Stalked

by Lorraine Taylor

  I pulled up outside my aunt’s house and gathered my thoughts for a minute.

  My aunt Pam had always been the person I needed when things began to go wrong for me. In some part of my mind I intended to tell her everything, but in the other part I knew I couldn’t tell her, these were things that even she may not understand.

  I got out of my van and entered through the front door that was never locked when my aunt was in. The best way I can describe my aunt and uncle’s house is like a sitcom house. You know, where everyone just wanders in and out without knocking? That’s what their house is like.

  The smell of chicken greeted me immediately upon entering. On a normal day my mouth would have watered, but today it only made my already queasy stomach feel a lot worse.

  I walked down the long hallway to the kitchen where I found my aunt Pam sat at the kitchen table doing a crossword. The local radio station played softly from the small CD player at the far end of the kitchen and my aunt was humming quietly as she frowned in concentration.

  I stood watching her for a short while.

  She looked exactly the same to me as she did when I was 9 years old and I saw her for the first time.

  She was fairly tall for a woman and very slim.

  A natural redhead, her hair was also curly and was right now falling around her shoulders in crazy curls.

  She was my saviour, the person I felt had saved me when I was a child.

  Upon learning of my existence and the terrible living conditions I had endured, she didn’t hesitate to welcome me into her home. She had to wonder about me at first. She had to wonder what type of child I would be, what my personality was like, whether I had a serious emotional problems.

  To take on another child when she already had 3 teenage boys at the time was tough enough, but to take on an abused child must have caused some serious soul searching and lengthy heart to hearts between Pam and my uncle.

  Yet, they welcomed me with open arms and treated me as if I were one of their own.

  I sighed.

  The urge to gain love from my mother, the urge I myself did not understand, wasn’t strong enough that I was willing to cause any heartache to my aunt Pam.

  I thought of getting arrested and questioned with murder and my heart rate sped up.

  How the hell was I going to explain myself?

  Noticing me from the corner of her eye, my aunt Pam startled as she gazed at me. The stunned look quickly disappeared however and she smiled at me. “Danny! You must have crept in here ninja-style. You scared the jeepers outa me!”

  I laughed. “How are you doing, aunt Pam?”

  She hopped off her stool and came to me, kissing me on the cheek and hugging me. She was one of the very few women I didn’t have to bend far over to hug.

  As she drew away from me, her eyes were troubled. “How are you?”

  I shrugged, feeling awkward. “I’m okay.”

  “Look, Danny,” aunt Pam began. She was never one to beat around the bush with small talk, she wanted to discuss something, she discussed it. “I don’t want you thinking that people are watching and gossiping about you. My friend contacted me because she was concerned about you.” She lowered her head somewhat sheepishly. “And because I did ask her to watch out for you since you told us you were getting back in contact with your mother.”

  I threw my arm around her and led her to the fridge. “It’s okay, aunt Pam. I know you just like to be nosy.”

  “Cheeky chops.” She swatted me on the back and sat back on her stool as I looked through the fridge. Remembering that I felt queasy and realising the feeling hadn’t gone away, I shut the fridge door again.

  “You haven’t raided the fridge, is something wrong?”

  I shook my head. “I had some dinner just before I left. Anyway, I can’t stop long. I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be going to my mother’s anymore.”

  Although visibly relieved, aunt Pam still looked wary. “Has she got that bad?”

  “She’s worse. The house is awful, she is awful. She looks like a walking corpse.”

  Aunt Pam grimaced. “I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for.”

  “Everything I need is right here with you lot. I guess I needed an explanation, an apology. But she really believes everything that’s happened to her is everyone else’s fault. It’s…unbelievable when you listen to her.”

  Aunt Pam’s face clouded. “She has nothing to say that I’d want to hear. If what she’d done happened today, she’d have been put in prison. I still can’t understand how she was never prosecuted for what she did to you.”

  I shrugged, uncomfortable with such an open discussion.

  “You have no idea how proud I am of you, Danny. Both Bob and I, we just can’t believe how well you’ve coped and turned your life around. Anyone else would have wallowed in self-pity for the rest of their lives. You’re something else, kiddo.”

  I nodded ashamed. How could I drop into such a conversation that two homicide detectives had just questioned me regarding a couple that I had followed the night before?

  “Well,” I said, “I have to get going.”

  “That really was a flying visit,” Aunt Pam protested. “You want to have a quick coffee before you go?”

  “I really can’t, I’ve got some shopping and bits to do.”

  Aunt Pam followed me down the hall. “Are you still seeing that young lady? Becky?”

  I shrugged and grinned. “I’m still a booty call.”

  “Poor thing,” Aunt Pam chuckled, “to be desired for your body. You poor, poor man.”

  I laughed, hugged her and got into my van.

  Aunt Pam waved me off. She smiled, but I knew she was worried. She knew there was something going on with me, something that I wasn’t telling her.

  I waved and drove away, praying that I wouldn’t be arrested and questioned for murder.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I had intended to go and do some shopping; I hadn’t lied to my aunt about that. But as I drove away, I couldn’t face going out in public.

  I hadn’t forgotten about being contacted by a killer, but every now and then it’s like he’d suddenly jump into my mind and I’d be completely stunned, like I had forgotten.

  I arrived at my flat and reached the top of the stairs. Cringing when I realised George’s front door was slightly open, I walked as quietly as I could past his door.

  Relieved that I hadn’t been seen and summoned inside, I entered my flat and immediately locked my door.

  Putting the pan on to boil for a coffee, I began to feel anxious.

  Maybe I should have stayed with my Aunt for a while longer. Being alone with no-one to talk to meant time for thinking, and worrying.

  I wondered if the police had learnt of my past yet.

  If they had, I could expect another visit from them. Either way, they were going to be extremely suspicious of me.

  After making my coffee, I wandered into the living room and turned the TV on for the afternoon news. The killings were the top story, now being dubbed The Sunnyside Murders.

  I followed the story, learning that the details remained pretty much the same, except for one fact.

  At around teatime Thursday evening, a man had buzzed several apartments claiming to be a plumber. The more wary tenants had denied him access since they weren’t the ones expecting him, but one young woman had buzzed him in before leaving her apartment. Catching a glimpse of the man, she didn’t have much detail apart from a man with dark hair and a dark moustache and wearing green overalls.

  The description didn’t match me, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

  The police would assume the man had worn a disguise, which he probably had.

  The story wrapped up by quoting the building manager, a large ruddy-faced man that I’d seen entering the apartments the first time the story had aired. He stated that to his knowledge, no plumbing work had been arranged for that day or time. All tenants were to report an
y problems to him which he would then arrange a plumber from his own company that he used.

  No tenant had reported any problems.

  The police were very interested in locating this man and questioning his reasons for being in the apartment block.

  I turned the TV off.

  I paced around my living room, far too agitated to keep still. I couldn’t ever remember being this afraid. Obviously, the ‘plumber’ was the killer. He’d planned the whole thing, had probably gained access to the apartments to case the place, or whatever a bad guy would call it.

  The whole thing had been planned.

  I watched plenty of crime shows, particularly about forensic technology. I knew there would be no physical evidence linking me, but I worried about circumstantial.

  They had me placed at the white bull with Michael and they had my van entering the Sunnyside car park within seconds of Michael’s car.

  Whether I’d murdered the man or not, they were going to be very interested in hearing a damn good explanation as to why I had been following him.

  I thought of the possibility of this case remaining unsolved, but always remaining at the top of the suspect list.

  I’d have to live the rest of my life knowing the police suspected me of being a brutal killer and escaping punishment because of lack of evidence.

  I worried about the police’s visits for other reasons also: what if the killer felt I was involved with the police, that I’d told them the truth and was working with them?

  I was so lost in my thought’s that when the yowl first came I stopped dead and gasped, my heart pounding.

  It only took a couple of seconds to realise the noise was Samson and I continued to pace. I was aware that I hadn’t heard Samson make a noise like that since a previous tenant’s cat had gotten brave, or suicidal, and had ventured up to this floor from the first floor. Far more concerned with more important matters than whatever had ruffled Samson’s fur, I ignored the horrible sound and continued to worry about my situation.

  Pretty soon, I was unable to ignore Samson any longer when he started to claw on my door. In no mood to be bothered with him, I yanked my door open and found Samson circling in front of it.

  “Get lost,” I told the big cat gruffly before I slammed the door shut.

  As I turned away from the door, my mobile rang.

  A glance at the unknown number sent shivers from the base of my spine to the top of my scalp.

  Hoping it wasn’t the killer but too afraid to ignore the call in case he was outside my flat again, I answered.

  “How did your chat with the bobbies go?” the same voice from the previous night asked. ”Were you able to think of a good excuse to explain your presence at the apartment of death?”

  “You’ve been watching me again.”

  “Of course. You should be careful, I miss nothing.”

  “What do you want from me?” I blurted, unable to hold back any longer. “Just leave me alone, I told the police nothing and I won’t tell them about you.”

  The killer laughed scornfully. “And what would you tell them? That when you were stalking a couple who were getting jiggy on a public car park that a figure suddenly turned up and waved at you? God man, find your balls and stop whining.”

  My face burned in shame even though I knew I had every right to be afraid.

  “So, ready to tell me what you were doing there and why you were following the sluts, Danny?”

  I said nothing.

  “Fine. Want to know what I was doing there?”

  “Why did you kill them?” I whispered.

  “Oh, cat gave you your tongue back. Okay so I guess I’ll be the first one to open up. I suppose, to be blunt, I hate dirty sluts. It was the woman I was after, not the man.” The killer sighed. “You know, Danny, that woman got away with a lot. She was sleeping with three other men in addition to that young man with her last night. I tried to warn him off her about a week ago, even threatened to tell his fiancee that he was cheating on her. He wouldn’t break it off though, I think he found her hot enough to take the risk. He actually swore at me and hung up on me, little prick. That’s when he was added to my hit list. I feel bad for the fiancee though, she seemed like a nice enough girl. Still, I’ve saved her from a world of heartache.”

  “You’re crazy,” I muttered.

  “I work, pay taxes, I’m an upstanding member of society. I’m entitled to clean living.”

  “You’re crazy,” I said again, unable to think of anything else to say.

  “Crazy? Interesting, coming from you. So if I’m crazy, was that sanity that drove you to follow them? And while we’re on the subject, you’re terrible at it. You sat outside the club waiting for them in plain view, you followed their car so closely you may as well have jumped in their car with them. You need to work on blending in. You don’t watch people in plain view Danny, you watch from the shadows. Are you going to tell me what you were doing there, or do I have to find out myself?”

  I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me.

  “Fair enough,” the killer replied to my silence, “that isn’t why I’ve contacted you anyway. How do you feel about paedophiles, Danny?”

  I remembered a shocking thought sucking my breath away at that moment. I wondered whether I’d actually gone crazy. Maybe this wasn’t happening, but I wasn’t dreaming either. Perhaps I was in some sort of a hospital right now, doped up to the eyeballs and rocking and drooling all over myself as doctors observed me, shaking their heads.

  At that moment I wished desperately that this was the case.

  This just could not be real.

  “I don’t mean children, mind. I suppose paedophile immediately makes one think of children. No, it’s more a case of underage sex. What would you say if I told you that a man in your life used to be a school teacher and was fired for having an inappropriate relationship with a 15 year old girl.”

  I shook my head, my mind blank.

  “That’s not something I can ignore. So, I had to make him pay.”

  “Who?” I whispered. “Who is it?”

  “It really is disgusting,” the killer continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Our vulnerable children should be safe at school with their teachers. Sure, girls have crushes on some teachers, but these are grown adults that ought to know better.”

  “Who is he?” I demanded. I knew this person had to be someone who was fairly well-known to me, otherwise the killer wouldn’t be using him to make a point to me.

  “You’ll find out soon enough. It’ll be interesting for me, a little experiment, if you will. You seem like a decent enough young man, your creepy stalking aside of course. Will you feel the same way regarding this man now that you know his dirty secret?”

  “Who is he?” I shouted.

  A few seconds of ominous silence, then: “That damn cat came flying at me from behind the damn door. Didn’t get me though, one good kick sent it flying. I’d be surprised if I didn’t brake the bastards neck. George didn’t struggle too much though. I whispered in his ear as he lay bleeding why I was doing this, and all these years later his eyes glazed over with guilt and regret. Anyway, you’d better get over there quick since he was looking rather unwell when I left. That’s if you believe he deserves help, the dirty old man that he is.”

  The click indicated the killer had hung up, yet I remained frozen, the phone crushing my ear and clammy with sweat.

  He’d killed George.

  I remembered George’s door had been opened when I returned. Why didn’t I check on him?

  Samson’s yowls continued behind my front door. Obviously, he’d been trying to summon me to George’s side.

  Concern for George yanking me from my frozen state, I dropped my phone, jumped up and pulled my front door open. Samson rushed at me and jumped up against me. His front paws on my legs, he tilted his head back, staring at me and continuing that awful yowling noise.

  I lurched into the hallway and rushed to George’s open door with S
amson on my heels.

  I hesitated once inside George’s flat and Samson dashed passed me and turned left, into the kitchen,

  “George?” I shouted. “You okay?”

  Course he’d not okay, he’s dead!

  I stood still and listened for any noise that would indicate George was okay and shuffling his way to me, wondering why the hell I was shouting my mouth off in his flat.

  The only noise that I heard, that startled me when it began in its suddenness, was Samson. No longer making the yowling noise, he merely meowed pitifully.

  I rushed into George’s kitchen, fear and panic at what I was going to find gripping me and forcing my heart to race so fast I thought it may explode.

  I was greeted with a sight that forced a stream of bile up my throat and brought tears to my eyes.

  George lay sprawled on his back, his arms and legs spread-eagled on the blood spattered kitchen floor. His head lay in a pool of blood, his eyes closed and his complexion a pasty grey colour.

  Samson lay on George’s chest, his nose pressed against George’s cheek as he made a noise that sounded disturbingly similar to the cries of a distressed baby.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Police swarmed George’s flat and the small hallway.

  I sat on my sofa, unable to block the mental image of George sprawled in a pool of his own blood.

  An ambulance crew had rushed George to the hospital and all the police would tell me is that he was still alive.

  I had brought Samson into my flat after he’d become aggressively protective over George’s motionless body, allowing no-one but myself near his beloved owner.

  Would George pull through? Would he remember the words his attacker had whispered to him as he lay bleeding on his own kitchen floor? Was his affair with a schoolgirl something that bothered George, haunted him? Is this why George dealt with very few people in his everyday life?