Megan MIRANDA - The Perfect Stranger

The emails, referencing what I was wearing. The phone calls, down to a whisper. The prepaid phone that had probably been purchased with no identification. That I had believed was Davis Cobb – had imagined as I listened to his breathing on the other end, imagined the words whispered from his mouth, pictured his eyes watching through the window. Had I made him up all along? I felt sick to my stomach, dizzy and outside myself.

“You need to tell someone.” And then I realized she was, that was exactly what she was doing, because I was that person. How to explain that I was not a reliable source any longer? That she needed to go to the front office, to Mitch Sheldon, to Kate Turner instead?

“I don’t want him to know. Please. He’s my neighbor. If he can do this to someone else. .” She let the thought trail, and I tried to focus my thoughts. “Ms. Stevens?” she asked, as if wondering what I was going to do. Whether I was going to keep my promise to her.

“I’ll take care of it, Izzy. I promise.”

And then I let her go. Let her disappear out the bathroom entrance while I waited for all the pieces within me to realign.

I SCROLLED THROUGH MYphone, to the number I ignored so often, pressed send, held it to my ear. It rang once, then cut over to an out-of-service message. Ditched when Davis Cobb got taken in by the police. The emails had stopped back then, too, until this last one after Davis Cobb had been cleared. I’d been called down to the office, and Theo had heard. He’d overheard the rumors, too. That Davis Cobb was stalking me. That Davis Cobb had hurt that woman by the lake. Was it possible that all along it had been someone else?

The end-of-class bell rang, and I stood in the atrium, letting the crowd move around me. I closed my eyes, imagined getting lost within them, hearing all the voices around me – I could blend right in, I knew I could.

So many bodies pressing together, so much noise. And then Charlotte said–

Did you see what she did in–

No fucking way, I’m not–

So much goddamn work, if he thinks–

“Ms. Stevens?” A cool voice in my ear. I opened my eyes, spun around to see Theo standing before me. “Are you okay? Ms. Stevens?”

I stared at Theo, seeing him as someone new. Someone worse. All those messages I deleted, sent from down the hall in the school library.

He’s the one who knows. He’s the one who sees.

I opened my mouth, closed it again. Remembered Izzy’s eyes, her face, the fear in her words. “Yes, thanks,” I said, and then I continued on my way back to my classroom. Trying not to let it show how the words got to me, how they circled my head as I felt him watching, even now.

It was Friday night and I was sitting home alone, waiting for everything to crumble down. Wondering where to go from here. And the truth was, I didn’t know. I couldn’t see the right way out, couldn’t trust myself enough to know I was seeing things clearly. I picked up the phone and called Kyle.

“Hello,” he said.

“It’s not Davis Cobb who sent me those emails,” I told him. “It’s one of my students. I think the calls might’ve come from him, too.”

A beat of silence. I imagined all the things he didn’t say. “Didn’t you speak with him? The caller?”

“It was always in a whisper,” I said. “Or heavy breathing. But the things he said. . I just assumed, it made sense.” Are you home alone, Leah? Do you ever wonder who else sees you? I shivered, remembering that first call. It was after he’d shown up at my house, and it seemed like he was referencing that. . “Anyway, the emails, I’m sure, are from a student.”

“How do you know this?” His voice was deeper, closer somehow.

“Another one of my students told me.”

“Who is it? Leah, we need his name.”

“I’m not going to tell you who told me. But the student who sent the emails is Theo Burton. I have a drawing he did of the lake. And another of me. And this piece he wrote. .” I dug his journal out of the pile of schoolwork in my bag, read off the lines to Kyle: The boy sees her and he knows what she has done. The boy imagines twisted limbs and the color red.

Silence hung between us. “Fuck,” he said. “He’s a minor?”

“Yes.”

He let out a sigh. I knew what it meant. We wouldn’t get to talk to Theo easily. He’d need his parents, probably a lawyer, the whole thing turned into a spectacle. We’d need proof, everything documented. They couldn’t strike until they were sure. There would be hoops to jump through, paperwork to adhere to, a long line of accountability.

I, on the other hand. .

“Okay,” he said. “You’re sure about this, Leah? Because you were pretty damn sure it was Davis Cobb yesterday.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I know it’s probably not what you wanted to hear.” I wasn’t sure if he wanted to believe me, either. Because if he did, then his theory was currently breaking apart in his hands. He’d be back to square one. All he had right now was an anonymous witness. And even though Kyle hadn’t heard it yet, if Emmy knew Bethany all along and her boyfriend turned up dead, it all seemed to discount Davis as the tie that bound the case together.

“Okay,” he said again before hanging up. He and I both knew it was time to start over.

I opened my email, logged on to my private account. I began a new message addressed to TeachingLeahStevens.

I wrote: There once was a boy who forgot about IP addresses and cameras in the library.

IT WAS DARK AFTERdinner, darker because of the rain, so I didn’t see or hear anyone approaching until there was a rapid knocking on the glass. I turned on the outside light so I could see first: Kyle Donovan stood there in jeans and a lightweight coat, rain dripping from his hair, a puddle forming around his feet. He raised his eyes to meet mine through the glass. “Can I come in?”

I slid the door open, stepped back. “Aren’t you worried someone will see? Or is this an official visit?”

“No,” he said. He ran his hand back and forth through his hair, shaking free the droplets of water. “It’s not.” Then he threw his jacket on the back of the chair, the rain dripping onto the scratched wooden floor. “Like you said, I already fucked up, right?”

There was something wrong with him – facing away, nothing about him careful and contained – and my whole body thrummed as if gearing up for a fight.

“Sometimes I think you were sent here to test me. To see what I’m made of,” he said, finally turning in my direction. But I could’ve said the same of him. I wasn’t sure whether to trust his motives, whether he was playing me to get information. And I wasn’t sure why he was here.

I curled my hands on the back of the chair. “And? What are you made of?”

He shook his head, laughed to himself. “I need to close this case, Leah. This is my trial period before I can get promoted. I came here for a fresh start, do you understand?”

I did. And here was Kyle, his past shimmering behind, coming closer. “How come?” I asked.

He shook his head at the floor. Why did anyone come here? Why did anyone pick up and move and start fresh? “My last job, I got tangled up in a case too personally. Crossed a few lines that shouldn’t be crossed. You were right about me, you know. I go after the truth. I go after it with all I’ve got.” He looked up at me. “The whole case got thrown out in court. He’s guilty, and he’s out there, and I couldn’t stand it. I can’t stand it. I proved it and still lost. You have no idea what that feels like.”