The Stalked Girl

by Evan Ronan

  And she starts sobbing again.

  ***

  “Who’s going to believe me?” Lucy spits out, when the anger replaces the sorrow. “First, Adam. Then this. You know what they’re all going to say. Everybody is going to blame me. That’s what happens.”

  I feel like I’ve just stepped on a land mine. And nothing bad happened to me. I can’t imagine what must be going through her head right now.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shakes her head. Her mobility and stretching routine is totally forgotten. I can sense Mary lingering in the hallway.

  “How about with your mom? She loves you very much, and I know she’ll understand.”

  But Lucy Hale just retreats inward, seemingly shrinking before my very eyes.

  “How about a counselor? Or someone at the school?”

  “Fuck the school,” Lucy says. “Fuck the school, fuck the frat, fuck the team, fuck all of them.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, rather pathetically. I will never understand fully what Lucy has just gone through, but as a parent myself I can imagine a father’s feelings in this situation.

  “I don’t want to talk right now,” Lucy says.

  “Okay.” I move a step back, trying to give her some space. “If you want to, I’m here. So are your parents. They love you very much.”

  She won’t meet my eyes. As I take another step, though, she winds up and starts talking again.

  “I was drunk and I can’t remember everything … I just can feel him, like, on top of me …”

  Jesus.

  She goes on. “I know what Brody is going to say. She asked for it. She said yes. It’ll be his word against mine.”

  “But you’ve got the truth on your side,” I say.

  “Since when did that ever matter in these situations?” Finally she looks up at me, her eyes glistening with tears. “You know what I mean?”

  I nod. “Who else knows?”

  “Everybody else at the party knows we went into a room together.”

  “Stephanie was there?”

  Lucy nods absently. “And she’s more worried about the swim team than what happened to me. She just wants everybody to keep quiet.”

  So word got around. That’s just what happens. Lucy and Brody hooked up. Two members of the swim team. One of them a fraternity brother to Adam.

  Adam has to know.

  Adam found out and then disappeared. The timing can’t be coincidence.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” I say.

  She snorts. “You think so?”

  Fourteen

  Leanna Justice meets us in a coffee shop across the street from the courthouse. It’s busy in the shop, with attorneys shuffling in and out with steaming coffees, and Leanna explains that every other Friday the courts entertain motions all day long.

  There’s no game planning in the shop. We all sit down and share a nervous, but companionable silence. Every few minutes, Mary puts her arm around Lucy’s shoulders, or rubs her arm, and Lucy welcomes the affection, several times tearing up in the process. Bob sits next to Julian today. Their son is upbeat as usual, with a smile never far from his face.

  Leanna checks her watch for the fifth time. “We should head over now.”

  Everybody rises and out we step into the early morning sunlight. It’s a warm day in late May, summer just around the corner. We cross at the traffic light. The building looks like a stereotypical courthouse, with rows of long marble steps leading to a colonnade. The smokers have been banished around the corner, but still there are a few recidivists who smoke right out front. Bob has to take an alternate route, pushing Julian up a long ramp.

  Inside we have to go through a metal detector. The line is long, but the guards and the attorney, who must be here all the time, have this down to a science. We move swiftly through the security process, then down a hall to a bank of elevators.

  Leanna stops short. I follow her eyes to a well-dressed, older attorney with slicked back almost white hair. He’s got a few inches on me and sports a three-piece.

  “Let’s wait here a moment,” Leanna says.

  “What’s going on?” Mary asks nervously.

  “That’s Mort Salomon, the man representing Adam.”

  The physical change in Lucy’s entire body is undeniable. Her shoulders bunch together, she grows an inch or two shorter, everything about her is tense. Mary puts her arm around her daughter, and Bob moves protectively in front of her also.

  I do a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree turn, slowly scanning the crowd. I don’t see Adam anywhere.

  Mort Salomon nods professionally at Leanna, then begins to approach.

  “You can stay where you are,” Leanna says, projecting her voice down the hallway. This causes many heads to turn, but it doesn’t cause Mort to stop moving.

  “Leanna, can you and I speak privately for a moment?”

  I wait for her to rebuff him, but Leanna says, “After I safely escort my client to the court room.”

  He doesn’t like this answer. “That’s fine.”

  “Of course it’s fine, Mort,” Leanna says. “You know exactly why we’re here.”

  He holds up a hand in surrender, and this seems to baffle Leanna. Mort slowly backs away, and then we proceed to the elevator. My eyes are still peeled, but there are no signs of Adam.

  People cram into the elevator. Lucy hides her eyes and puts her head on Bob’s shoulder. Just when I think we can’t possibly fit anybody else inside the box, two more attorneys shove their way onboard. As the doors slowly come together, my last glance out into the hallway is at Mort Salomon. The attorney representing Adam looks pained.

  We ride the box to the fourth floor. People have to get out of the elevator so we can get off. I’m out first, checking the hallway. It’s crowded up here too. Well-dressed lawyers pace outside of double doors leading into various court rooms. A lone security guard leans wearily against one wall.

  The Hales and Leanna Justice get out of the elevator. Bob pushes Julian out ahead of everybody. I hang back so I’m with Lucy. Every step of the way, I expect Adam to jump out from somewhere, either to declare his undying love for her or to do something much, much worse.

  “LET GO OF ME!” somebody yells.

  I whip around at the sound and see four guards having a tough time manhandling one guy out of a court room. He looks about six-eight, maybe three hundred pounds.

  “LET GO OF ME, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

  It’s not Adam. I wisely let the security guards handle that one.

  “Keep moving.” I usher Lucy along as more guards materialize in the hallway. They rush past us to help their colleagues move this truck of a human being.

  Leanna leads us to the sixth door down the hallway. Two families wait outside along the benches. There’s no sign of Adam, or his sister, anywhere. I wonder if his family is here, but I don’t have time to stop and ask because Leanna is rushing us inside the court room. Through double doors and through another set of double doors and we’re inside.

  Half a dozen attorneys wait in the proverbial pews. A judge holds court from a long, high bench. The jury box is empty. A couple lawyers are arguing about something beyond the bar, and the judge seems to be barely listening.

  Leanna nods politely at all the other attorneys, no doubt having done business with all of them. She leads us to the far corner of the waiting area, then quietly approaches the bar. One of the judge’s assistants meets her there, and they speak in a hushed whisper, and then Leanna returns.

  “We’re up next, Lucy,” Leanna explains. She rubs her client’s shoulder. “Just remember what we talked about and what we practiced, and you’ll do great.”

  “You can do this, Lucy,” Bob says. Mary hugs her daughter.

  I want to offer my encouragement too but feel out of place doing so. Instead I just turn around and wait for those doors to open. When they next do, Mort Salomon appears. Again, without his client. His eyes quickly find Leanna and he makes
a beeline for her.

  “Can we speak outside?” he asks.

  “It’ll have to be fast,” Leanna says. “We’re up next, and you know how Canter is. If you miss your spot, he moves you to the back of the line. I will not have my client waiting here all day especially in light of why we’re here.”

  “Understood,” Mort says quickly.

  “I’ll be right back,” Leanna says. She squeezes Lucy’s hand, and then follows Mort into the hallway.

  I keep my eyes on the door, wondering just what the hell is going on. We’re all feeling good about the TRO, especially now that we’ve got a sworn affidavit from Casey Bennin.

  So why does everything feel wrong here?

  The two attorneys arguing their way through a motion prove a distraction. One is asking for a protective order so his client doesn’t have to produce business documents, while the other is arguing that the documents are the crux of the entire case and without them …

  And on and on.

  Leanna is gone longer than I expect, but when she returns it’s with a vengeance. She stalks over to where we are.

  The judge bangs his gavel, silencing the two attorneys appearing before him. Quickly he issues his decision, dismissing them.

  “What happened?” Bob asks the attorney.

  Before Leanna can explain, Judge Canter calls out the next case.

  Leanna smiles, trying to look confident. “Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Alright,” Judge Canter says, “let’s get a move on here. We have a full docket.”

  Leanna grabs her briefcase and takes Lucy’s hand. She leads her past the bar and they take the table on the right side of the courtroom, nearer the empty jury box. Mort Salomon strides down the aisle and takes the other table.

  “Okay.” Judge Canter looks down at the paperwork in front of him. His half-eye glasses look like they could fall off. “We’re here on a request for a TRO. Let’s have appearances first.”

  Leanna goes first. After rising, she says, “Leanna Justice appearing on behalf of petitioner, Lucy Hale.”

  Then the other attorney. “Mort Salomon, Your Honor, but I’m afraid I can’t enter my appearance.”

  Canter takes his glasses off and looks down his nose at the attorney. “What does that mean, Counselor?”

  “I apologize, Your Honor. I’ve tried to work this out with opposing counsel, but we couldn’t come to a resolution—”

  “Your Honor,” Leanna jumps in. “Opposing counsel is—”

  Canter bangs his gavel. “Hold on. Attorney Salomon, I would like you to explain what you mean exactly by your statement, and I don’t want to hear anything about what Attorney Justice would agree to, or not agree to.”

  “Understood, Your Honor,” Mort says. “But I was only hoping to show you I attempted to resolve this issue before making my request. Your Honor, I asked counsel if she would be amenable to a continuance.”

  I know what that means, but Lucy doesn’t. She turns in her seat to Leanna, who quickly explains to her client before standing to address the judge. Lucy shakes her head and stares down at the table. Adam’s attorney is asking for the hearing to be postponed.

  Mort is still talking. “Counsel is not amenable to a continuance, so I’m afraid that at this point, I will have to request permission to withdraw myself from this case.”

  “This is outrageous, Your Honor!” Leanna thunders. “Opposing counsel and his client had ample notice of this proceeding. We all know why we’re here. My client is being stalked. The evidence is overwhelming and we have a sworn affidavit from another victim as well! If counsel wishes to withdraw from the case, we take no issue with that but we respectfully request the petition be heard today. My client needs the protection of this court.”

  Canter holds up a hand. Glares at Mort.

  “You know full well I can’t hear the petition if I allow you to withdraw from the case this morning,” the judge explains. “That would leave your client, who is notably absent, unrepresented while I issue a ruling. Now tell me why, and you’d better have damned good reasons, Mort, I should allow you to withdraw.”

  “Your Honor,” Mort says apologetically. “My client is non-cooperative. He has not returned any of my phone calls. He has not attended any of our scheduled meetings. And last evening I discovered that he disappeared four days ago. Neither I nor the family have been able to find him. Without his cooperation, I cannot provide an adequate defense and I feel that to do so would actually be tantamount to malpractice.”

  Canter sighs. Looks over at Leanna. “Well, counselor?”

  “I am not going to agree to a continuance,” Leanna says. “These petitions are heard on an expedited basis for good reason, Your Honor. The victims in these situations, like my client, need immediate protection. That’s why I find this request so unacceptable and unprofessional.”

  Mort Salomon shoots death rays at Leanna. But he addresses his comments to the judge. “Your Honor, short of hiring a private investigator to locate my own client, my staff and I have exhausted every means of finding him. And if he won’t speak or meet with me, I can’t represent him. Therefore, I am asking for your permission to withdraw my representation.”

  “Who hired you?” Canter asks.

  “My client’s parents retained me,” Mort explains.

  The judge nods. “And they don’t know where their son is?”

  “I’ve requested they sign sworn affidavits to that effect. My office will be submitting them to the court this morning, if they haven’t already.”

  Canter shakes his head reproachfully. “Hey, Andy.”

  The assistant, whom Leanne spoke to earlier, approaches the judge’s bench. “Yes, Your Honor?”

  “Go in the back and see if we’ve gotten those affidavits yet.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “And take your time,” Judge Canter says. “If they’re there, I really need to see them.”

  The judge is passing a message along to Andy, but I don’t know what it is. I’m wondering why he doesn’t just call a recess—he’s a judge, that’s what they do. But he stays on his bench, while his assistant slips through a door on the other side of the room on his way to the chambers.

  Judge Canter sits in silence for no more than five seconds.

  “Well, it appears we haven’t received those affidavits yet,” he quickly says. “Without sworn statements from the family members, I don’t know if their son is missing or not yet. I have no doubt, Counselor, you have exhausted every effort but at this time I cannot grant you permission to withdraw from this case.”

  “Your Honor—” Mort says.

  Canter holds up a finger, looks down at the paperwork in front of him again. “Now, based on the evidence already submitted to the court as well as the affidavit of the petitioner, I find that a temporary restraining order must be granted. Respondent is not permitted within two hundred yards of the petitioner, nor is he permitted to contact her in any manner.”

  Canter looks up at Mort again.

  “Counselor, if you do hear from your client, you’ll be sure to pass this information along, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Mort says.

  “And as soon as I see those petitions, I’ll grant your request to withdraw.”

  Bingo.

  Bango.

  Bongo.

  ***

  We won.

  But the celebration, if you could call it that, is muted.

  The restraining order is good to have. Like Leanne explained to me, it’s the necessary first step to legally protect Lucy and enables us to get Adam thrown in jail if he violates the terms of a court order.

  But deep down, I think we all know that it’s just a piece of paper.

  Especially under these circumstances. Adam has vanished. He refuses to speak with the attorney his parents hired. His family does not even know where he is. His sister isn’t talking to him. His fraternity brothers don’t seem to give a shit he pulled a Houdini either.<
br />
  If he’s acting this way, if he won’t even cooperate with the one person who can legally protect him in Mort Salomon, then what the hell are the chances he’s going to cooperate with a court order?

  Slim and none, as they say.

  So yeah, woo-hoo, we won. We got a piece of paper that prohibits Adam from getting within shouting distance of Lucy and he’s not allowed to call, email, write, or send smoke signals.

  But with his recent behavior, I don’t think he gives a shit. This guy seems to have gone off the reservation, so what does he care about a little piece of paper?

  Leanne tries to raise everybody’s spirits and suggests we do lunch, but Lucy isn’t interested.

  “I want to go train,” is all she says.

  Leanne says her goodbyes, heading back to her office, and the rest of us go to the house. Bob wheels Julian inside, while I wait in the living room for Lucy to get ready. Her mother, Mary, doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself. She offers me food and coffee but I politely decline. Fifteen minutes later, Lucy comes into the living room. She’s wearing the triathlete’s uniform, a one-piece thing that stretches, suited for running, swimming, and cycling.

  “Where are we headed?” I ask.

  “Pool first.”

  I give her the nod and smile at Mary on the way out. Bernie is covering the pool hall again today, God help us all, and my meager online businesses run themselves these days, so I’m good to go despite not planning for this.

  After we toss her bike into the back of my car, Lucy directs me to her pool. It’s a big, private place with several pools and a lot of lanes. After a brief discussion with the manager of the facility, I’m allowed to come inside.

  Some younger kids are having swim practice on the other side of the building. One kid keeps doing freestyle kicks while breast stroking. Another looks like she’s doing the butterfly. I’d feel bad for the coach, but he doesn’t seem bothered. The lifeguard on duty is busy twirling his whistle around his index finger. A gaggle of parents are sitting on the other side, all of them eye me like I’m a creeper.