Shadow Stalker

by D W Cooperstein

  When I entered the main living area of my home, I found Angie arranging some beautiful tiger lilies on the glass coffee table near the long sofa. Angie had a way with little touches of domestic flair that made our house feel like a home. I walked over to her and we lovingly embraced, then we sat on the sofa. She told me of her day visiting with friends. She’d finally broken free from her protective cocoon of fearful shyness; Angie was blossoming before my eyes. I continued to encourage her to grow and put her fears behind her. She prepared lunch, then we relaxed in the living room listening to music. Soon the cleaners arrived to spruce up the apartment. Behind the long sleep sofa, we had a massive wall of white silky curtains. This wrinkled wall of fabric extended practically down to the floor. Periodically, these curtains needed to be cleaned of an accumulation of dust. The cleaners spent several hours and then left. The cleaned and sparkling apartment uplifted our depressed spirits.

  It was getting late in the afternoon. Despite the looming danger from the Colonel, Angie and I decided to walk outside. My wife’s security guard was dismissed for the day. As evening approached, the city took on the colors and reflections of the night. Angie became afraid and didn’t want to stray too far from Highgate. We walked for a while longer, then returned home. She made a wonderful dinner. Afterwards, we snuggled by the open fire, and she read to me. I loved listening to her soft and gentle voice. Her whispered narration filled my mind with vivid imagery. I felt lucky to have this angel in my life. And now, with Colonel Richards on the loose, I’d protect her from the ever-present evil still lurking in the shadows.

  “Angie, with Colonel Richards roaming the city, I want you to be able to protect yourself. I think it’s time that you learn how to shoot a gun.”

  “But I already have a security officer, remember?”

  “I know, but she’s not with you every minute. I don’t trust the Colonel.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to come with me to the shooting range. I go there on a regular basis anyway, and I want you to become familiar with handling firearms. I also want you to do some target practicing until you’re proficient. You may need to fire a gun someday to save your life, and I want you to be prepared. Will you please come with me?”

  “If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll go.”

  “I’ll be going over there on Thursday and I’ll introduce you to my friends. We can start your training program then if you want. It shouldn’t take long for you to learn what you need to know. Besides, the target practicing can be fun.” Angie seemed hesitant about her decision, but finally agreed.

  After a refreshing night’s sleep, we awoke to another gorgeous day with brilliant sunshine. It was an unusually warm summer day. Angie and I wanted to visit the countryside, so we decided to explore Pages Meadow in Branshire County. This was farmland just outside the city. The aromatic meadows in summer filled one’s senses with the glory of nature. The dappled sunlight, scattered across the windswept high grass, was like sun on water. We stopped the car. Angie and I got out of the limousine. The refreshing elixir of nature’s triumph invigorated our souls and inspired us to make love in a secluded area of the high grass. Afterwards, we walked across the meadows, hand in hand. Angie stopped to pick some wildflowers in our path. We returned to the car. Robert Ferrill, our patient driver, was waiting. Soon we were on our way back to Highgate.

  On the way home, I began to silently reflect. I thought about Caroline as I quietly watched the rolling landscape unfold before my eyes. Of all the places I took Angie to visit, we never went to Sherbourne by the Sea. I never quite overcame the emotional hardship of returning there after Caroline was jailed for the second time. After she was murdered by the Colonel, that ground became sacred to me. The memories of the times she and I had spent there were precious and now buried deep inside of me. As beautiful as it was in that cabin by the sea, that special place was now reserved in my heart for Caroline alone.

  As the days passed, I kept thinking about the Colonel and where he was hiding, if he was still in the city. I decided to go to police headquarters. I was greeted by the receptionist. “Hello, Sandy, is Brandon in his office?”

  “Yes, Mr. Watson, please go right in.” She smiled as I walked down the well-lit corridor. I entered his spacious and sunny office.

  Brandon was sitting behind his old wooden desk. “Hello, Jimmy.”

  I poured myself some coffee and sat down. “You know, I’ve never felt so damn scared in my entire life. Where is this Shadow Stalker who’s planning my death?”

  “I don’t know. My police department hasn’t come up with any clues as to where the Colonel may be hiding. It must be nerve-wracking for you, knowing this man is out there, waiting to kill you.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sometimes I wake from a dream and see him standing in my bedroom and holding a gun. I can’t tell you how the pressure is getting to me.”

  “Maybe now is a good time to rethink police protection.”

  “Like I told you before, he’ll never show if he thinks I’m being protected. This chickenshit monster is cunning, just waiting for his chance.”

  “How’s your wife?”

  “Angie is worried for me. I try to reassure her, but I still carry around my own doubts and fears. Besides, I recently took her to the shooting range. I want her to be able to protect herself. She really likes it there. She’s getting really good with her target practicing.”

  “You going to buy her a gun?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m letting her practice on mine at the shooting range. I usually keep it hidden in my bedroom closet for safety reasons when I’m at home. I really don’t think she wants one. Any news about Colonel Richards?”

  “Nothing yet. I really appreciate what you’re doing for the city.”

  “Keep me posted,” I said as I got up and left his office.

  The days passed quickly. I lived my life with no regrets, just like Uncle Willy had inspired me to do. As the weeks passed, I continued with my charity work. I also kept pursuing interesting murder investigations I came across in the newspaper, despite having to live with the terror that I was being stalked by Colonel Richards. I enjoyed helping the police solve difficult murder cases, but I couldn’t officially commit myself to be an independent sleuth. Something was still stopping me from realizing my boyhood dream.

  Occasionally the Captain would invite me to socialize at Flanagan’s Bar. He loved that raucous place. In time, our friendship deepened. Angie and I became good friends with his wife Marilyn. We liked his two daughters, Sylvia and Cindy. I told him that I missed working at the Bureau, and all the friends I had there. I didn’t see them anymore. I wondered how they were doing. I thought about Joanna Peavey and her baby girl Chloe. I wondered how Joanna was dealing with being a single parent. I thought about my friends in the lab, and the other friends I’d gotten to know in the Bureau. I felt sad thinking about it all now, but I was absolutely in love with my new life with Angie. I was, after all, living out my destiny. I was feeling great.

  Every day I was involved with a variety of projects in the city. It was my desire to help as many needy people as possible. I felt comfortable being surrounded by my growing circle of friends and people of influence in city government. It wasn’t easy to negotiate the difficulties of being a wealthy man, yet still wanting to achieve happiness. At times, I felt like indulging myself in luxury, but my uncle taught me never to surrender to that temptation. So, I continued to live a happy and modest lifestyle with Angie. My charitable giving to many fine and worthy causes earned me the coveted title of Humanitarian of the Year. I was humbled by that honor. The J. L. Becker Foundation presented the award to me in a gala event honoring all the people who made generous contributions to help the indigent living in the city. I felt appreciated by all of the people helping to make a difference in the lives of the needy. It was wonderful to be involved in such rewarding and substantial work.

  My wife was sitting on a committee investigating city
wide abuse involving the elderly. Recently, there was an uproar in the media concerning reports of widespread abuse at Conlon Enterprises. This was a chain of nursing homes located throughout the city. It had been reported by fired and angry workers that serious elderly abuse was occurring in these homes on a regular basis. Angie was scheduled to visit some of these places with officials from the city. When my wife returned from her tour of Conlon Enterprises, I asked, “Well, Angie, how did your day go?”

  “I’m not sure. The scheduled tour of the facilities went fine, as expected. The homes were all clean, and the residents seemed well-taken care of. None of the officials from the city found any trace of impropriety. Still, I had a bad feeling about the place. I felt there was something very wrong going on in there.”

  “You suppose there may be some truth in what these former disgruntled employees are saying?”

  “I really don’t know,” my wife said.

  I took a strong interest in the investigation. I remembered the abuse I suffered from my father when I was a boy. This was a hot button issue for me, so I decided to see what I could learn of these serious allegations against Conlon Enterprises. I picked a facility close to Highgate and informed Robert we’d visit there later in the night.

  “Why are we going there so late?” Angie asked.

  “Because I want answers. Did you really think you’d learn anything today when they were expecting you? What we want to find out is what happens in those nursing homes when they’re not expecting anyone. Tonight, we will finally learn the truth about these damaging allegations.”

  It was late at night when we arrived at the facility. Fortunately, it was one that Angie and her committee hadn’t visited earlier in the day. I asked Robert to wait in the car. This whole thing wouldn’t take long. I’d previously instructed Angie what to do as we entered the nursing facility. Surprisingly, there was no one to greet us at the front desk. Visiting hours for the night would be over in five minutes, so we had to act quickly. While Angie patiently waited at the front desk to speak with someone, I advanced to the nursing station. From there, my observations sickened me. Soon my wife joined me. She’d gotten the required permission for us to stay a few minutes longer to visit a sick relative. My fictitious “Aunt Mildred,” a patient staying in the facility, proved instrumental in allowing us to see the sordid truth of Conlon Enterprises.

  The half-naked bodies lying in bed were drenched in sweat and smelled of putrid body odor. We were appalled by the lackadaisical barebones staff just sitting around the nurses’ station gossiping, while the call lights were on above the rooms in the corridors demanding service. The head nurse was the biggest gossip of them all. The smell of human excrement coming from the rooms was overpowering and sickened us. There were loud groans and cries for help coming from many of the rooms as we walked along the corridors.

  Conlon Enterprises was a highly successful chain of nursing homes. These homes were being aggressively marketed to many innocent and unsuspecting families as clean and well-kept. On television, they were portrayed as loving places, filled with nurturing people who tended to all residents’ needs. In reality, these cloistered dungeons of despair were filthy holes of human submission, filled with broken dreams of people’s dignity. As I looked around, I could sense the hopelessness of eradicating this misery. The people who lived here were trapped in a cage of pain and suffering in which there was no escape.

  After getting an eyeful of what Conlon Enterprises portrayed as nirvana, we returned to the nurses’ station. The head nurse looked up at me and smiled. “Mr. Watson, I hope you had a wonderful visit with your dear sweet Aunt Mildred,” she said. I was angry and felt like saying something, but I restrained myself and quickly walked out of the facility, my wife trailing behind me. Robert was waiting in the limo. I was damn mad and appalled by all of the misery I’d just witnessed.

  My wife started to cry. “Why the tears, my love?” Angie told me how she took care of her mother during her final days. The thought of putting her mother in a nursing home never occurred to her. Conlon Enterprises was a filthy and miserable business that was allowed to profit at the expense of human suffering. I just couldn’t stand on the sidelines any longer. I decided to become actively involved with my friends in city government to try to enact standards of decency and care in these disgusting facilities. I’d try to change things, and in so doing hold those corrupt and greedy individuals in charge accountable for their inhumane actions.

  After our miserable tour of Conlon Enterprises, I decided it was time for a happy change. I proposed to Angie that we revisit Hillsgate by the Sea. Angie was ecstatic. She wanted to leave immediately, but I had to cool her jets, for there was some minor preparation involved. I tried to rent the same house we stayed in on our honeymoon, but due to a scheduling conflict, that house wasn’t available. We decided to rent another lovely property nearby. The large house was built on the high cliffs overlooking the ocean. The magnificent stone house seemed rooted in the rocky cliffs, perched high above the crashing waves. Soon all of the arrangements were completed. The next day, my wife and I started packing for our vacation.

  Robert drove us to Hillsgate by the Sea. He unpacked our travel bags as we stood outside the imposing stone house. Soon we said goodbye to our driver. We watched as he slowly left the area and drove back to the city. He’d return in a week to pick us up. We carried our belongings up the stone steps and into the house. I plopped myself down on the living room leather couch and stared out at the breathtaking view. Angie was busy in the kitchen preparing a snack. After we had a bite to eat, I swept my wife up in my strong arms and carried her into the bedroom. We got undressed and were soon going at it like a couple of teenage lovers. Afterwards, I took a hot shower and then finished unpacking all of our clothes. I picked up a murder mystery novel from my favorite writer, Peter Davies, and relaxed in front of the amazing ocean view.

  It felt really good to relive the exciting passion we shared on our honeymoon. As evening approached, we shared sunset views of the flaming eye of the red sun while it slowly made its descent into the sea. We walked along the jagged and rocky coastline, the cliff formations now in deep silhouette against the bright, but waning, yellow sky. I kissed Angie with a deep and loving embrace. We walked some, then slowly returned to the house. By now the starry night had arrived, as we gazed up into the heavens, filling our senses with wonderment.

  The next morning, we awoke to a brilliant clear sky and warm sunshine. Each day, we walked the rocky coast, exploring the tiny villages that comprised Hillsgate proper. The early morning fog hung heavy over the quaint town of Willoughby like a curtain. Then the sun broke through the heavy fog and mist, raising the “curtain” on the most curious of villages here. The tiny town of Willoughby, surrounded by the backdrop of the blue sea, was like a jewel in the magnificent crown of villages in this area. The shadowy figures of the early morning village people, silhouetted in strong and angled sunlight, cast a mesmerizing feel to the town. As we walked through a maze of interconnecting dirt roads, the intense depth and breadth of the sea filled us both with the desire to explore. And, as the mind’s eye continued snapping picturesque memories around every street corner, we felt compelled to look into every nook and cranny of this lovely area. This was paradise. We continued exploring Willoughby and the nearby surrounding towns.

  The lovely days and quiet nights at Hillsgate quickly passed. We promised to return one day. There was much to explore in this area, but it would have to wait for another time.

  When we returned from our morning walk, we saw Robert Ferrill waiting for us at the house. Angie went inside and started packing. “Hello, Robert, it’s good to see you again on such a beautiful day.” Our driver looked anxious and worried. “You look distressed. Is anything wrong?” I said.

  “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

  “Bad news on such a lovely day like this? Tell me what can possibly be bad on such a sunny morning?” I asked with a twinkle in my eye.

 
“Captain Goloft was shot. I think he may have died.”

  “What?”

  “All I know is what I saw on the news. Captain Goloft was shot several times while getting into his car at police headquarters late last night. And, sir, you must believe me as I say it, he was shot by a fellow police officer. It’s been all over the morning news. I’m afraid you missed it all, being out here.”

  “Robert, please pack our things into the car, we’re leaving immediately for the city. Please hurry,” I said. “Angie!” I shouted. My wife was in shock and disbelief when I told her the news. We flew about the house gathering up our things. Soon Robert had everything packed. On our way back to the city, I was briefed on the phone by Detective Neilson on what had happened and the condition of my friend. Brandon was alive but in critical condition at Bellevue. Dave Neilson had assumed temporary command of the police department. He was a man with the potential to step up and take charge. He was exactly the kind of strong person you’d want in this situation. I’d gotten to know him through the Captain.

  In our phone conversation, the detective filled me in on the details of the shooting. The Captain had been getting into his car in the rear of the building when he was approached by a police officer. According to surveillance cameras, the officer had moved in quickly and shot Goloft several times. Fortunately, the Captain was wearing his protective vest, saving his life. Despite that, his body had been hit many times and he had lost much blood. I decided we’d go directly to the hospital to see my wounded friend. I held Angie’s hand tightly as we sped off.