Page 4 of A Shot in the Dark
Chapter 2
The paper is sitting out in the open on the small table at the end of the couch in the living room. How did I miss that?
I should have noticed it immediately but I was so focused on unpacking and putting Dubai and Jonathan behind me that I didn’t thoroughly look around when I first walked in.
I approach the thing that terrifies me most at the moment. It’s sloppily written but each letter is big enough to be clear.
You should have stayed gone.
Now I have to make you go away.
Forever.
I’ve never called anyone back as quickly as the police. “We’re sending an officer,” he relents.
“Great. I’ll wait downstairs with security.”
True to his word, an officer arrives within ten minutes to take my statement and walks with me through my condo, gathering evidence. I’m there while they interview security and the doormen, valets, bellhops, and desk staff. Members of the maid service and maintenance are called in for a quick roundof questioning, too. The staff ignores the cops’ suggestions and they flutter around me, voices high with worry, asking me questions to assure themselves that I’m okay. The building’s manager cuts past them all, taking my hands in his sweaty ones and guaranteeing that they’ll get to the bottom of this—the tenants’ safety and happiness is more than his duty, it’s his calling. I believe him as much as I believe the report from the attending officer—a man named Lonnie Newbuck—that no one’s seen anything or acted in any way that’s suspicious. I’m not surprised: I’ve lived in this condo for three years now. The staff has earned my trust.
Could my stalker be one of the other residents? We don’t really interact... I’m new money—if you could truly call my earnings “money,” in comparison to theirs. Where I grew up, I’d be considered rich, but here? I’m doing “tolerably.”
Even though I’m not close with any of my neighbors, I haven’t given anyone a reason to break in and leave a letter like that.
And the wine glass? Out of all the other glasses and mugs, that seems too specific to be random.
Officer Newbuck again checks my condo along with security, and declaring it safe, asks if I want to stay there or with a family member.
My throat tightens as I admit, “I don’t have any.”
“A friend, then?”
I run through the short list of people I know. Before the breakup, I’d have gone to Jonathan’s place immediately. That’s out of the question now. Other options are slim, I have more acquaintances than friends and Laryssa’s in London. “I…” I swallow the lump growing in my throat. “I’ll stay.”
Newbuck nods. “We’ll station someone outside your door tonight so you get some rest. I might suggest hiring a private security detail, though, if I were you.”
“If you have any recommendations…”
He slips me a business card. “This guy’s good.”
“Andrei?”
“Yep.”
“What’s that last name? Russian or…something?”
“Or something.” He shrugs. “He’s guarded some pretty high-profile people. If you want to stay in the city and keep working, he can keep you safe. ”
I give one of the chunky gold bracelets I wear a twist. “I’ll consider it.” If it takes hiring some bodyguard to keep me safe enough to stay here, I’ll do it. My job’s here; my life’s here. Three minutes later, he’s gone, the strange letter and my wine glass in-hand as potential evidence. Condo security takes their place outside my door, waiting to be replaced by someone more official.
I turn every lock on my door and make sure each window is secure, then retreat to my bedroom, telling myself I’m as safe as I can be.
The next morning I can almost imagine nothing happened until I spot the police officer standing right outside my door. “No news,” he announces gruffly. He gives me a polite nod, makes sure my door is locked behind me, and puts me in a yellow cab.
I take my time, drawing out the process of paying for my ride until a group of people I know are approaching my place of employment on the sidewalk. I dart out the door and into their midst, only realizing then how stupid a move it is.
What if one of them is my stalker?
They exchange glances and offer cooler-than-usual greetings, dividing up as we enter the building’s lobby. My heelsclick the whole way across the marble-tiled floor on my way to the bank of elevators.
