EMILY

I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to return to my reality or that damned stalking business.

I was starting to actually like life for a change … it was the turmoil I hated returning to: the fear of the unknown, of looking over my shoulder, wondering who was out there watching me.

I felt safer here in La Jolla. I wished Lucky were here with me, but then I might not go back at all.

I thought about Lucky as I walked along the beach. He would love running in and out of the surf, chasing the seagulls. I wanted to bring him back with me next time, get him used to the ocean. One more step in my fantasy of living by the beach.

It was barely six and the sky was just starting to lose the heavy darkness of night. Clouds billowed as the wind pushed them here and there. There were a few early risers out walking the beach as I was, alleviating my fear of being completely alone.

I used to love having time by myself before everything happened. It was purifying to close off everything from my thoughts, blocking out my surroundings, but I couldn’t do that now. It was too dangerous.

I couldn’t sleep. The girls hadn’t made a sound as I quietly slipped out the door. We stayed up late, laughing and drinking wine, giggling like schoolgirls, and planning our dreams of someday.

This weekend getaway had been relaxing in so many ways. It enabled me to escape for a little while. I didn’t realize how much my body and my mind needed that, or how tense I had become.

Maggie brought up my stalking situation last night and we all kept trying to come up with an answer. Whoever it was had to know me quite well or at least my movements on a daily basis. They’d been able to watch me without my noticing, even from my own neighborhood.

Andrea went down the list of every man I’d dated in the last few years. Needless to say, the list was long and embarrassing. Her eyes kept getting bigger as my list grew.

It wasn’t until we started writing names down, I realized just how many different men I’d gone out with.

I was a disaster waiting to happen.

And every one of them was an attempt to eradicate Elliot from my heart. A whole lot of good it did.

I took a seat on the rocks just inside the cove above the water. The breeze was lighter today than it had been yesterday, making it warmer. The waves barely skimmed the shoreline as they moved in and out. It hypnotized me as I watched, helping me try to clear my head. I kept bouncing between my stalker and seeing Elliot running on the beach yesterday.

Memories of the two of us kept drifting into my thoughts, drowning out everything else. Everywhere we walked this weekend brought back the times I shared with him here years ago—good memories.

Memories of what I had and of what I destroyed. I think that was why a part of me wished I could stay forever. I could surround myself with visions of yesterdays. Wrap them around me like a well-worn, soft blanket, shielding me from unpleasantness and drama or the fear of the unknown. I would pretend the blanket was Elliot’s arms, keeping me safe.

Occasionally, I glanced northward on the beach, the area Elliot had run to yesterday morning. I didn’t see him. I wasn’t even sure what I would do if he suddenly appeared. More than likely, I’d find a place to hide. I wanted to see him, but … sometimes the not knowing was a safer place to be.

A hand touched my shoulder from behind, making me shriek and jump up, stumbling forward.

Maggie grabbed my arm before I could fall over the ledge onto the beach.

“Sorry, I thought you heard me come up behind you.”

It took a moment to catch my breath, my breathing coming out in ragged gasps as I bent forward, my hands and face resting on my knees.

“Holly crap, Maggie,” I tried to get out between gasps.

“Sorry.” She rubbed my back trying to get me to relax. “I think you were deep in thought or maybe another world there.”

“Yeah, I think I was,” I told her.

I took a couple of deep breaths to relax again and sat down next to her.

“Is Andrea up and moving?”

Maggie nodded, looking around the cove. “Have you seen him yet this morning?”

I just shook my head, glancing north … hoping.

“Emily … I had the craziest thought in the middle of the night, about your stalker…” Maggie seemed to hesitate.

I looked over at her, waiting for her to continue. Judging by the worried expression on her face, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this. I had some strange thoughts myself last night, when we were discussing it.

“Obviously, it’s someone who knows you, your schedule, someone trying to get your attention. Is there any chance we are wrong about him and it is Elliot? I mean, he’s here now, but maybe it’s for the weekend—like us. What are the chances? I mean someone is stalking you and suddenly he is here after all these years? Everything you have said about him makes me think no way, but what if we’re wrong? What if you never really knew him, the real Elliot. I realize I joked about it yesterday and didn’t mean any of it … but what if? I mean … shit … everyone thought Ted Bundy was a nice guy too.”

I didn’t say anything at first. I didn’t want to believe Elliot could be stalking me. I didn’t want to believe it, but the same thought briefly crossed my mind last night, too. How well did I really know him?

In my heart, Elliot was a kind and gentle soul, so full of good, not some psycho.

Could he have changed so much in the years since he left me? His books were filled with murder, stalking, twisted characters, and evil plots. It was what made reading them so fantastic, but novels were fiction, not real life … well, most of them anyway.

I felt a shiver race over me from the top of my head all the way down to my toes, making me wrap my sweater tighter around me, trying to cocoon me from the evil I couldn’t see. It wasn’t Elliot. It just couldn’t be. I refused to entertain the idea.

I looked over at Maggie, the doubt in her eyes matching the doubt in mine. I shook my head.

“I don’t want to think of the possibility,” I told her.

But deep down? I would think about it. The thoughts wouldn’t leave me once they worked their way into my mind.

Could Elliot hate me enough to want to hurt me? Was he still the same man I dreamed of? Or did I create a fantasy of the perfect man I wanted him to be, a storybook hero to give me hope for someday. My white knight rock star savior all rolled into a figment of my warped imagination?

I needed to shake off these sinister thoughts. Glancing back at the beach house, I looked for Andrea, but she must still be inside packing.

Turning to Maggie as I stood up, I motioned to the beach. “Want to take one last walk?”

She quickly staggered to her feet and we made our way down to the ocean. A casual stroll on the edge of the water, barefooted so the waves could lick our toes. Memorizing the sound of the surf and the smell of the saltwater, taking mental snapshots to keep the beauty of this place in our hearts.

Shading her eyes and scanning the water, Maggie whispered, “I don’t want to go home.”

“Neither do I. It’s so peaceful here, so calm. I would stay forever if I could. Maybe someday…”

But I needed to go back. I needed to figure out who was following me. I needed to make it stop so I could move on. I needed answers.

The sun was rising higher as we made our way back to finish packing and head out. I had already thrown most of my things into my duffle bag.

My plan was to sit outside and absorb the morning, every second of it before we had to leave. I wanted my mind full of La Jolla so the images would stay with me. It would have to be enough until I could find a way to return for good and make this place my home.

As Maggie went in to shower, I poured a generous mug of coffee and curled up on one of the oversized, brightly colored chairs on the deck.

Outside, watching the water, the way the sun glistened as it reflected and the birds circled above in the sky, it was easy to pretend that life was simple and evil didn’t exist. That no one was watching me and following my every move. The ocean was a tranquilizer of sorts, calming my thoughts and my soul just by sitting here and watching it.