Because You're Mine_Psychological Thriller

by Marin Montgomery

  “Hello?” Janice voice echoes, her concern apparent. “Levin, are you there? Please don’t hang up.”

  “Why would I hang up?” I mumble into the phone.

  A loud sigh comes across the line. “I didn’t know if we should tell you.”

  “What happened to Heidi?” I am hysterical. “What the hell happened to her? What did he do?”

  Another long silence. “Janice, I’m being chased by someone, probably him or an accomplice. I want to go to the police, but he’s always a step ahead. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

  “Levin,” she states my name like she is calling on me in class. “That was the worst night of my life…” She chokes up, “… and I relive it every day.

  “I was out of town. My boyfriend attended a community college so I’d make the trek there or vice-versa. He was older and had his own apartment, so it was easier to be alone at his place. Heidi…” Janice stops mid-sentence. “God, I sound so selfish. It was so selfish only caring about my boyfriend.

  “Heidi had found out she was pregnant. She had been seeing a guy named Brad. She and Alec had a complicated relationship, and they were always fighting. I was relieved when she took up with Brad. I thought it might persuade Alec to leave her alone. He never did. He would show up unannounced. This was before cell phones, so he would knock at all hours of the night or follow her to class. He was... is... nuts.”

  “Was she scared?” My voice is hollow.

  “Yes, to both. Being pregnant and unmarried and because Alec stalked her.” Janice is hoarse. “He couldn’t get it through his head she didn’t want him.”

  “Did her parents know?” I can only imagine how most moms would feel about their children’s safety.

  “She talked to her mom a lot, but it was like once a week. You have to remember, though, this is before the latest and greatest. Cell phones were just starting to become available, and there was no social media.

  “I went with her to get the abortion. She was terrified, understandably. She talked about dropping out of school, but I encouraged her not to, to give it another semester.”

  “Did the baby’s father know about the baby?”

  “No,” Janice says flatly. “That would’ve complicated things. Her situation wasn’t as accepted as it is now.”

  “Did he know she was pregnant, Alec?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she murmurs. “He very well could’ve. He stalked her and could have assumed from the clinic visit. It was confidential, but she was showing, and of course, she hadn’t had her period for a while.”

  “Wouldn’t he just assume it was his?”

  “No, Heidi never slept with him.”

  I’m floored. “She didn’t sleep with Alec, but she slept with Brad?”

  “Bingo. She had planned to wait for the six-month mark with Alec. Brad was a fluke, she was drunk, and it happened.” Janice is pensive. “Brad liked her and started walking her to class. They started dating, and it left a bad taste in Alec’s mouth.”

  Janice’s voice catches as she finishes the story. “It was fall break so a long weekend, and we had three days off. I came home Monday night to find our place ransacked. He made it look like a break-in, throwing papers around and breaking our computer. I was so scared to look through the rest of the place in case the intruder was still there. Something made me continue, made me check our bedrooms. Mine had my pillows and sheets thrown around, a lamp smashed. Nothing horrible.

  “Hers… ” Janice swallows hard, “… had her body in her bed. He had posed her naked, not even bothering to cover her up.” The disgust is oozing out of her voice. “He broke her neck.”

  I am gasping for air, seated Indian style on the concrete, my back pushed up against the garage wall. I don’t want to leave the garage, yet I dread staying here.

  “Levin?” Janice sounds far away. “Are you okay, honey?”

  “I’m so scared he’s going to kill me.” I sound so level-headed like I am discussing someone else.

  “I’ve gotta call the police.” Janice is firm. “Where are you?”

  I shake my head as if she can hear me nod my head no through the phone.

  “No,” I whimper.

  “Why not?” she says, not unkind.

  “I just feel like someone will alert him, it sounds crazy, like I’m paranoid, which I am, but he always seems to know, and even worse, to get away with it.”

  “The reason I came here, to Scottsdale, is to get the final piece I need,” I say. “The man is here. The man my friend was seeing lives here. So does his wife.”

  “And?” Janice is trying to understand.

  “And I think the key to Alec, to get him to confess, is the wife. She’s involved somehow. I’m still figuring out how.”

  I hear a thud on the garage door. I put the phone down. Someone starts pounding on it. I feel relief that the only windows are at the top of the stall.

  “I have to go,” I say into the phone. “He’s here.”

  I press the ‘end’ button.

  Chapter Twenty

  Alec

  My phone rings. No caller ID. I answer on the second ring.

  “I’m behind her.” It’s George.

  “Should I meet you?”

  “No. Going to find out.” I hear a click. I know what that means.

  I wait, alternating between pacing the room and sitting on the edge of my hotel bed rubbing at my temples.

  George calls back again and tells me to meet him in her parking lot. He hangs up.

  It is abrupt, the way it should be. Calls too short to trace, words minced.

  I head to the address and wait—no reason for Levin to suspect the Suburban I’m driving or look twice at me.

  The garage door is closed, and I see no sign of her. Did we miss her already? I scratch my head, annoyed. This continual hit and miss is a frustrating game.

  I exit my vehicle and nod at George who has pulled in to meet me in the parking lot. He waits, patiently.

  If Levin knows about Eric, then I’m already in a noose, ready to hang. We both are. I can’t let her leave me thinking I’m a monster who killed her best friend. If that’s the case, she has to go. There is no recovery from information like that.

  Anyway, I have to know. It’s why I’m here.

  One of the many reasons.

  George gets out of his vehicle. He decides to check her garage stall and peer in the tiny window slats above.

  To do this, since he’s not quite tall enough, he grabs a ladder that’s leaning up against the garage on the end. He doesn’t care if anyone sees him. He’s not the one taking her.

  I grin as I watch him hoist it against the front of the garage and look in. He is fast, a quick scan around and then he puts the ladder back in its rightful place.

  He gives me a thumbs-up and walks back over.

  “She must be in a different garage stall. A Hyundai Sonata’s in this one, not the Impala. But garages on both sides are empty.”

  I’m baffled as I thought I had the correct spot. A string of cuss words come out of my mouth, pacified that she must still be out.

  George decides to keep watch and will alert me if she comes home during my tour of the property.

  Ambling around her property, blending in and keeping the same Arizona Diamondbacks ball cap on with worn sneakers, I pretend I’m a jogger about to go for a run.

  There are plenty of dog walkers and people wandering through the complex. I keep a low-profile and decide to sit on a bench near one of the entrances and watch.

  You can learn a lot just by hunting your prey. So many people are reactionary instead of proactive. I learned a lot after Heidi. I reacted, and it almost got me caught.

  To hone in on the kill, you have to know it inside and out, watch its movements, and bide your time.

  I keep a watchful eye on the condo community and decide to do my due diligence. I walk around noting the abundance of green grass, foliage, and walking trails intertwined throughout the comple
x.

  Some areas are more shaded than others, but I am thrilled to find that Levin’s place backs up to a small expanse of green grass and nothing but weeds behind it.

  Even though she is on the second floor, only a handful of stairs lead the way up. A small balcony is attached to the double doors off the master.

  It is imperative that even though Levin is not home, I enter her life once again.

  This time, through her apartment. It’s best I see what my dear girl is up to.

  I check my surroundings. I know how nosy neighbors can be, especially when you live within shared walls and a sense of community.

  I watch an elderly woman walk her ten-pound poodle mix and roll my eyes. These days, everyone mixes a poodle and calls it a ‘breed.’ Levin had been adamant that we get a golden retriever or lab mixed with a poodle, making it a doodle of some sort.

  What happened to just getting an old-fashioned collie?

  I nixed the dog idea for the time being. I didn’t want it to take away from what we needed to focus on—inheritance.

  Plus, I didn’t want her to get too attached to it. Children were one thing, they needed you for survival, but if Levin had a puppy, all the affection would go to that, and I would suffer.

  I climb the stairs two at a time and notice a welcome mat on her doorstep with a fake potted plant next to it.

  George has supplied me with a copy of the key since he’s already stopped by earlier in the day to put his hard-earned life skills to work. He used to hotwire cars and break in fast food joints with his magic touch. That, combined with the right tools, makes him the perfect con man.

  The key fits perfectly, and the handle turns.

  A whiff of her perfume hits me. It is gut-wrenching how I feel like I have been transported back to our house, a smell that is second nature to me, the Chanel fragrance a welcome aroma to my nostrils.

  Inside, the place looks clean but outdated. The furniture is mismatched—white wicker with light oak. There wasn't a lot to see—sparse furnishings and only a few watercolor paintings. There is no carpet, just hardwood floors, and tile in the kitchen and bathroom.

  There’s a flat-screen TV in the living room and an alcove separating the living room and dining room. It is a small space, complete with a dented metal desk and a watercolor painting. A large, oak bookshelf towers over one wall making it the focal point of the small area.

  No wonder Levin picked this place, her head is always buried in a book.

  We fight about it sometimes, her getting swept up in written words and neglecting her duties as my future wife.

  The refrigerator’s practically empty save for a case of bottled water and a protein shake.

  I head back toward the only three doors in the place. One is a hall closet with a vacuum and various cleaning supplies.

  With a thud, I slam the closet door shut and move on to the next one, slightly ajar.

  It’s the bathroom with one door connecting to the hallway and the other door opening into the bedroom, a Jack and Jill, they call it.

  There’s a bathtub with a bar of soap, razor, and shaving cream along with some travel-size bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

  A toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss rest on the sink. There is a makeup bag haphazardly scattered with various blushes, lipsticks, and eyeshadow colors. My eyes dart straight to the bottle of Chanel. I longingly hold it to my nose, the smell of Levin and all her secrets housed in this bottle.

  I spray it and inhale the soothing fragrance.

  I smile to myself as I see her ratty old robe hanging on the back of the door.

  As much I as try to convince her to throw it out and have threatened to toss it, that robe hung around like the noose that would be around her neck soon.

  It brings me a level of comfort, so I sniff it. It smells like her body soap and lotion—a perfumed mix of lilacs and Nivea.

  I inspect her trash can. You can learn so much about a person by what they discard, what they’re doing, and where they’ve been. It is almost empty save for tissue and a couple of Q-tips.

  The master bedroom is large and decorated in Native American prints. An Indian woman with a clay pot and a baby on her hip is depicted in a painting above the bed. There’s a rocking chair in the corner that had been taken over by a mishmash of clothing. Shoes are laying on the floor in all directions, most missing their match. Much like our current predicament.

  The dresser only has a few items in it, same with the walk-in. She hadn’t brought a lot with her. I shake my head in disgust. How could she leave a good thing?

  I had taught Levin to make her bed, and that was the only thing that was in order. I sit down hard as a burst of anger shoots through me as I think why.

  If she isn’t sleeping in it, then, of course, it wouldn’t need to be made. I tamp down my temper as the sudden urge to rip the sheets off the bed and throw her clothes off the balcony enters my mind. I rub my temples and count to ten backward and forward.

  Disposing of her items would cause a scene. There would be questions and knocks on the door. Easier to get rid of a body, if you ask me.

  On top of the dresser, I notice her jewelry box, one of the only heirlooms left by her mother. A gaudy ring from Europe is nestled in the red velvet. It is mother-of-pearl, and her birthstone—emerald—is entwined in the middle. The color matches her eyes, but the gold is cheap and losing its luster. Plus, I’m pretty sure it came from a guy she dated on her travels. I thought she had gotten rid of it since I had insisted it was hideous.

  To avoid a fight, I thought she stopped wearing it. I had strongly suggested it did not match her wardrobe and looked like something you would find at an antique show. That had shut her up, and she had altogether stopped wearing it on her right hand.

  The only other piece of jewelry in the box was the diamond necklace Eric had given her when she had graduated college. It had been such a prideful moment for her walking across the stage, grinning proudly as you could see in the tattered picture that was folded up next to the silver chain. I finger it delicately wanting nothing more than to rip the fine chain in half. Instead, I pocket it.

  A pit forms in my stomach as I feel the pocket of my shorts. The engagement ring is always close to me waiting to be reunited with Levin. Meant for her left ring finger, it is a symbol of marriage. Commitment.

  Next, I inspect the balcony and double French doors leading outside noting the distance to the ground. There’s nothing on the balcony—no outdoor furniture or even a plant. As I suspect, it looks straight out onto the green space.

  Lucky for me there’re no streetlights that would flood the grass at night. It looks to be just an open expanse of green leading nowhere except to a sidewalk. It has been undeveloped as of the present.

  There’s nothing else I find in the apartment. I peek out the curtains and check to make sure no one is outside her apartment before I exit.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Levin

  When I heard the thud, I swiftly roll under the Hyundai. It’s a large enough sedan. I made sure to keep my purse underneath me and my body still.

  There’s nothing else in the garage save for the vehicle. The vehicle that no one should know is mine.

  Thank God there’s not a side door in the garage. A break-in would be expected.

  I have to countdown not to go into full-on panic mode. I don’t know how long Alec or his accomplice is there. I start at one hundred and work my way backward.

  One hundred.

  Ninety-nine.

  Ninety-eight.

  Ninety-seven.

  Ninety-six.

  There’s a scratching noise as something is being dragged away. I assume it’s the ladder.

  I hold my breath. What next?

  The thought of opening the garage door is overwhelming, I touch my hand over my chest and try to slow the pounding. There’s nowhere for them to go but in.

  Footsteps recede.

  I could get in the vehicle and back out real fast. Alec
doesn’t know that I know, though. If it’s him, and I automatically run in fear, that’s a dead giveaway, and the prize is... ding, ding, ding.

  Death.

  Probably death by hanging. Or death by choking.

  He also doesn’t know my Impala is sitting at Enterprise, and this is my new ride.

  There’s a parking lot that has two entrances and two exits.

  I decide to risk it.

  Safety’s my main concern, and I feel uneasy, biting my lip and thinking about where to go.

  I pull out. A quick scan to my left shows the Cadillac is backed into a spot. I keep my head down and head in the opposite direction. I don’t dare look to see if the man is watching me, my arm is up on the window like I’m leaning on it. My finger stays on the garage door button, and I press it immediately keeping my eyes targeted on the rearview mirror to make sure it closes.

  The cowboy is leaning against his vehicle, arms crossed, scanning his surroundings, and I hold my breath as he gets smaller and smaller, his reflection a mere dot behind me in the low light as night creeps in.

  My breath comes out in a loud huff. I consider my surroundings and where to go. The police? Approaching uniformed officers still won’t ensure my safety at this point. Alec is a brilliant mastermind. He’s gotten away with murder before, he’d have no problem requesting his attorney and then coming after me once he’s released after questioning.

  I keep my eyes trained on the road in front of me but also peer in my mirrors to make sure I’m not being followed.

  The resort seems to be impervious, a safe haven for me. I know there are cots set up in the employee lounge. Amada told me to head there, and she would call Maddy and tell her how to reach me. I park in the lot and topple out of my car, the dread I feel insurmountable.

  It’s dark, and I’m bone tired. And scared. My footsteps sound heavy on the concrete path. The resort is huge, and though it is welcoming during the day, at night, the seclusion is overwhelming. Especially when you’re scared for your life.

  Lighted luminaries lead the way, but I hit a dark patch, and every tree seems like an arm reaching out to grab.