.
The coil of rope slithered toward her and she kicked it, sending it skittering across the carpet back toward the shape.
“You already attacked me. What do you want?”
The shadow made no noise as it faded out of sight. Then the rear door slammed shut.
* * * *
She woke with a start, breathing heavily. Next to her, Rob still slept and Doogie lay undisturbed on the floor. Nothing. Outside the sky lightened slowly with dawn approaching, and there were only fifteen minutes left before the alarm was set to go off.
No more sleep for her. Coffee sounded good and she walked out into the kitchen. Then she remembered the email message and did an about-face for the living room. The laptop was still set up on the coffee table and she checked her email.
Nothing.
The wait was worse than anything. What if he didn’t reply at all? There was a gap of several weeks before. He might be tired of the game. Or with her replying he might get scared off and decide not to play the game anymore.
Or she might have enraged him and he was plotting his attack at that moment.
Coffee. She finally got the pot going and a few minutes later Rob stumbled into the kitchen.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he greeted her. She kissed him and he hugged her. “How’d you sleep?”
She shrugged. “Dreams. Nothing I can do about them.”
“Not good ones?”
“No, Sir. Not this time.”
“Memories?”
She shook her head. “Not really. But I’ve decided I’m not going to let this guy ruin my life.” She told him about the email message she sent MedicineMan and Rob winced.
“Don’t you think you should have cleared that with Thomas first?”
“Why? I’m sick of this game. If this guy wants me, he’s going to have to come get me.”
He let out a sigh she recognized as him trying to be patient. “Let me see it.” Dom tone.
She opened up the email program and brought the message up.
Hey asshole, let me tell you something. I’m beginning to think you’re all talk and no balls. You aren’t going to get a second chance, but I sure hope you try, because I’ve got something special waiting for you. Tag, motherfucker.
He looked at her. “Tag?”
“Remember he said he was it in one of the messages?”
“Oh, yeah.” He looked back to the screen. “I still say you should have cleared this first.”
“Easier to get forgiveness than permission.”
“Yeah, but the stakes usually aren’t this high.” He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “Promise me you’ll call Thomas first thing this morning and tell him what you did.”
She started to protest then snapped her mouth shut on that. “Yes, Sir,” she finally said.
He smiled. “Well, that wasn’t meant as an order from Sir, but good girl.”
He gave her a morning spanking that helped calm her while they were waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. Once the coffee was ready, they both took a mug and headed to the bathroom for a shower. They ended up in bed before getting there and enjoyed the moment before finally making it into the shower. Rob had to work and Laura wanted to go to the shop. Rob walked Doogie. Nothing seemed amiss outside and he watched Laura get in her car and drive off before resetting the alarm and leaving.
Steve was already at the shop waiting for her. She made her phone call to Det. Thomas to report the e-mail she’d sent.
“I wish you’d have run that past me first.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m sick of this.”
“I understand, but you can’t cut us out of the loop and hope he comes through your front door so you can blow his nuts off.”
“Why not? Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Please work with me. Let me know if he replies and then we’ll decide how to go from there.”
She reluctantly agreed. Sarah arrived as Laura hung up. She wanted to see pictures and hear updates.
“Oh, Mr. Green Eyes came in a couple of times while you were gone.”
“He did?”
She nodded. “He’s hitting on me now.”
Laura laughed. “Not interested in me anymore, huh?”
“Doesn’t seem to be. He hasn’t even asked about you. Sorry.”
“Ah, you can have him, Sar.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want him. He’s not my type.”
Laura caught her up on paperwork and class schedules and they did some other work until lunchtime. Steve brought lunch in and they sat out on the dock. Laura had her laptop set up in the office and had been checking her email every few minutes.
Still no reply from MedicineMan. On the one hand, she was relieved. On the other, it was like waiting for a decision on a Florida election outcome—no apparent end in sight.
Det. Thomas arrived later and looked over her shoulder while she checked her mail again. Still no reply.
“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything,”
he said. “He could be out of town or working or just not answering.”
“I know. It’s the waiting that’s hardest.”
“Think of it this way—every moment you’re waiting is a moment you’re still alive.”
She turned to stare up at him. “But what kind of life is it?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The days, and then weeks, crawled by. Laura sent two more taunting messages with no replies. Thomas instructed her not to send any more until something else happened. Laura still carried her gun with her, although her sense of urgency dissipated. Bob still checked in on her when she had to be alone at the house, and deputies still patrolled their quiet street at night.
Business picked up and a heavy class and dive trip schedule monopolized her time. To take her mind off the missing journals, she worked on the novel she’d started in Montana. The manuscript was up to nearly fifty-thousand words and still going strong.
Her memory recovery hit a brick wall. She continued to dream, though not about the attack and not about anything that triggered significant gains for her. During a routine follow-up with her neurologist, she asked him for a prognosis.
“I think you already know the answer.”
“Give me a guess.”
He sat down. “It’s been several months now. Unless you have some sort of massive trigger event, I doubt you’ll recover many more memories.”
“That’s not written in stone.”
“No it’s not. It’s not even written in pencil. It’s possible you could wake up tomorrow with everything intact. It’s also possible I’ll hit the lotto Saturday night.”
“Not very probable though.”
“I’m afraid not.”
* * * *
The next afternoon, Sarah brought the shop mail in and laid it on Laura’s desk. Around closing time Laura finally got a chance to go through it. Sifting through the envelopes one in particular caught her attention.
The unstamped, uncancelled manila envelope bore the shop’s address but no return label. The font looked computer-generated and it was addressed to “Laura Spaulding.”
A cold chill crept through her as she grabbed a letter opener. After poking at it and determining it didn’t appear to contain anything but paper, she carefully slit the end open. She carefully held the opposite end with just the tips of her fingers and shook the paper out onto her desk where it landed print side up.
It was set in large-scale print in landscape mode.
TAG! I’M CLOSER THAN YOU THINK! ;)
She screamed for Steve.
* * * *
Thomas donned a latex glove to pick up the envelope and paper and put them in an evidence bag. Rob was comforting Laura in the other corner of the office.
“He had to put it right in the mailbox. That means he was outside. He could have been one of our customers today!”
“I know, honey. I know.” Rob was out of words and wishing he’d never took their peace for granted. The idea of the attacker being that close to Laura both scared and infuriated him.
“Laura, have you checked your email lately?” Thomas asked.
She shook her head.
“Could you, please?”
She nodded and sat down in front of the laptop. Sure enough.
So how’d you like it?
Thomas ordered another trace of the message and told her to send a reply.
Laura thought about it. “What do I say? That he’d succeeded in freaking me out? That I’m scared again?”
“Say whatever you want, Laura,” Thomas urged. “I’ll tell you if it needs to be changed.”
“Maybe his game isn’t to finish me off, but to keep me in terror for years unless I regained my memory.”
Rob watched her set her chin and start typing. He read over her shoulder while she composed and Thomas approved it before she hit send.
Hey, chickenshit. Why didn’t you just come in and say hi? I’ve been looking forward to having a talk with you.
If she’d written any more her rage would have spilled out into the message and the stalker would have the satisfaction of seeing how disturbed she really was. As she’d left it, she came off only sounding really pissed.
“It’s bad enough I feel like a prisoner.”
“Then you give any ground and reveal how you truly feel,” Thomas said.
They provided Thomas with a list of all the day’s customers before Rob followed Laura home and waited for her to lock the door and arm the alarm. He had to return to work for a couple of hours, although he was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t look into paramedic jobs in Montana.
* * * *
Laura tried watching TV before she finally gave up and went to bed. Exhaustion took over and she dropped off in a few minutes.
The condo dream returned. This time the shadowy form solidified a little more.
Not enough for her to recognize.
Over the next couple of nights, the dream reoccurred until, finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.
Laura wanted the condo emptied, and whatever wouldn’t fit in the house they packed and moved to the warehouse. Before closing the door one last time she completely searched every cabinet and closet just to make sure the journals weren’t there. Lately, she spent every spare moment she could looking for the journals.
A week later, and still no reply from the stalker.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Sir.”
Rob wrapped his arms around her, trying to comfort her. “I wish I had answers for you. Hang in there, baby girl. They’ll catch him.”
“I wish I believed that.”
There’d been several false alarms. Once, Thomas told her, they had a lead in Michigan, just to discover the computer they tracked the email to was owned by a single, elderly, retired woman who used to teach biology in a middle school. Not only did she not know Laura, she’d never been to Florida, and she was the only one who ever used or had access to her computer.
When Rob suggested delaying their wedding party plans, Laura nearly took his head off.
“I’m not living my life around what could happen!”
“Laur, all I’m suggesting is we take some time—”
“Look, we changed our life because of this madman. We live in a friggin’ fortress, I can’t even walk my dog without having a loaded gun in my hand. I am not giving up our wedding party!”
She stormed down the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind her hard enough to rattle the windows.
Rob went after her and found her lying facedown on the bed, sobbing.
He lay down next to her and rubbed her back. “That’s three with a cane. In the morning.”
She nodded. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered before she rolled over and curled up next to him, eventually falling asleep in his arms.
* * * *
The dream came again. This time she didn’t wait for the shadow to appear. Storming down the hallway, she stood in the spot where the shadow always appeared.
“Well, come on! What’s wrong? Are you afraid of me?”
The shadow began to coalesce and she reached out, grabbing for it. When her arm passed through thin air she screamed, “Come on, you bastard! What are you waiting for?”
The shadow drifted back out the door, wafting away into sunlight.
Rob startled when she sat up, now wide awake.
“Honey, are you okay?”
She nodded, slightly disoriented. “I’m okay.”
He watched her. “You don’t look okay.”
“I’m fine.” She wasn’t. Stress ate away at her and she knew she wouldn’t rest in peace until she had some sort of resolution.
Or maybe she would be resting in peace if she didn’t find some sort of resolution.
* * * *
Outside of spending time alone with Rob and work, her writing was Laura’s only true relief. With other people around her all day and customers to take care of, she could shuffle her problems and stress to the side.
; She was teaching a Saturday afternoon class when Don Kern walked in. The students were watching a video about underwater navigation in the darkened classroom. Laura scooched her chair back a little so she could observe him through the darkened classroom window without being seen.
She watched as Sarah talked with him. He appeared to ask her a question and she answered, pointing to the regulators. He smiled and walked over to the display and browsed.
Laura knew there were only a few minutes left on the video.
Wait a minute. This is my shop. Why should I be nervous?
When the video ended, she covered the rest of the material. Then she followed the students out into the showroom after class and headed for the counter.
“Laura.”
She fought the urge to stiffen and turned to face him. “Yes?”
The green eyes still struck her as odd, indefinable. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks. What can I do for you, Mr. Kern?”
“I wanted to get some class information for a friend of mine.”
“Oh, that’s good. Did Sarah get you set up?”
“Yes, she gave me the information.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, how are you doing?”
Haven’t we covered that question? “I’m just fine. Got married a few weeks ago.”
“Oh? Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
He acted like he wanted to say something else. Then, “How are you doing with that other—”
“I’m sorry, was there anything else you needed, Mr. Kern? I have a lot to get done today.”
His brow furrowed, but he shook his head. “No, just wanted to say hi.”
“Thanks.”
He left and Sarah walked over to her. “Well?”
Pinch Me [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 38