“So, you met this man online?”
“Yes. I filled out a profile on one of the dating sites—”
“Which one?”
“The Real Connection.”
“Okay. And you met this…”
“Andy. Andy Smith. I talked to a few men, met a couple for coffee, but the ones I agreed to meet were too pushy and made it plain what they wanted. I spoke with Andy for a couple of weeks, and he asked if we could meet for coffee. He seemed really nice, and we got along well in the chats. He was funny and sweet. I agreed.”
“And?”
“He seemed fine. A little shy. He wasn’t as funny, but I put that down to his shyness. He told me he lived with a couple roommates, that he worked for a bank, and he was an only child. There was no spark between us, but he seemed nice.”
“How much of your information did you share?”
“Not a lot. I told him I was a teacher, I was still new to the city, and I wasn’t looking for a relationship, but more of a friendship. He agreed with me and asked if maybe we could go to a movie or dinner one night, just as friends. No pressure. I said that it sounded great. We talked a bit more and exchanged numbers, and he left.”
He studied me briefly. “He wasn’t fine, though, was he?”
A shiver went through me. “No.”
“Tell me,” he urged.
“He called, and we agreed to go to a movie that weekend. But I kept thinking I was seeing him places when I was out. At the store, outside the school. But when I would look again, there was no one there. One night, I got up to get a drink of water, and I looked out my window. I swore he was across the street, looking up at my apartment. Then the next moment, the person was gone. I convinced myself I was being paranoid. He didn’t even know where I lived.”
“He may have followed you home that first day,” Damien said.
“I think so. He was weird at the movies. Too close. Too aggressive. I reminded him I wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship. He said he wasn’t either, he was just being nice. He said there was a guy looking at me, and he just wanted him to back off. I didn’t like it, and I told him.” I rubbed my forehead. “I was worried about going, but we met for supper another day and he was fine. It was just two people sharing a meal. Then we met for coffee a week later, and he was all moody and handsy again. He said a few things that put me on edge. Things he shouldn’t know.”
“Like?” Damien prompted.
“The grocery store I stopped at a lot. What time I usually left the school. I asked him how he knew those things, and he said I had mentioned them in our conversations, but I was certain I hadn’t.”
“He was following you around.”
I nodded. “Then he said something about making sure people knew we were seeing each other and acting as if we were a couple. His tone and attitude were just so possessive. I didn’t like that side of him, and I told him if that was how he was going to act, I didn’t want to see him again. He walked out. He didn’t call or text again, and I thought it was for the best. Something about his mood swings bothered me.”
“Then?”
“I was out having lunch one day, and he showed up, insisting it was an accident. He was pleasant and friendly, chatted for a bit, then left. I thought nothing of it. Then suddenly, he was everywhere again. I’d see him when I was out. At the store. Walking home from work. He’d approach me sometimes, and I asked him to leave me alone. He disappeared and I was glad. Until…” I trailed off.
“Until?” he urged.
“Until two weeks ago. He showed up at my door, asking for another chance. I asked him how he knew where I lived, and he told me I had given him my address. But I knew I hadn’t. I have no idea how he got into the building. I told him there wasn’t a first chance. I wanted a friend, not a relationship. I was clear about that from the start. He got angry, and he told me we were meant for each other. He started pushing on the door, trying to force his way in. Thank God my neighbor came around the corner, and he backed off. I told him to leave me alone, and I slammed the door and locked it. After that, I was careful about where I went, but invariably, he would show up. I went to the police, but they said he’d done nothing wrong. That I was overreacting.”
Damien cursed. “They were wrong.”
“Yes. He started calling all the time. Sending texts. I changed my number, but somehow he got it again. I bought a new phone. He’d leave me notes in my mailbox. And he seemed to follow me everywhere. I added extra locks to my apartment. The super changed the lock on the front door and reminded everyone not to let in strangers. I told the school what was happening. The principal started driving me home herself, she was so upset. She wanted me to come stay with her, but I refused to put her out or involve her. I told myself he was just annoying and he’d get bored.”
“Men like him never get bored with their prey.”
I felt the color drain from my face at his words.
“Prey?” I whispered, fear wrapping my throat in ice.
“He’s a stalker. And he’s stalking you. He’s not going to stop until someone makes him, Raven.”