Scared Yet? (19 page)

‘How did he respond?'

‘We threw a few names around. It was an ugly few months.' Thomas had moved out of Renwick Street and straight in with Michelle. Liv had felt cast aside and was grappling for something to stop her earth spinning off its axis. ‘We kept it away from Cameron.' She said it quietly as she asked herself: was he trying to rub her right out of the picture now?

25

‘Have you got the last two messages here?' Rachel asked.

Festering like toxic waste, Liv thought. When Daniel had been checking the outside of the townhouse, she'd used tongs to deposit the photo into a second zip-lock bag. She fetched both from the kitchen, happy to hand them over. As Rachel examined each side, Liv sat beside her and eyed the row of photocopies she'd laid out on the coffee table. They were the first four messages in chronological order, the one from her blotter reduced in size to fit the A4 page. There were notations on each of them in different-coloured biro, as though Rachel had studied them over several sittings, using whatever pen was at hand. Various words were underlined and circled and there were question marks and free-form lines to notes in the margins. So Rachel
had
done more than just ask questions.

‘Still nothing emailed to you?' she asked.

Liv had checked her email on her phone in the cafe. ‘No. What do you think that means?'

‘Perhaps he doesn't have good computer skills, which could be an indication of his age. Or he may not know how to do it without being traced. Or maybe he wants to show you how close he can get.'

He could send a text or email from anywhere and claim he was close. Hand delivery to her home and car left no doubt about it. ‘Don't you have profilers or something for this kind of thing?'

‘We do use profilers at times but this is a regional area. We don't have those resources on hand here and they're usually brought in for more urgent situations.'

This felt urgent. ‘Like what?'

‘Murder cases.'

Shit.

Rachel placed the photo and card on the coffee table to complete the set. ‘None of these read like a direct threat. He doesn't actually say he's going to hurt you. He hints at it but it's as though he's trying to make you understand that he could if he wanted to.'

‘Trying to prove that I didn't get the better of him in the car park?'

‘Possibly.' She pointed to the first note. ‘The fact he used your name on this one suggests he might have known you before the assault. You found that before your interview went to air.'

‘He always uses my full name.'

‘It's not a common name.'

‘I get “Olivia” a lot. People assume or mishear. Maybe he's trying to make a point. That he knows it's not
O
livia. That he knows me personally.'

‘I noticed Daniel calling you Liv.'

She shifted her eyes from the collection to Rachel, wary of her mention of Daniel. ‘Friends call me Liv. I don't introduce myself as that but people usually hear others using it and pick it up. So maybe he hasn't got close enough to know.' She let out a gust of air. ‘Or maybe he just likes the
sound
of Livia. Or he needs more than three letters to float his boat.'

Rachel tipped her head from side to side as though she was moving a thought around in her mind. ‘So can
I
call you Liv?'

Liv raised her eyebrows. Rachel had relaxed the cop-on-duty manner while they'd looked at the notes but she still spoke as though every comment was a line of inquiry. And what had become clear over the last hour and a half was that for every question asked, she seemed to have an unspoken note in the margin. This last question sounded like, ‘What's my status?' but it was worded like a request to be friends. Was she working out how quickly Liv included an acquaintance as a friend? Wondering if the stalker had waited for an invitation to be included? Or was she suggesting they become buddies? She couldn't tell, said, ‘Yes, of course. That'd be nice.'

Rachel nodded like she got the right answer. ‘Okay, great. I think that's it for now.'

The sun was dipping towards the neighbour's roof when they stood, casting shadows that stretched across the courtyard. Liv closed the curtains over it. He won't see me tonight, she told herself, but it wasn't tonight she was worried about.

‘My son is with me on Monday. Is he going to be safe here?'

Rachel dropped her notebook and pen into her handbag, tucked a wisp of hair behind an ear. ‘You've got good security here and the police are on notice about your situation. You're doing all the right things to protect yourself and your son.'

‘But the office. And Sheridan. I . . .' Liv looked at the glass that stretched across the back of the room, remembered the thump as the teenager had crashed into it two nights ago. What would she have done if it'd been Cameron with her instead of Sheridan? ‘Have you got children, Rachel?'

She smiled. ‘A four-year-old boy.'

‘What would you do?'

Her answer came without hesitation, an edge of steel in her voice. ‘In your situation, when I didn't know what was going on, I wouldn't let him out of my sight.'

Liv understood the sudden ferocity – any mother would. But there was something determined and stubborn and tough behind it that made Liv hopeful about Rachel's notations on the photocopies and her endless cycle of questions – and worried about where they might lead.

Rachel spoke as Liv walked her to the front door. ‘My experience with stalkers is that they have their own agenda. You won't know what it is and you can't reason with it. All I know is that this guy could be gone tomorrow or he could be around in some capacity for years.'

‘
Years!
That bastard could be out there watching me for years?'

The detective patted the air with both palms, a hold-on-a-minute. ‘Look, my point is if you're thinking of making other arrangements for your son while this is going on, you need to be aware it could be a significant time. It's only been five days so far. We don't know how this is going to play out. This guy might see you with your son and decide you're not the woman he wants to harass. Or he might only send you notes when your son isn't here.' She softened her voice. ‘I understand your concern and I can't tell you what to do but it seems to me you've already had one battle to have your son with you. You seem like a strong person, Liv. Don't let this guy make you rush into a decision that your husband may not let you reverse.'

Liv locked the door, checked the bolts at the back of the townhouse, peered through the curtains into the courtyard. The dog was quiet out there now but peaceful wasn't what she felt.

The thought of another week without Cameron was more than she could bear. If Thomas had anything to do with this, she'd never forgive him. Maybe she'd do worse than that. If he didn't and she asked him to have Cameron for a few days while the police found the stalker, would he use it against her to fight for more time? For full custody? She knew how antagonistic he'd become this last year and there was every chance he would. She closed her eyes, fought back the nausea that had pushed its way into her throat. She couldn't lose Cam. She wouldn't survive that. So do something, Liv. Standing around worrying won't help.

She found her phone and made a list of calls to keep busy, starting with Cameron. She oohed and wowed through his rehash of the game, all the time fighting the urge to tell him she'd seen him and he'd done great.

Andy had been home to see his daughter and was back at the hospital, sounding tired and strained. The doctors were talking about bringing Sheridan out of the coma soon, he told her. ‘I've never seen her stay still for so long, Liv. I can't believe it's her in that bed.' The police had told him about the rock through her windscreen but they hadn't mentioned a stalker and Liv didn't either. He was already worried and she felt more guilty than she could bear.

Her father's breath sounded like air being forced through a straw. She wished she was better at lying, that she could offer him more than tight-voiced anxiety tonight – like the promise of happiness for his only child. Or her presence by his bed, at least. Her stalker had a lot to answer for.

By the time she called Kelly, her face was throbbing again and she wished she had something better than an accountant's report to talk to her about. She didn't even get to discuss that. Kelly was with one of her sisters, about to go into a movie. Jason was at home with the girls, giving her a Saturday night off without the kids. Liv hoped that's all it was then reminded herself that was what people did. In a different kind of life.

‘How are you? Did you get some rest today?' Kelly asked, speaking loud enough to be heard above the noise in the cinema foyer.

It wasn't the time to go into all the reasons why she hadn't. ‘I'm fine. But we need to make some time to talk, Kelly.'

‘Yes, we do. I'll call you in the morning.'

Liv had expected her to dodge it again and hung up feeling more unsettled than when she'd dialled.

She left Jason to last. As far as she knew, he had no bad news that she didn't already have, no brewing conflict, no reason to make her feel sad or guilty or worried. She didn't bother with hello. ‘Say something nice. I need to hear something nice.'

‘I've been thinking about you all day.'

The unexpectedness of it made her eyes tingle with the threat of tears. ‘God, Jase, that's too nice. I meant funny. Can you do funny?'

‘Pig noises or a knock-knock joke? Those are your options at short notice.'

‘Pig noises?'

‘Yeah. The kids think my pig is hilarious.'

She heard a snuffling, grunting over the phone, imagined him scrunching up his face like he was hunting for truffles and laughed out loud. ‘Okay, thanks. That was great. Weird but great.'

‘What's going on, Liv?'

She told him about going to the soccer and Michelle, the photo and the stake-out, Rachel and the rock and the flattened weeds. She left out her work worries – they were between her and Kelly. It felt cleansing to say it all out loud. She'd anticipated tears but anger and frustration was what she was left with.

‘Do you want to come over?' he asked.

She closed her eyes, got a picture of their family room – warm and welcoming and homely. It was the whole
package, the one Liv had wanted. She loved that they had it but tonight a happy family that wasn't her own was too much. ‘Thanks but I'm exhausted. I've hardly slept. I'd be awful company.'

‘Don't underestimate yourself.'

‘Can I get a lift to the hospital with you tomorrow?' She wanted moral support – for Andy and the car park.

‘Of course. Whatever you need me for.'

The way he said it seemed a little odd but maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe she was beyond thinking clearly. ‘Thanks.'

She hung up and the silence of the townhouse folded around her. She edged open a curtain, glimpsed the pearly grey of early evening. Her head was pounding, her body ached and her eyes felt like dried-up prunes. She should eat something, take a shower but the sofa was calling again. The soft leather embraced her as she curled under the blanket she'd brought down earlier. She laid her head on the armrest and let exhaustion claim her.

It was dark in the townhouse when she woke, just the outside lights glowing on the curtains to see by. She'd been out longer than she'd hoped, the best rest she'd had in a week. As she swung her legs around to sit up, something flickered in the corner of her vision.

She froze. For half a minute, she watched the length of white drapes. Nothing moved. Maybe it was her eyes. She'd hardly slept in days and the lid of the unbruised one had quivered with tiny spasms off and on all day.

Then the dog barked and an instant later, she was on her feet, shins against the coffee table, pulse pumping in the back of her head as Benny rattled off a stream of sound. Shit,
shit
.

She pictured the flattened weeds in the courtyard and tiptoed to the baseball bat resting against the wall, gripped it with both hands. What now? She wanted to get the hell out, sprint like a maniac. Was it safer in or out? On foot, she could run right into her stalker. If she got in the car and rolled up the auto-door, he could be dragging her out before she could drive anywhere.

Call the police? And tell them what? The neighbour's dog was barking?

The bat was heavy in her hand, solid and smooth. You've got a weapon, Liv, and you've got shit-hot locks. Stay inside and take Daniel's advice: pay attention and be ready to get the hell out.

The front door was the best exit, she decided; the kitchen was a dead end. She crept to the curtains, listened carefully. A car rumbled in the street and there was a distant metallic bang, but nothing from the courtyard. She thought of Daniel hunkering down against the fence this afternoon. If someone was out there doing that, she wouldn't hear a thing.

She slipped a finger between the drapes and held her eye to the gap. Two overlapping circles of light bathed the pavers in a soft glow and a spotlight glared across the neighbour's yard. She couldn't see much more than that and nothing beyond the raised garden bed. She
remembered Daniel again, the way he'd tilted his head up to her window. Her bedroom had a better view.

As she mounted the stairs, Benny stopped barking. No wind-down, just sudden silence.

She kneeled on her bed, leaned close to the window. The courtyard looked like a stage set – the fence as the backdrop, the two bulbs on the outside wall as spotlights but there were no actors. If her stalker had been out there, he wasn't anymore.

If he
had
. . . where was he now?

She ran lightly to Cameron's room, angled her eyes to the dark driveway. There were plenty of hiding places – beside the garage, behind the side gate, around the bend in the drive. Under the flat square of roof that sheltered the front door. Should she look there? She tightened her hold on the bat, fear and aggravation battling for attention. The man who was stalking her was violent and unstable, but she was sick of tiptoeing and hiding. And she had a club.

She crept downstairs, flicked on the outside light, listened to the silence on the other side of the door.