by Isabel Fox
“Cassie? Hold on a second, if you don’t mind,” Dr. Mallory stopped me when class was finally over. It was obvious what was coming, so I sat quietly in my seat while my classmates gathered their things and left.
“Alright, Miss Morgan. What in the world is wrong with you? You might as well have not been here today.” Dr. Mallory said bluntly. I looked up, slightly taken aback by the direct question.
“Umm...my cat’s missing. We think she was stolen,” I finally replied, deciding for a slightly edited version of the truth.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Dr. Mallory said, his expression softening somewhat. “Why do you think she was stolen? I have a cat myself, and she often wanders off. Usually turns up as soon as the weather isn’t to her liking.”
“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but let’s just say we’re pretty confident she’s not missing of her own volition,” I hedged, wishing I hadn’t said she had been stolen. Besides not having the time or desire to explain everything, I also had a feeling that if Dr. Mallory got even the smallest inkling of what was really going on he would be calling US embassies across the entire South American continent in an attempt to locate Eileen and bring her running back to the states.
“Have you contacted the police?” Dr. Mallory asked, pulling a chair up and sitting in it backwards, his arms resting on the top. “Do you know who took the cat?”
“I went yesterday, but there’s not a lot they could do since we don’t know who might have taken her. My roommate and I share the cat, and she’s not handling it too well. She’s pretty upset. I mean, I am, too, but she’s...freaked out, big time,” I told him, leaving out that I would be making yet another visit to the police to inform them that I did know who- if not specifically, then theoretically- had Willow.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. Send me a photo of the cat, and I’ll share it with the department. Just in case anyone sees her,” offered Dr. Mallory.
“Would you? I would really appreciate that,” I said gratefully. I started to stand up. Dr. Mallory reached out and put a hand on my arm, stopping me.
“Is that all, Cassie? You haven’t been yourself for quite some time. And, as I take it, your missing cat is a new development.”
“Um, yeah, everything is fine,” I said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. I had known him for several years, but I couldn’t remember Dr. Mallory ever touching me. The unexpected contact sent a tingle down my spine. I tried to rid myself of the feeling. It was ridiculous, after all. He was just trying to be helpful. Supportive. Nothing creepy about it.
“Are you sure? I can’t help but feel somewhat...responsible for you, I suppose. Knowing you and your grandmother like I do, and knowing you don’t have any family nearby…” Dr. Mallory trailed off, his bright blue eyes looking into mine. His hand, I noted, was still on my arm. His grip was surprisingly firm.
“Sure, I’m sure,” I let out an embarrassing nervous giggle. Trying to act as natural as possible, I used the arm Dr. Mallory was holding to reach into my bag and grab my phone. “Oh, look at the time! I’ve really got to get going. Thanks, Dr. Mallory,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t give away my underlying feeling of panic.
“Don’t forget to email your cat’s picture,” he called after me as I power walked out the door. I gave a quick wave of acknowledgement.
I hurried out of the building and kept walking until I reached the quad. Normally teeming with students wasting time between classes, it was pretty sparsely populated today due to the weather. The temperature had taken a definite drop, necessitating I drag my well worn peacoat out from the back of my closet.
Glancing back at my phone, I saw that I still had awhile before stupid geology. I briefly debated calling James, or maybe Amber, to share with them my awkward encounter with Dr. Mallory.
The logical part of me was saying that I was being dramatic, and my perception was thrown off because of my unusually high level of stress. Dr. Mallory couldn’t be my stalker, for God’s sake. He was a family friend, and never before had he taken anything other than a mentor type interest in me. Besides, he had asked me what was wrong. If he were my stalker, he wouldn’t have to ask. He would have known.
The dramatic, prone to over-indulging in prime time television part of me, however, wondered if it was all an act. Dr. Mallory faking concern and feigning surprise at Willow’s disappearance could all be a way of covering up the fact that he was my stalker.
I hesitated before dialing James’s number. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. I had pulled up Amber’s contact info and was about to hit send, but thought better of it. Between dealing with my stalker problem and a missing cat, I felt like she might need some space from me and what was, at this point, nothing more than an uneasy feeling. I was making mountains out of molehills and seeing monsters where there were none. I needed to get a grip if I was ever going to get to the bottom of this.
I spent the brief break until my next class camped out on a bench outside my geology lecture hall, book open but not really reading. Instead, I watched the comings and goings of students as discreetly as I could. The only people who paid me any attention were a boy who wasn’t watching where he was going and tripped over my outstretched legs and a girl who had briefly worked at the Walker Inn over the summer. She stopped to chat for a moment, wanting to know if Susan was still unbearable. I assured her that Susan was still as evil as ever and she went on her merry way.
Sighing, I saw that there were now only ten minutes before the lecture would begin. I made my way into the lecture hall to grab a decent seat.
Over the next hour I absorbed not a single word from class. I didn’t catch what my professor said about carbon dating and I didn’t hear what kind of pizza the boys from the back row ordered. Instead, I fired up Google and spent my time plugging in every string of keywords I could think of that related to stalking.
I read accounts of people who had been stalked, police officers who had caught stalkers, and people who had themselves done the stalking. I found a handy checklist to help me determine if my experience had resulted in PTSD and some stalking Dos and Don’ts. Unfortunately, last night’s outburst over text seemed to fall into the “Don’t” category. I was pleased to see, though, that trying to carry on with my life as normally as possible was a “Do.”
Now I just had to try and remember what normal looked like. That was easier said than done.
27
That afternoon after I had made my visit to the police to share the text messages indicating the stalker most definitely had Willow, I resolved to make my shift at work as normal as possible. My spirits were especially brightened by the fact that Officer Hanson had promised they would ramp up their investigation now that it seemed likely they could add theft of an animal to the list of potential crimes.
“Breaking and entering where nothing is taken and no one is hurt is a lot harder to investigate,” he said. “But now something has been taken. I’ll see if I can’t swing by your neighborhood and talk with some neighbors, see if maybe they saw anyone.”
“That would be great,” I thanked him.
“I’ll let you know if we find out anything,” he promised. “Oh, and another thing. You ever consider getting some kind of security system, or anything?”
“Aren’t those pretty expensive?” I asked, already imagining going to old Mr. Wilkes, our landlord, and asking him to install a security camera.
“What would you need that for?” he would ask in his old, gravelly voice. “Why, in my day, that door was never locked! And we left the keys in the ignition too, never had to worry about nothing.”
Needless to say, it seemed unlikely he would be willing to pony up the funds for a security system.
“They’re not as expensive as you might think,” Officer Hanson informed me.
“Really?”
“Yeah! A hundred bucks will get you a cheap little camera. Nothing fancy, but it would do the trick. Put it somewhere out of sight and the next time you get a visit from your buddy you’ll see who
it is. Then we can pay him a visit,” Officer Hanson grinned, apparently thrilled at the idea of any sort of confrontation. I got the feeling that things were a little slow down at Carlson PD.
“I’ll look into that,” I said, already wondering if I could convince Susan to give me an advance on my next paycheck.
On the drive to work, I blasted all of my favorite songs and sang along, something I only did if I was alone due to a singing voice that was more akin to caterwauling. It was a tried and true method for improving my mood, though, and by the time I pulled into the employee parking lot I was feeling much better.
Inside, I greeted the kitchen staff with cheery hellos. I gave the guests in the front lounge friendly nods and offered one panicked looking woman directions to the bathroom before I finally made it to the front desk.
Amanda was there, the phone in one hand, notepad and pen in the other. When she saw me, her eyes lit up and she gave a happy wave. Then she ripped off the top sheet of paper from her notepad and handed it to me.
Lost kid’s blanket, Room 204. Pink w/ white elephants, she had scribbled on the top. When I had read it, she pointed at the phone and mimed slitting her own throat.
Giving Amanda a thumbs up, I grabbed the staff skeleton key and turned and made my way up the wide, winding oak staircase that led to the second level of the inn. Room 204 was just past the second-floor landing. The old key in my hand turned smoothly in the well-worn lock.
The housekeeper, Martha, had apparently not yet made it to this room. The double beds were both unmade and the pillows were tossed randomly about the room. Sighing, I crouched down on my knees and began peering under beds. There was nothing to be found other than several candy bar wrappers under what I assumed had been the kid’s bed.
Next I looked under the stacks of pillows on the floor and in between the sheets of the bed. No blanket. I looked around and tried to imagine where a kid might have stashed one of their prized possessions. It wasn’t in the dresser drawers or in the closet. It wasn’t in either nightstand drawer, nor was it in the large, decorative vase in the corner. That left only the bathroom.
The bathroom was one of the smaller ones, with only a narrow tub, pedestal sink, and toilet squeezed close together. I had to shut the door to be able to see into the small alcove that housed the toilet. As soon as I did, though, I spied something pink that stuck out from the stack of fluffy white towels in the small, recessed shelf. I carefully pulled it out and examined it.
It was the missing blanket, pink with prancing white elephants on it, just as Amanda had described. I was just starting to fold it neatly when I heard the floorboards in the bedroom creak. For a moment my heart stopped, and I immediately chastised myself for being so jumpy. Surely it was just Martha coming in to clean.
I stepped back and opened the bathroom door, but the bedroom was empty. Something, however, seemed different. It was the closet door, I quickly realized. I had left it open while looking for the blanket and I was certain I hadn’t shut it. Now, though, it was closed tightly. It reminded me eerily of the afternoon I had woken up to my previously open bedroom door shut, the day this all had started.
At this point, I was feeling more annoyed than afraid. Either my imagination was playing tricks on me or my stalker was some long lost member of the X-Men with the ability to appear at will. And if that was the case, what chance did I stand, really?
Moving quickly across the room, I reached out and put a hand on the knob. For just a moment I hesitated, then tried to open it. The door was closed tightly. In fact, I couldn’t even get the knob to turn.
Furrowing my brow, I briefly loosened my grip and tried again. This time, the knob turned fractionally before stopping. I gave a hearty tug, trying to pull it open.
Then I felt a tug from the other side. From inside the closet. Someone was in there, holding the door shut.
28
My brief moment of bravery quickly passed and I let go of the doorknob so quickly I fell backwards, landing on my butt. Scrambling to my feet, I hurriedly back towards the door to the hallway, never taking my eyes off the closet door. Just before I slipped out into the hall, I was positive I saw the knob start to turn.
I was down the stairs in a flash, tripping over my own feet multiple times during the descent. I arrived in the foyer making so much noise both Amanda and Susan came to investigate.
“Cassie, what on earth? You sound like a herd of buffalo,” Susan huffed.
“Are you okay?” Amanda asked, catching sight of what must have been a panicked look on my face.
“S-s-someone’s in the closet,” I managed, pointing up the stairs behind me.
“Martha? Cassie, of course she cleans the closet. You know we clean every inch of our rooms thoroughly,” Susan said in a voice that was slightly raised for the benefit of the guests passing by on their way out the front door.
“It wasn’t Martha,” I tried to explain. “I was looking for that blanket, and-”
“What blanket?” Susan cut me off.
“Some kid left her blanket behind. I asked Cassie to go look for it,” Amanda explained.
“Well, I found it. But...someone was in the closet. I tried to open the door, and it’s like they were holding it shut. You know, from inside,” I finished, aware of how stupid I probably sounded. Now that I wasn’t actually in the room and my panic had subsided somewhat, I was feeling pretty dumb. I had thought I was feeling better about everything today, but clearly my subconscious had different ideas.
“And where is this blanket now?” Susan asked, noting my empty hands.
“I...I must have dropped it,” I said, no longer certain of anything.
“Let’s go see,” Amanda said gently, offering me a friendly smile.
I was reluctant to go back to the room, but Amanda started up the stairs and Susan looked at me, clearly expecting me to follow. Susan brought up the rear, her heels clacking loudly on the stairs.
Amanda unlocked the door to room 204 and peered inside.
“Hello? Martha?” she called, stepping in. Susan and I followed. The room was clearly empty, and the closet door was now wide open.
“Well, Cassie, unless the person in the closet you speak of is capable of making themselves invisible, I think your mind must be playing tricks on you,” Susan said in a tone that clearly implied she thought I might be losing it.
“I’ll check the bathroom,” Amanda offered, giving me a look that was both sympathetic and concerned. “Nothing here!” she called a moment later, returning to the main room.
I bent down and picked up the blanket, which I had dropped just in front of the closet door.
“I...I don’t know what that was,” I muttered, feeling embarrassed.
“The door got stuck, probably. You know how old this place is. Wood swells, doors stick. It happens all the time,” Susan said simply.
I shook my head, saying nothing.
“Come on, let’s get back to the front desk. I’ll stick this in a box and send it back to its owner,” Amanda suggested, taking the blanket from my hands. I let her, and with a last glance at the closet I followed her out.
Downstairs, Susan went off to “make some calls,” which we all knew really meant she was going to go sneak a cigarette in the parking lot. I took my spot behind the front desk and busied myself with straightening the pens, paper, notes, and letters that cluttered the desktop. I felt Amanda watching me as I organized.
“I’m not crazy,” I said finally, looking up at Amanda.
“Oh, god, Cassie, of course you aren’t!” Amanda exclaimed. “I...it’s just...well, June told me. About what was going on with you. And, well, I can imagine that might make you...on edge, you know?”
I ran my hand through my hair, watching Amanda. She looked sincere and concerned and not at all like she might be making fun of me.
“Look,” I sighed, “I know what Susan thinks, and what you probably think. I really don’t think I imagined that thing with the closet, though. It was too...real. Yo
u didn’t see anyone go upstairs after I did, did you?”
Amanda thought for a moment, and I appreciated that she seemed to be taking my question seriously. I felt a sudden rush of affection for her for believing me.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “Some people came up and asked for directions to Gulliver Lake, and then they left. Cara’s been in the dining room. Oh, maybe Drew? I saw him go by, but I’m not sure where he went. He could have gone upstairs, I guess. But...you don’t think it was Drew, do you? Why would he hide in the closet?”
“Well, whoever it was, I’m assuming they came in there to, you know, stalk me, and then hid in the closet to keep from being discovered. It’s not like any of this nightmare makes sense, though. Trust me, I’m well aware of that,” I gave a wry laugh. Suddenly spotting Drew pass by on the other side of the window that looked onto the front porch, I jumped up.
“Cassie, what are you doing?” Amanda called after me. I didn’t answer, but hurried to the front door and flung it open.
“Drew!” I exclaimed, causing him jump. He was holding what appeared to be mail in his left hand.
“Cassie, hey! What’s going on? How was...” he started to say. Then, apparently catching sight of my expression, which I figured was somewhere between deranged and pissed off, he trailed off and added, “Uh, are you...okay?”
“I swear, if someone asks me that one more time today, I am going to scream,” I snapped, causing Drew to look taken aback. “Drew, were you upstairs in one of the empty guest rooms a little while ago? Like, ten minutes ago?” I demanded.
Drew looked confused. “Uh, no. I haven’t been upstairs at all today, I don’t think. I went to get the mail. I just finished carrying a package for Susan back to her office, and realized I left the rest of the mail on the railing out here,” he said, holding up the stack of mail in his hand. “I guess I should give this to you, anyway,” he added, passing it to me.
I flushed, embarrassed at my pointless interrogation. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” I muttered, taking the mail. Drew shot me a bright smile.