Eyes of a Stalker (19 page)

In no time, he'd put everything back in place and I heard him go out the door. It would be hours before
sunrise and more than that before anyone might happen along. I closed my eyes and said a short prayer.

If Jason had his way, I had two more days to live.

Thinking about it, I don't know how I made myself wait. No doubt it was fear: fear that the plan I'd formulated on the first night I'd spent as a prisoner under the shed's floor wouldn't work.

It was well after daylight broke before I made a move. Scurry was sitting in his usual place — I told myself he'd come to like having me there — and the movement startled him, making him run off. I made a silent promise that, if I got out of there alive, I'd come back and bring him some jelly beans. I'd heard mice like them better than cheese.

Even though my fingers were loose it was difficult to do anything with my wrists tied. I fumbled a few times, but was careful not to rush. A single mistake could ruin everything.

It all had to be done by feel, of course, but as I
made progress I found my heartbeat quickening with excitement. They felt right! Until I had them in my hand, there'd been no way to know whether or not the batteries from the Walkman would fit my alarm.

Using my fingers, I explored the cavity to make sure I was getting the right ends on the positive posts, and then I inserted the batteries into the alarm.

Then came the nerve-wracking wait for someone — anyone — to come near enough to the shed. It was possible that the alarm wouldn't work after being slammed down hard enough to bust the battery door and crack the case, but I didn't test it. Maybe that was fear again, though I told myself I wasn't wasting one second of power from the batteries. Since I didn't know how much charge was in them, I couldn't risk draining them before the sounds of the alarm could summon help.

It felt like ten hours, but it was probably only one or two, before I heard voices. Kids! I hesitated, wondering if I should wait for someone older, but then I remembered how curious kids are. I felt sure they'd come to see what was going on — if the alarm worked — but what they'd do afterward remained to be seen.

Heart pounding, my finger moved and clicked the switch. The siren came to life immediately, blaring in what was an unbelievably loud sound in the confines of the crawlspace.

It wasn't two minutes before I heard the sounds I was praying for: feet pounding on the steps, banging, and voices. As much as I wanted to know what they were saying, I didn't dare turn off the alarm as long as they were there.

They banged on the door a few times, but any other sounds they made were drowned out by the siren, in spite of how hard I strained to hear. Then there was nothing, and I knew they were gone. I switched the alarm off to save the batteries.

“Please let them get help,” I prayed. And I prepared myself to wait, either for them to come back with an adult, or for someone else to come along. I knew it could be a while, so it was a surprise when I heard footsteps again after what seemed no more than ten minutes.

I could tell at once that the sounds I now heard were from adults. As they reached the shed, I switched the alarm on again and over the screeching noise it made, I heard an excited shout.

It blurs after that. A crashing sound, heavy footsteps on the floor above me. I turned the alarm off again and kicked at the floorboards with all my might. I heard scraping when the table and stools were moved and then light flooded in as the boards were lifted out.

“It's her!”

There, leaning down, reaching down, pulling me up and out, was Officer Mueller. Beside him, Officer
Stanton stood with tears running down her cheeks. Well, to be honest, we were all crying.

“My parents,” I said, the second the tape was off my mouth.

“I was calling it in while he was getting you out of there,” Stanton said.

They both worked on getting the ties off me, and in no time I was completely freed. You have no idea how good it felt to be able to walk and move normally again, or how good it felt a few moments later when they led me out of the building and, for the first time since my horror began, I was outside again.

“Who are we after?” Mueller asked as they helped me to the cruiser.

“Jason Puckett. He's probably at school right now.”

“We need to pick him up before he hears that you're out,” Stanton said. Now that her tears were dried, she couldn't stop smiling. It was quite a contrast from the officer I'd first met — the woman who'd been so cool and professional. I decided I liked her just fine either way.

“And Eric? He's innocent, you know.”

“Yes, we know. He's already been released. When you disappeared, we took a harder look at some of the evidence.”

“Like the height of the person on the surveillance tape?”

“We caught that later. First thing we discovered was the complete absence of fingerprints on the sheets of paper that were planted at his place. Since some of them were just drafts of the letter that was sent to you, it didn't make sense he'd be that careful about prints.”

We were nearing my place by then and I saw my mom in the doorway. As we pulled into the drive she hurried out and the next moment she was holding me and sobbing.

“If
I
went outside in this weather with no jacket on,
I'd
be in trouble,” I said teasingly. And then I broke down, too.

Dad arrived minutes later and the whole emotional scene was repeated. He'd continued searching with the volunteers while Mom had been asked to remain at home in case the culprit called. She said it was much worse having to stay in the house when all she could think was that she should be
doing
something.

A lot more things happened that day. Some of them kind of jumble together, but a few stand out.

Like Betts's face when she came running into my kitchen after she'd heard the news and rushed over.

Like hearing that Jason had been arrested and that the Crown had already decided to ask that he be charged as an adult. This was no longer a case of stalking; it was kidnapping, unlawful confinement, and a bunch of other things. Jason was going to be locked away for a long, long time.

Like calling Eric and telling him how sorry I was for what he'd been through. He said he knew it wasn't my fault and he didn't hold anything against me for believing he was a stalker, even for a little while, but I think he's over his crush on me for good.

Like sitting in the kitchen after a lovely, hot shower, dressed in clean clothes and eating a steaming hot bowl of soup and then hearing the kitchen door open and looking up…

And seeing Greg there.

Normally, I'd have sat and waited to see what he wanted, but there was nothing normal about the last few days. I got up and went to him, put my arms around him, and felt my heart lift with joy as his encircled me.

I didn't care if I had to swallow my pride or not. It spilled out of me — all of it. Why I'd broken up with him, how much I'd missed him, everything.

At first he just held me and didn't say anything. I realized after a few minutes that was because he was too choked up to speak. When he did finally speak, he just kept saying, “I love you, Shelby. You
know
I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, feeling this huge surge of joy. “And I don't even care about you going out with Tina.”

“Going out with Tina?” He pulled back, his face astonished. “What are you talking about?”

“Tyrone's party. You were there with her.”

“With Tina? No way! She asked me, but I told her no. I mean, there's nothing wrong with her, but…”

His voice trailed off for a moment and then I could see him sorting through it. “You thought that, because she was beside me, we were together. To be honest, it was getting on my nerves how every time I turned around it seemed she was there. But I never thought anyone — least of all you — would think we were there
together
.”

I felt a little embarrassed for listening to Betts. I could see exactly what had happened! She'd heard something about Tina asking Greg to go with her, and passed it on to me as if it was a done deal.

“I should have known,” I said. “I should have known you better than that. If I had, none of what happened… I mean, I'd have…”

I almost didn't know what I was trying to say, but it didn't matter. It was all over.

“Anyway, didn't you understand the story I wrote for you?”

“What story?” I asked.

“The one about the whooping cranes.”

“I remember you reading it. It was really nice.” I looked up and saw him smiling in a sweet, patient way, like he does when I'm slow clueing in to something. “Why? Is there something special about whooping cranes?”

“
I
think so.” He leaned down and kissed me. “Once they choose a mate, they stay together for life.”

As always, I am indebted to those whose support and encouragement have made my dream a reality.

My husband, partner, and best friend, Brent. I love you truly, madly, deeply.

My parents, Bob and Pauline Russell.

My son Anthony, his wife, Maria, and daughters Emilee and Ericka. My daughter Pamela and her husband, David Jardine. My brothers and their families: Danny and Gail; Andrew, Shelley, and Bryce. My “other” family: Ron and Phoebe Sherrard, Ron Sherrard and Dr. Kiran Pure, Bruce and Roxanne Mullin, and Karen Sherrard.

Friends: Janet Aube, Jimmy Allain, Karen Arseneault, Dawn Black, Karen Donovan, Angi Garofolo, John Hambrook, Sandra Henderson, Jim Hennessy, Alf Lower, Mary Matchett, Johnnye Montgomery, Marsha Skrypuch, Linda Stevens, Ashley Smith, Pam Sturgeon,
Paul Theriault and Bonnie Thompson.

At The Dundurn Group: Kirk Howard, Publisher, and the whole team, particularly my awesome editor, Barry Jowett, and director of design, Jennifer Scott. Also, special thanks to Alison Carr for her work on the cover, and Dan Wagstaff for maintaining good humour no matter how much I pestered him.

My fabulous agent, Leona Trainer of Transatlantic Literary Agency.

Teenagers! Hearing from you is the
best
part of writing, and I love getting your letters and emails. You are on these pages and they belong to you.

Very special thanks to readers Elizabeth Foran and Kirsti McNabney. Your project was amazing and the slideshow was awesome!