A Stranger on the Beach

by Michele Campbell

  “Is there any way you could check on it for me?”

  “I’m not going in there. They might still be inside. Besides, the wind is so strong it would knock me down.”

  “I’m sure there’s no one in there. I’d give you my alarm code, so you could turn the alarm off and stop the noise.”

  “I said no. I’m battening down the hatches, not stepping outside my door till the storm’s over. If you’re smart you’ll get out here yourself and take care of your property before it’s destroyed. But if you can’t be bothered, at least call the alarm company and have them shut off that awful noise.”

  She hung up.

  I called the burglar alarm company and sat on hold for ten minutes. When I got through, I was told they hadn’t received any alert but that it was possible the phone lines had been damaged by the storm and weren’t transmitting.

  “My neighbor says my front door is open. Can’t you send someone to check?” I demanded.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. We are not dispatching technicians at the moment because of the severity of the storm.”

  “Then call the police.”

  “Our policy is to relay alarms that we receive to local authorities. We have not received an alarm in this case.”

  I threw my phone down in frustration. My dream house, that I’d worked and slaved for, that I’d put blood, sweat, and most of my money into, sat directly in the path of a raging hurricane. The front door was wide open, leaving the house exposed to the elements. I wanted to rush out there and do something about it. But if I did, I could be walking into a trap. I had a strange tingling sensation on the back of my neck that I couldn’t ignore. Sometimes paranoia was justified by the facts. Aidan had been stalking me for days now. It wasn’t crazy to think he’d broken into my house. He might be lurking there right this minute, lying in wait to ambush me. I couldn’t take that risk.

  But I could call the police, without ever mentioning Aidan’s name. I’d simply report that the alarm had been triggered. They’d have to believe me. If Aidan was in the house, they’d find him, and they’d have no choice but to arrest him, right?

  I found the number for the Glenhampton Police Department and dialed.

  “Police dispatch,” a woman’s voice answered.

  “I’d like to report a break-in at my house.”

  “What’s the address?”

  I gave it to her.

  “Can you see the intruder?”

  “No. I’m not at the house. My neighbor called to tell me my burglar alarm is going off.”

  “You are not currently the house?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Is anybody else in there?”

  “The burglar.”

  “Your neighbor saw this individual break in?”

  “Not exactly. She heard the alarm go off, and she says the front door is open.”

  “Are there signs of forced entry? Broken windows, or the like?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We’ve got sustained winds over fifty miles per hour and rising. That could account for the open door and the alarm.”

  “Maybe, but shouldn’t somebody check it out?”

  “All right. Name of the reporting party, please?”

  “Me? I’m Caroline Stark.”

  “Ms. Stark, I’m radioing this to all patrol officers so if there’s a car in the area, they can swing by and take a look.”

  “Can you send somebody over there right away?”

  “Ma’am, all vehicles are busy responding to emergencies related to the storm.”

  “But this is an emergency. My house is getting robbed.”

  “Property crimes come after emergencies that threaten loss of life. Once the other calls are completed, they will turn to this one.”

  “But somebody broke into my house.”

  “Ma’am, to set your mind at ease, the majority of calls we get about alarms being triggered are false. You got your animals, the wind, systems malfunction. In all likelihood, this is nothing.”

  “Really? That’s funny. I’ve heard there’ve been a ton of burglaries in Glenhampton lately, and the police haven’t made a single arrest.”

  “Ma’am, your call was sent out, and now I need to take another call,” the dispatcher said, and hung up.

  So much for my tax dollars at work.

  My phone lit up, and a message from Hannah appeared on the screen.

  Hey sorry I hung up on u before, she wrote.

  I wanted to yell at her. I wanted information. Who was the boy? What were his intentions? How were his grades? Did he drink or do drugs? How far had they gone? But I restrained myself. If I acted too eager, she’d shut me down.

  That’s okay honey. How was your date? I texted back.

  Three little dots appeared. She was answering.

  Great, Hannah wrote. We hung out for a long time. He’s a little older. Super sensitive and smart. Oh, and he’s gorgeous, check out this selfie we took.

  I smiled. If Hannah was happy, then something was going right in the world.

  As the photo loaded, I saw her, sitting on the edge of her bed in her dorm room, with the pink and orange tie-dyed bedspread we’d chosen together that matched her pink and orange throw pillows. The so-called smart, sensitive, older guy sat right beside her, his arm thrown loosely around her shoulders. And my heart stopped.

  It was Aidan.

  38

  My first instinct was to warn her.

  Are you still with him? I typed, fingers flying over my phone. Get away! He’s dangerous.

  I stopped typing. Aidan couldn’t be with Hannah now. My house was an hour’s drive from her school, and I was ninety-nine percent sure he’d just broken into it and set off the alarm. Maybe this photo was from earlier tonight? But I couldn’t take that risk.

  Is he with you now? I texted, and waited for her reply, my heart in my throat.

  When she didn’t respond, I started pacing, climbing the walls, my mind racing. I stared at the picture she’d sent me. Aidan looked indifferent, bored, almost annoyed. He didn’t care about Hannah. He was with her to taunt me, using her to get to me. He could end up hurting her—emotionally, even physically. Maybe he wasn’t the one who’d set off the alarm. Maybe he was still with her. The thought was terrifying. I had to do something.

  I typed the beginnings of multiple texts, then deleted them. In order to explain why Hannah should fear Aidan, I’d have to confess my one-night stand. I’d be telling her that a guy she liked—the first guy she’d ever liked, as far as I knew—was playing her in order to get to me. To get to her own mother. The very idea was so sick, so twisted, that it made me nauseous. I’d also be confessing that I cheated on her father. Even though Jason cheated first, Hannah would blame me. She loved Jason best. It wasn’t fair, but it was true. He could do no wrong in her eyes. What would it do to Hannah to know all that? Destroy her self-esteem? Destroy our relationship? I had to think this through.

  I’d call her instead and make up an excuse get her away from him. Say there was an emergency, that a hurricane was coming, that I needed to come get her and take her home.

  The call rang forever and rolled over to voicemail. I called back. Same result. I started to panic. I left a voicemail.

  “Hannah, it’s Mom. Call me right away. I’m worried about your safety.”

  I hung up, my hands shaking. If Aidan was still there, I had to get her away from him. Even if he wasn’t still there, I had to warn her never to go near him again. I could tell her about his arrest record.

  He’s too old for you, I wrote. He has a criminal record—

  I stopped myself.

  That was saying too much. I’d end up revealing that I knew him. Not just that I knew him—how well I knew him. I should tell her that she wasn’t allowed to date anybody I hadn’t met and vetted. But no, that would never work. Hannah was eighteen years old and away at college. When I was that age, if my mother told me to do something, I’d make a point of doing the opposit
e. Nothing like forbidden fruit. I could end up driving Hannah into Aidan’s arms.

  There was no good way to warn her without revealing the whole truth. And I couldn’t bring myself to do that for fear of destroying my relationship with her. I thought about calling the police. But that meant Aidan’s brother, Tommy. What would I say? Hello, Chief Callahan, I’m the woman who screwed your brother. I need you to get him away from my daughter right now. Tommy would laugh, then he’d probably give Aidan a high five.

  My chest was tight with panic. Time was passing with no response from Hannah. I could tell her I was worried about the storm and that I was coming to pick her up. For a moment, that seemed like the answer; then I realized. On the off chance that Aidan was still with her, seeing me could trigger him to act out, even to get violent.

  I would send Lynn. That was it. When Lynn told Hannah to do something, Hannah listened. Yes, I would ask my sister to intervene, to get Hannah away from school immediately. There was a terrible storm coming. It was plausible that I would be worried about Hannah in this weather. As a matter of fact, now that I thought about it, I was worried about Hannah in this weather.

  I dialed Lynn’s number. She picked up on the first ring.

  “I was about to call you,” she said.

  “Lynn, I’m worried about Hannah with the hurricane.”

  “Me, too, hon. Don’t worry. I’m on my way to get Hannah right now. She told me you were calling. She was on with me, arranging to get picked up.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Lynn said. “You know I love that girl like she’s my own. I don’t want her in that high-rise dorm with all those windows when the storm hits. You need to take care of your house. Let me handle this. Hannah will be safe with us.”

  “How long will it take you to get there?”

  “I’m fifteen minutes away from her right now.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.”

  Then it occurred to me. In my panic, I’d forgotten that Lynn and Aidan knew each other, that they’d had that awful confrontation. What if he was still there? What if they saw one another when Lynn went to Hannah’s dorm? That would be a nightmare.

  “Lynn?”

  “Yes?”

  “When you talked to her, was she alone?”

  “No, her roommate was there. That girl Olivia? She’s a bit of a flake, but at least Hannah isn’t alone.”

  I breathed out in relief. Aidan had left. He wouldn’t see my sister. Most important of all, Hannah was unharmed. He’d paid her a visit as some sort of sick threat to me, then gone on to break into my house, where he probably lurked still, waiting to hurt me directly. But at least my daughter was safe, and I was free to deal with Aidan as I saw fit. I could no longer dismiss the serious threat he posed to me and my family. Aidan was stalking me. He was getting progressively more violent. Trying to run my sister’s car off the road. Scratching a death threat into the paint of my Escalade. And now, going after my daughter. There was no room for compromise here. I had to stop him, even if it meant killing him.

  “Thank you, Lynn,” I said into the phone. “I’m heading out to the house now. Whatever happens, you keep Hannah safe.”

  “I will, hon. You stay safe, too.”

  She hung up. Stay safe was right. Aidan could be lying in wait for me. I had to be careful. I might have to defend myself. I needed a weapon. I walked into the kitchen and took a knife from the knife block. I didn’t cook much, and it was dull. I got out the sharpener and worked on the blade. When it was honed to a perfect edge, I looked at it, and instead of feeling reassured, I realized what a fool I was. Aidan had a gun. All I had was this stupid kitchen knife. He was bigger and stronger than me. He was a felon, a violent one, with a manslaughter conviction to his name. I was a woman who’d never so much as taken a kickboxing class. If I attacked him, and somebody ended up dead, that somebody would probably be me.

  And yet, what else could I do? He was going after my daughter. I put the knife in my bag, grabbed an umbrella, and ran out into the storm.

  39

  Rain lashed my windshield. I peered out at an apocalyptic landscape of stalled vehicles, accidents, flashing blue lights. My hands clenched the steering wheel, knuckles white, my head pounding from the strain of concentrating so hard on the road. On the LIE, traffic was bumper-to-bumper. The cars inched forward. After half an hour, I hadn’t gone more than a few miles. At this rate, I’d be out here all night. I could die in a terrible car accident. Or I could reach the house safely and then be attacked by my stalker. Either way, in the chaos of the storm, it could take hours, days, before my family was notified of my death. In my stress and exhaustion, my throat tightened with tears, and I dialed Jason’s number. My heart lifted at the sound of his recorded voice, and I missed him terribly.

  “Jason, honey,” I said to his voicemail. “I’m on my way to the beach house. The neighbor says the alarm’s going off and the front door blew open. The police are too busy with other calls to respond. The roads are terrible. I wanted you to know where I was. I’m scared of what I might find, and I wish you were with me. Is there any way you could come out here? Hannah is with Lynn, and she’s safe. Call me. I love you. Bye.”

  It took two hours longer than usual to get to Montauk Highway, which normally would have been deserted at this time of night in October. But traffic was backed up here, too. The closer I got to Glenhampton, the slower I went, but I couldn’t turn around, because there were cars in front and behind going in both directions. When eventually I got to the front of the line and saw what the obstacle was, I broke out in a cold sweat. The road ahead was completely flooded. Around me, several vehicles had washed out. In front of me, a man jumped out of his stalled car and sank into waist-deep water as the car beached itself on the side of the road. A man in a rain poncho waving a flashlight beckoned me forward. He wasn’t a cop as far as I could tell. And I wasn’t driving into a flood at the behest of some bystander. I shook my head, and he walked right up to my car and pounded on the window.

  “Go!” he screamed.

  I did, only because I was more afraid of him than of the flood. I hit the accelerator, and the Escalade lurched forward. Water lapped at my tires, and the engine started making choking noises, like it was about to die. For a terrifying moment, I felt the Escalade float. I ripped off my seat belt, heart pounding, getting ready to abandon ship. But a second later I felt the tires gain traction again and saw pavement. The road ahead was clear. I stepped on the gas and got the hell out of there.

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the circular driveway at the beach house. The rain was coming down hard. Trees were swaying in the wind, and leaves were blowing wildly. I was limp with nerves and bathed in sweat after the awful drive. The condition of the house was as Francine had described. The front door stood open. Lights blazed from inside the house. The burglar alarm was still shrieking. The local police must still be occupied responding to the storm, since, despite my earlier phone call, they obviously hadn’t made it out here.

  I stopped to ask myself whether I could possibly have left the house like this: lights on, door unlocked, so it could blow open and trigger the alarm? I thought back to when I last left here. That was the night Aidan followed me to the restaurant and barged in on our family dinner. But that came later. At the time I left the house, I’d been running out to see the divorce lawyer, to get the papers to serve on Jason. I was calm about my decision. I was running late, but I wasn’t flustered, and I didn’t panic. I locked up properly, like I always did. I was sure of it.

  It wasn’t me who’d left the house in this condition. Somebody had been in there since, without my permission. An intruder. An intruder who wanted to send a message. Why else leave the door wide open and the lights on? Who could it be but Aidan? My house blazed with light, but the rest of the street was dark. Nobody was home on the bluff. They were smarter than me and had cleared out in the face of the storm, with the exception of my ne
ighbor, Francine, who would be of little help if Aidan was inside waiting for me. I knew I had to confront him. His behavior was escalating, to the point where he’d contacted my daughter. Hannah was safe with Lynn for now, but he could try that again. And next time, he might hurt her.

  I stepped out of the car into driving wind and rain, my legs rubbery after the hellish five-hour trip. Here at the ocean, the storm was more powerful than ever, and I was soaked instantly, my raincoat plastered against my legs, my hair streaming, water running into my eyes. I staggered up to the wide-open front door, stopping on the threshold to take in the damage. The beautiful Tibetan carpet was soaked and matted. A lamp had been knocked over, and framed photos from the side tables had blown down and lay scattered across the floor. There were streaks of mud everywhere, and shards of glass, from the lamp or maybe the picture frames. A gust blew through the room, sending light fixtures swaying, and leaves and twigs skittering across the white-oak floors. Was this damage done deliberately, or was it simply the wind that had blown in the door and knocked things around?

  The alarm was so loud that I couldn’t think straight. From habit, I reached in and tapped the code into the keypad beside the door. The shrieking stopped instantly, but then I realized what I’d done. If Aidan was in the house and heard the alarm shut off, he’d know I was here. I’d given myself away.

  Panicking, I backed out the door. But as I turned toward my car, a gust of wind hit so hard that it sent me staggering. Simultaneously, a loud crack sounded. I watched in horror as an enormous tree limb came crashing down onto my car, shattering the windshield into a thousand tiny pieces. I turned and ran back inside, grabbing the front doorknob with both hands, using my body as a counterweight to yank it shut. The wind died from a howl to a dull roar, and I turned and leaned against the door, panting. I couldn’t go back out there. The wind was tossing around debris big enough to kill me. But the car was undrivable with a shattered windshield.