Scared Yet?

by Jaye Ford

  ‘He always uses my full name.’

  ‘It’s not a common name.’

  ‘I get “Olivia” a lot. People assume or mishear. Maybe he’s trying to make a point. That he knows it’s not Olivia. That he knows me personally.’

  ‘I noticed Daniel calling you Liv.’

  She shifted her eyes from the collection to Rachel, wary of her mention of Daniel. ‘Friends call me Liv. I don’t introduce myself as that but people usually hear others using it and pick it up. So maybe he hasn’t got close enough to know.’ She let out a gust of air. ‘Or maybe he just likes the sound of Livia. Or he needs more than three letters to float his boat.’

  Rachel tipped her head from side to side as though she was moving a thought around in her mind. ‘So can I call you Liv?’

  Liv raised her eyebrows. Rachel had relaxed the cop-on-duty manner while they’d looked at the notes but she still spoke as though every comment was a line of inquiry. And what had become clear over the last hour and a half was that for every question asked, she seemed to have an unspoken note in the margin. This last question sounded like, ‘What’s my status?’ but it was worded like a request to be friends. Was she working out how quickly Liv included an acquaintance as a friend? Wondering if the stalker had waited for an invitation to be included? Or was she suggesting they become buddies? She couldn’t tell, said, ‘Yes, of course. That’d be nice.’

  Rachel nodded like she got the right answer. ‘Okay, great. I think that’s it for now.’

  The sun was dipping towards the neighbour’s roof when they stood, casting shadows that stretched across the courtyard. Liv closed the curtains over it. He won’t see me tonight, she told herself, but it wasn’t tonight she was worried about.

  ‘My son is with me on Monday. Is he going to be safe here?’

  Rachel dropped her notebook and pen into her handbag, tucked a wisp of hair behind an ear. ‘You’ve got good security here and the police are on notice about your situation. You’re doing all the right things to protect yourself and your son.’

  ‘But the office. And Sheridan. I . . .’ Liv looked at the glass that stretched across the back of the room, remembered the thump as the teenager had crashed into it two nights ago. What would she have done if it’d been Cameron with her instead of Sheridan? ‘Have you got children, Rachel?’

  She smiled. ‘A four-year-old boy.’

  ‘What would you do?’

  Her answer came without hesitation, an edge of steel in her voice. ‘In your situation, when I didn’t know what was going on, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight.’

  Liv understood the sudden ferocity – any mother would. But there was something determined and stubborn and tough behind it that made Liv hopeful about Rachel’s notations on the photocopies and her endless cycle of questions – and worried about where they might lead.

  Rachel spoke as Liv walked her to the front door. ‘My experience with stalkers is that they have their own agenda. You won’t know what it is and you can’t reason with it. All I know is that this guy could be gone tomorrow or he could be around in some capacity for years.’

  ‘Years! That bastard could be out there watching me for years?’

  The detective patted the air with both palms, a hold-on-a-minute. ‘Look, my point is if you’re thinking of making other arrangements for your son while this is going on, you need to be aware it could be a significant time. It’s only been five days so far. We don’t know how this is going to play out. This guy might see you with your son and decide you’re not the woman he wants to harass. Or he might only send you notes when your son isn’t here.’ She softened her voice. ‘I understand your concern and I can’t tell you what to do but it seems to me you’ve already had one battle to have your son with you. You seem like a strong person, Liv. Don’t let this guy make you rush into a decision that your husband may not let you reverse.’

  Liv locked the door, checked the bolts at the back of the townhouse, peered through the curtains into the courtyard. The dog was quiet out there now but peaceful wasn’t what she felt.

  The thought of another week without Cameron was more than she could bear. If Thomas had anything to do with this, she’d never forgive him. Maybe she’d do worse than that. If he didn’t and she asked him to have Cameron for a few days while the police found the stalker, would he use it against her to fight for more time? For full custody? She knew how antagonistic he’d become this last year and there was every chance he would. She closed her eyes, fought back the nausea that had pushed its way into her throat. She couldn’t lose Cam. She wouldn’t survive that. So do something, Liv. Standing around worrying won’t help.

  She found her phone and made a list of calls to keep busy, starting with Cameron. She oohed and wowed through his rehash of the game, all the time fighting the urge to tell him she’d seen him and he’d done great.

  Andy had been home to see his daughter and was back at the hospital, sounding tired and strained. The doctors were talking about bringing Sheridan out of the coma soon, he told her. ‘I’ve never seen her stay still for so long, Liv. I can’t believe it’s her in that bed.’ The police had told him about the rock through her windscreen but they hadn’t mentioned a stalker and Liv didn’t either. He was already worried and she felt more guilty than she could bear.

  Her father’s breath sounded like air being forced through a straw. She wished she was better at lying, that she could offer him more than tight-voiced anxiety tonight – like the promise of happiness for his only child. Or her presence by his bed, at least. Her stalker had a lot to answer for.

  By the time she called Kelly, her face was throbbing again and she wished she had something better than an accountant’s report to talk to her about. She didn’t even get to discuss that. Kelly was with one of her sisters, about to go into a movie. Jason was at home with the girls, giving her a Saturday night off without the kids. Liv hoped that’s all it was then reminded herself that was what people did. In a different kind of life.

  ‘How are you? Did you get some rest today?’ Kelly asked, speaking loud enough to be heard above the noise in the cinema foyer.

  It wasn’t the time to go into all the reasons why she hadn’t. ‘I’m fine. But we need to make some time to talk, Kelly.’

  ‘Yes, we do. I’ll call you in the morning.’

  Liv had expected her to dodge it again and hung up feeling more unsettled than when she’d dialled.

  She left Jason to last. As far as she knew, he had no bad news that she didn’t already have, no brewing conflict, no reason to make her feel sad or guilty or worried. She didn’t bother with hello. ‘Say something nice. I need to hear something nice.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about you all day.’

  The unexpectedness of it made her eyes tingle with the threat of tears. ‘God, Jase, that’s too nice. I meant funny. Can you do funny?’

  ‘Pig noises or a knock-knock joke? Those are your options at short notice.’

  ‘Pig noises?’

  ‘Yeah. The kids think my pig is hilarious.’

  She heard a snuffling, grunting over the phone, imagined him scrunching up his face like he was hunting for truffles and laughed out loud. ‘Okay, thanks. That was great. Weird but great.’

  ‘What’s going on, Liv?’

  She told him about going to the soccer and Michelle, the photo and the stake-out, Rachel and the rock and the flattened weeds. She left out her work worries – they were between her and Kelly. It felt cleansing to say it all out loud. She’d anticipated tears but anger and frustration was what she was left with.

  ‘Do you want to come over?’ he asked.

  She closed her eyes, got a picture of their family room – warm and welcoming and homely. It was the whole package, the one Liv had wanted. She loved that they had it but tonight a happy family that wasn’t her own was too much. ‘T
hanks but I’m exhausted. I’ve hardly slept. I’d be awful company.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate yourself.’

  ‘Can I get a lift to the hospital with you tomorrow?’ She wanted moral support – for Andy and the car park.

  ‘Of course. Whatever you need me for.’

  The way he said it seemed a little odd but maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe she was beyond thinking clearly. ‘Thanks.’

  She hung up and the silence of the townhouse folded around her. She edged open a curtain, glimpsed the pearly grey of early evening. Her head was pounding, her body ached and her eyes felt like dried-up prunes. She should eat something, take a shower but the sofa was calling again. The soft leather embraced her as she curled under the blanket she’d brought down earlier. She laid her head on the armrest and let exhaustion claim her.

  It was dark in the townhouse when she woke, just the outside lights glowing on the curtains to see by. She’d been out longer than she’d hoped, the best rest she’d had in a week. As she swung her legs around to sit up, something flickered in the corner of her vision.

  She froze. For half a minute, she watched the length of white drapes. Nothing moved. Maybe it was her eyes. She’d hardly slept in days and the lid of the unbruised one had quivered with tiny spasms off and on all day.

  Then the dog barked and an instant later, she was on her feet, shins against the coffee table, pulse pumping in the back of her head as Benny rattled off a stream of sound. Shit, shit.

  She pictured the flattened weeds in the courtyard and tiptoed to the baseball bat resting against the wall, gripped it with both hands. What now? She wanted to get the hell out, sprint like a maniac. Was it safer in or out? On foot, she could run right into her stalker. If she got in the car and rolled up the auto-door, he could be dragging her out before she could drive anywhere.

  Call the police? And tell them what? The neighbour’s dog was barking?

  The bat was heavy in her hand, solid and smooth. You’ve got a weapon, Liv, and you’ve got shit-hot locks. Stay inside and take Daniel’s advice: pay attention and be ready to get the hell out.

  The front door was the best exit, she decided; the kitchen was a dead end. She crept to the curtains, listened carefully. A car rumbled in the street and there was a distant metallic bang, but nothing from the courtyard. She thought of Daniel hunkering down against the fence this afternoon. If someone was out there doing that, she wouldn’t hear a thing.

  She slipped a finger between the drapes and held her eye to the gap. Two overlapping circles of light bathed the pavers in a soft glow and a spotlight glared across the neighbour’s yard. She couldn’t see much more than that and nothing beyond the raised garden bed. She remembered Daniel again, the way he’d tilted his head up to her window. Her bedroom had a better view.

  As she mounted the stairs, Benny stopped barking. No wind-down, just sudden silence.

  She kneeled on her bed, leaned close to the window. The courtyard looked like a stage set – the fence as the backdrop, the two bulbs on the outside wall as spotlights but there were no actors. If her stalker had been out there, he wasn’t anymore.

  If he had . . . where was he now?

  She ran lightly to Cameron’s room, angled her eyes to the dark driveway. There were plenty of hiding places – beside the garage, behind the side gate, around the bend in the drive. Under the flat square of roof that sheltered the front door. Should she look there? She tightened her hold on the bat, fear and aggravation battling for attention. The man who was stalking her was violent and unstable, but she was sick of tiptoeing and hiding. And she had a club.

  She crept downstairs, flicked on the outside light, listened to the silence on the other side of the door.

  ‘Hey!’ She made it throaty, forceful, then waited as her pulse raced. She slid the security chain noiselessly out of its track, took a breath, pulled the door – slowly as it moved out of the jamb then in a fast, aggressive thrust, lunging into the doorway, holding the bat like she was facing a pitcher.

  No one – on the porch, on the driveway, by the fence. She stood there with her heart thumping until she felt like a crazy woman freaking out on her doorstep. It wasn’t until she’d retreated backwards over the threshold and turned to go back in that she saw it and felt the sharp zap of fright.

  She swung around again, expecting him to be there. But she was alone – with just his words to keep her company. They were printed in a large, red font on a single sheet of white laminated paper that was taped to her door.

  26

  ‘Go up a floor. See if there’s something on street level,’ Liv said as Jason flicked his indicator and slowed to pull into a parking space in the hospital’s multistorey lot. It was midmorning on Sunday, the police had left the townhouse before midnight but the few hours’ sleep she’d managed to get between nightmares hadn’t done anything to alleviate the tension that was clenched like a fist in her gut.

  He pointed. ‘But the stairwell’s there.’

  ‘I don’t want to use the stairwell. I want to be on street level,’ she snapped.

  He shot her a glance.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Would a tight-faced smile give comfort to anyone? ‘Sorry, I’m tired. I just want to be somewhere we can get to the car quickly.’

  Liv monitored vehicles and drivers and pedestrians as they wound their way around two more floors of parking.

  I’m watching for you, Liv thought.

  They found Andy in Sheridan’s room. He looked shattered by the previous thirty-six hours. He’d changed clothes since Liv had left him early yesterday but his eyes were dark-rimmed and he hadn’t shaved. When Jason left with him for the hospital cafe, Liv took his place beside Sheridan’s bed and felt her heart stutter at the sight of her friend.

  The last time she’d seen Sheridan, she was smiling and waving as she got in her car in the street outside the townhouse – gorgeous, healthy and full of her ever-present zest. Now she was pale and still. Her head was swathed in bandages, a padded plaster covered one side of her jaw, her face was swollen and bruised and tubes snaked from both of her arms.

  A hard lump of emotion lodged in Liv’s chest. Fear and anger at its core but layered with sadness and horror and powerlessness. The man who’d beaten and stalked her had done this to Sheridan. Did he think delivering his malicious card with its veiled warning before the accident was fair play? She thought of the lily on the front. Had he tried to kill Sheridan? Was she lucky to be lying here at all? A short, sharp gasp escaped her lips as realisation and guilt pitched and rolled in her belly.

  When Jason took her place, she sat with Andy in the corridor as he finished a huge take-out coffee.

  ‘The cops asked if I knew what she’d been working on recently,’ he said. ‘Did she tell you anything?’

  ‘No, nothing about work.’

  He put his elbows on his knees, interlaced his fingers tightly around the cardboard cup. ‘I’ve had so much on, I haven’t paid much attention lately. I don’t even know what she was working on and I can’t honestly say if it’s because she didn’t tell me or I wasn’t listening. Christ, if it was something dangerous and I left her alone . . .’

  Liv stopped him with a hand on his forearm. ‘This is my fault. Not yours.’

  ‘You can’t blame yourself. She could have been going anywhere.’

  ‘I think someone hurt her to get at me.’

  Andy turned to face her, his eyes moving over the bruising. ‘What the fuck are you saying?’

  ‘Someone is stalking me. I’ve been getting threatening notes. I got one yesterday about the crash.’

  ‘What’s it got to do with Sheridan?’

  ‘I don’t know. I . . .’

  ‘You asked her over when you knew it wasn’t safe?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

 
He thrust back against his chair. ‘How can you say that? Look at you, for Christ’s sake. Your face got smashed in. You shouldn’t have been there yourself.’

  The door to Sheridan’s room opened. As Jason appeared, Andy stood up and swore under his breath.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Jason asked.

  Andy directed a loud breath at the floor.

  Jason looked at Liv. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I told him about the stalker.’

  ‘Did you know Liv had a stalker?’ Andy pointed at him.

  ‘Hey, calm down, mate.’

  Andy aimed his finger at the door. ‘I’m not going to calm down until Sheridan gets up and walks out of here. For fuck’s sake!’ He pushed between them and disappeared into her room.

  As tears welled in Liv’s eyes, Jason squatted beside her chair, slid an arm around her shoulders. ‘He’s upset. I’ll talk to him.’

  She stared out the passenger window on the way home, Jason peppering her silence with offers of pig noises and assurances everything would be all right.

  When? she wanted to yell.

  At the townhouse, she asked Jason to come in while she checked the rooms. He didn’t have Daniel’s physique and he chuckled when he saw her with the baseball bat but a double-act felt like a better option. ‘I feel so stupid asking you to look in my wardrobe,’ she said as they descended the stairs. ‘Who the hell would hide in my wardrobe, anyway?’

  ‘A cross-dresser with small feet. You’ve got a ton of man-sized stilettos in there,’ he said.

  ‘Are you suggesting my feet are too big?’

  ‘Better your feet than your arse.’

  ‘Well, hey, let me know if you want to borrow a pair. You might enjoy the extra height.’

  He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looked like he was going to shoot off another one-liner but just watched her the rest of the way down.

  ‘Thanks, Jase. For this morning and the search-and-destroy mission.’ Christ, he was about to leave. ‘Do you want to stay for a while? Have a coffee or something?’