EMILY

Officer Campbell, or Tom as he told me to call him, was at my door within half an hour.

I was still in my running clothes, pacing around the house, when he pulled his cruiser into my driveway. I held onto Lucky’s collar as I let him in. I was a little unsure of Lucky’s reaction to another stranger after our morning. Tom held out his hand for him to sniff. Once it was determined he wasn’t a threat, Tom followed me into the kitchen, my ever faithful dog trailing behind. I handed him the note. He read it and looked up at me.

“Still no idea?” he asked.

“None at all,” I replied. “This is starting to drive me crazy. I mean, no one has tried to hurt me, or anything like that, but still. I feel like I’m being followed, like someone is watching every move I make. I’m afraid to leave the house anymore. Lucky and I were out running this morning and I had this crazy sensation of being watched. Lucky even stopped once and started growling by a group of trees, but I couldn’t see anyone. When I realized we were alone on the path, we took off pretty quickly and continued our run to where I could see other people. Afterwards we came back here. I was gone for two hours, at the most.

“I noticed the paper in the door handle when I pulled in. I thought it was just another solicitation. Like I told you on the phone, I can’t even be sure when it was left, as I usually don’t come and go out the front door.”

I knew I was rambling. My nerves were shot. Every little noise was making me jump and look around. I was suspicious of everyone looking at me. It needed to stop.

He didn’t say anything at first. Then he looked at me and at Lucky.

“I’m really happy you bought a dog, and a big one at that. Someone’s stalking you. You realize that, and they are probably harmless, but I don’t think we should take any chances with this. He or she is trying to scare you and get your attention, and it’s working, but … there isn’t a whole lot we can do at this point. They haven’t attempted to harm you in any way or destroyed property … they’re just being a nuisance. I’m going to file another report. Did you look at your security tape?” he asked me.

I completely forgot about it. It’d been so quiet lately, I spaced out about the security camera.

“No,” I admitted. “The feed is in my office.”

I motioned him to follow me in there, and I clicked my computer to play the video from the camera. I went back to early this morning and pressed forward, and we both stared at the monitor. After a few moments, it showed someone casually walking toward the front door. I hit pause, then slow. I could make out someone with a sweatshirt on, hood pulled up over the top of the head, looking down at the sidewalk so their face was hidden, the rolled up paper in hand. Whoever it was, reached out and stuffed it under the handle of the door latch and turned around, walking quickly away. Not once could I see a face. The only thing that could be determined was that it was a man, tall with a lanky build, baggie jeans hanging off his hips, with ragged looking boxers showing over the top. On his large feet were scuffed and beat up work boots that had seen better days. His hands, from what I could see from the camera, were cut up and rough as if he worked in construction or something like that. And he appeared to be white, nothing else.

Tom looked at me, but I shook my head. Without being able to see his face, I didn’t know who he was.

The time stamp showed the note being left just after seven this morning, thirty minutes after Lucky and I went to ASU.

That was significant.

It proved whoever was stalking me had been watching the house early that morning. I looked up at Tom.

“He was watching me this morning,” I stated.

My voice trembled, my uneasiness apparent.

“It seems that way,” he answered.

“What do I do?” I asked him.

This was getting way too close for my comfort level. A man I didn’t know was watching me, following me around. He knew when I left my house. And he seemed to be invisible. Why? What did he want with me?

“Just be careful. Watch your surroundings. Don’t go out by yourself unless you have to. Everything you have been doing is the right thing. Keep doing it. And whenever possible, keep Lucky with you. He is going to keep anyone who makes you uneasy away from you. Let him guard you. That’s what he does best, protect you. And can you make a copy of the security feed for me? I want to have one of our guys take a closer look.”

I slipped a memory card into the side of my laptop while Tom stooped down to my dog, who was curled up by my feet, scratched his ears, and rubbed his hands down Lucky’s back.

“You’re such a good boy,“ he told him. “You just keep guarding her. Keep her safe.”

He got up, pocketed the scan disc, and took my hands in his.

“We’ll get this guy, sooner or later. In the meantime, just remain vigilant of your surroundings. Keep your dog with you or stay in a group. I know George is keeping an eye on you and your house too. Don’t hesitate to call me if anything else comes up. I mean that. If Lucky starts growling in the middle of the night, call 911 first and then me. You have my cell number on that card. Don’t take any chances. Until we know what we are dealing with, just don’t take any chances.”

I reassured him I would do as he told me and walked him out to his squad car. I could see George hanging out in his garage, waiting to see what was going on. He walked over as soon as he saw Tom and me. We met him at the end of my driveway and filled him in.

“Damn! I was up at six watching the news in my kitchen,” he said. “I should have been out in the garage.”

“You can’t spend all your time guarding me, George,” I told him.

“There’s a TV in the garage. I can watch the news out there too,” he stressed his point.

I wasn’t going to argue with him. George was hell-bent on watching over me, and to be honest, I didn’t mind a bit.

“George, call me immediately if you notice anything at all. Someone hanging around that doesn’t belong here. Cars driving by slowly … you know the drill. You used to do surveillance work. Keep me posted. I don’t want this situation to escalate,” Tom said.

Tom kept stressing the need to be careful and aware of who was around me at all times. I wasn’t used to this. If I had to keep this up for long, I’d go crazy. I might as well lock the door of my house and stay inside until they caught this creep. It was like living in a bubble, never knowing when it would pop or what would happen when it did.

Each time a car drove by or I heard a noise, I walked to the bay window in my kitchen to check. It was so frustrating because I couldn’t keep my mind on anything. I tried reading, cleaning, even some online shopping, but nothing was taking my mind off the fact that someone out there was watching me.

I wondered how long it had been going on, how much he’d seen. Had he watched me late at night when I walked my floors in agitation when insomnia hit me, in nothing more than a pair of boy shorts covering my butt? Or when the sadness and the loneliness struck me and I wasted hours crying over what should have been?

Did it thrill this jerk to witness my pain? Who the hell was he? I could feel my anger growing, replacing the fear of a few minutes earlier. I wasn’t going to let this asshole stop my life. I refused to live in fear just because of some freak out there watching me.

I wanted to escape somehow, go back in time to a place where everything was good in my life. A time where I felt safe and not on display.

Why the hell had I screwed up everything? Life would have been so much different now, and I had no one else to blame but myself. I had driven Elliot away, my insecurities, depression, and my bitchiness. The poor man never knew what he was coming home to after a while. Hell, I didn’t even know who I was either and it was me.