21 Dares: A Florida Suspense Mystery (5 page)

He took a notepad from underneath his trench
coat. He clicked a pen and jotted down, “
5:15 PM –
Leaving therapist’s office. Headed west on Fletcher
.” He slipped the notepad back under the trench coat.

Walking down the steps, he kept a hand on top
his hat, holding it down. The snap-hooks on the flag pole in front of the building
clanked together. They rattled in the wind. He ignored them, solely focused on
Abbie Reed’s blurry image ahead
.

Chapter 5

P
assing cars splashed funnels of water as Abbie
made her way along Fletcher Street to a shopping center anchored by a Publix
supermarket. A nail salon, a Super Cuts, and a Little Caesar’s Pizza lined-up
on its right. A small liquor store bucked the corner on the left.
 
Abbie headed toward the liquor store, and
into the alley that ran along the back.

The
buildings blocked the wind, but barely hedged the rain. It fell in sheets like
a solid wall of water over the backs of the buildings. Abbie remained in the
center of the alleyway, sloshing forward. Puddles turned into running rivers
that washed over her already waterlogged tennis shoes. Squinting, she looked
over her shoulder.

Behind
her, a man rounded the corner of the liquor store. He was bundled up in a tan
trench coat. A brown hat was pulled so low it covered his face. He looked
saturated and cold. Clearly he was fighting the wind and rain, just like she
was.

Abbie
looked ahead again. The back alley emptied to a parking lot. From there, she
could either follow the sidewalk along busy Fletcher Street, tolerating car
after car splashing her along the curb. Or, she could cut through the back
alley of another chain of shopping centers. Walking behind the stores would
take her into Magnolia Park that ran on either side of the Hillsborough River.
She could cross the river at the pedestrian bridge and find cover in the Athletic
Center on the University campus. It took her out of her way, but the University
was closer. There she could find some dry clothes to change into and wait out the
storm.

Abbie
headed for the campus.

At
first the wind was at her back and it seemed like the rain was finally letting
up. Dripping wet, Abbie turned into the alley behind another block of stores.
She walked briskly behind a Sports Authority, where the delivery bay doors were
rolled up and three men were standing at the opening, smoking and laughing. A
wall of water rushed over the eaves, as if a waterfall separated the men from
the alley. They ignored her and she ignored them. She rushed through the rain.
The downpour intensified again, and water streamed into a retention pond on her
left. She splashed through the puddles and passed the backside of a Tijuana
Flats Mexican Restaurant. Its muffled Mariachi music competed with the thumping
rain, and that somehow made her feel lonelier.
She was outside, in the weather, and none of the patrons even
knew it. They were inside, dining and drinking and visiting. They had no idea
she had passed them.
Only she knew
, she
thought as she headed toward the last block of stores.

The alley brought her out to Cass Street. It
was deserted. Quiet. And, she walked down the street alone.

The
edge of Magnolia Park was just beyond an empty cul-de-sac and a row of browning
Cypress trees. Abbie turned onto the curved street and traipsed through an
empty lot. Muddy and littered with trash, she passed through it as quickly as
she could. Dense woodlands lay ahead along with a swollen Hillsborough River. Abbie
knew she had to make the jog through the park. The University campus was just
twenty minutes away and she’d be stripping out of these wet clothes in no
time.
 

She
bludgeoned a path through the foliage, twisting between tall oak trees that did
little to shelter her from the rain and scraggly pines and weeping willows that
grabbed at her arms and tugged on her sleeves. The wind whistled through the
limbs, shaking more water around her. Abbie moved faster beneath the canopy of
trees, not wanting to look back. Finally pushing through sharp thickets, she
came to a large, gnarled oak tree with a red arrow-shaped flag flapping in the
wind. A muddy blue directional sign displaying a white numeral “4” leaned
against it, marking its placement on a winding muddy trail. She knew it led
back to the athletic fields, as it was often used by the cross country girls.
It would’ve made for a nice walk through the woods on any other day.

Her
tennis shoes squished as she moved along the trail and came to the pedestrian
bridge. A wooden tunnel like an old Amish barn stretched over the river. It
looked especially dark on a rainy day like this, but it would at least give her
a break from the rain.

The
downpour intensified with a clap of thunder and rain water streamed downhill
into the river. It rushed and gurgled below her. She watched the running water a
moment, before stepping on the bridge. For some reason, she paused there.

Something
stirred behind her. Barely distinguishable from the falling rain and gushing
river, the noise sounded almost like movement through the woods.
Something—someone—trampled through the bushes.

She
turned her head and wiped the water assaulting her eyes.

A
man stood in the shadows beneath the gnarled oak tree, absolutely still, watching
her. Tan trench coat.
Brown hat.
She’d seen him before.

He
stood behind the muddy blue directional, as if he’d just come through the same
path in the woods behind her. She expected him to come around the sign, like
she’d just done. Step onto the muddy trail. Move toward her. Come at her.

He
didn’t. He just stood there in the rain.

Sunnydale
vampires came to mind.
Stalking.
Creeping.
Pursuing.
And then she thought of Gareth the Goodhearted
Ghoul. With a large, grey alien-like head, Gareth smiled at little children,
lured them back to the cemetery. That cartoon, like this man, sent chills down
her back. She didn’t know why. And she didn’t move as he stepped from behind the
flag.

The man’s head suddenly titled up, as if
startled, when the University clock tower struck six o’clock.
The bells rung loud and echoed through the woods, breaking Abbie’s
paralysis.
She turned and jumped up onto the pedestrian bridge, leaping
over the three wooden steps into the tunnel.

The bridge interior was dark. Abbie didn’t
care. Her feet pounded on the wooden floorboards. It echoed around her,
competing with the rapping rain on the tin roof. She didn’t hear it though. She
could only hear the man behind her, barreling his way toward her. If she turned
she would see him. He was gaining on her. She could hear his breathing, a kind
of labored pant and wheezing, but she would not look back. She stayed focused
on the far side of the bridge. The opening grew closer, brighter, as did the
continuing dirt path beyond it.

Abbie ran faster, feeling her wet shorts
chafe her inner thighs. She would make it.

Reaching the far side, she spilled out of the
tunnel opening and flew over the three-step railing. She landed on the muddy
path and scrambled to her feet. Rain hit her face. She didn’t look back. He was
coming. He was right behind her. His heavy breathing grew louder. She took off
running. Her feet splashed in the puddles and she nearly slipped. Catching
herself, she forged ahead, no longer caring about the rain.

 
Wind
rattled the tree limbs above and she slipped again,
then
jumped when fingers stroked the side of her neck. His fingertips scratched her
skin. Her heart flipped into her throat. He’d reached her. She spun around in
the mud. Her hands flew up. She fell backwards. She landed on her butt,
splashing into a puddle. The unicorn pendant swung violently on her neck,
slapping her face. Her breath caught in her throat. She looked up, expecting to
see him hovering over her. There was no one there. It had only been wet
willow-fronds swaying in the wind. The ragged wheezing she‘d heard was from her
own lungs, struggling for air. Her heart beat so fast it pounded in her ears,
and she felt sure it was about to burst.

She watched the trail behind her. She could
still see the bridge in the distance. Its gaping mouth stood empty. No man. No
tan trench coat and brown hat. Nothing stepped out the dark tunnel and down the
three little steps to the waiting pathway.
 
She couldn’t see down the sloping banks to the river, but felt sure that
even if she could, she’d see nothing there either. Abbie was alone, at least on
this side of the bridge.

Standing, she inhaled deeply and fixed her
eyes on the path ahead. Street lamps around the University parking lot shined
dimly through the trees and the hazy rain. She wasn’t far. Heading in their
direction, she walked faster,
thinking,
I’ll make it to the campus. I’ll make it to
the campus.

Behind her on the muddy path, the chain necklace floated
in a shallow puddle, broken into two snaky cords. The little silver unicorn
sunk to the bottom, and vanished in the muck.

Chapter 6

A
fter a few steps, Abbie looked back over her shoulder again. She
hesitated for a second–just a split second–and wondered if she’d imagined him.

The woods were dark. Shadows moved between
the trees. Rain fell, but nothing moved. Perhaps the whole ordeal was just in
her head. Even if it was, Abbie knew, her fear was not just her imagination.

She picked up her pace, coming to a sidewalk
that stretched around the campus parking. Her tennis shoes squished and
squeaked on the cement. Her sopping clothes clung to her body, preventing her
from running as fast as she wanted as she crossed the parking lot. When she
reached the campus lawn, wet and winded, her legs tangled in each other and she
tripped. She threw out her palms to take the jolt as she hit the grass.

Lying there, Abbie didn’t move. She closed
her eyes, and felt the rain on her back, her neck,
her
head. And she breathed, willing her heart to relax. This man–imaginary or
not–had frightened her. This was a panic attack; she was sure of it. And she
wasn’t sure why.

For some reason, Professor Cunningham’s
office came to mind. She was sitting in the little chair at the side of his
desk. He was across from her, looking down on her. And she heard his voice,
Miss Reed. I’ll be watching you.

Abbie opened her eyes.

A man wearing a blue and black uniform stood
over her, holding an umbrella. He looked like a college student wearing his
father’s police uniform.

“You alright?”
He held out a hand to help her up. Abbie took it, sat up,
then
reached for the unicorn pendant. The necklace was gone.
Flustered, she turned her head and ran a hand through the grass around her. The
man bent at his knees.
“Ma’am?
You lose something?”

Abbie looked up at him, grabbing the collar
and lapel of her drenched shirt where the pendant would’ve been. She looked
back at the dark woods. She’d lost it in there.
Somewhere.
She shook her head and wanted to cry.

“Ma’am,” the security guard asked again. “Are
you okay?”

“Someone’s following me.” Abbie sighed and
pointed toward the woods beyond the parking lot.
“At the
pedestrian bridge.
Behind the cross country path.”

“Did he hurt you?” He positioned the umbrella
over her head to protect her from the rain. It didn’t help. Abbie was soaked
and dirty. Mud streaked across her cheeks and forehead.

“No.” She looked down at her drooping wet
clothes. “I’m just a little shaken.”

“What’d he look like? Do you know him?”

“He’s wearing a rain coat, or a trench coat
or something.” Abbie shook her head, thinking about the strange man. “He’s got
a brown hat on but I couldn’t see his face?”

“It was a man though?”

She nodded. He handed her the umbrella. “Wait
here,” he said.

He walked across the parking lot to the dirt
path,
then
disappeared behind the trees. Abbie waited
for him, her heart pounding. After several minutes, he came back around the
corner. He dropped down on one knee, facing her.

“I didn’t see anyone,” he said.

“He was there, I tell you.” Her body trembled
with cold rain and the fearful images built in her mind. “He was following me.”

 
“Was
he a student?”

“I don’t think so. He was older.”

“A teacher?”

Abbie paused. Professor Cunningham invaded
her thoughts again. “I didn’t get a good look.”

 
“Well,
there’s no one there now.
 
I think you’re
safe.” He helped her stand, and his dark brown eyes softened at the sight of
her. “You’re in good hands, ma’am. I have law enforcement in my blood.”

She was caught off guard by the sudden
vibrancy of his voice. “Are you a cop?”

“No, ma’am.
I’m Josh Parks, campus security guard.” His shoulders straightened, his
chin jutted ever so slightly. “But my father is the Chief of Police.”

“Chief of
Police?”
Abbie looked around the empty parking lot.
Falling rain glistened in the beams of the street lamps. Around them was utter
darkness. She looked back at Josh. “Should we call him? They’ve got a canine
unit, right?”

He laughed. “I don’t think we need to call in
a canine unit just yet.” He gripped her upper arm and gently tugged, motioning
for her to follow. “Come on. Let’s get out of the rain.”

Splashing through puddles, she followed him
to a blue and white golf cart with an orange lights flashing on the roof.
Falling into the passenger seat, she felt her anxiety rage out of control. She
wished she could dump all those feelings into one of the trash cans along the
curb. She was being silly. It had to have been her imagination. And, if it
wasn’t, the man in the rain may not have even been following her. He hadn’t
made any aggressive moves toward her, much less even acknowledge her. For all
she knew he could’ve been a poor sap caught in the rain, just like her. Still,
there was something about him that brought up memories locked deep in her
subconscious. Something she couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Taking a deep breath, she looked over at
Josh. The warmth of his smile echoed in his voice.

“You’re safe now. So take a deep breath and
relax.” He cocked his head, watching her. “I didn’t catch your name, ma’am.”

“I’m Abbie Reed.” She held out a hand,
then
realized her fingers and palm were caked in mud. She
pulled it back.

“That’s okay, Abbie Reed.” He took her hand
anyway and gave a firm handshake. “I’m kinda wet and muddy now too.”

They pulled up to the guard shack at the edge
of Parking Lot S, before the road turned out onto Fletcher Street. They stepped
out of the golf cart and entered the glass building. Josh found a couple of
towels stuffed in a box under the desk and handed them to her. Then he took one
for himself, wiping his face and arms. He pointed to a blue cooler also stashed
under the desk.

“You want something to drink?”

She looked at him a moment, considering it.
“Minute Maid Old Fashioned Lemonade, if you have it.”

Josh opened the cooler lid and looked inside.
“I’ve got blue Gatorade or bottled water.”

“Water’s fine.” She took the bottle he handed
her and twisted off the cap. Then she noticed he was still staring at her.

 
“Do
you want me to call someone?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine.
Really.”
Abbie
wasn’t though. She felt frazzled, and tried to hide it in her voice. “So if
your father is Chief of the Police, what does that make you?
A
sergeant at arms or a deputy or something?”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work that way,
ma’am.”
An
clumsy silence settled between them. After
a moment, he finished his Gatorade and rubbed the back of his hand across his
mouth. He tossed the empty bottle into the waste basket then looked at her.
“You want to hear a joke?”

She looked at him. “What?”

“You want to hear a joke?” he asked again.
When she nodded, he smiled and said, “So what did the Mexican fire chief name
his two sons?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“Hose A and Hose B.” Josh erupted in
laughter. It was a deep, haughty laugh that made Abbie smile. He pointed toward
her. “You see? You see? You’re smiling now. You feel better, am I right?”

“I guess.” Abbie blinked and focused her gaze
on him. Josh was a young guy compared to the other campus security guards,
maybe only twenty-five or six, with curly dark hair and striking light blue
eyes. She hadn’t noticed his eyes. He stared back, waiting in silence. Catching
herself staring at him, she looked away. “I just need some dry clothes out of
my locker.”

“You a senior?”

“I’m a freshman,” she said. “I just moved
here a couple of months ago.
How ‘bout you?”

“No. Ever since the police academy rejected
my application, I’ve just been making money the old fashioned way. I rob banks,
liquor stores,
convenience
shops.” He laughed again.
It was a full hearted, contagious sound and Abbie couldn’t help herself. She
burst out laughing too. Maybe it was just stress relieving itself.
Or maybe the anxiety.
Either way, she felt better.

“You look like a student,” she said. “Not
just...”

“Not just campus security?” He thumped his
badge.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah… Most the campus
security guards are retired, aren’t they?”

“Well, we can’t all live the dream, can we?”

“No.” Abbie got up from the chair. “I guess
I’d better find my locker and get out of these wet clothes.”

“How ‘bout I give you a lift? If there’s
someone out there, you gotta respect the danger.” He opened the glass door of
the guard shack. “What building?”

What building, she thought. She wanted to ask
him to take her back out on the running path and into the woods. She wanted to
ask him to help her find her necklace. She couldn’t lose the pendant. She just
couldn’t. But it was too dark.
Too muddy.
And that
man, imaginary or not, was still out there. Instead, she just said, “The
gymnasium.”

He held the door open wider and motioned
toward the golf cart. “Hop in. I’ll get you there safe and sound. The ride is
totally strange men proof.”

She regarded him a moment, and perceived him
to be one of the good guys. She nodded. Perhaps she needed friends after all.

* * * *

Rain spilled from the slanted roof of the pedestrian
bridge and pooled in the gravel walkway. Excess water streamed downhill into
the river and sounded like a running faucet. The quiet noise competed with the
bull frogs and the gators. He could hear them, but couldn’t see them. Darkness
had fallen, and heavy rain clouds blocked the moonlight.

Still, something sparkled in a puddle just
beyond the pedestrian bridge. It lay barely a foot from the last step.
The spot where Abbie Reed had fallen.

He knelt beside the
puddle,
rain drops beading on his tan trench coat. Water dripped from the brim of his
brown hat, spilling faster with the tilt of his head. He picked up the shiny
object.

It was a silver unicorn pendant. The clasp
had broken. He gripped the gold necklace, letting the pendant twirl in a tight
circle below his hand. Standing, he closed a fist around the unicorn,
then
stepped up into the pedestrian bridge.
 

He disappeared into the shadows.

* * * *

When Abbie finally got home, she retreated to her bedroom
and picked-up her laptop. Clem was there, waiting, and jumped on the bed. Abbie
ran her hand across his back, ruffling the fur, and remembered the psychology
paper she needed to write. But what was the point? She’d have to return to
Professor Cunningham’s office in the morning and come clean that she wasn’t
paying attention in class.

She reached for the unicorn necklace again.
Her heart sank when her fingers grasped air. The necklace was gone. It felt
like she’d just lost a friend somehow.

She knew that sounded funny.
Maybe a little weird.
And she knew Dr. Wachowski was wrong.
She didn’t need a lot of friends from school or people in her life
who
just wouldn’t get her.

She never had any friends in the traditional
sense anyway. Growing up, Clinton Reed would never let her go to the park or
hang out at the mall. There were no dances or football games on Friday nights.
She never had a sleepover.

Still, if someone asked her, Abbie, are you
lonely, she honestly wouldn’t have known how to answer. She may not have had
friends like other kids in the neighborhood, but she had Clinton Reed and her
grandparents. She loved to bake with her grandmother and grocery shop. She had
a massive collection of Legos that released her imagination. Her father would
help her build houses, cities, and battleships. Abbie asked for the Mega Set
for her tenth birthday, and was excited to unwrap it.

As she got older, she found a passion for
reading, and collected hundreds of books and escaped into every one. She loved
Sidney Sheldon and read Master of the Game and Rage of Angels three or four
times each. By her mid-teens, she discovered Buffy and the Scooby Gang.

But Lonely?
At best she had some faint sense of longing for friends, like Buffy,
Willow and Xander. They would be there for you, have your back. But they
weren’t real, and friends weren’t part of her reality.

Like a child blind from birth would only have
the most academic understanding of sight, Abbie had no concept of what lonely
was because she knew nothing else. If she had friends then lost them, she might
have understood. But in her world, loneliness was simply a part of her, like
her uneven ears or the odd little gap between her two front teeth.