Chapter 7 #3
“You sure?” she offers and I check the time and realize she’s going to be late for her first class if she doesn’t get off the phone.
“Yeah, I’ll call you later and tell you how it goes,” I promise before saying bye and hanging up.
Now to deal with the not so fun part. Though I could argue none of my morning has been very fun. Somehow I know making this report is only going to make me feel crazier, but I refuse to be the dumb girl who knows something is wrong and buries her head in the sand, refusing to do anything about it.
If my stalker is going to try to kidnap and/or murder me, I’m not going down without one hell of a fight and a damn paper trail.
“Let me get this straight.” The officer looks up from his notepad, his dark bushy brow raised in disbelief as the tip of his pen pauses on the paper. I sigh, already anticipating where this is heading. I knew they were going to make me feel crazy and act as if I’m just paranoid.
“You want to report someone for folding your laundry and doing your dishes?” The twitching of his lips as he says the words only makes my irritation grow stronger.
“Well they also cleaned my bathroom,” I say, dipping my head as my face heats.
I knew they weren’t going to take me seriously.
I can barely take myself seriously and it’s happening to me.
The more I talked, the more ridiculous I felt.
The feelings of panic from this morning feel further and further away.
But I know I am doing the right thing. Being proactive about my safety is the furthest thing from ridiculous.
The officer shrugs his shoulders, trading amused looks with his equally disinterested partner. “Sounds like you should be leaving them a thank you note, not calling us,” he jokes.
I rub my hand over my face in frustration.
“The problem isn’t that they’re doing my chores,” I repeat, my voice a damn near whine in my desperation for them to actually hear what I’m saying.
“The problem is they’re breaking into my house and doing said chores while I sleep and I have no idea who it could be. ”
The officer—who I now refuse to even learn his name— closes his notepad, clicking his pen obnoxiously as he puts both items back into this pocket. “Listen, Miss, it’s probably only your mother coming to help you out. This isn’t a matter for the police. We have real crimes to be fighting.”
Like harassing the homeless community that convenes off of Main, I think bitterly but know better than to say the words aloud.
I should have known better than to think the local cops would be anything other than judgmental and dismissive.
I have enough experience with men like them to have gotten my hopes up about this conversation being productive.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, floundering on what I could possibly say to get them to actually listen. To do something, anything. Even if it’s just getting a paper trail started.
Before any of us have the chance to say anything, a car comes careening up my street and parks next to mine.
My eyes widen as I shake my head in disbelief. I told her not to come, but the relieved sigh that escapes betrays my true feelings.
Summer practically flies from the front seat to take a stand at my side.
“Morning,” she greets in a too chipper voice, eyeing the officers as they look at both of us with disinterest and a level of disdain. Her body shifts slightly in front of mine and I know she’s read the situation perfectly in the mere seconds she’s been here.
I’m being completely railroaded. Again.
“How’s the hunt for the stalker going?” she asks, her gaze narrowing on the officer’s empty hands.
I sigh, shaking my head and letting my shoulders slump. “They think it’s my mom,” I explain.
She snorts, rolling her eyes. “If it was her mother,” she says in my sweetest voice, “we’d be calling a different type of help. One with some priests or ghost hunters preferably since her mother died a decade ago.”
He sighs, his belly straining against the buttons of his shirt with the exertion as he glares at Summer before turning his attention back on me. “Even so, having house elves isn’t exactly a job for us. Call pest control.”
His partner huffs out half a laugh before turning away and walking back to their patrol car. I didn’t really want to have to bring the presents into it, because hello–mortifying—but it seems I have no choice.
Summer grabs my hand and gives a light squeeze, a small encouragement to use my voice. “There have also been gifts left that have insinuated I’m being watched. This all establishes a pattern of behavior that indicates a stalker.” She nods and gives me a small smile.
The officer still doesn’t look concerned or even interested. I seriously had to have gotten the worst officer in their entire department. “Ain’t much we can do for a stalker,” he says without guilt.
Summer huffs. “Breaking and entering is illegal,” she reminds him, but he’s already waving us off.
“We can make a report about your concerns but there’s no evidence of a break in.” Before she can retort, he narrows his gaze on mine. “Clean laundry doesn’t count.”
My head begins to throb and I can feel my blood pressure raising in frustration.
I didn’t exactly have high hopes for this visit, but I didn’t even know police officers could be this bad at their jobs.
I close my eyes in dejection, not even sure how to argue that.
Summer’s hand squeezes mine once more and I look at her with wide eyes. They aren’t going to listen.
No one ever listens until it’s too late.
“How would you even know?” she snaps, her fiery temper breaking through the fake chipper attitude she showed up with. “Have you even looked around? It sure as hell doesn’t seem like it.”
“Would it make you feel better if I took a look around?” he asks, not even trying to conceal the fact he’s ignoring her outburst and patronizing me.
“Since that is your job, yeah, it would actually.” She answers for me and I can’t contain the soft giggle that slips out. We are not making any friends today. “I can always call and ask for a different responding officer if you feel out of your depth though.”
Damn, Summer, okay. Do not think I ever would have had the balls to say that.
He eyes me with open disdain before turning his back on us and waves for his partner to come back. The pair of them ignore us as they have a brief conversation.
I trade looks with Summer and thank her for coming. She rests her head on my shoulder and sighs. “I wouldn’t have been able to focus in class, worrying about you. I’m glad I came.”
“Me too,” I agree. I was not getting anywhere with the cops before she arrived. They likely would have left without even bothering to make a report.
“They’re real fucking dicks, aren’t they?” she says quietly enough to not be construed as her wanting them to hear her, but definitely not quietly enough for them not to hear her. I flinch in response, only making her laugh.
The officer who walked away first pulls out his notepad and pen as the other one walks back toward my house and begins to examine the front door.
“Alright, our apologies, Miss. We can understand how worrisome this might be for a single woman living alone. Officer Jones said you mentioned gifts being left and have suspicions of a stalker?”
“I don’t know what else you would call someone breaking into her house and leaving gifts,” Summer mutters, which he chooses to ignore.
“Where were the gifts left?” he prompts and I begin the story again about how I woke up this morning to them laying on my kitchen table. No packaging. No address.
He continues to ask questions and I take him inside the house to show him where and how the gifts were left. To his credit, his face remains passive as he takes notes and actually collects evidence. As he’s taking the ripped open envelope his partner joins us.
“No sign of any forced entry. Whoever is doing this most likely has a key. Is there anyone you can think of?”
I’m already shaking my head. The only person who has a spare is Summer.
Without even prompting her, she’s already shaking her head as if I needed the confirmation this wasn’t her.
While this would have been an amusing prank, she would have confessed long before I got the police involved.
“Do you have a spare key hidden somewhere outside?” he prompts.
“Even if your hiding spot is clever, there’s always a chance someone can find it. ”
I shake my head. “No, my father is an officer and drilled into my head that having a hidden spare is like asking to be robbed.”
Their entire demeanor shifts as they realize my dad is one of theirs. Every small town department really is the same. Seems I should have led with that if I wanted to be taken seriously.
At least for the rest of the visit, they’re much nicer and understanding. Summer even dials back on the snark once they start doing their job, but she stays at my side the entire time they’re there. A source of strength as I continue to answer questions the best that I can.
They take the gifts that were left as evidence, which is a new level of horrifying, but it’s better than nothing being done.
At this point, they still agree that only a report can be made unless they’re able to get anything from the gifts left behind.
They weren’t hopeful though, as they weren’t able to find any fingerprints or evidence of anyone else being here.
They leave me with the advice of getting one of those doorbells with a camera and a security system and the promise of doing some drive-bys while they’re on shift to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.
A sense of relief floods me as they drive away with one last wave.
It may not have started as the best interaction, but at least we ended on a slightly better note.
It just took Summer raising hell and the connection to my dad for a real report to actually be made, but dads have to be good for something right?
“Drinks tonight?” Summer asks as she watches them drive away.
“Oh, hell yeah,” I agree. I am already looking forward to the end of the day and it’s only getting started.
Being stalked isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I glare at the book I finished last night. It’s definitely not what my romance books make it out to be.