Eyes of a Stalker (17 page)

I couldn't speak for a few seconds. When I did, I was unable to keep my voice steady. “You're going to untie my hands so I can do this myself, right?”

“Maybe.” He smiled and the nice guy seemed to vanish. “But first, you have to tell me something.”

“Sure. What?”

“How'd you figure it out?”

“That it was you and not Eric?” I thought about what to tell him and decided on a mixture of the truth and a few things that might help me.

“Well, for one thing, Eric seemed, you know,
wrong
,” I said. “I couldn't picture him being smart or brave enough to be the one.”

Jason's eyes narrowed slightly. I decided I might be laying it on a bit too thick. “But the first thing that really told me it was you was your cologne. I recognized the scent when we turned the corner and I caught the first whiff of it, only it took me a minute to figure out when I'd smelled it before.

“It's funny how your brain works, don't you think?” I went on, trying to make it all sound normal, like we were just chatting about some ordinary thing. “The scent triggered thoughts of Mr. Stanley. He's a friend of our family, and our cat's former owner. And I remembered a comment Mr. Stanley had made about his height, and how there was a time he'd have been tall enough to block out a picture on the wall, but he wasn't anymore.”

“So?” Jason looked impatient.

“So, that made me think about the video of the phone call that Eric supposedly made from the mall. It had seemed like an awfully careless mistake for someone to make after being so clever up until then. And it was Mr. Stanley's remark about height that made me
realize it wasn't a mistake at all. It was deliberate — and done to frame Eric.

“You're a good four or five inches taller than Eric, but he's not much taller than me. The person on the video blocked out the whole phone, but Eric couldn't have done that. He's not tall enough.”

Jason looked anything but pleased and I knew he was probably thinking that the police might stop and look more carefully at the evidence against Eric now that I'd disappeared.

“How'd you get his jacket and hat, anyway?” I asked, doing my best to sound worried. “They can't tie you to it, can they?”

“No way,” he said, but I could see he was trying to convince himself as much as me. “A bunch of us went skating at the rink after school on Friday. I bought everyone a hot chocolate after we were done… only Eric's had a little something extra in it. Something to, let's say,
relax
him. His parents both work evenings, so once he was asleep it was nothing to go into his house, get his jacket, and plant the other evidence.”

“So you went to the mall and made the phone call knowing you had lots of time to take the hat and jacket back to Eric's before the police could check out the surveillance tape and get to his place.” I hoped I sounded admiring, and I must have been convincing because Jason smiled proudly.

“It would have been foolproof, except for the height thing. I never thought of anyone noticing that.” He frowned then. “But, you said there was something else. My cologne?”

“Yes. Once I'd realized the part about the height, I remembered where I'd smelled that cologne before. It was on my cat a couple of weeks ago when Mr. Stanley was visiting. And I realized that was why it had taken me so long to find him, and why he didn't come when I called him. You were hiding somewhere outside my place, weren't you? Behind some bushes or a hedge.”

Jason put his head back and laughed out loud. “You're right,” he said once he'd stopped. “That stupid cat came along sniffing at me just as you started calling him. I was afraid he'd give me away, so I just picked him up and held him until you were gone down the street.”

He looked at me and shook his head admiringly. “Well, Shelby, my love, I'd say we're a well-matched pair. What do you think?”

“I think I'd like to be able to go to the bathroom in privacy,” I said. I hoped I wasn't pushing it, and apparently I wasn't.

Jason unfastened the ropes holding my wrists together and led me over to the corner where the bucket stood.

“I'll turn my back and stand over by the door,” he
said. “But if you try anything, it will be the last time your hands are free. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said.

“Well, I'd better get going before someone at home gets up and notices I'm not there,” Jason said, yawning and standing up. He'd been seated across from me on one of the stools for what seemed like hours, mainly telling me how clever he'd been.

Most of what he'd said was just empty bragging, but I'd listened carefully, picking out the bits of information that might be useful to me. Some of what I'd heard was discouraging, even though it was good for me to know.

Like the fact that Jason had gone back to the party at Tyrone's place after he'd tied me and left me in the shed.

“Far as anyone there knows, I never left,” he laughed. “If you ever need an alibi, a crowded party is perfect. Someone sees you at nine-thirty and again at eleven, there's no reason for them to think you ever left.
Not with so many kids moving around from one room to another, or hanging outside.”

“What if someone was looking specifically for you?” I asked, feigning concern for him.

“I had a story to cover that,” he smirked, “but it never came up. I went through the whole place a few times to make sure everyone saw me. If anyone had been looking for me while I was gone they'd have said so.”

“What if I hadn't gone to the party?” How I wished I hadn't!

“I didn't even know you'd be there,” he said. “I just knew that once I framed someone else, you'd drop the bodyguard thing and go places on your own again. Knowing that we're meant to be together, I was sure you'd find your way to me sooner or later.”

Find my way to him
? Maybe in Jason's warped thinking, I'd just waltzed right into the shed on my own and tied myself up. It was hard to keep from glaring at him, or telling him he was crazy.

It also took tremendous willpower not to ask him what he planned to do with me. You can imagine the kinds of things that went through my head, though, and it was all I could do not to let those thoughts show on my face as we talked.

And now it was nearing dawn and he apparently planned to leave me there and go home. He'd left my hands untied while we'd talked, but my ankles were
still bound and I knew he wouldn't be leaving me with my hands loose.

All I kept thinking was that, first thing in the morning, there'd be a search party out looking for me. Since the campground was fairly close to Tyrone's place, where I'd last been seen, it was practically guaranteed that people would look there. All I'd have to do would be to stand by the window and wait. If necessary, I could bang my head against the glass to make sure someone noticed me.

“I wish you hadn't run,” he said sadly, coming to stand in front of me. “It makes it impossible for me to trust you, you know.”

“I'm sorry.”

He didn't respond to my apology, but he smiled when I held my hands up for him to tie. Resisting would only get me hurt, and the more compliant I seemed the less suspicious he'd be that I'd try to get away.

It was only after my hands were tightly bound and connected to my waist, and after a fresh piece of heavy duct tape covered my mouth, that Jason revealed the horror he had in store for me. I should have been suspicious when he emptied the bucket that had served as my toilet into an old ice cream container, and stuck the bucket up in the rafters, where you'd never notice it unless you were actually looking for it.

That alone should have alerted me. I mean, if he took the time to hide a bucket, he wasn't about to leave me in plain view.

What a fool I'd been to believe for one moment that he wouldn't have thought through every possibility. Of course he knew people would be coming around!

“This is unfortunate, but necessary, I'm afraid,” he said as he moved the stools and table out of place. I watched in shock as he lifted out some of the floor-boards, revealing a space between the crossbeams. I could see nothing past that, but I knew immediately that he meant to put me down in that dark hole.

I would have given in then, screamed and begged, if only I could have spoken. With my mouth taped, all I could do was turn pleading eyes toward him and shake my head frantically.

“It's just for a while, my love,” he said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “And don't worry. I've made it as comfortable down there as it can be, under the circumstances. It's not ideal, but you'll be warm enough, and, more importantly, safe from prying eyes.”

Every part of me screamed against what was happening, and yet I was helpless to prevent it. Lifting me like I was a rag doll, Jason lowered me through the opening onto a blanket that was already stretched out and waiting. Tears were running from my eyes as he reached down and slid a heavy nylon cord through the
ties on my wrists. I saw that it was lashed to one of the beams, and would keep me from moving around under the building.

Finally, he covered me with a couple of blankets and told me he'd be back later, when it was “safe.” Then the floorboards were laid back in place, and darkness closed in.

I heard Jason move the table and stools back to their original positions. I heard the shed door creak open and then close again. I heard footsteps go down a couple of stairs, followed by a sort of whishing sound I couldn't identify. And then there was silence.

I'd never before experienced that kind of darkness. It was so black down there that the air almost seemed solid, and at first it was a terrible struggle to breathe. But as I writhed and strained for air I realized that the blankets Jason had placed over me were beginning to shift.

It wasn't as cold as it can be this time of year, but it was still cold enough that death from exposure was an immediate risk. Almost immobile from the ties and lack of space, my only chance to keep from freezing was if I stayed under those blankets. And if I knocked them off myself, I had no way of getting them back in place.

Those thoughts forced me to calm down, to focus on taking even breaths. I told myself over and over that I was okay, that this was just for a little while. There's no shortage
of air, I reminded myself. It's dark and confined, but there's no actual danger, and I won't be here for long.

That was the thing, though. I didn't know how long I'd be there. What if Jason never came back? What if he thought someone suspected him? What if he thought he was being followed? If something made him nervous, he might be afraid to come back.

Don't think about things like that! I told myself sternly, but keeping negativity out of my head wasn't easy. Even so, I did my best to concentrate on other thoughts. Song lyrics, happy memories… anything that would keep me from panicking.

Mercifully, exhaustion overtook me at some point and I fell asleep. When I woke up later on I had to fight down all the fears and other thoughts and feelings again. After a bit, I saw that it was a little lighter in my dirt prison, so I knew it was daylight outside. Even the tiny bits of light that seeped in through the building's boards helped.

I wondered what time it was, and whether a search party had been organized yet. News of this sort would travel fast in Little River, so it was possible searchers had set out at the first sign of dawn.

I listened hard, straining for any sound that might mean someone was approaching. If anyone came into the cabin I'd risk losing my blankets by trying to kick the floor, though I knew from making tentative movements earlier that there was very little space in which I could
gain any momentum. Even so, a single thud would save me.

The first sounds I heard weren't searchers, though. Rather, a scratching, scurrying noise somewhere in the area of my left foot made me aware that I wasn't alone down there after all.

It's only mice, I told myself, but images of rats pushed through anyway. Pictures of their beady eyes and horrid faces rose in my head, followed immediately by thoughts brought on by every horror story I'd ever heard about rats. I had to fight hard against fears of being crawled over and chewed on. I knew that I could-n't give in to them, that these fears would destroy the calm I'd struggled so hard to win.

There was nothing I could do but wait to see if whatever was making the scuffling sounds came near enough to my face for me to make out its size. And, to be perfectly honest, I wasn't at all anxious to see it, if it was, indeed, a rat.

I was putting so much concentration into these thoughts — and working so hard on staying calm — that I didn't hear the searchers at first.

The first sound to penetrate was that of my name being called over and over. Different voices calling out, some of them getting closer and closer. They're doing a grid search, I thought. Someone will check this building!

And they did. I heard feet come up the steps and rattle the door. I heard them call, “Shelby?” I heard voices by the window and envisioned them looking in, shining a light around, seeing only an empty shed.

I banged my feet on the beam, disgusted with how insignificant and muffled the sound was. I made the loudest “Mmm” sound I could, but even as I did I knew it wasn't carrying outside. They might have heard it if they were standing right over top of me, but without coming inside there wasn't a prayer.

The last thing I heard distinctly was a man's voice saying, “Nothing in there.”

And then they moved along.

I don't believe I've ever before felt such total despair as I felt when I heard my would-be rescuers move on. Tears ran from my eyes as I gave in to self-pity, weeping silently there in the prison that I was starting to believe would become my tomb.