Loverboy

by Jaszczak, Trista

  “Charlie, everything okay?” I ask.

  She nods. “Nick, I’m sorry about your sister, and what your ex did to you,” she says, rocking back and forth a moment on her toes. “I’m really glad that you’re here with me. I do trust you, and I’m happy we got a chance to talk tonight.” She’s clearly thinking and a little unsure of herself. Just by coming out to talk to me, shows me just how strong she is, and I admire that.

  “Do you maybe, want to talk about things?” I ask her.

  I can see her eyes grow large and tears standing in them as the bright emerald-blue glaze over. She purses her lips tightly, looking up as she tries to conceal the quiver. She nods and wipes at her cheek, continuing to rock back and forth on her feet, “Only if you’ll listen.”

  I don’t have to think twice. “You know I’ll listen to whatever you feel comfortable telling me.”

  I motion for her to have a seat on the couch. She heads over slowly, leaning into the corner, bringing her knees to her chest. She pushes a few stray hairs from her face as she glances over at me. She looks exhausted, so sleep deprived it’s pitiful. Her skin is pale and glowing in the dim lighting of the living room. I toss my change of clothes back into the bag and make my way over to have a seat at the other end of the couch.

  “The night he got me,” she pauses. “The night Loverboy took me, I was so stupid, Nick. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I was walking through Central Park, by myself, at one in the morning. Who does that?” She scolds herself as a few tears begin dribbling down her cheeks. “Why? Why was I so dumb? I remember him grabbing me. I remember how tight he held onto me, and how scared I was. I remember feeling a sharp pain in my neck.” She wipes at her face as more tears begin to pour down like an out-of-control fountain.

  I slowly reach for the box of Kleenex on the table and place them in between us on the couch. I fight an urge to reach out to hug her, and, instead, pass her a tissue. “It wasn’t your fault, Charlie. It wasn’t your fault at all. You can’t just blame yourself when you have no reason to.”

  “It was, though, Nick. It was my fault,” she says, wiping at her already red nose. “I made it too easy for him. I put myself out there, and he took me. Why didn’t I just stay at my friend’s party? Or how about call a taxi to get home? Nope, my dumb ass had to walk home. And, I had to cut through Central Park, which isn’t even a short cut.” She cries.

  “I think there was a good reason why you left that party,” I say. “I think you need to ask yourself why you left.”

  “The party was a mess,” she says. “People started doing hard drugs, the guy I went with came onto me too strong.” She sighs. “It was a bad night.”

  “See,” I say. “You got yourself out of a situation that you didn’t need or want to be in. Think of how the night could have ended if you would have stayed.”

  “But, by leaving I put myself in an even worse situation!” She weeps.

  “Why exactly did you go through Central Park, if it isn’t a short cut for you?” I ask.

  “Because I just love it there; I love parks. I love the things going on this time of year. And, I do love the zoo. I go out of my way for Central Park. Guess I haven‘t taken the time to realize just how dangerous it is,” she says calmly as she dabs at her eyes. She takes a breath and slowly moves her eyes to meet mine, “How is your sister doing now?”

  “She’s doing wonderful. Has a great life. She’s in school. She has a steady boyfriend. Matter a fact; she met him about a week after the incident.”

  She gives a slight smile. “How long did it take her? To find her life again?”

  “Everyone is different,” I say, “but, for her, about six months or so. She is still healing, but she’s living.”

  “Do you honestly think I’ll ever get to that point?” She gives me such a pitiful expression, that I have to fight myself not to hug her. She looks scared, worried, and lost. She’s obviously strong, or she wouldn’t have made it out alive. I feel even worse for her since not only does she have to recover, mentally and physically, she has to live in fear of knowing that her attacker is out there and may want her dead.

  I nod. “I really believe you will.”

  She lets out a soft sniffle. “But why?”

  “Because you're strong, you're willing to talk about it, and it hasn't even been all that long since it happened; that shows strength,” I tell her as I reach to her and give her shoulder a soft pat.

  She looks away for a brief moment to yawn, and then looks back to me with exhausted eyes. “Thank you. That really means a lot to me.”

  I smile. “And, I mean every word of it too,” I say. “You should really go get some rest. But, remember, you can talk to me. I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to talk me.” I nearly feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I feel more like her father at this moment, than the cop staying with her to watch over her.

  She nods. “Thank you, Nick.” She smiles. “Maybe I will talk to that counselor. If they’re anything like you, I’ll be healed in no time. Goodnight.”

  “Night,” I say as I watch her trail back down the dark hallway to her bedroom.

  * * * * * *

  The next night, I kick back in her lounge chair, which is quickly becoming my favorite seat in her apartment. It’s clear neither of us truly has a handle on how we’re supposed to do things. We have lounged for a better part of the day, had breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Charlie has had a calmer day. I can tell that after our talk last night she really seems to be doing better. I’m quite proud of us both. She trusted me enough to listen, and I actually listened without pushing counseling on her.

  Right now, the TV volume is set low on a children’s channel. Charlie is sitting on her couch, her laptop planted in her lap as she throws out a few choice words toward one professor in particular. I glance out the balcony doors for a moment to see a calm street. Calm. That’s what it had been for weeks. No one had heard or seen anything. Not the police. Not the media. No one.

  A ding rang through her computer’s speakers, signaling another email. I hear Charlie sigh. “I swear to God, if that man sends me one more paper to write.”

  I can’t help but to stifle a laugh, as I have to look up and away from her for a moment.

  “Um, Nick,” she interrupts me for a moment, and she immediately has my attention. “I think you should look at this.”

  I rush next to her. The sender of the email was labeled in bold, capital letters. LOVERBOY. She looks up at me as her breathing quickly becomes choppy and deep. I can tell that she’s in the early stages of a panic attack.

  “Nick,” she stutters my name. “It’s him.”

  I can see the tears already starting to form in her eyes as I quickly take the computer from her. I move the screen from her view as I open the email myself. The minute I read the horrible words on the screen, I don’t regret moving it from her view. The sickening paragraph details her days and nights while under his lock and key. I feel myself become nauseous as I read only a small fraction of what he has done to her. Suddenly, I feel my stomach drop completely when I see there are attachments to this email, too. I hesitate, but open it to find several pictures of Charlie. I close my eyes for a moment, and slam the computer shut as I begin to dig my cell phone from my pocket.

  As I press the number to my department on my cell phone, Charlie has begun pacing her floor, walking back and forth in a steady pace with her arms wrapped tightly around her. She sniffles a moment and takes a few deep breaths, as I can tell that she’s fighting her tears and her increasing panic attack.

  “He knows where I live, Nick.” She whimpers.

  I shake my head to her to ease her mind as I begin to tell the department what’s happened. In the months of chasing Loverboy, not once had he made any direct contact. But, of course, he’d never had any of his victims escape either. I look up in the middle of my conversation to see Charlie is still pacing, now holding her stomach as though she’s about to become ill. The color seems to h
ave dropped from her face.

  “He knows where I live, Nick,” she says again. “I just know he does. How did he get my email address? What other information does he have?”

  My heart begins to crush for her. In all the weeks of being under my watch, nothing had happened, and I prefer to keep it that way. In all the months of chasing this sadistic nut job, he’d never made contact. Why now? Why Charlie? The look of hurt and confusion is sweeping over her already tired face. It’s a heartbreaking sight to see, and all I can do is move her computer and make a phone call. Some great protector I am. I finish up my conversation, now knowing an unmarked car is coming to Charlie’s apartment to collect the computer. I turn on my phone’s lock screen and shove it back in my pocket.

  I walk over slowly to her, placing my hands tenderly on her shoulders to make her footsteps stop. “I will not let anything happen to you, Charlie.” She nods and wipes at her cheek. I fight the urge to hug her again as she stares at me. “They will need to take your laptop,” I tell her. “They’ll need the email and they have to track the source.”

  She nods. “Let them have it; I don’t want the damn thing now.” She tells me, sniffling.

  “We have the technology to find out where he sent that email from, Charlie,” I tell her. “We can get him.”

  She looks up at me, with brighter eyes. “Really?”

  “Really,” I smile. “We can put this guy behind bars and throw away the key.”

  She finally smiles.

  “This just puts us one step closer. And, by him contacting you, I think this could very well be his screw up. All it takes is one little mistake and he’s caught. How could he have known that you would be on your computer at the very moment he sent that email?” I ask. “He could have very well sent it with the intention of you reading it later.”

  She looks down for a moment, biting down on her lower lip. She’s thinking. I remember her habit. Biting her lip means she’s thinking. The wheels in her mind are turning. I have a feeling that I know what’s coming next. Her eyes finally meet mine again. “What did it say?”

  For some reason, I feel a pang of hurt in my heart. I knew she would want to know., I knew she would ask, but I can’t tell her. I can’t hurt her like that when she has been making such wonderful progress. To know the contents of the email, I fear, would crush her. “That’s not important,” I say. “The important thing is he screwed up and we can track him. This isn’t just some piece of snail mail; it’s an email.”

  She nods. “But, what did he send? What did he say? There has to be a reason that he would just email me out of the blue, right?”

  I look deep into her eyes. I can’t repeat the violent words he’d used to describe how he raped her, and the sheer enjoyment he got from her pain. I can’t tell her his closing statement was that she would be next. I can’t stand to look at the photographs myself, let alone tell her how she looked in them.

  “That’s not the important part.” I say, again. “What’s really important here is that we can catch him, possibly tonight.”

  She wraps her arms around her body and lets her gaze meet mine. “Tell me. I have to know.”

  I shake my head, because I can’t. I can’t put her through that pain again. I can’t see her relive the one moment she wants to forget the most.

  “Is it really that bad?” She asks.

  I manage a slow nod as I lick my lips.

  She breaks down, sobbing in such a way I see her knees buckle for a moment. For the first time, I feel the need to be truly protective; not just to keep her from harm, but to comfort her. I hesitate for a moment, and then I wrap one arm around her. An unethical move, but for some reason feels right and normal. Before I can stop her, she throws both arms around me and holds tightly. I pause and take one deep breath before wrapping the other arm around her. She pushes her face hard into my chest as she sobs. Unsure of what to do, I slowly bring a hand up to her hair and let my fingers run through it. She squeezes to me tighter, and I find myself holding to her tighter as well, as though locked in my arms can take away the hurt and the pain that she is feeling right now.

  “I won’t let him hurt you again, Charlie,” I say, letting my chin rest on the top of her head. “I promise.”

  The knock at the door makes her jump in my arms as she tries to push herself closer.

  “Shh,” I say softly and wait.

  “Andrews!” I hear the voice of Sergeant Wilson, my boss, scream through the door.

  “It’s okay,” I reassure her. “I have to get the door.”

  She nods. “I’ll just,” she pauses. “I’ll be back,” she says, and heads down the hallway where she disappears into the bathroom.

  I walk to the door, unlocking each deadbolt and lock that has been newly placed on the door. Sergeant Wilson storms in furiously. He wastes no time in getting down to business, though for some reason, I still feel Charlie wrapped tightly in my arms. His eyes narrow in on me. “What was in the email?” He asks.

  “Very detailed paragraph about her time with him,” I explain as I unplug the computer charger from the wall. “And, photographs.”

  “Of her?” He asks.

  I nod slowly, and find my thoughts traveling back to her; I can still smell her. Sweet, like a mix of vanilla and honey. I shake out of it long enough to listen to my boss.

  “Sick son-of-a-bitch,” he breathes. “She didn’t see them, did she?”

  I shake my head. “I wouldn’t let her.”

  “Good work,” he says, taking the laptop from my possession. “I’ll get this back to the team, and I’ll phone you as soon as we know something. This has to be it, Andrews. This has to be his fuck up.”

  I nod. “I hope you’re right.” I finally realize that I am talking to my boss, who came all this way to pick up a computer. “Why didn’t you send someone else?” I blurt before I can shut my mouth.

  “Been stuck in the office, needed to get out,” he tells me. “Besides, someone has to check in on you, pretty boy.” He lets out a deep laugh.

  I make a sour face; he has to know that I don’t appreciate the nickname, and I certainly don’t appreciate him implying that something would be going on in this apartment. I sit on my ass for a better part of the day until Charlie offers to feed me. Then, I at least try to make myself useful and help her in the kitchen, though at times I can tell my lack of knowledge in the cooking department may be starting to drive her nuts.

  “Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he teases again. This time I make a face that if looks could kill I would have a winner. Boss or not, there are boundaries. His expression changes as he tucks the laptop under his arm and he heads for the door. “Be on your toes, Andrews.”

  I nod as I watch him rush down the stairs and head for the door. We are on a timer now. If given enough time they could easily poke into Charlie’s email and find out where the email was sent from. A location can lead us straight to him. I take a deep breath and peer around in the hallway before shutting the door and taking the time to carefully lock each deadbolt.

  I head down the hallway to see the bathroom door is now open and completely empty. I continue a few more steps, seeing her bedroom door is now wide open. I peer in, and see that Charlie is now sitting on her bed, leaning up against the head board with her knees up to her chest.

  “Are you alright?” I ask.

  She looks a little worn. Her eyes have dark circles under them. She’s a little shaky, and I can tell she’s having a rough time with the email. She’s a sad sight to see, sitting on her bed, her lips turned down in a frown while they quiver just enough for me to see.

  She nods. “I think so.”

  “This could be it,” I remind her. “We could have him.”

  She nods again and purses her lips. She’s fighting tears, and she’s honestly doing a good job at it. “How did he get my email?” She asks.

  I shrug. “I wish I had an answer,” I tell her, making my way into the room to sit at the edge of her bed. “I’m s
till here with you. No one is going to get passed me, unless I let them.”

  Her eyes meet mine again for a moment, and before I knew what was happening, she lunges forward, throwing her arms around me and her body into me. This time, I relax and wrap my arms around her. She accepts my arms, and I feel her sigh as she seems to melt into me. The warm and sugary smell of vanilla comes up to my nose again as I rub a hand up and down her back. This is clearly against what I am here for; clearly it wouldn’t be allowed, but Charlie seems so at ease, it’s difficult to push her away. “I won’t let him get you,” I say.

  She nods as I feel her head on my shoulder. “I trust you, Nick.”

  I smile. “That’s good.”

  I feel her breathing begin to slow and her muscles loosen up as I continue to let my hand rub her back.

  “Thank you,” she says, softly.

  “For what?” I reply.

  “For everything,” she says. “I know this isn’t normal. But, you’ve been here so long,” she tells me. “I just feel close to you; I feel safe with you.”

  I smile., “That’s what we wanted all along.”

  My phone ringing makes her slowly, and reluctantly, move back. I fish it from my pocket, sliding the answer key and pressing it to my ear. “Please tell me you have great news.”

  “He was at the campus library,” Sergeant Wilson wastes no time. “Tracking him was no problem.”

  “That’s good, that’s not too far,” I say. “Do we have him in custody?” I ask.

  I can hear the let down in his voice. “No, and no one saw a damn thing. Even the person next to him can’t remember a damn thing, and he’s been on that computer for three hours for research.”

  I slouch for a moment, and right away, Charlie picks up on my body language as her head drops. “We have to find him. I don’t know how much more she can take. And, besides that, it’s getting harder to keep her out of the media.”