WEBCAM (21 page)

He didn’t even glance at Joan.

“Did you see that?” Joan just said. “Flirting with you. Didn’t even look at me.”

“That peach-fuzz bartender?” Trish snorted. “I’d break that kid in half.”

They raised their glasses and shot again.

“So how was it?” Trish asked.

“The bourbon?”

“The ring.”

Joan could picture it. White gold. Yellow diamond.

“It was perfect,” she said. “Completely my style.”

“Check your phone. See if he called.”

Joan shook her head. “No way. I played the
wait-by-the-phone game
when I was in high school, hoping my crush would ask me to prom.”

“Did you go to prom?”

“No. Asshole never called. But I’m friends with him on Facebook now. Works at a submarine sandwich shop, has an ugly wife, posts four times a day about his Yorkie. I dodged a bullet there.”

“Is he happy?”

Joan frowned. “Yes.”

“Is that the bullet you’re trying to dodge? Happiness?”

Wow. That was sure on the nose.

“Way to kill my buzz, Trish.”

Trish reached out, put her hands on Joan’s. “I want my man to call me so I can be sure he loves me. You seem like you don’t want yours to call you so you can prove… what are you trying to prove? That you don’t need anyone?”

“I don’t need anyone.”

“Then why do you need Tom to give up his job for you?”

Joan didn’t have an immediate response to that. And the liquor wasn’t helping.

“Turn on your phone,” Trish said. “See if he called.”

“Because that will show he loves me?”

“Yes.”

Joan shook her head.

“I bet he called you at least ten times.”

“No way.”

“Let’s bet. If Tom called you ten times or more, you call him back.”

“And if he didn’t?”

“Then we’ll both turn off our phones for the rest of the night.”

“Deal.”

They shook, and Joan whipped out her cell. As she powered it on, her stomach began to churn.

What am I nervous about? That Tom called more than ten times, and she’d have to talk to him? Or that he didn’t?

“Ten missed calls,” Joan said, staring at her screen.

Trish grinned. “See?”

“Nine are from Tom. One is my assistant.”

Both of them were quiet for a beat.

“Nine is still a lot,” Trish said.

It was a lot. But for whatever arbitrary reason, it didn’t seem like it was enough.

“Bet’s a bet. Phones off.”

Joan and Trish powered off their cells, and then Joan tried to get the bartender’s attention again. She had a strong feeling they were going to be there for a while.

CHAPTER 35

“Air aneeds?” Officer Ledesma said. He couldn’t have been much older than Kendal, and he didn’t have that world-weary dullness to his eyes that most cops had. Kendal sat across from him at his desk.

“That’s what it sounded like he said.
Air aneeds
or
air aneece
.”

He typed something into his computer.

“And you never saw his face?”

Kendal sniffled. Her boob still hurt, and she was still extremely upset. Over an hour had passed since the campus cop had saved her, but Kendal’s heart rate was still double.

“I only saw the woman. Nurse Demeter.”

Kendal didn’t want to cry again. She’d cried in the squad car on the way to the police station. She’d cried in the Evanston PD lobby, waiting for a detective to speak to her. And she was about to cry in front of the detective, who was being really nice to her.

He offered her the tissue box, again, and Kendal took one and dabbed her eyes.

“Would you like to talk with a sexual assault counsellor?” he asked.

“I wasn’t raped.”

“You were sexually assaulted, Miss Smith.”

“I just want to finish this up and go…”

Go where? She felt as if she were stalked everywhere she went. And how many people were actually after her?

Or was this all just in her head?

Kendal sobbed. The nice policeman waited patiently until she resumed self-control.

“Do you have any enemies?” he asked, gently. “Or has anyone been harassing you?”

Kendal wasn’t sure what to say. That it might be her own brain, playing tricks? That maybe she clamped her own breast down in that horrible machine? That her cyberstalker, and the man in her closet, and the nurse and doctor could all be hallucinations?

“I think someone’s after me,” she said, breaking down once more.

Then she told the cop almost everything.

•          •          •

“Where would you like me to drop you off?” Detective Ledesma asked.

Kendal yawned. It wasn’t nighttime yet, but she was exhausted. She’d been at the police station for five hours. Detective Ledesma had bought her pizza while she worked with an artist to create a picture of Nurse Demeter. She’d gone through everything that had happened to her in the last few days, and even mentioned some of the traumas of her past; stopping short of revealing her childhood schizophrenia diagnosis, and the fact that her sorority was filled with cameras that broadcast subscription webcam on the Internet.

But she told him the rest. She even told him about her OCD.

It felt good to talk about everything, and Kendal had never felt safer in her life. Something about Detective Ledesma—whose first name, she found out, was Jacob—had a calming effect on her. She didn’t want to leave his squad car.

“I don’t know,” she said. The thought of going back to the house scared her. The thought of going anywhere scared her. “I just want to stay here.”

“Fine by me.” Jacob took his hands off the steering wheel and laced them behind his head. “We can park here forever.”

“I like that idea. But what if we need to go to the bathroom?”

“No problem. We can always make a trucker bomb.”

“What’s a trucker bomb?”

“We pee in a plastic bottle, then throw it onto the street.”

Kendal giggled. “That’s gross. Cops shouldn’t talk like that.”

“Cops do it all the time. On a long stakeout. No toilet anywhere. Just drank that half gallon bottle of Gatorade. Just fill it back up, chuck it out the window.”

“You don’t really.”

“Of course not. The men and women of the Evanston Police Department would never litter. We’re responsible and law-abiding. So every trucker bomb gets put in the recycle bin.”

They shared a laugh.

“So have you ever caught a murderer?”

“No. Population eighty thousand, only one murder in the last two years.”

“How about a rapist?”

“Dozens.”

“Stalkers?”

“I just delivered a restraining order last week. A man threatened to slap his wife, and she went to a judge. I had to physically remove him from his residence.”

Kendal’s eyes widened. “Was it dangerous?”

“Very. The man was eighty-eight years old. I was worried he was going to die on the way to the new retirement home.”

They laughed again. “I think I figured out where I want to go,” Kendal said. “College library.”

Kendal had a research paper due in Biology and needed Internet access, but was still skittish about turning on her computer back at home.

“Done.”

He started the car, and they enjoyed a pleasant, albeit silent, five minute trip back to campus. Kendal opened the door but didn’t get out.

“It’s okay,” Jacob said. “I’ll be right out here.”

That wasn’t the reason Kendal hesitated. She was actually trying to figure out how many steps there were, from this curb, to the library front door.

“You have my number in your phone, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Kendal. Did you want me to come inside with you?”

Kendal did some quick math in her head and decided she could start her count at 1167. “No. I’m good. Thanks, Detective Ledesma.”

Kendal left the car and didn’t look back. Sixty-seven steps later, Kendal logged into Computer #17 using her Student ID as User 11892.

Twenty minutes into taking notes, her screen froze. After several seconds of ineffective tapping on the mouse and keyboard, she pushed her chair back and began to feel under the desk for an off switch to reboot.

Then a pop-up appeared onscreen.

Library Help Desk: What seems to be the issue?

Kendal tried the keyboard.

User 11892: Screen froze. Seems fine now.

Library Help Desk: Were you trying to turn off the computer?

User 11892: No. I didn’t touch anything.

Library Help Desk: It is against Library Policy to manually turn off the computers.

Whatever,
Kendal thought. She hit the esc button, but the chat box remained.

How do I get back to surfing the net?

It is against Library Policy to browse for online pornography.

Seriously? WTF?

I wasn’t looking at porn.

I know. I’m watching you.

Kendal immediately looked around her. Her eyes found the Help Desk. Several librarians were at their computers, but no one was looking Kendal’s way.

You were thinking about porn, weren’t you, you bad girl?

This was getting freaky. Kendal removed her student ID from the card slot.

The screen remained.

You think squeezing your tit was the only punishment you’d get? You’re going to suffer, Kendal. Suffer for your sins.

Kendal turned away from the computer.

Froze.

How many steps to the exit? Was it sixteen or seventeen?

Behind her, the computer began to broadcast a voice.

Kendal’s voice.

“I just got a really weird phone call.”

“Like obscene weird?”
It was Linda’s voice.
“Some guy yanking his crank and moaning? You lucky slut! I never get calls like that.”

“I mean like someone being beaten.”

“That’s even kinkier.”

Kendal glanced over her shoulder, and saw the monitor screen showing the webcam video of her and Linda in the kitchen, from yesterday.

“Really beaten. Screaming for their lives beaten.”

“Was it some kind of joke?”

“If it was, it wasn’t funny.”

“Who was it from?”

“It said caller unknown.”

Then the image switched to the most violent thing Kendal had ever seen. Some guy with a chain around his ankle, getting beaten bloody with a whip as he screamed.

Kendal made it to the staircase in fourteen steps, then had to take two extra, plus touch the railing three times, before she could take the twenty-five steps back to the lobby.

Detective Ledesma was still parked in the loading zone, ten steps away. Kendal hurried to his car, then knocked on the window three times.

He rolled it halfway down.

“Done so soon?”

“Yes.”

What else could she say? Kendal knew that if she dragged him upstairs to show him the computer screen, it would be gone by the time she got there.

If it was ever there at all.

“So where to?”

She considered the question. “Back to my sorority.”

If her stalker was real, and could follow her anywhere, Kendal wanted to be in a place with eighteen cameras that broadcast live 24/7.

Being at that house was like living in a fishbowl, eyes on all sides. And that seemed like the safest place to be.

They drove in silence, and arrived at the house far too soon. When they pulled up, Kendal made no move to get out of the car.

“I used to work patrol in this area,” Detective Ledesma said. “I know the Epsilon Epsilon Delta house.”

“You do?”

Was he hinting that he knew about the webcams?

“Solid doors, front and back. Deadbolts. You’ve even got security windows. University rules. They want to keep their students safe.”

“Locks can be picked,” Kendal said.

“Sure. But I’ll be out here all night, making sure everything is okay.”

“How about when you leave?”

He smiled kindly. “When I leave, someone will replace me.”

She didn’t answer.

“Where is your bedroom?”

“Right there,” Kendal pointed to one of the windows facing the street.

“Do you have a lock?”

“One of those flimsy, privacy locks with the slit you can turn with your fingernail.”

“I’ve got something better than that. Step into my office.”

Officer Ledesma got out of the car. Curious, Kendal followed him to his trunk. He popped it open, and there was a small cardboard box. He pulled out a small, blue bag, about the size of a cell phone. He opened it up and took out an odd-looking device made of metal and orange plastic.

“This is called an Addalock. Travelers use them in hotel rooms. You place the metal strip inside the door over the latch, close it, then put this orange piece in the slot. Now the door won’t open, even if the knob is turned or the lock is picked.”

He handed it to Kendal.

“It’s so small.”

“It works. Trust me. Once it’s on, the door won’t open unless you remove the whole frame.”

She gripped the Addalock, tight. “Thanks.”

“You’ve got my cell number. If anything happens, call me. Or just open your blinds and wave at me through the window. I’ll be out here all night, drinking coffee and making trucker bombs.”

Kendal nodded, gave the detective a quick hug, and then ran into the house, clutching the Addalock like a talisman.

CHAPTER 36

For the first time in as long as he can remember, Walter Cissick feels no pain.

He wonders if he has finally suffered enough for his sins. If his Penance is over.

And then he begins to laugh. He laughs so hard and so loud that a nurse comes in to sedate him.

Walter closes his eyes, blissful in the utter majesty of atonement.

CHAPTER 37

Tom opened his eyes, his brain still foggy from his drug-assisted nap. He checked the clock. A little past eight pm.