Brian Freeman - Stalked

Get a grip, honeybun. So I'm a little late .

Maybe Evelyn had sprained an ankle. Maybe she had found an injured animal by the highway and was trying to rescue it. She was always doing that.

Maybe.

Helen backed up slowly and silently until her hand grazed the north wall of the house, and then she stood motionless, studying the shadows in the hallway that led to the bedrooms. She sucked her upper lip between her teeth and bit it hard.

The dog wasn't barking anymore. Why?

Maybe the deer was gone. Maybe Edgar was asleep.

You've been drinking, she told herself. You're paranoid.

Helen followed the wall toward the rear porch that overlooked the river. When she reached the easy chair where she had been sitting, she reached behind and shut off the lamp, bathing the house in darkness. She navigated around the wicker furniture and then put a hand on the cold glass as she stared outside through the storm door. Somewhere in the night, below the garden, behind the weeping willow that brushed the ground with its dangling branches, was the Mississippi. She couldn't see a light anywhere. It reminded her again of how much she hated darkness and open spaces, how much she preferred to be cloistered where it was bright and crowded.

You need to go. Now .

He's here .

Helen cracked open the porch door and slid outside into the bitter air. The wooden deck was glazed with ice. She nearly fell as she hurriedly took two steps down to the grass, which crackled with frost.

Her car was steps away, parked beside Evelyn's old tool shed.

All she had to do was make it from here to there.

All she had to do was get in her car and drive away. She could call Evelyn from the road. Evelyn would be safe at home by then and cross at Helen for leaving. Nothing had happened to her. Helen was imagining the fog of menace around her. The presence of the devil.

She could drive to Duluth and find Eric's wife and put an end to a lifetime of running.

Twenty yards of open space, twenty yards of night, lay between her and the car. Then she would be free.

She remembered that the soundtrack to Show Boat was in her CD player, and she smiled at the idea of listening to it as she drove. She was thinking about that black man singing "Ol' Man River" as she ran for the car. She was thinking how scared she was of dying as she felt the hands around her throat.

Dan Erickson had a crystal glass of gin in his hand, and he was dressed in black slacks and a dress shirt, with a loosened tie hanging around his neck. His hair was mussed. When he saw Stride in his doorway at midnight, his mouth squeezed into a frown, and his eyes betrayed his anxiety. Stride laid two hands on Dan's chest and shoved him back into the house, where he stumbled on the wood floor, his drink and ice cubes spilling, the heavy crystal rolling away and bumping on the wall.

"What's wrong with you?" Dan demanded.

"He's got her, you stupid, arrogant son of a bitch!" Stride shouted. "He's got Serena, and I want to know who he is !"

Dan brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play games with me. Don't even think about it. Someone put your balls in a vise, and you went and hired Serena to get you out of it."

"She told you that?"

"What, do you want a refund on your bill? It's time to come clean, Dan. I don't care if it means you lose everything. You're going to tell me what's going on."

"I don't have to tell you a thing."

Stride shook his head. "Lauren may have January lake water in her veins, but not you. I don't think it's only been about power and money with you."

"Then I guess I'm shallower than you think."

"Okay, maybe you are," Stride said. "I don't give a shit. What I'm telling you is that the life you know is over one way or another. It's all coming out. You can tell me right now and help me try to save Serena's life, or you can shut up and let the reporters start feeding on you tomorrow. Take your pick."

Dan leaned against the wall, exhaling like the air squealing from a tire. When he retreated down the hallway, Stride followed. A walnut door led into a dark office, where a computer screen glowed on Dan's desk. He took a seat in the reclining chair and rocked back, staring at the ceiling, his legs spread, his arms dangling. There was a photo of him and Lauren on the wall over his head, the two of them smiling and looking prosperous.

"I'm sorry about Serena."

"Sorry doesn't change anything," Stride said.

Dan sat up straight. "You know why I'm so good at putting people in prison? I understand how criminals think. I know what it's like to go after something you want and not give any thought to the consequences. I'm like a teenager getting laid and not using protection."

"You're wasting my time, Dan."

"I just want you to understand, okay? But you don't. You're too disciplined, Stride. Always in control."

"That's the last thing I am."

"Well, you've never let a woman lead you around by the cock, have you? That's my life."

Stride heard movement behind him and saw Lauren waiting in the pale light of the doorway, listening. Their eyes met. He had never seen her blue eyes so intense and bitter cold. She sauntered into the office, her hands in the pockets of stonewashed blue jeans. She wore a navy-blue flannel shirt, untucked, with the top two buttons undone, and suede boots.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Dan glared at her, and Stride saw in his expression what it was like to spend a lifetime of impotence under a rich woman's thumb. "This doesn't concern you."

"No? I heard you mention your cock, Dan. That always concerns me."

"Funny."

"It's not funny at all," Lauren said. "What have you done?"

Dan was silent. Lauren turned to Stride with a question in her eyes.

"He's being blackmailed," Stride said. "He hired Serena to be the go-between. The blackmailer kidnapped her tonight."

"Oh, my God."

"This guy is blowing up all the mines he buried, Dan," Stride told him. "Mitchell Brandt was paying off your blackmailer over an insider trading scheme, and this guy decided to fuck him. You're next. Don't you get it, Dan? Your number's up. This guy is capable of anything. We think he's already added rape and murder to his extortion racket."

"How much did you pay him?" Lauren asked her husband.

Dan didn't answer.

" How much? "

"A hundred and ten thousand dollars."

"You idiot," Lauren snapped.

"What does he have on you?" Stride asked.

Dan hesitated and looked at Lauren.

"Tell him," she said. "Tell both of us."

Dan shrugged. "It was Tanjy."

"Did you rape her?" Stride asked. "Did you kill her? Is that what this is all about?"

"No! We were having an affair."

Stride shook his head. "Why was that worth so much money?"

"You know what Tanjy's fantasies were like. We did things that no one would understand. He had photos of us. It would have been devastating if people found out."

"Did you kill Tanjy to keep her quiet?" Stride asked.

"No, no, that's not what happened at all."

Lauren's face was a mask of granite. "You realize what this means. This is all going to be in the papers." She looked at Stride. "Am I right?"

Stride nodded.

" Washington is gone," she told Dan. "We're ruined."

"It was never supposed to come out," Dan protested.

"Who do you think you are, JFK? Bill Clinton? You think you can get away with anything? I can't believe what you've done to me. It's all over now, Dan. Do you realize that? You just threw our lives away."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Was it really worth it?" Lauren demanded. "Was she worth it?"