The Stares of Strangers

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  “How long will that take?” Penny asked.

  “An hour, tops. I can do this stuff with my eyes closed.” Carter finished his coffee, got up and shrugged into his tattered leather jacket. “I'll be back soon. Sarah, do you plan on staying here till I get back?”

  “Yeah. I'll stay here. I have some more things to discuss with Penny.”

  After he left, Penny went to take a quick shower while I called Officer Bouchard to give him an update.

  “Carter and I questioned the neighbors, but nobody remembers seeing anyone approach Penny's house,” I said. “Most of them claim they were still asleep until 6:30 am. Nobody has seen anything suspicious at all, in fact.”

  “I have some bad news, too,” Bouchard said. “We didn't get any fingerprints off the photos.”

  “Well, I have a name for you to check out. Brandon Whitman is a guy Penny spent the night with months ago when she first moved to the area. He hasn't contacted her recently, but it wouldn't hurt to see if he has a record. Apparently, he was a bit miffed when Penny didn't call him back.”

  “Miffed?”

  “Yeah. He called her some nasty names, that's about it. It's possible he's held a grudge and decided to mess with her. I know it's a long shot theory, but it's worth looking into.”

  “Okay, I'm on it. Any other leads?”

  “There's a guy at her yoga class that creeps her out. We don't know his full name yet, but we'll get it. We're going to follow her to yoga class this afternoon. Hopefully he'll be there.”

  “I'll get a list of all the registered sex offenders in the area. That might be a direction to go in, too. If anything jumps out at me, I'll let you know.”

  “Roger that,” I said.

  After my talk with Officer Bouchard, I sipped my lukewarm coffee and scribbled down some ideas. A few things had been floating around in my brain, and I had to get them on paper before I lost them. Penny would not like these ideas, but they had to be aired.

  When Penny returned, that same fragrant bouquet of flowers and citrus I smelled the first time we'd met followed her into the kitchen. She wore a pink fleece bathrobe, hair folded up in a towel.

  “Did you talk to the cop?” she asked me.

  “Yes. Unfortunately, they couldn't find any fingerprints on the photos but I asked him to look into Brandon Whitman.”

  Penny sat down next to me and peered over at my notebook. “What do you have there?”

  “Just some ideas I'd like to discuss with you.”

  “Like what?”

  I hesitated, anticipating a negative reaction. “Can we talk about your housemates? I'd like to know more about Jessica and Caleb.”

  “Why?”

  I diverted my eyes and stared into my almost empty coffee mug. “I'm just curious, that's all.”

  Penny remained silent for a few seconds. When our eyes finally met, she seemed confused. “You don't think they're involved in this, do you?”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “I have a personal question to ask and, if you don't feel comfortable, just say the word, okay?”

  Penny chewed the side of her lip. “Okay.”

  “Have you and Caleb .. you know ...ever hooked up before?”

  Penny's eyes grew wide and she seemed lost for words. Finally, she gulped. “Um, who told you that?”

  “Nobody,” I lied. “I just got the feeling.”

  She looked around nervously, as if worried someone might be listening to our conversation. “I swear to you, it only happened once. It didn't mean anything.”

  “Jessica doesn't know?”

  Penny snorted. “Of course not. She'd kill me if she ever found out.”

  “When did it happen?”

  She closed her eyes and let out a moan. “A few weeks ago. Jessica was visiting her mom in Florida for a few days. Caleb and I had a few drinks one night and, it just happened. We made a pact, that neither one of us would tell anyone about what we did.”

  “Let's assume for a moment that, somehow, Jessica did find out. Is it possible that she's the one taunting you? Revenge for sleeping with her boyfriend? She could have easily taken your underwear and those photos of you outside your window. Think about it.”

  “No way.” Penny shook her head, but I saw the doubt in her eyes. “That's not her style. If she found out about me and Caleb, I'd know about it. Jessica has never been someone to hold her feelings in. I'd be able to tell if she knew the truth. Trust me, she doesn't.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But I'm not a hundred percent convinced. So you need to watch your back around her.”

  Penny looked away from me. “You must think I'm a real shit head.”

  “I'm sure you don't want a lecture from me, but just keep in mind that our actions always have consequences.”

  “So you think I deserve what's happening to me?”

  “I think you're young and, maybe, a little spoiled, that's all.” I said it with a smile, and hoped my tone would convey lightheartedness.

  Penny nodded. “You're right, you know. My mom tells me the same thing. She thinks I'm a spoiled brat, but she forgets that she made me that way.”

  “It's easy to blame others,” I said. “You have to take responsibility. Own up to things.”

  “So you think I should tell Jessica the truth?”

  “Not necessarily. Just try and learn from your mistakes. Lord knows I've made my share of mistakes. Everyone does.”

  Penny stood up and removed her towel from her head. I could tell she was a bit embarrassed. “I guess I'd better go get dressed before Carter comes back.”

  Maybe I had become too cynical since becoming a private detective, but I've come to learn that trust is an elusive entity and friendships can turn on a dime. I didn't have the heart to tell Penny that she shouldn't be naïve. Jessica may very well know the truth. Sleeping with your best friend's boyfriend is the sin of all sins. You just don't do it, especially if you value the friendship at all—and being drunk is not an excuse.

  Apparently, Caleb had not kept his part of the bargain. He told Trent about his one night fling with Penny. Why would he do that? Trent was heartbroken over Penny as it was. What kind of friend throws that in your face?

  I felt bad for Jessica, too. Honestly, I wouldn't even blame her if she was the person taunting Penny. In fact, I might be inclined to give her a high five for creativity.

  …but, in my heart, I knew Jessica wasn't the culprit. It would take a lot of self-control to pull off a stunt like this.

  * * *

  When Carter returned to Penny's house around two, he brought a small duffel bag with his equipment. He sniffed the air and grinned. “Something smells delicious - grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  “Yes,” I said, meeting him at the door. “And you got here just in time. Penny insisted on making lunch for us.”

  Carter followed me into the kitchen where Penny had set the table for three, with glasses of ice water and a bowl of juicy, red grapes as the centerpiece.

  Penny had a look of satisfaction on her face as we all sat down to eat. “I enjoy cooking for people. I make dinner all the time for Jessica and Caleb. They seem to love it ...” She looked down suddenly, as if ashamed, and said nothing more.

  Carter seemed oblivious to Penny's dropped sentence. He was too busy enjoying the meal.

  Penny had only taken a few bites of her sandwich. “So, how is this going to work? Will one of you guys be watching my house from across the street in your car all night? Where will you park so that it's not obvious?”

  Carter took a sip of water and cleared his throat. “The blue house across the street is empty. It's a foreclosure and the bank currently owns it. I figure nobody will mind if Sarah and I camp out there for a few nights.”

  Penny made a grunting sound. “Sounds like a boring job.”

  “Sarah and I have done this kind of thing before. We keep each other company.”

  Penny glanced at the clock over the stove. “Well, we have a few hours until the yoga clas
s. Would you guys mind if I took a quick nap?”

  “Go right ahead,” I said. “I'd like to do some research while Carter installs the cameras.”

  “If you need anything to drink, help yourselves. If you have any questions, just knock on my bedroom door, okay?”

  “Thanks, we'll be fine,” I said.

  Penny stood up, gathered the dirty plates, and stacked them in the sink.

  After she retreated to her bedroom, Carter proceeded to go through his duffel bag, sorting the small recording devices and mounting equipment. Each of the cameras was about as big as a golf ball and controlled via a wireless program on Carter's laptop. The batteries were only good for ten to twelve hours, so we'd have to change them out accordingly. The state of the art equipment is extremely pricey and, therefore, must be handled with the utmost care. That being said, I shy away from touching any of it. I don't want to be responsible for breaking a camera that costs two thousand dollars.

  While Carter got busy with the install, I booted up my laptop and did an online search for information on different types of stalking and profiles, hoping to discern the kind of person we might be dealing with.

  According to several websites, there are five types of stalkers; the Rejected stalker, the Resentful stalker, the Intimate Seeking stalker, the Incompetent stalker and the Predatory stalker. Predatory stalking arises from deviant sexual practices, such as stealing women's underwear. Perpetrators are usually male and victims are usually female strangers with whom the stalker develops a sexual interest. The stalking behavior is usually initiated as a way of obtaining sexual gratification, but can also be used as a way of obtaining information about the victim as a precursor to a sexual assault. In this sense, the stalking is both instrumental and gratifying for those stalkers who enjoy the sense of power and control that comes from targeting someone who is usually an unsuspecting victim.

  Some predatory stalkers mess with their victim’s minds by leaving subtle clues that they are being followed without revealing their identity. However, even when the victim is unaware that she is being stalked, the perpetrator can still take delight in the details – deciding how long to prolong the suspense, rehearsing the attack, fantasizing about the victim’s response.

  The other scary thing about predatory stalkers is they often lead double lives, leaving their friends and family stunned and in disbelief when finally caught. Cold and calculating on the surface, they are often able to maintain a façade as devoted husbands caring professionals or kind-hearted neighbors. Underneath, though, lurks an underbelly of twisted sexual desires and rapacious violence.

  Penny's stalker could be anyone she knew, or someone she didn't know which, of course, complicated matters. The thing that frightened me the most; this guy had been in her house undetected, which meant he had to be smart and organized - or just plain lucky.

  When Penny woke up an hour later, she joined me in the kitchen once again, and drank a tall glass of water. “What're you doing?” she asked me.

  “Research. Hey, I want to ask you about your neighbors on either side of you. I spoke with Karen Gibbs on the left and Gretchen on the right. How well do you know them?”

  Penny thought it over. “I don't think I've ever met Gretchen and her husband. He's the one in the wheelchair, right?”

  “Correct. Apparently, he doesn't go out much after his injury. How about Karen Gibbs?”

  “Yeah, she seems friendly enough. Her son is a little shy around me for some reason, though.”

  I thought about that. “Do you know what happened to the father by any chance?”

  Penny shook her head. “Not really. He left a few months ago. Why?”

  “No reason. Back when I was a kid, it seemed like things were different from how they are now. Being neighbors meant something. You got to know them, had parties together, watched each other's kids, stuff like that. Now, most people don't even know what their neighbors’ names are.”

  “Well, Jessica and I threw a huge Halloween party and invited the whole neighborhood. Most of them didn't come but Karen and her husband – I think his name was Mark—came with their kid. They didn't stay very long. They didn't seem to be that social.”

  “Well, it's nice that you made an effort,” I said, checking my watch. “Hey, you better get ready for yoga. Class starts in an hour.”

  Chapter 9

  The Bikram Yoga Studio is conveniently located just two miles from Penny's home, near downtown Bridgeport. The strip mall also contains a pizza joint, a vitamin store and a laundromat. We parked behind Penny's car and, from Carter's Buick, we watched her walk into the yoga studio with a gym bag in one hand and a rolled up yoga mat in the other. Just before going inside, she glanced behind her, making eye-contact with me, as if making sure the plan was still in motion.

  I gave her a nod. All systems go.

  Carter agreed to wait in the car and observe the influx of students arriving for the four-thirty class, in hopes of catching a glimpse of Ken. Unless he was already inside getting changed for class.

  “So remind me what we're doing here?” Carter said. “Why do we suspect this Ken guy is stalking Penny?”

  “Because, he stares at her during class and makes her feel uncomfortable. Plus, the pictures taken outside her window happened right after yoga class last Friday night. It's possible Ken had followed her home.”

  “But we're not even sure he'll be at this class.”

  “Penny says he's always at the four-thirty class. At least, whenever she's here. In any case, this is the only lead we have right now. If you get bored, you can go get a slice of pizza.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “I'm going inside. I hope they'll let me observe the class if I tell them I'm thinking of joining. I want to check out other possibilities because Ken might not be the only guy who is interested in Penny.”

  “Good point. So, how long is class?”

  “Ninety minutes. Ends at six.”

  As soon as I stepped inside the yoga studio, I detected the smell of dirty feet mixed with incense. I approached the woman sitting at the desk, hovering over a sign-in sheet. There appeared to be a dozen names already.

  “Hello,” I said to her. “I'm thinking of joining the studio, but I've never done yoga before. Would it be okay if I just watched a class?”

  The woman, in her late twenties, wore a tank top and the smallest yoga shorts I've ever seen. She had colorful and intricate tattoos spread across her chest and upper arms. “You've never done a yoga class before?” she asked, like it was a mortal sin.

  “That's right. I usually prefer to run but a friend of mine suggested that I give this a try. She said it would help with my tight muscles.” I rubbed the back of my thighs for effect. “But I'm just not sure if this hot yoga is the best idea for me. I don't do well with extreme heat.”

  “The best way to know if this is right for you is to participate in the class.”

  I raised both arms at my side. “I didn't bring any stuff with me. Besides, I can only stay for a half an hour.”

  “That's fine,” she said. “You can watch through the window, but I'm afraid I won't be able to let you inside once class starts. It might be distracting to the members.”

  “No problem. I just want to observe from afar. I won't bother anyone.”

  “Next class starts in ten minutes. Feel free to have a look around until then.” She grabbed a tri-folded pamphlet on the desk and handed it to me. “Here's a little background information on Bikram yoga and its health benefits.”

  “Thank you.”

  I meandered around the studio for a minute before heading over to the observation window. Peering into the yoga room, I could see Penny had set up her mat in the middle of the back row. To her left, a man with a long, blonde ponytail had set up his yoga mat, just a few inches from hers. It had to be Ken. He wore skin-tight spandex shorts and nothing else. He was doing lunge stretches, checking himself out in the mirror that took up the entire front wall. I
had to admit he was in excellent physical condition. However, he made no effort to speak to Penny at all. He kept his gaze in the mirror, focusing on himself.

  The woman to Penny's right appeared to be in her fifties and overweight. She wore a black t-shirt, long black sweatpants and was already sweating profusely just sitting on her mat, meditating.

  Penny sat on her mat, legs stretched out in front of her. She wore only a sports bra and shorts that looked more like bikini bottoms. She looked stunning with a perfectly toned abdomen and sculpted legs. I was almost inspired to take up yoga if I could possibly look like that. But then I had to remind myself that I was twenty years older than Penny. Not only that, but I loved chocolate and wine more than the possibility of six-pack abs.

  As more students filtered in, the room eventually filled up with practitioners. By the time class started, there were only three or four empty spots left on the floor. Half of these students were exceptionally fit, the other half were moderately fit to borderline obese. I had to hand it to those people; must not be easy to stare at yourself in the mirror for an hour and a half, constantly being reminded of how unfit you are. Or maybe, it's inspiring to some of them. Motivation to keep working. Either way, I rooted for these not so fit people for showing up in the first place. Personally, I have tried taking group classes before: spin, Pilates, Zumba and even a belly-dancing class. It's not for me. I guess I prefer the wind in my hair when I'm out for a run by myself. Plus, I don't like people to see me when I'm a sweaty, hot mess.

  The first part of class began with deep breathing exercises. Then onto stretching. I slowly started to realize that Ken's eyes were no longer focusing on his own body in the mirror. They were glued on Penny.

  It seemed ridiculous to assume this guy was a stalker, just because he couldn't take his eyes off of a beautiful young woman. How could I blame him for that? I mean, I could hardly take my eyes off of her. But I couldn't ignore the coincidence. Why did he feel the need to set up his mat right next to hers every single time?