Chapter 12
Stalker
CALLIE
“You have zero survival instinct, Cal.” Lola’s long, straight curtain of brown hair shifts as she shakes her head at me from across the booth at O’Connor’s, the cozy Irish pub three blocks from Jake’s apartment.
Lola’s bookstore is only a few blocks away, so we’ve been meeting here a few times a week after she closes up her shop.
I scrunch my face and don’t try to argue.
And I haven’t even told her the whole story.
I left out the part where I followed him home, he drugged me, zip-tied me, and that I spent the night in his guest bedroom in a t-shirt that he dressed me in while I was unconscious after he drugged me for the second time.
She’d probably insist I call the cops, which is not something that people with my kind of family ever do. Lola knows that.
Lola was fascinated when I first let slip years ago that my family is involved in the underbelly of Boston and Portland, but it didn’t scare her away. Her excuse was she’s always had a thing for bad boys, which I hate for her.
“You know, in this day and age, you shouldn’t meet up with strange men alone without backup, even in a public place.”
“Really? You’re like the queen of dating apps.” I slowly spin my half-empty glass of red wine on the table.
“Nah. I scroll through them, but don’t often meet anyone in person.”
“Okay.” I wave my hand in the air. I don’t think that’s the complete truth as I like to live vicariously through her robust dating life. “But it turned out fine. He was nice, and he said he’d help me.”
It’s not untrue. Wes was nice. When he noticed the zip ties were digging into my wrists, he (eventually) cut off the plastic restraints.
“What if he turned out to be a psychopath?”
“Define psychopath.” I let out a squeaky snort at how close we are to the potential truth about Wes.
“He showed up at your work.” Lola shakes her head.
“Yeah, but I work in a public library. Lots of people show up there.”
“Callie.” She raises her eyebrows.
“Don’t Callie me. Surely psychopaths aren’t that good-looking.”
Lola laughs at this, as if I’m kidding. I laugh with her.
Wes is gorgeous. I keep thinking about those thick forearms and the way the tattoos snake up his arms into his hoodie and onto his neck.
His height, broad shoulders… the way he undressed me while I was passed out was admittedly a little creepy, but it also seemed kind of sweet.
He just wanted me to be comfortable, right?
Shit, I’m fucked up.
Wes is almost certainly some kind of psychopath. Casually drugging someone isn’t normal, right? Even someone who’s watching your cabin from behind a tree?
But he fed me pie. With a whipped cream heart on it. And scraped my car. And has a cute cat that he named Sir Fluffy, for fuck’s sake.
“Honestly, I’m just glad he agreed to help. I don’t know what else to do at this point.”
Lola makes a sympathetic murmur. “So what happens next?”
“I wait for him to get back in touch.”
“Hopefully he does soon, as now Shane’s been gone for, how long?” Lola sips her vodka and coke.
“Almost five weeks.” My stomach rolls. With each week that slips by, I lose confidence that I’ll ever be free of that man. He’s managing to control me without even being here.
“Don’t be mad,” Lola says, her cheeks turning pink. She waves at someone behind me.
“What?” I turn and swear under my breath. Speaking of fucking criminals. “You invited my brother?”
“Sorry, Callie.” Her face crumples as she realizes that I’m pissed. Obviously I’m pissed.
“You know I’m furious with him!”
“I know, I’m sorry, but he was texting me asking how you are, and I mentioned we were coming here… shit. I shouldn’t have told him. I’m sorry—hey, Jake.”
Jake stops at our table, dressed in jeans and a casual but expensive-looking t-shirt. He smiles at Lola and gives me an apologetic look before sliding into the booth next to her.
Lola has had a stupid crush on my brother ever since I introduced them years ago.
In hindsight, knowing Lola’s preference for bad boys, this situation is not surprising.
I’ve managed to keep them apart for all this time, but my current situation is giving them an excuse to have more contact with each other.
I’m hoping he doesn’t notice how sweet and beautiful she is.
Because I don’t approve. He might be my brother, but I know what it’s like to be in a relationship with a criminal.
Zero out of ten stars, do not recommend.
“Hey, Callie. You okay?” Jake has the common courtesy to act remorseful around me these days, which is how I know he knows more about Shane’s whereabouts than he’s telling me.
“I’m fine, Jake.” As the person who could potentially solve my problems but won’t, Jake is the last person I want to see right now. Fine, I know, I live with him, but I don’t need to see him more.
Jake’s forehead crinkles, and Lola keeps staring at him longingly. Traitor! What happened to girl code? Honestly, she’d be better off finding some dude who rides a motorcycle or a rival book store owner or something instead.
The whole thing drives me nuts.
“We were just talking about how you won’t tell me where Shane is.”
Jake groans and leans his head back, his eyes shutting for a count of three.
“Did the Hawk person not work out?” Jake says once he opens his eyes.
“He’s working out fine.” I cross my arms and don’t offer him more information.
“Be careful with him, I haven’t worked with the guy personally—”
“Really? Be careful? I wouldn’t have to work with him at all if you would help me.”
My chickenshit brother sighs, genuine concern etched on his face. Fuck his concern. He’s scared of Shane because he’s crazy, and Jones because he’s now their boss and a scary asshole with no moral compass. The same way Jake was scared of our father right up until he passed away.
And now, he provided me Hawk’s information, but that doesn’t quite solve the problem.
As usual, I feel alone, ignored, and unsupported by those closest to me.
All my remaining hope is with Wes.
“Tell me, what do you think is going to happen here? That I’ll just stay married to Shane forever?
What’s your endgame? Are you that afraid of him?
Eventually, I’ll get the divorce. It’s just a matter of how long it takes.
Now, as for Mom’s ring, who knows if I’ll ever get that back. ” I gulp my wine.
Jake’s face falls, and he looks deeply unhappy. Good.
“Callie—”
“No.” I scoot out of the booth awkwardly and stand. “I don’t want to hear it. I gotta go.”
“Oh, Callie, please don’t.” Lola’s eyes widen. I finish the last sip of wine and deposit the glass back on the table, wanting to slam it but wanting more not to cause a scene by breaking it.
“Bye.”
“Callie!” Lola calls, but I wave a hand behind me and stomp out of the bar, pulling on my pink puffy winter coat. The cold February wind whips my hair up and around my head.
Lola better not tell him any details about Wes. I’m glad I didn’t share the whole story. My phone buzzes in my pocket when I’m only a handful of steps away from O’Connor’s.
Lola
hey, I’m so sorry, please come back
I grit my teeth. I can’t believe she invited Jake to hang out with us. Lola just moved to the top of my list of traitors.
Me
it’s fine. I need a minute to decompress. It’s too loud in there. Just don’t tell Jake anything about the guy who’s helping me
Lola
of course. Love ya
I sigh and put my phone back in my pocket as I stride further away from the bar.
I just need to think.
There was nothing online about Wes. I don’t have his last name, of course, so my searches for things like Wes-hacker-Lake Savage haven’t turned up anything. There’s probably nothing online anyway, even if I had his last name. I’m willing to bet he’s the kind of guy who isn’t on social media.
I slow my stride. The sidewalk has icy patches, and I almost wipe out turning down another street. I need to pay attention to what I’m stepping on, as there are piles of snow everywhere and slick spots where snow melted and refroze.
My phone buzzes again and I pull it out, expecting another text from Lola, but it’s a notification from Gone. I stop abruptly and click the message a little too eagerly.
It’s from Wes. A picture of an apple pie with an intricate top crust woven in and out like a friendship bracelet.
It’s a beautiful pie, and my mouth waters instantly upon seeing it.
I wait for another message, but nothing comes up.
The picture of the pie disappears after a few seconds, like it always does in Gone. I get a rush of adrenaline.
Me
okay, I’ll bite. What’s up?
Hawk
did you like my pie last weekend?
My cheeks heat. Why does this feel sexual, like the whipped cream question? I get a rush of adrenaline. Finally, he messages. And it’s about pie.
Me
your pie was the best I’ve ever had
Oh my god, and I’m playing along. The disappearing messages are giving me more confidence. I look up and continue walking.
Hawk
what are you doing right now?
Me
why?
Hawk
just wondering
I head down another dark city block, almost at Jake’s apartment.
Me
heading home from a pub
did you find Shane yet?
Hawk
working on it
you know, a woman walking alone down dark alleyways isn’t smart, even in a safe city like Portland
I freeze in my tracks, heartbeat speeding up, and I look around me. There’s nothing except for shadows from the bare trees on piles of snow along the sidewalk.
Me
what the fuck? Are you following me?
Hawk
nah, just assumed
Me
how do you know where I’m walking
Hawk
I know everything
Me
except where Shane is
Now I put my phone away and start to jog, risking my life and trusting in the town’s salt treatments. Five minutes later, I’m slightly out of breath and tapping in the code to get into Jake’s apartment building. Up a flight of stairs and I’m inside, door locked behind me.
My chest is pounding. I try to convince myself that Wes wasn’t following me, nor was anyone else. Portland is such a safe city, I almost never feel uncomfortable.
I strip off my jacket and gloves and head to the kitchen to grab water before hiding in my bedroom. I plan to get in comfy pajamas and snuggle under the covers with a book. I’ll stick AirPods in so I don’t hear Jake come in later.
Then I see the pie plate sitting on the kitchen counter.
I approach it slowly, like it’s a sleeping bear I don’t want to disturb.
It’s an apple pie.
It must be a coincidence. Jake must’ve bought it at the store, which is very uncharacteristic but not impossible. That is the explanation here. Or maybe someone sent us a pie.
It can’t be from Wes. Obviously not. But Jake would’ve mentioned it, right? And—
Then I get close to the pie and realize it’s got the same intricate friendship bracelet-like top crust as the picture Wes sent, the one that disappeared in Gone.