See Me

by Nicholas Sparks

  One by one, associates and staff began leaving the office--some at three, others at four. Exhausted from the week, Maria decided to join them. After all, she was planning to meet Colin later, and needed time to unwind first.

  "I can't imagine how surreal it must have been all week," Colin remarked.

  "It's been... awful. A lot of people are angry and scared and practically all of them feel blindsided. They had no idea something like this was coming." They were at the Pilot House again, and though they'd spoken on the phone a couple of times--both of them trying to inch their way back to normal--this was the first time Maria had seen Colin since her visit to Crabby Pete's. In his jeans and white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, he looked, impossibly, even better than he had on Monday. Funny, she thought, what even a little time apart could do.

  "And Jill?"

  "A total lifesaver. Without her offer, I don't know what I would have done. It's not as though firms are hiring these days, and I probably would have been a basket case. And Jill's right. With three employees filing with the EEOC, it's pretty certain that even if the firm does find a way to survive, all the partners are going to be on the hook financially and it's going to be grim for the next few years."

  "Which probably means they're upset."

  "Try furious. I'm pretty sure that they'd all like nothing better than to strangle Ken."

  "Doesn't the firm have insurance for things like this?"

  "They're not sure it'll cover this. He was clearly breaking the law, and according to the complaints, there are recordings, e-mails, texts, and one of the paralegals supposedly even has a video."

  "Not good."

  "No," Maria agreed. "There are a lot of innocent people who are going to get hurt by this. I can't tell you how fortunate I am."

  "Okay."

  "Don't start saying that."

  Colin smiled. "Okay."

  They spent the night rediscovering each other, falling asleep with their limbs intertwined. In the morning, Maria had no regrets and was surprised to catch herself picturing something long-term between them. The thought was strangely thrilling. After they spent Saturday together flying kites at the beach, the feeling only continued to grow.

  On Saturday night, she had dinner with Jill and Leslie while Colin worked; after his shift ended, they met at his place. Evan and Lily were there, and the four of them talked until past three in the morning. Unable to stay awake a minute longer, Colin and Maria didn't make love until the following morning.

  Though she invited him to brunch, Colin begged off with his apologies, citing a number of upcoming exams he had to study for before working another shift that evening. When she arrived at her parents' home, she was pleased to learn that Smokey--the name her parents had chosen for the dog--now had his own rhinestone collar, bed, and various toys strewn throughout the living room, but he seemed most content when snuggled against her father. In the kitchen, Carmen couldn't stop humming. For her part, Serena talked more about Steve than she ever had before. "Okay, maybe it's getting a little serious," she admitted, eventually submitting to her mother's grilling.

  At the table, it was Felix's turn to ask about Steve, and all Maria could do was smile. Between her career, her family, and now Colin, things were on the way up. As they cleared the table, Maria realized again that she was no longer obsessing about the man in the baseball hat, partly because of everything else going on, but also because there'd been no sign of him lately.

  She wanted to think he'd given up--that he'd finished rattling her cage. But as much as she'd enjoyed the temporary reprieve, she wasn't yet ready to believe it was completely over.

  Before a rainbow, after all, there's usually a storm.

  The weather was too cool to paddleboard, and since Colin was occupied, Maria spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to catch up on office work. With Lynn absent and Barney operating at less than full capacity, the fact that she'd be leaving in three weeks made her feel a bit guilty. Not guilty enough to change her mind, but enough to keep her at the MacBook until her documents became a blur and writing became pointless.

  When she awoke the next morning, Maria found herself wondering about the coming week--how much worse the mood at the office was going to be--and whether anyone else had made the decision to leave. Most of the partners were as distracted as Barney and Ken, which meant work was probably backlogged in every department, and making new hires was going to be tough once word of the firm's troubles leaked out. No doubt it already had.

  For now, she resolved to make her own departure as painless for Barney as possible. Hitching her purse over her shoulder, she grabbed her briefcase and headed out the door, her eyes flashing to the doormat.

  It took a moment to process what she was seeing before her breath caught in her throat.

  A wilted rose, with petals turning black, along with a note.

  You will know how it feels.

  Almost like she was dreaming, her feet remained rooted to the doorstep, because she knew there would be more. On the railing near the steps was another rotting rose that drooped under the weight of another card. Willing her feet to move forward, she stepped over the flower on her doormat and moved closer to read:

  Why did you hate her?

  The parking lot outside her door was deserted, the sidewalk empty; no cars she didn't recognize. Her mouth was dry as she locked the door behind her and lifted the rose from the mat. Grabbing the flower that had been threaded through the railing, she forced herself to walk down the steps, her eyes scanning her car.

  As she'd feared, her tires had been slashed. On the windshield, an envelope was tucked beneath the wiper.

  Later, she'd be amazed at how calmly she'd handled the discoveries, at the clarity of her thoughts. When she reached for the envelope, she thought about fingerprints and how best to read the letter without damaging any evidence and held the envelope at the creases. In that moment, she felt no panic; rather, she was overcome with a slow, sinking sensation, a recognition of inevitability. Somehow, some way, she'd known this was coming.

  The letter, computer generated, was printed on a single sheet of unlined printer paper, the kind that could be purchased at any office supply store. The final line, however, had been handwritten in boxy, almost childlike lettering.

  You don't think I know what you did? You DON'T THINK I KNOW WHO WAS BEHIND ALL OF IT? You don't THINK I can SEE INTO YOUR MIND and know what YOU DID! You have taken THE BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT

  Your HEART IS FILLED WITH POISON and you are THE DESTROYER! You POISON and you WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH IT You will know how it feels, because I am IN CONTROL NOW

  I am the living INNOCENT ONE

  SEE ME just as I see you!

  When she finished the letter, Maria read it a second time, feeling physically ill. The disintegrating rose was still on the windshield and she reached for it, grouping it with the others in a gruesome bouquet.

  Turning away from her car, she started back toward her condo, her limbs heavy with dread. The signs, she realized, had been obvious, and she'd willfully ignored them. All at once, memories sparked like blinding visions before her: Gerald Laws being interviewed by the police, with his neatly parted hair and white teeth; Cassie Manning, her young face distorted with fear; Cassie's father, Avery, frighteningly certain of Laws's intentions and possessed of a burning intensity himself; Cassie's mother, Eleanor, mousy and silent and above all, frightened. And finally Lester, the nail-chewing, nervous brother who'd sent her so many terrible notes after Cassie's death.

  Those awful notes, reflecting his gradually escalating anger. Like Laws's letters to Cassie while he was in prison.

  The first step in a pattern...

  On the way up the stairs to her door, Maria's cell phone rang. Serena. She ignored the call, needing to talk to Colin. She needed him to make her feel safe; here and now, she felt exposed. With shaking hands, she dialed him, wondering how soon he'd be able to make it to her place.

  A
pattern...

  Margolis had told her to come to him with the report, and she wanted Colin there for that as well. She had to tell Margolis about Gerald Laws and Cassie Manning, the woman whom Laws had killed. She wanted to tell him about the Manning family and everything that had happened to her recently. But mostly she wanted to tell him that she knew exactly who was stalking her, and what his endgame was going to be.

  CHAPTER 19

  Colin

  Since he'd started college, Colin had never missed a single class, let alone a whole day's worth. Only once had he come close--a day when his car hadn't started, and he'd hiked to school carrying a backpack loaded with textbooks, arriving just minutes before class had begun.

  Therefore, today was a first. As soon as Maria had called, he'd raced to her place; he'd read the note, and while Maria had called Margolis, he'd called a tow truck with a flatbed, since her car was essentially resting on its rims. While they waited for the tow truck to arrive, Colin made Maria a cup of tea, but she was only able to take a couple of sips before pushing the cup away.

  The tow truck came; once it was gone, Colin drove her to the police station. Maria offered her name to the officer at the front counter and she and Colin took a seat in the small lobby, noting the steady but unhurried rhythm of the station. Maria took the opportunity to leave a message for Barney, informing him that she wouldn't be in for a while. Margolis, no doubt, was already somewhere in the station, probably buried in paperwork from weekend incidents. As a detective, he dealt with significant crimes, and he was probably regretting the fact that he'd challenged Maria to call him if she ever wanted to make a simple report. Stalking--if what was happening to Maria officially rose to that level--was below his pay grade, and the fact that Colin was with Maria no doubt made the whole thing even more irritating for him. He made them wait nearly ninety minutes before finally showing up carrying a manila file. While he shook Maria's hand, he didn't offer his to Colin, and Colin wouldn't have shaken it if he had. No reason to pretend they liked each other.

  Margolis asked to speak with Maria alone; Maria insisted that Colin be present. Radiating disapproval, Margolis nodded and led the three of them to one of the interrogation rooms. Having spent time in a number of police stations over the years, Colin knew that on a busy morning, the interrogation room was one of the few places with any privacy whatsoever. Nice of him, even if he is generally an ass, Colin thought. After closing the door and seating them at the table, Margolis set aside the file he'd been holding, asked a series of general questions--Maria's name, age, address, and the like--and began filling in the report. After that, Maria--in a shaky but surprisingly linear fashion--went through the same story she'd told Colin on the beach about Cassie Manning and Gerald Laws, as well as what had been happening to her recently. She sketched out the parallels before finally handing Margolis the letter she had found on the windshield.

  Margolis read the letter slowly, saying nothing, before finally asking if he could make a copy. When she agreed, he rose from his seat and left the room, returning with a copy.

  "We'll keep the original letter in the file, if that's okay," he said, his face displaying little of what he was thinking. Taking his seat again, he read the letter a third time before going on. "And you're sure that Lester Manning wrote this?"

  "Yes," Maria answered. "He's also the guy who's been following me."

  "That's Cassie Manning's brother?"

  "Younger brother."

  "Why do you think it's him?"

  "Because some of what's in the letter I heard him say before."

  "When?"

  "After Cassie died. He also wrote the same types of things in the notes he sent me."

  "Like what, specifically?"

  "The blood of the innocent. My heart being filled with poison."

  Margolis nodded and made another note. "Was this in the first batch of notes, or the second batch?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "You said the notes changed when they started to arrive again. That they were more threatening and scary."

  "Second group."

  "And how do you know he sent the notes?"

  "Who else could it be?"

  Margolis scanned his notes. "Avery Manning said that it may have been Cassie's boyfriend."

  "It wasn't him."

  "How do you know?"

  "According to the police, he wasn't a credible suspect. He was devastated by Cassie's murder, but he didn't blame me. He denied even knowing who I was."

  "Did you ever speak with him?"

  "No."

  Margolis made another note. "Do you remember his name? Or how he met Cassie?"

  Maria pursed her lips. "I think it was Mike or Matt or Mark... something like that. And no, I don't know how he met Cassie. But why are we even talking about him? Lester is the one who's been stalking me! Just like he wrote those notes in Charlotte!"

  "Didn't you tell me that Lester denied writing the notes when the police talked to him?"

  "Of course he denied writing them."

  "And it never crossed your mind that it could have been this... Michael? The boyfriend?"

  "Why would he? He didn't even know me. He told the police he didn't do it."

  "So did Lester."

  "Have you been listening to me? Lester's crazy. The notes are crazy. It doesn't take much to put two and two together."

  "Do you still have any of the original notes?"

  Maria shook her head, her frustration surfacing. "I threw them away when I moved here. I didn't want anything to do with them. The Charlotte police might still have a couple of them, but I can't be certain about that."

  "When you say notes, what do you mean?"

  "Just a sentence or two."

  "So... not like this one."

  "No. But again, he used the same words and phrases. And there were two short notes that do fit the pattern."

  "In other words, this letter is different."

  "Obviously."

  Margolis tapped his pen on the report in front of him. "Okay. Let's say it is Lester. When you say his notes were threatening, what do you mean? Did he say he was going to hurt you in any way? Or harm you?"

  "No, but it was clear that he blamed me for his sister's death. Actually, his whole family blamed me in the end."

  "What was the family like?"

  "They were just... odd," she said. "Their whole dynamic, I mean."

  "How so?"

  Colin turned toward her, realizing that he hadn't heard Maria talk about them in much detail.

  "Avery Manning--the father--was a psychiatrist, and from the very first meeting, he considered himself an expert when it came to criminal behavior. He never let Cassie meet with me alone. He was always there, and he dominated the conversations. Even in the hospital, when I was trying to get the story from Cassie, he would answer for her. It got to the point where I had to ask him to step out of the room, but he refused--the most he would do was retreat to the corner, promising to remain silent while she talked. Even then, I had the sense that Cassie was very careful with her words, like she was trying to say things exactly the way that he wanted. Almost like they'd rehearsed. I think that's why she... embellished her stories at times."

  "Embellished?"

  "Cassie told me that Laws had hit her before. If true, that would have been important, because we might have been able to make a more serious charge stick. Cassie told me that Laws struck her in a parking lot, and that Lester had witnessed it. Both Cassie's and Lester's stories were identical, almost word for word, but when we investigated, we learned that Laws was in another state on the date and time in question, which meant they both were lying. When we talked to Cassie about it, she wouldn't back down. That only made the plea bargain even more necessary. Laws's attorney would have had a field day with her if she had to testify."

  "And the mom?"

  "Eleanor. I only met her twice, and she was completely under Avery's thumb. I'm not sure she ever said anything. Just wept the whole time."
<
br />   Margolis continued to jot notes as she talked. "Now let's talk about Lester. What was he like?"

  "Again, I only met him twice, and he was like two entirely different people. In the first meeting, I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. The most normal of the bunch, in fact. But when I met him the second time, after I informed them of the charges against Laws, he changed. Almost like... he was afraid of me. He'd mutter that he shouldn't be here, that no one in the family should be near me because I was dangerous. His father kept telling him to be quiet, and then he'd just sit there, fidgeting and staring at me like I was in league with the devil."

  "Do you know the name of the psychiatric hospital where he was committed?"

  "No."

  "But the notes eventually stopped?"

  "After I moved. But now he's doing it again."

  Margolis twirled the pen before reaching for the file he'd originally brought into the room. "After you called, I had the Charlotte police e-mail the report about Cassie Manning's death; I'm still waiting on the report on Laws's initial arrest. I haven't really had the chance to dig through it all in detail, but from what I did read, it's clear that Gerald Laws killed Cassie Manning. Furthermore, you didn't make the decision that allowed him to plead to a misdemeanor in the first place. It was your boss--am I correct?"

  "Yes."

  "Then why do you think the Manning family blamed you? Or, in Lester's case, viewed you as 'dangerous'?"

  "Because I was the one they were dealing with. They were counting on me to convince the DA to go for the more serious conviction. And in Lester's case, he's obviously ill... like I said, he ended up in a psychiatric hospital."

  Margolis nodded. "Okay. Let's say you're right about all of this, and that Lester Manning is indeed responsible for everything that's been happening to you." He leaned back in his chair. "Even then, I'm not sure that there's anything I can do."

  "Why not?"

  "You haven't seen him. No one else has seen him. You don't know who bought the roses, other than that it wasn't your boss. No one saw Lester put the roses into your car. All you know about the guy who ordered you a drink was that it was a young man wearing a baseball hat. Nor did you recognize the guy who delivered the roses as Lester. In other words, you have no proof that it actually is Lester."