Carissa Ann Lynch - Like, Follow, Kill

I’d noticed him in another one of Valerie’s posts … but which one?

The reason the man stood out to me the first time was because he did sort of look like Chris, although, rationally, I knew it wasn’t him.

I sat back down, clicking through her old photos and posts … thousands and thousands of photos! Too many …

But then, a few minutes later, I found exactly what I’d been looking for …

There!

It was an old post, from before I’d started following her every move … but I’d scrolled through these old photos so many times …

There.

He was standing two rows behind her at an outdoor concert in Ohio. Valerie was smiling, extending the camera with one hand and holding up the other to show a bracelet—a backstage VIP band circling her wrist. It was a hodge-podge of alternative bands, but she’d specifically referenced a Marilyn Manson song in her caption: #RockisDead .

The reason the man had caught my attention the first time, besides the fact that he kind of looked like Chris, was because he was staring so intensely into the camera from several rows back, almost like he’d accidentally looked at the wrong moment and gotten captured in Valerie’s photo forever … a classic photo-bomb. Annoying, but not uncommon. All the smudgy little faces in the background of her videos and pictures … unassuming strangers, or are they?

I just assumed it was an accident, an odd guy looking in the background, his serious spot-on gaze captured by the lens …

And there! Another pic in Florida—he looked like any other guy you’d see … just a man having a drink at a tiki bar, enjoying his vacation while some girl— Valerie— snapped a selfie of her bikini-clad self, holding a sugary-rimmed margarita. It was a sideview of his face at the bar … it might not be him.

But it sure as hell looked like him. And I couldn’t shake the eerie realization that he looked so similar to Chris … the slope of his jaw, that slightly off-center nose … even the blue-black, closely cropped hair was the same.

Valerie was the kind of girl that was prone to admirers.

But that face in the window … that went way beyond normal obsession.

Valerie had a stalker besides me. A real one.

What if she’s in serious danger?

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