Shadow Stalker

by D W Cooperstein

  I returned to Highgate, defeated. I needed Caroline’s loving touch, but I couldn’t bring myself to see her. I wanted to call, but too much had passed between us. My life was in disarray. We were so close to capturing our suspect. Now I had no clue what to do. I was tired and needed to take a short rest. I was hoping that would refresh me, so I could plan my next moves with the case.

  After getting up, I called Colonel Richards at headquarters. He seemed dejected about our chances of catching the Shadow Stalker. “We had her, then we lost her,” he said in his typical gruff voice. After some brief comments I hung up the phone.

  The fiasco at T4 was a major disappointment for the Bureau. I was absolutely exhausted from months of working this frustrating case. I had to find a new lead and direction, but like the Colonel, I too felt dejected.

  I retreated into my study for further contemplation. I reached for my pipe and watched the swirls of smoke rise to the ceiling. In reviewing the details of the case, I considered every piece of the puzzle. Nothing made any sense. I completed my exhaustive review of all the facts with the case in the early afternoon.

  Afterwards, I got up and went into the kitchen. I made coffee and thought about Caroline. What a mess that turned out to be. She must’ve felt terribly hurt over the way I recently treated her. As I sipped my coffee, I reflected on seeing Caroline for the first time in three years, standing in the light of the full moon outside my apartment gate. I remembered her exhilarating beauty when we made love by the open fireplace in my bedroom. It felt good to wake up with her as she went off to work in the floral boutique downtown. I thought about the tragedy of this day, and the mysterious woman in the crowd, with that spark of inexplicable familiarity resonating in my mind. And then it hit me. How could I have been so wrong in what I was thinking? How could I have been so blind in not seeing the obvious?

  I discovered the Shadow Stalker’s identity when I set aside my love for Caroline and took off my blinders. It was then I started to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. I reflected on the “long and deep shadow” she cast, seeing her after three years, standing in front of my apartment gate, and those dark shadows dancing across her naked body as we made love in my bedroom. I was already beginning to link that chain of unconscious perceptions between Caroline and the Shadow Stalker. I reflected on her working downtown in the floral boutique, and the agents from the Bureau discovering the flower bomb in the city landfill. I reflected on the lull in the bombings, just as Caroline and I had reestablished our love affair. Finally, seeing the mystery woman at the T4 rail station, with that strong and unconscious connection of familiarity. It was then I became convinced that Caroline was the Shadow Stalker. It was now my mission to rid the city of her presence.

  I called her apartment several times and got no answer. I picked up a few things from my apartment and drove to her flat. Just as I expected, her car was parked in the street on her day off. I entered the building and found the spare key where I knew she hid it. I unlocked the downstairs security door and climbed the stairs leading to her apartment. I turned the knob and went inside. She was sitting in my favorite chair, just staring out the window. She was dressed all in black.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” she spoke in an uncharacteristic monotone.

  I quickly surveyed the interior of her apartment, then slowly walked over to the leather couch. I sat down opposite her. “Why did you do it? Why? I loved you. I needed you. Why didn’t you tell me that you were murdering innocent people?”

  She looked away as if she couldn’t face me.

  “Caroline, why?”

  With tears streaming down her face she turned and looked at me. “I saw you today at the T4 rail station.” She stood up and walked over to the round table by the door. There was a large and beautiful vase filled with colorful, cut flowers sitting on it. As she turned around to face me, she was holding what appeared to be a detonator in her right hand. That dropkick of disbelief landed in my gut with visceral force. “So now you know the truth,” she said, staring directly at me.

  “Why, of course,” I answered. “How could I have been so foolish and blinded by your love?”

  She looked at me with sadness, tears gently rolling down her face. “From the beginning, I knew I was in love with you. I never felt happier than when we were together. Our breakup three years ago hurt me terribly, and I blamed you for that. I felt hurt, crushed and betrayed by you. Despite it all, I struggled with one job after another. I finally realized that I could not live without you.”

  “Why did you kill all those innocent people?”

  She looked at me in penetrating silence.

  “Goddammit, why did you do it!” I stared angrily at her, scrutinizing her face and waiting for a response.

  “After our breakup, I realized that I loved you and wanted you back but heard that you had already left the country. I was lonely and depressed. I tried to contact you for weeks, and I didn’t think you were ever coming home. Then I received terrible news from my Uncle Charles in Switzerland. Both my mother and father had been killed by terrorists in a train bombing in Northern Ireland while vacationing there. I was devastated by the news. I wanted revenge on the world for the senseless and tragic killing of my parents, so I became what I most hated—a terrorist.”

  “Is that why you did it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I just can’t believe that you’d do such a thing.”

  “After seeing you again and rekindling our love affair, I knew that I wanted to marry you. You see, my darling Jim, you weren’t the only one blinded by love.” She finished speaking, and just stared at me.

  “So that’s why you discarded the incomplete flower bomb in the landfill.”

  “I wanted to stop the killing because I was in love with you, but today everything changed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With our recent difficulties, I felt betrayed again. When I saw you at the T4 rail station today, I knew it was over between us.” She looked at me with pronounced sadness. “My life is finished.”

  “But, Caroline, the love I feel for you is real. I know we’ve recently had our troubles, but that was only because I chose not to tell you about the stress and anxiety, I was under at work.”

  She looked at me and laughed. “The stress? It was selfish of you to sacrifice our relationship by not letting me know what was really going on with you.”

  “My heart still loves you, knowing now that you are the terrorist that I’ve been pursuing for months. Without knowing your identity at the time, I pursued this killer of innocent people determined to make him pay. But now, my love for you has changed me. I want to help save your life.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I still care about you.” I continued staring at her, standing by the magnificent vase of flowers, and still holding the detonator. “Caroline, if you detonate that bomb, we’ll both die. There is much in life I want to accomplish. Please don’t take that opportunity away from me.”

  “If I don’t detonate this bomb, how can I go on living with what I’ve done?”

  “Wait, please, there’s a way.”

  “What way?”

  “Listen, sometimes in life, what we love the most can suddenly and violently be taken away. The pain of that loss can hurt so terribly it can almost destroy us. Yet the life God gave each of us is precious and worth saving, despite how we may feel. It’s in the hope for a better day, in the redemption of ourselves, that we must summon all of our courage and strength to go on living. The choices we make in life have consequences. We must have the courage to face those consequences no matter what the cost, or how we feel.”

  She looked at me with anguish on her face. “I murdered dozens of innocent people.”

  “Give yourself up to the police. Tell them your story like you told it to me. I’ll stay by your side. Caroline, I love you. Do this for me, if you can’t do it for yourself.” I could see that she was distraught and desperate, torn between life and death. For
several moments there was deadly silence.

  “The part of me that loves you wants to detonate this bomb, so the two of us can be united in heaven forever. And yet a part of me wants to live…to see this baby I’m carrying, your baby, continue to grow into adulthood.”

  “What?” I cried. “I thought you were using birth control!”

  “I was, until I decided that I was going to marry you. I needed to carry this baby we both created inside of me. My love for you wouldn’t be complete without experiencing that.”

  I stood up and walked to where Caroline was standing. I felt dizzy, unsteady on my feet. I had to take a step or two backwards to regain my balance. What in God’s name had happened to us? She was carrying my baby? Impossible! A wave of anger rushed through my body as I suddenly lunged directly at her, forcibly knocking her to the floor. I forced the detonator free from her hand and threw it into a corner of the room. She struggled against me with all her might trying to reach that detonator, but I wrestled her into submission on the floor.

  Caroline started to sob. “Please let me kill myself!” she wailed. “I want to die!” After several minutes, the fight within her body relinquished. I held her shaking body. I couldn’t move or let go of her. Finally, she let me lift her off the floor, and I carried her to her bed. I was stunned, mute with astonishment. I watched in silent disbelief at Caroline’s remorseful sobbing. An inexorable sadness had settled over me.

  How could she do this? This was the woman I thought I knew? This was the woman I planned to marry and spend the rest of my life with? This was the woman I loved and was carrying my baby? Now, to my utter shock and disbelief, she was the deadly Shadow Stalker, the phantom killer I had pursued for months. I couldn’t bear to look at her anymore. The thought of all that madness and killing was gut-wrenching. My mind would never accept what she’d done to all those innocent people, but my heart was still in love with her.

  When I thought about the defenseless baby she was carrying, I approached the bed and sat down beside her. I held her still sobbing and shaking body, looking in Caroline’s wet and reddened green eyes. I told her not to worry; I’d remain by her side. Despite these horrific bombings, I remembered her innocence when we first met. Her wit, charm and intelligence captured me. Her physical beauty, undiminished, I craved. It was knowing each other’s hopes and dreams that made me feel that Caroline was the one for me. And yet, as I watched the pain and agony pour out of her now, I felt sad. My heart ached for her, but my mind loathed what she’d become. I tried to comfort her with reassuring words and a strong embrace. “Caroline, despite this tragedy, I still love you. It wasn’t your fault that your parents were brutally murdered by terrorists. Out of rage you wanted revenge. I can’t forgive you, but I understand.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she cried.

  “No matter how this turns out, I’ll remain by your side, even though I’m struggling to find answers. I just want you to know that.”

  She kept staring at me, sobbing.

  “I need to call the police now.”

  “Yes, Jimmy, I suppose it’s time for that,” she said in a shaky and melancholic voice.

  I spoke to her softly, but firmly. “Remember, Caroline,” I said, fighting back my tears, “there is no stronger human emotion on earth than the power of love.” Our two souls briefly touched in that strong and loving embrace.

  What started out for me as a mission to hunt down a serial killer turned into an errand of mercy. My love for another human being transformed and comforted me at a time in my life when I needed that comfort and reassurance. I came here to Caroline’s apartment to be with her because, despite the horrible and despicable acts of violence she had committed, I owed her that. I felt compassion for her. Sometimes the hardest thing one can do is to go on living with the consequences of the terrible things that we do to others.

  I reached out again to embrace her, and she grabbed me. I knew she was scared, and so was I. As we held each other tightly, waiting for the police, I thought back to the first time I stepped into her apartment. What was true then was true now. The transformative power of her love had changed my life forever, but the emotional abyss inside of me was still there. I could only struggle against the emptiness and loneliness I felt deep inside of me.

  In her criminal trial, it would need to be determined if Caroline was indeed insane on her killing spree in the subway massacres. I had to be strong to face the many challenges ahead, for both me and this shattered woman that I still loved. When I heard the approaching police sirens, I let go of Caroline’s trembling body. The glue that for so long held us together in love was no more. After several minutes, I heard a knock at her door. I opened it and several police officers entered. Some of the officers recognized me from the Bureau.

  Tears started to well-up in my eyes as she was shackled. As Caroline was being led out of the apartment in handcuffs, I felt wracked with intense and conflicting feelings of guilt, anger and love. I felt betrayed by her. She turned to me one last time with a look of desperation on her face. It was as if something had gone terribly wrong and she needed my help. It was the look of being trapped in a situation beyond her control. I wanted to go with her and stay by her side. I wanted to comfort her with reassurance that everything would be all right, but I couldn’t. I was angry that Caroline had betrayed our love.

  After Caroline was removed from the apartment the investigators and the bomb squad searched for forensic evidence. They stayed for hours looking for evidence against this woman. I was allowed to stay in her apartment, as I watched the police and detectives do their work. Finally, just after midnight, everyone left for the night. I was all alone in her apartment and decided to stay. I thought about all the good times we shared. I reached for my service revolver and sat down in the large and comfortable chair that I knew so well. I knew that I might never see Caroline again. I was certain that she’d pay dearly for these horrific crimes, and I felt sad for her and the unborn baby.

  I stared out those large bay windows, desperately trying to hold on to all of the happy memories that Caroline and I shared over the years. The joyful images of past times flashed before me. As I sat there staring into space, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d become. The fact that she was a terrorist tortured me. The thought of her killing dozens of innocent people in the subway bombings sickened me. But in the innermost recesses of my heart I was still in love with her, and that hurt even more. Trapped in this impossible human struggle, I tried to find answers and meaning. At that moment, I felt that I could no longer go on living and wanted to end my life.

  My body suddenly felt terribly cold and numb. My mind went blank as I sat watching the darkness. My city was again lit-up and transformed, enveloped in a panoramic view of bright lights against the black backdrop of sky. The dizzying array of human activity continued to pulsate throughout the city.

  Staring out through teary eyes into the blur of the night sky, I was jolted and miraculously transported back in time. I was sitting in my tiny hut perched high in the mountaintops of Maraba, feeling now as I did then, looking out at the stars in that vast sea of space, and feeling the infinite loneliness and pain from deep within my soul. I pondered the haunting disconnect between my head and heart, wondering what I’d learned, as the gun I held to my head fell to the floor with a loud crash.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The news of the Shadow Stalker’s capture was all over the media. The Stalker’s cult celebrity status attracted innumerable news reporters, photographers and curiosity seekers from around the world. Caroline Prichard, now shackled in iron chains, was bombed with media attention to a degree unprecedented in recent memory. She was portrayed as a living, modern day incarnation of Frankenstein’s monster. “Death to the Stalker” was a chant commonly heard in the streets. She was seen as a freak with a grudge against humanity, an abomination of life, a killer without conscience, and a witch to be burned at the stake. With mobs of angry people and grieving relatives gathered outside the jail wher
e she was being held, security officials became increasingly concerned for her personal safety. She had nobody by her side to support and comfort her at this terrible time.

  Sensing blood in the water, lawyers lined up for the chance to defend her in such a sensational case. While all this was going on, I stayed inside my plush apartment following the news reports. I constantly thought about Caroline and the baby, feeling lost without them. My headaches were intolerable; I just wanted to be left alone. This would be impossible once the media learned that I cracked the case.

  In no time, hordes of news reporters followed me everywhere, and I couldn’t get rid of them. They hounded me day and night. Despite their savage assault on my privacy, I gave them nothing. I retreated into my apartment, making myself unavailable to the media circus camped out in front of my door. My loyal neighbors generously brought me food while I remained in seclusion. There was no end in sight. The media would pound on my door in the night, and I begged them to go away. The pounding was starting to drive me mad. I couldn’t sleep anymore. I called my boss about seeing a psychiatrist. I was having severe headaches and I couldn’t make them stop. With help from Colonel Richards, one was chosen by the Bureau to help me deal with my troubles. I trusted her implicitly from the start.

  I started seeing my therapist, Dr. Marion Aldridge, twice a week. She helped me deal with my headaches and the strong feelings I still felt for Caroline and the baby. I looked forward to continuing our sessions together. As our work progressed, I began to disentangle the emotional mess within my mind. I felt comfortable talking with my doctor, and I opened up about everything. I even told her about the Shadow Stalker, telling her my thoughts and feelings about the case. She reassured me that everything discussed in therapy would be held in strictest confidence.

  The media frenzy of busybodies, photographers and news people followed me around like my own shadow. Everywhere I went they were there looking for a story. I remained resolute in my determination to give them nothing, but they were determined to hound me until I gave them something they could print in the newspapers. I discussed this problem with Colonel Richards, my shrink and others in an attempt to get these people off my back. I considered several options and decided to go on television with a prepared statement. It worked. Within several days the media left me alone. I realized, however, that once Caroline went to trial for these murders, the media bugs would again be crawling all over me.