Home Before Dark (33 page)

There was a single cry, no other sound, no movement,
nothing-
By the hall clock, a full sixty seconds passed before

By the hall clock, a full sixty seconds pass
Campbell heard on the soundtrack the hysterical voice of a
woman, presumably June Seaton, sobbing and pleading with
someone not to hurt her and, in counterpoint, what he guessed were the incoherent mumblings of her drunken husband.
At that moment the boy, sleepy and bewildered, emerged from his hiding place in the broom closet and, frowning at the suitcases in the hall, stood at the foot of the stairs looking up. He hears his mother begging,
NO,
PLEASE

. JESUS!
WHAT
ARE
YOU
DOING
... DON’T

DON’T

Despite knowing the effects were simulated, Campbell gave an involuntary shudder as volley after shrill volley of screams rang through the virtual mansion. Interspersed with dull thumps, loathsome slithering and scrabbling noises, he heard June’s desperate pleadings grow fainter and more seldom under the onslaught of her attacker; the tearing sound of the
victim’s skin and flesh (like a zipper being yanked over and over) suggested repeated frenzied slashing.
There was a brief interval, an island of calm, before the hollow explosion of a gunshot in an enclosed space rocked the house. As the reverberations died away, Campbell leaned closer to the speakers on his laptop, straining to catch if that was still the soft plinking of a piano in the background, or something dripping.
A car pulled into the parking lot behind the motel. He looked up from the screen to the blue-curtained window
beyond, his gut contracting in sudden alarm, saw the lights
cut off and then heard the reassuring sound of doors slamming
and laughter. It broke the spell. Realising how tense he’d
become, Campbell joined his fingers together and turned
them inside out, cracking the joints.
He found it hard to believe that a re-enactment of something
that happened a quarter-century ago, an electronic
puppet-show of memory, could have the power to chill an
old gamer like himself. He removed his glasses and, breathing
on the lenses, cleaned them on a paper napkin. He wondered
what had motivated Ernest Seaton to recreate his parents’
violent deaths in such .. . the phrase that came to mind was
'loving detail’, but somehow it failed to capture the harrowing
intensity an unsparing child’s-eye view had brought to the
production.
A blur of activity drew his myopic gaze back to the screen.
Hastily hooking the stems of his glasses over his ears,
Campbell was just in time to see 'Ernie’, who’d kept the same
rigid pose all through the mayhem upstairs, turn towards him – horror and grief now crudely etched on his wooden avatar’s
face. Tears as fat as cartoon raindrops rolling silently down
the boy’s cheeks.
Then, in the oppressive stillness (he recalled the doc saying
it had been an unusually hot, airless night), Campbell heard
a sound that made his heart hammer in his chest. A floorboard
had creaked overhead.
He didn’t stop to think, but moved his cursor directly to
the foot of the stairs and tried to go up. Only to find his
access blocked. From where he stood, Campbell could se
part of the landing above him. Below the lintel of what he
judged was the door to the master bedroom, a crack of light
had appeared and was slowly growing wider.
A shadow fell across the threshold.
In the hall below, the boy, whose perspective Campbel
now shared, had heard the creaking too and understood what
it meant. Caught out in the open, 'Ernie’ looked back with
a panic-stricken expression towards the broom closet, as if
undecided whether or not to return to his old hiding-place.
At the sound of footsteps steadily descending the stairs, he
darted across the hall and into a darkened doorway only
seconds, it felt like, before the light snapped on revealing the
bleakly furnished TV room. The detective, following behind,
swung the cursor around the four walls – the room was
empty— Then everything froze.
Campbell slowly lifted his eyes from his immobilised
laptop screen to the curtained window. He’d heard something,
someone moving around in the parking lot right
outside his cabin.

54

Jelly said, 'Would you like to come up for some coffee?’
They were sitting in front of her building in Guy’s car,
parked near the corner of Thirty-ninth Street and Lexington.
She was staring ahead through the windshield, impatient to
get in the house so she could have a cigarette. 'And I mean
coffee. Don’t go getting any ideas, bub.’
She turned her head and saw him smile. 'I’m not that sort
of person,’ he said, then hesitated. 'Well, okay, but I can’t stay
long. I have to take a run out to Jersey to check on my grandmother.
She hasn’t been well.’
Oh, I’m sorry.’ Her face clouded. 'I don’t have decaff and
I warn you the place is a mess. Is she gonna be all right?’
'She’s an old lady, she gets a little confused. It’s nothing
serious. Half the time grandma doesn’t know if it’s night or

day.’
As they got out of the car, Jelly looked up and down the
street in case there was anyone waiting for her. She was almost sure that it had been Ed in the subway, staring at her across
the tracks. Scared the shit out of her.
Guy offered her his arm as they crossed the street, the old
fashioned gesture somehow reassuring. When he’d called
earlier, she hadn’t recognised the name, Guy Mallory – she
barely even remembered meeting him at the party, giving
him her cell number. She’d taken a chance accepting an
invitation from someone she knew almost nothing about, but
the evening had turned out better than expected. They’d got
on okay at dinner. She liked him – he was a bit stiff, didn’t
have a whole lot of personality, but he seemed kind and
considerate.
If it had been Ed Lister she’d seen earlier, and he showed
up again, she felt Guy might be some kind of protection.
'Promise not to be shocked?’ she said as she opened the
door to her apartment.

She had cleared a space for him on the old rattan couch
where he sat now drinking his coffee while Jelly stood by the open window that overlooked Lexington, smoking. She could
tell that Guy disapproved, but who cared? Tachel was always
on her to quit. Maybe she would when this business was
over. She’d given Ed the impression that she didn’t approve
of his smoking . . . and why not? Why not tell him how to
save his goddamned life? She smiled as she saw Mistiggie
jump onto Guy’s lap and start purring loudly.
'Push him off if he bothers you,’ she said, moving toward
the stereo. 'What kind of music do you like, Guy?’
'You know something?’ Guy turned his head and she saw
the muscles of his neck stand out like rope. 'Why don’t we
just sit and talk?’
'Sure,’ she said, and for no reason she felt a mild unease
about his being there, 'let me check my mail and I’ll be right
with you.’
Ever since walking in the door – no, before that, only she
couldn’t admit it to herself – she’d been itching to get to her
computer. It was like the craving for nicotine only a thousand
times stronger. In spite of herself, and everything she felt
about the situation, she was curious to see if Ed had left a
message.

She sat at her desk, a Marlboro dangling from her lips,
and went to her inbox. It was empty, no e-mail from him,
nothing.
She clicked on the Messenger tab and instantly felt an
unwelcome fizz of excitement run through her body.

templedog: I’m at the Carlyle. We should meet.

Shit! As she watched, her stomach turning over and starting
to cramp, another message flashed up on her screen. The
crazy sonofabitch knew she was online. He’d been watching
out for her, waiting for her to come home.

td: Jelly, we have to see each other

She hesitated, glancing over at Guy, who was leafing through
one of her old Vogue magazines. She started typing and, at
the soft chatter of the keys, he looked up with an enquiring
expression.
“This won’t take long,’ she said.

Then what would be the point?

• we need to talk things over
  

 

aj: it’s not gonna change anything

 

td: your life could be in danger. I came here to warn you.

 

aj: don’t start with that shit again… anyway, i’m out of town

 

td: you were still here this morning. I saw you, in Brooklyn.

 

a’: it couldn’t have been me, but if you say so

 

td: I know it was you, and I know you saw me too. When are you coming back?

 

online. It may not be safe, here’s my cell – 917 775 2998.

 

aj: don’t know

 

td: listen, we can’t talk

 

Pick up the phone and call me now

 

aj: not possible, i’m with someone

 

td’. then just say you’ll meet me… steps of the public library, tomorrow at 10

 

aj: don’t you listen? i’m out of the freaking state

 

td: where are you going to be tomorrow?

 

aj: you really want to know?

 

a:
ANYWHERE
YOU’RE
NOT

 

td: you have to come back sooner or later. I’ll wait for you … I’ll be waiting

 

Jelly couldn’t breathe, her hands were shaking, she felt like

 

she was about to cry. How could he be so goddamned stubborn?

 

She needed to go to the bathroom, but there was no

 

way she could with Guy sitting there and no music. why

 

didn’t he just leave? She pressed the heels of her hands

 

into her temples and half stood, as if to back away from

 

the computer, the source of her misery, then sat down

 

again.

 

She closed her eyes and took several slow deep breaths

 

the way she did before getting ready to play the piano, her

 

fingers poised an inch over the keyboard.

 

Jelly knew what she had to do. It wasn’t as if she hadn’

 

been expecting this. She’d thought about it long and hard.

 

Ed

aj: i think you need to know the truth
She felt
: bad about laying this on him now, shattering his
illusions after what had been a long and mostly positive
connection, but he hadn’t left her any choice.

aj: there is no Jelena, no 'Jelly’, there never was
td: what do you mean? What are you talking about?
gj: i made her up, ed. she’s just an invented character, the person you think you
fell in love with doesn’t exist
td: I don’t get it
aj: it was all a game, i had a bet with Tachel that i could make you fall for me.
i’m sorry, i tried to tell you before, only things… got out of hand.

There was a silence. It felt like an age he didn’t type back.

aj: are you still there? eddie… I’M
NOT
HER
td: But I saw you . . . this morning, you were at the Church Avenue subway
station, in Brooklyn. You were there.
aj: i’ve been in Pittsburgh since last night, the person you saw in the subway
was Tachel. The snapshot i sent you of 'Jelly’ was really her…
aj: she’s beautiful, i’m not
td: but we recognised each other. I know we did
aj:Tachel said she noticed someone staring at her across the tracks, she guessed
it was you from the photo you sent me – i showed it to her
td: I don’t believe you… not one word of what you’re saying
aj: look, i’m very sorry for what i’ve done, i started to tell you so many times…
goodbye
td: no wait, it’s not true, you can’t do this

'Hey, buster, do you mind? This is a private conversation.’ Jelly swung around in her chair. She had just become aware
of Guy Mallory standing behind her watching the screen over her shoulder.
He held up both hands in a gesture of mock surrender but Kept looking anyway. 'Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop … it was just that you seemed kinda upset.’

321
1
She turned back to the screen and with a click of the mouse closed the Messenger window. The page of dialogue disappeared.
She could see the blue IM tab flashing on her toolbar,
which indicated that Ed was still typing, but she ignored it
and switched off the computer.
'Was he the one you were talking about earlier? Templedog?
The English guy you’re trying to get away from, who won’t
let go?’
She nodded miserably and, as if she felt obliged to explain
what she had written, said, 'I finally had to tell him . . .’
Jelly didn’t finish and burst into tears. 'It was the only way
I could get him to leave me the hell alone.’
'Here, don’t cry. I’m sure you did the right thing.’ Guy
produced a folded white handkerchief from his pants pocket
and handed it to her. 'I know it’s none of my business, but
he’s obviously crazy about you.’
She blew her nose. 'Fool thinks he’s in love with me.’
'I can imagine how that might happen,’ Guy said with a
little smile she didn’t much care for. 'Let me guess. He told
you that you were his destiny, you were meant for each other
it was written in the stars?’
Jelly didn’t answer; she used Guy’s handkerchief which smelt
of patchouli to dab at the tears running down her cheeks.
'What about you?’ he went on. 'You believe in all that
baloney?’
She frowned. 'How do you know he said those things?’
'It’s classic.’ He smiled again at Jelly, but avoided meeting
her eyes. 'Your friend may be genuine enough, but there are
plenty of creeps out there who prey on innocent women
online. Don’t get me wrong. I just feel I should warn you
that his behaviour is consistent with a stalker’s. They all say
the same things.’

.’:Ś

'Look, I know him . . . pretty damned well. He’s a good
person. He wouldn’t do anything to harm anyone. Besides,
we’re not talking about some nobody here, he’s a respected,
high-profile businessman.’
'But you’ve never met him, Jelena, have you?’
'Wait a minute . . . back the truck up. How do you know
we haven’t met? Did I tell you that?’
'Because it’s obvious to me what’s going on here,’ Guy said
quietly. 'The only thing I find hard to understand is why a
smart, beautiful girl like you would let him into her life. How
can you be sure this guy’s who he says he is?’
'I told you he suffered a tragic loss. It was in all the papers.
He was devastated by his child’s death. You can’t fake something
like that.’
'Did you know that loss is often a trigger for stalking?
Relationship termination, job loss, loss of a child – usually
within seven years of the stalking behaviour – it’s a common
catalyst.’
She pictured Ed this morning in the subway; tall, thin . . .
the faded jeans, black polo shirt and sunglasses. She’d been
so shocked, so overwhelmed by all kinds of feelings that she
could hardly think, but it was like she’d seen him before
somewhere.
Jelly felt the first shadow of a doubt.
She asked Guy, who was putting on his jacket, getting
ready to leave: 'How come you know so much about all this?’
'I did a spell once at the National Victim Center in
DC … I was between jobs. We had to deal with a lot of
harassment and stalking cases.’ Guy glanced at his watch.
'Are you gonna be okay, now? I’m afraid I really have to go.’
She tried to give him back his handkerchief, but he gestured
for her to keep it. 'And thanks for the coffee.’
At her front door, in the confined space of the lobby that
doubled as galley kitchen, Guy turned to Jelly with a
concerned look that made his light grey eyes seem soft and
luminous.
'Listen, I don’t want to alarm you, but what happens next
he finds out where you live. I’ve seen situations like the
one you’re in ignored until it’s too late. You might want to
consider contacting the police.’
Jelly shook her head. 'I could never do that.’
'I’m only thinking about your safety.’
'Thanks, appreciate it.’
He stared at her for a moment. 'Well, any trouble, you
know how to reach me.’
He leaned in towards her and she awkwardly brushed her
cheek against his before stepping back and unlatching the
door, letting him out onto the stairs. Halfway down the first
flight, Guy stopped, as if he’d forgotten something, then
turned to look back up at her.
'Hey, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow night, maybe
we could get together again.’
'I was thinking of leaving the city for a few days,’ she said.
'Wise move.’ He held up a hand. 'Take it easy, Jelly.’