EMILY

It’d been two weeks since my backyard invasion, as I was calling it. After the red paint splattered all over the place, it looked like a war zone in my backyard, a bloody massacre. I spent hours trying to scrub the crap off the window and the stucco before I called in a professional to take care of it. The window survived, the stucco needed a facelift.

It’d been quiet again, too quiet. No notes or rocks or paintballs thrown against my house. Not even a flower.

The tack strips were installed, thanks to Sam, Maggie’s client, all around the top of the wall in the backyard. Sam had me climb up a ladder to check it out. Just grabbing the top of the wall would pierce the skin. When you tried to pull your hand back, the razor sharp points would shred your palms into ribbons. Ouch … I shuddered at the thought of it. Hopefully no one would try to scale the wall again. But if they did? That would just plain suck.

I still looked over my shoulder wherever I went. I couldn’t help it. I was just waiting … he was still out there, I felt it. Everywhere I went, I felt this invisible monster tracking me. He gave me just enough time of silence to relax a tiny bit, then WHAM! He did something else. It was just enough to keep me off balance and scared all the time. I hated feeling so vulnerable. I hated feeling so damned needy.

I swept up the dust and leaves accumulating in the corners of my patio, fluffed up pillows on the chairs, and made sure everything looked nice. Maggie was in the kitchen prepping food, and Andrea was heading over to join us. It wasn’t the usual girls’ night because Andrea was bringing her friend, Joe, and I invited Tom and George to join us. We were all curious whether Tom had come up with anything on the case.

I had the latest Keith Urban CD playing softly in the background, giving the atmosphere a nice, friendly beat. Andrea rang the doorbell twice and walked in with Joe, George and Tom following behind them. More food, beer and wine, introductions all around, along with a lot of laughter, suddenly filled my home, making me feel safe. I loved it, being surrounded by the people in my life who cared.

Maggie filled glasses with wine and frosted mugs with beer. Each of us grabbed our preferred beverage.

As we raised them together, Maggie proclaimed, “To old friends and new. Let our night be filled with laughter and fun. To the beginning of good things, and to the end of all the bad!”

We touched our glasses, creating a musical ting. Smiling, I looked around and the troubles of the past month receded a bit. Tonight I needed a break from all of it, just for a little while.

Tom manned the grill, turning the steaks and talking to Maggie. They seemed to have a continuous chatter going on. The few times I had been around him, he seemed to be a man of few words and always so serious. Now I could see the lines crinkle around his eyes as he reacted to something Maggie would say. His laugh was soothing and genuine and he laughed often. He told stories of some of the crazier escapades he came across in his job, like the woman who gathered up all her cheating spouse’s custom-made silk business suits and piled them up in their driveway. She proceeded to pour battery acid from his Mercedes battery all over the clothing while the man was busy with his girlfriend. She then sat in a lawn chair with a glass of wine in the front yard, waiting for her husband to come home. Tom said it was quite the explosion when her husband figured out what she had done.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever laughed so hard at a story. Served the guy right.

I never gave a lot of thought to the things police officers dealt with. I’d always thought of them as running around catching criminals and giving out speeding tickets. I’d had little or no interaction with the police in my life up until now.

Joe Manelli, a minister at Celebration Church and a colleague of Andrea’s, jumped in several times, explaining how the police helped out behind the scenes in many areas of the community, like the boys’ and girls’ clubs and youth programs at some of the local churches. He met Tom a few years back at a summer camp where they both volunteered. Joe bragged of stomping on Tom’s team in softball. Tom offered a different version. The friendly banter went back and forth.

“Steaks are ready,” Tom announced.

Grabbing plates off the side table, everyone started dishing up. Jokes flew concerning who made what, and if it could possibly kill you, and who would eat the most. Laughter filled my backyard like music. The sun dipped lower in the sky and the string of lights draping here and there around the patio came on and began to twinkle. The temp was in the mid-seventies so it was comfortable. I kept the sliding doors open, allowing the music to drift outward.

Conversations ran from local happenings around town and sports. It touched on politics briefly, which quickly disappeared with one look from Andrea. Politics was always a controversial subject everywhere.

George asked a few questions about Joe’s church, which led into a lively conversation that included all of us. He told heartwarming stories of the kids in his youth group, which was obviously his passion. Single, with no children of his own, Joe looked at his congregation as his family by the way he spoke of them. He and Andrea talked about the women’s shelter where Andrea volunteered so much of her free time and now Joe was helping out there too.

I was sitting between George and Tom. Leaning forward, I asked Tom softly if the police had found out anything yet. His face became tense, which in turn made me nervous. I couldn’t get a read on him.

“We did get something yesterday, but I need to talk to you about it once everyone leaves. I have to ask you a couple of questions, but it can wait. We are still looking into some people of interest.”

He made me wonder what the police had uncovered that I hadn’t heard about yet.

“What about the neighbors down the street?” Maggie asked from the other side of Tom.

“They clammed up when I tried to talk to them about the neighborhood. I didn’t specify, nor did I accuse them of anything. The one was pretty cocky and mentioned there were some real hot babes living around here. He boasted about checking them out. The other one smacked him upside the head and told him to shut the hell up. They were pretty back country—creepy, to put it bluntly. Dirty and reeking of tobacco and beer, I’m not sure if either of them understood what a shower is.”

The image that ran thought my head sent a shiver down my spine. A few of the characters in the movie A Time to Kill came to mind. Mullets and big guts, trashy lowlifes.

Eeeww.

“We’re keeping an eye on them,” Tom assured me.

George sat quietly listening and leaned forward.

“I added another security camera under the overhang of the roof by my garage, aimed at your house and the street. This way we have more visual footage if anyone comes around,” he said. “I’m not spying on you or anything. I just figured they wouldn’t notice the location of the camera next to the drain pipe. It’s pretty well hidden and it could be helpful.”

I did feel safer with George right across the street and my dog always by my side. That’s where Lucky was right now, sleeping by my feet on the patio.

Andrea, Joe, and George left a little after ten, laughing and joking like old friends as they exited the front door. I asked Maggie to hang back with me to hear what Tom had to say on the case.

The house grew silent and the air thick with tension as Tom watched me sit on the couch next to Maggie. He remained standing, arms folded across his chest, face expressionless.

“What did you find out about Steve Nelson?”

I asked.

“He isn’t your stalker,” Tom replied. “In fact, do you remember the last time you heard from Steve?”

I had to think about it for a minute. Tom watched me so intently it made me nervous. I began fidgeting with the bracelets I always wore on my wrist. My foot subconsciously started tapping on the floor.

“I don’t think I’ve heard from him in a year. In fact, it was when I asked him to leave, so it’s been over a year. Why?”

I glanced over at Maggie and she nodded her head in agreement. We both looked at Tom, wishing he would just tell us what the hell was going on here.

“I’m just going to tell you what I know.” His face was still like a blank chalkboard, no emotion at all. “Steve Nelson is dead.”

I let out a gasp as the shock rippled through me, causing the air to rush out of my lungs. I grabbed Maggie’s hand and squeezed hard. Oh my God! What the hell? I didn’t care about Steve, but I didn’t hate him or wish him dead. I liked him enough at one time to sleep with him, let him into my life. I didn’t understand. My thoughts ran wild.

“What happened?” I managed to get out.

“He was murdered,” Tom said bluntly. “Someone messed him up really bad. Preliminary reports say he was beaten to death with a mechanic’s wrench or some kind of a heavy blunt object. It wasn’t found at the scene. I can’t say much more about it, and there is no way to sugarcoat it either. He was murdered.”

Tom’s words sank in. My body went rigid and clammy. Beads of perspiration broke out on the back of my neck and under my arms, making me ice cold. I held my body tightly and began to rock back and forth. I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I thought of Steve. I couldn’t believe he was dead, that someone killed him. I’d never known someone who had been murdered before, and the emotions raced through me. Fear, anger, sorrow. Then another thought hit me.

“You don’t think I had anything to do with Steve’s death, do you?”

He was quick to reassure me that I was not being considered a suspect. He hesitated for a moment before he went on.

“I can’t get into details due to the ongoing investigation, but I have a gut feeling on this one. It took a lot of force to kill a man like that, a lot of rage. It was brutal. Looks like it happened while you all were in California. It was out of my jurisdiction so I didn’t know much about it when it happened. It was brought to my attention yesterday. The killer left a message on the wall, written with Steve’s blood.”

“What did it say?” I whispered, already having an idea.

“She is mine.”

My mind went blank as the veil of fear engulfed me completely. My body started to tremble uncontrollably. Maggie moved close, wrapping her arms around me, but I broke away and raced to the bathroom, barely making it in time before I started violently throwing up.

Over and over I gagged and choked, my body heaving uncontrollably. My stomach twisted and cramped as it emptied until there was nothing left except bile. Maggie moved behind me, pulling my hair out of the way and wiping my face with a damp washcloth. I’m not sure how long we stayed in there. It felt like hours before my body stopped and the reality of Steve’s death sank in.

I stood up and made my way back into the living room, sinking back into a chair. I was numb as Maggie wrapped a quilt over my shoulders to keep me warm.

Tom stood quietly, looking out into the night. When he turned toward us, concern was all over him.

“What should we do?” Maggie asked, her voice quiet and unsteady. This didn’t affect only me anymore. If what Tom suspected was true, Steve was killed because he knew me, maybe because he had been a part of my life or maybe he was somehow in the way. It was over a year ago, what the hell?

I wondered just how long this freak had been watching me. Where was he? Why hadn’t I noticed anyone?

“I want you to keep Lucky with you at all times. Keep your doors locked and the security system engaged, even when you’re home. Have someone stay with you when you can. I will have a patrol out here keeping an eye on you. The main thing is to be constantly aware of your surroundings. If you hear something—call it in. Don’t stop to think about it,” Tom told us.

“But what if we hear something and it turns out to be nothing?” Maggie asked him.

“Doesn’t matter. It might be nothing or it might not. I don’t want you taking any chances until we catch this guy. And I promise you, we will.”

I wished I were as sure as he was. Right now I just wanted to take my dog and go far, far away until this was over.

I knew the police were on this but I was still scared. The what ifs were screaming inside of me. What if he found a way to get in? What if he hurt one of the girls? What if it was someone I knew? What if it was Elliot?

I needed to shut it off, to get my bearings straight, or I wouldn’t be able to function at all.

This was real.

It wasn’t a movie or a crazy mystery I was reading, this was my life. Someone was after me and for the love of God, I had no idea who it was or why.