Literally Stalked

by Eryn Scott

  He opened his eyes. “Technically, I wasn’t either. If Janet’s alibis hold, those threats weren’t from the killer.”

  “True.” I chewed on my lip.

  “Plus, Peps, you were literally being stalked. I don’t care if it was a killer or not; I’m not letting you out of my slightly fuzzy sight.” He opened his eyes long enough to wink.

  A few customers walked in, stealing my attention away from Alex. They were locals, though, and didn’t seem surprised to see Alex laid up on the couch.

  “How is he doing?” Mr. Kendrick asked, concern knotting his forehead.

  “As well as can be expected.” I forced a smile.

  “We couldn’t believe it. So scary.” Mrs. Kendrick brought a hand to her chest, shaking her head.

  After the Kendricks left, it was a relatively quiet afternoon, only bringing a handful more customers. Every so often I would wake Alex and perform the checks the doctor had shown us in the hospital. When it was time, I gave him his next round of pain medicine.

  It seemed to make a difference too. He was sitting up chatting with Old Man Jefferson—who’d come to check on him in the hospital only to learn they had sent him home—when his phone rang.

  “I’ll let you get that,” Mr. Jefferson said, standing to leave. “Get better, son.”

  Alex nodded before pulling out his phone. “Hi, Dad.”

  I put down the book I’d pulled from a box of new arrivals.

  “Yeah, much better,” Alex said. “Yes, she’s taking great care of me. Pepper’s helping some too.” He laughed, looking down at Hammy who had barely left his side all day.

  Just about to roll my eyes at his joke, I froze as I watched Alex’s expression darken.

  “You’re sure?” he asked, sitting up. “In custody? Okay. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help. Gotcha. Love you too. Bye.”

  Alex ended the call.

  “They got the prints from the bat left near me in the alley.” He reached back and rubbed his head. “They were a match for Emerson Willams.”

  I blinked. As our only remaining suspect, I shouldn’t have been surprised it had been him, but my stomach still flipped with astonishment all the same.

  “Whoa, really?” I joined him on the couch.

  “It gave them enough for a warrant. They’re waiting for the judge’s signature, and then they’re going to go search the mansion.”

  We sat there in stunned silence for a few minutes before a few more customers broke our stupor. After that, Alex helped me unbox the rest of my new books, assuring me he was 200 percent better when I told him I could do it on my own.

  The sun had just about set by the time Alex’s phone rang again. This time, he put it on speaker.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hi.” The detective sounded fatigued. “How ya feeling?”

  Alex’s mouth curled into a small smile. They were in the middle of busting a killer and still he needed to ask about Alex first.

  “Much better. What’d you guys find?”

  There was a long sigh on the other end. “Well, quite a bit. Look, I hate to ask this, but is there any way Pepper could come down here? She grew up with him, and I’d love to hear her opinion on a few—”

  I didn’t even wait for Mateo to finish, blurting out, “We’re on our way” as I grabbed for my jacket.

  Alex raised an eyebrow at me, but reached for his own coat too.

  The detective didn’t sound at all surprised to hear my voice on the line. He let out a chuckle. “Thanks. See you soon.”

  When we arrived at the station a few minutes later, Mateo met us at the front entrance. He hustled us back toward the place we’d watched them question Janet earlier.

  Mateo held a finger up to his lips as we slipped into the adjoined room.

  Frank sat inside across from Emerson. I would’ve liked to say the young man appeared more distraught and disheveled than usual, but he’d been pretty rough the last time I’d seen him. At least this time he was wearing proper jeans and a sweatshirt in lieu of his worn sweatpants. But whatever good his clothes did for his appearance, his face negated it. Dark circles made rings under his shifty eyes, telling a story of sleepless nights and tortured days.

  “I’m only going to ask this one more time. What do you have to say about the bloody boots—your bloody boots—matching the size and tread of the footprints at the scene?” Frank asked, his voice tight.

  Emerson clenched his jaw and shook his head. He ran a hand through his already messy brown hair.

  “So it was him,” Alex whispered, not a hint of question in his words.

  But the pause that followed told us that the detective didn’t feel as sure. “That’s what the evidence is telling us.”

  “You don’t agree, do you?” I blurted out, unable to keep my observation inside.

  “It seems too convenient, if I’m being honest. Both items were far too easy for us to find once we got into his house. He planned out a whole murder, but happens to be dumb enough to leave evidence leading us straight to him?”

  “Maybe he couldn’t live with the guilt and wants to get caught,” Alex suggested.

  We turned our attention back to the interrogation as Frank asked another question.

  “Emerson, we found the knife you hid too. If we send it to a lab, it’s going to show your fingerprints along with the traces of your brother’s blood, isn’t it?”

  The youngest Williams brother lifted his bloodshot gaze from the table and stared at Frank. His expression reminded me of the one he’d worn right before kicking Liv and me out of his apartment.

  “How thick are these walls?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. “I guess it doesn’t matter; he'll find me wherever I go.”

  Who? Cole? I furrowed my forehead as Emerson squirmed.

  Frank tapped his foot and glanced back toward the mirror that led into our room. He gave his head a sharp shake.

  Mateo turned toward me. “He’s refused a lawyer, and the only words he’s said so far are bizarre, like what you heard about the walls.”

  “What else has he been saying?” I asked.

  “Kept muttering about ghosts.” Mateo ran a hand across his stubbly chin.

  “He did the same thing the other day when Liv and I were at his place.” I focused on Emerson, knowing Alex might still not be exactly happy with me for going up there.

  “Do you think he’s still of sound mind?” Mateo’s voice dropped into a serious register.

  The significance of his question hit me as I met his gaze. If Emerson had gone crazy, things needed to be handled very differently.

  My lungs tightened, and I turned back to the other room. “I honestly don’t know. He was always a little off.” The pressure of making this call sat heavy on my chest. “None of us knew him very well, to be honest.”

  Suddenly, the pressure lifted away.

  I smiled. “Except one person, and I know just where to find them.”

  20

  Alex and I turned onto Meridian Drive, toward the condominiums where my friend Fiona lived. During the few minutes' drive, I explained how she’d grown up at the mansion, living in the staff housing with her father.

  “And her dad just up and left one day?” Alex asked from the passenger seat of his truck.

  “Well, stole a bunch of stuff from the Williams’ safe first and then left.” I shrugged. “They tracked his card near the Canadian border the next day, but never heard from him since, so he must’ve fled the country.”

  “And the Williams let Fiona stay.” He smiled, but it faltered quickly. “I bet she was devastated.”

  “Yeah. But she was part of the family, they said. She and Cole never got close, but Fi was the one person Emerson seemed to tolerate. If anyone’s going to get him to talk, it’s her.”

  “You sure she’ll be here?” Alex asked as I shut off the truck.

  “When we were younger, she would lose her phone all the time. I’m sure her phone’s in another room or something,
that’s why she didn’t pick up.” I unbuckled and gave him a nod of encouragement. “You can stay in the truck. I’ll go grab her.”

  Alex opened his door and got out. “Peps, I’m much better. You don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile anymore.”

  Threading my fingers through his after shutting my door and joining him on the other side of the car, I planted a kiss on his shoulder. “Okay. Sorry. I worry about you. Seeing you lying there in that hospital bed was…” I shook my head.

  He stopped walking as we approached the entrance to the condos and took both my hands in his. “I can only imagine, because it is my worst fear that anything would happen to you. I’m so sorry.” He pulled my hands up to his mouth and kissed them.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Look at you being all old school.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, careful not to get close to his injury as I pulled myself closer.

  “It worked for Rochester.” He shrugged, then leaned down to plant a devastating kiss on my lips.

  “Okay,” I said, stepping back, more than a little gloriously light-headed. “Your dad’s waiting for us, plus it’s freezing out here.”

  “Right.” Alex cleared his throat, straightened and held his arm out for me. “Which one is she?” he asked as we approached the list of condo numbers next to individual buzzers.

  “Twelve.” I squinted until I found it, then I pressed the button.

  After a low beep sounded for a second, there was a click and then Fiona’s voice came through the small speaker.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Fi. It’s Pepper. I tried calling but wasn’t sure if you had your phone on you.”

  There was a second’s pause. “Oh sorry! Yeah, I left it in the other room. Whatcha need?”

  I winked at Alex, showing him I’d called that. “I have a quick favor to ask,” I said into the speaker.

  “Okay, come on up. I’m finishing up dinner.”

  There was a longer buzz followed by a click. We entered the building and made our way up to the second floor. Fiona had cracked her door, and I knocked as I pushed it the rest of the way open.

  “Come in,” she called from somewhere inside. “Sorry, I’ve got stuff on the stove, and I don’t want it to burn.”

  The smell of onions, peppers, and Mexican spices permeated the condo. Alex closed the door behind us, and we went through the small living room into the kitchen.

  “Hey,” I said as we entered.

  Fiona was sautéing fajita makings in a large skillet, and tortillas sat on the counter next to cheese and sour cream.

  “Hi.” She smiled over her shoulder. Her gaze landed on Alex, and her eyes widened. “Hey, I didn’t know you were with Peps.” She quickly turned off the burner and swung to face us. “How are you doing?”

  Alex nodded. “I’m feeling much better. It’s moved into more of a dull ache at this point.”

  “I’m so glad you’re okay. You looked rough at the hospital yesterday.” Fi grabbed a pepper from the skillet and popped it in her mouth. “You guys hungry? This is almost ready.” She stirred the mixture around with a wooden spoon.

  “Thanks, but we’re good,” I said. “Actually, we’re here because we have a favor to ask.”

  She stopped stirring and turned to face me. “What’s that?”

  “It’s about Emerson. They’ve taken him into custody for Cole’s murder.”

  Fiona’s lips parted slightly. “Seriously?” she whispered.

  I nodded. “But he keeps babbling, and they think he might’ve lost it. I don’t know him well enough to tell. You were close with him. Could you come down to the station and tell us if he seems… insane?”

  She laid the wooden spoon across the top of the skillet. “He was always pretty angry, but not crazy. They’re sure it’s Emerson?” She glanced between Alex and me.

  “All the evidence points toward him,” Alex answered. “Ever since we brought him in, though, we can’t seem to get him to say anything coherent. He keeps talking about ghosts.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Ghosts? Huh.” Fiona shook her head then wiped her hands on the towel hanging from her oven handle. “I doubt I’ll be able to tell either, but I’d be happy to help. Should I pack all this away, then?” she asked, glancing at her dinner.

  I cringed. “If you wouldn’t mind. I’m sure we can totally wait if you need to eat first.”

  Fiona waved. “No, that’s fine. I can wait.” She put her hands on her hips and scanned over her countertops before pulling out a container for the food. “Emerson. I guess I can’t say it’s completely out of the blue. He always hated Cole.”

  There was a chord of sadness to her words that made my chest ache. As angry as Emerson had been growing up, I’d never suspected he could’ve been capable of something like this.

  I gave my friend an encouraging smile. “Okay, we’ll see you down at the station. Thanks, Fi.”

  She waved. “I’ll be a few minutes behind you.”

  Alex took my hand in his as we headed back to the truck. The sun had set at that point, and we scurried to the car to avoid the cold. I started up the engine and held my hands in front of the heater to warm them up. Before I turned on the lights, Alex reached out and grabbed my hand.

  He leaned over and pulled me into a kiss that made me want to forget cases and killers and anything but us. His breath was fresh from chewing on too many mints—a nervous habit of his—and he smelled like laundry, both smells I wanted to curl up and breathe in forever.

  After a few minutes, he pulled away. My eyes had acclimated to the darkness, but I could still only sort of see his features.

  He stroked his hand along my jaw. “I love you.”

  I smiled, placing my hands on either side of his face. “I love you too.” I leaned in to kiss him again. “Not that I’m complaining, but I think this head injury has you a little delirious.”

  He chuckled, but took my hands in his, moving them from his face. Squeezing my hands tight, he said, “Pepper, I’m so sorry about how I reacted the other day when you mentioned moving in together. It caught me off guard, but the truth is that I would—” But he cut out, his attention jumping to the front door of the condo.

  Fiona hurried out of the building, carrying a big bag and glancing over her shoulder.

  “What’s she got all that for?” I asked, but it was the most unnecessary question in the history of questions.

  Watching her race over to her blue sedan and start it up, it became increasingly clear that my friend was running, and not toward the police station.

  Alex tensed and reached for the door handle, but before he could open it, I reached for the gearshift and threw the idling truck into reverse. I squealed out of our visitor’s parking spot as Fiona did the same in her car.

  Throwing the truck into drive, I gunned it toward the parking lot exit, eyeing the blue sedan as it sped toward the opening. I still hadn’t turned the headlights on and could barely see as the parked cars flew past us on either side.

  My heart was in my throat as both of us approached the exit. She was going to beat us. Her car was smaller and faster. I slammed my foot down on the accelerator, and the truck’s engine revved, then lurched forward.

  The speedometer needle jumped, and we covered the last hundred feet frighteningly fast. Fiona’s car seemed to pick up speed too. The sidewalk, and a large lighted sign for the condominiums loomed ahead. I inhaled a scream as I slammed on my brakes.

  There was a terrible screeching noise. I closed my eyes as we skidded to a stop. I waited for the sound of metal tearing through metal. My side of the truck would take the brunt, I realized with at least a semblance of relief. Alex would be okay. But the crash never came. My eyes flew open as the truck hit the curb.

  Alex exhaled. I looked right and left. We were blocking the exit. To my left, Fiona’s car had stopped only inches away. Her headlights were on, blinding me.

  Alex threw his door open and raced around the back of the truck. Realizing Fiona’s bump
er was too close for me to get out, I scooted across the cab and through Alex’s open door.

  I threw my hand up to shield my eyes from the intensity of the headlights, panicking as I realized I couldn’t see Alex. My breath billowed out into the icy night, creating a maddening fog that made it even harder to see. Running left, I rounded the back of her car and heard a sob so intense it was as if the icy winter wind cut right through my bones.

  “Alex?” I called, frantic, unable to locate his shape in the darkness.

  “I’m here, Pepper,” Alex called out just ahead. Then he said, “Shh…”

  Fiona let out a long wail. “They killed him,” she said between sobs. “They killed my dad. I had to do something.”

  My vision cleared, and I saw Alex pulling Fiona from the car. She crumpled against him.

  “Who killed your dad, Fi?” I asked, tears clouding my vision.

  She turned toward me, shaking her head. “Cole. Cole did, and Emerson helped him cover it up.” Her voice was wobbly, as if it were trying to balance on a raft, afloat on an ocean of her tears.

  But before Alex or I could say anything, three cop cars came screaming around the corner, lights flashing. They skidded to a stop on the other side of the truck.

  “Alex! Pepper!” Mateo’s voice cut through the sound of slamming doors.

  “Over here. We’re okay,” Alex called, sinking to the ground along with Fiona as she seemed to lose all ability to stand.

  Through the mix of darkness and flashing lights, I recognized Detective Valdez as he ran around the car, followed closely by Frank and a few other local officers. He locked eyes with me for a moment, waiting until I nodded before racing past me toward Alex. He leaned over, and I caught the glimmer of handcuffs.

  “Fiona Abrams, you’re under arrest for the murder of Cole Williams. Anything you say can and will be used…” His words faded away as my mind buzzed with questions.

  Frank came up next to me.

  “How’d you guys get here so fast? We saw her leaving.” I hadn’t even seen Alex grab his phone during that whole ordeal.

  “We just got off the phone with the butler. He told us everything.” Frank shook his head as Mateo led Fiona over to one of the cruisers.