6. ON HER OWN

6

ON HER OWN

C harlotte's stomach twisted with anxiety as she stood in the silent parking lot staring up at the gabled roof of the Department of Police Services building. The entrance to the open-air passageway loomed, casting dark shadows across the glass wall at the front of the police station.

Taking a slow, steady breath, she stepped forward from the asphalt to the concrete sidewalk, only to startle at laughter erupting behind her.

Her palm met the large square pillar beside her as she watched two officers walk past her, deep in lighthearted conversation.

"Get it together," she mumbled to herself.

Lowering her hand, she squeezed her fists tight and nodded.

She could do this.

The police existed to protect people like her in these situations.

Steeling her nerves, she walked toward the front doors with her head held high. She pulled open the doors, passed through a second set of doors, and then stepped inside the air-conditioned building before the apprehension swimming around in her stomach began crawling its way up her throat.

The short-lived strength she felt coming into the building evaporated, replaced with uncertainty. She tasted bile, and it took tremendous effort to not vomit into the nearest trashcan.

Was this a mistake?

What evidence did she have? Some flowers? A phone call? A broken flower pot? She feared and expected to be laughed out of the station.

Sighing, she shook her head.

This wasn't who she was. Timid. Uncertain. Riddled with guilt. She didn't deserve this, no matter how much her brain tried to tell her she did. Tried to tell her it was a punishment for abandoning her family. She missed who she was.

"Can I help you?"

She wrung her hands in front of her, picking at her fingernail as she looked up at a woman sitting behind the desk at a computer.

The woman's sculpted eyebrows pulled together when Charlotte didn't step forward or speak. She placed a steadying hand on the counter that separated them.

"Is everything alright?" The woman glanced behind her before returning her attention to Charlotte. "Do you need help?"

Drawing in air through her nose, Charlotte stepped forward to the counter and met the woman's umber eyes. "I need to report someone," she mumbled.

"You're gonna have to speak up, sugar." The woman tapped her finger on the headset Charlotte missed before because the woman's long box braids matched the color of the headset. "Can't hear you well. "

Charlotte cleared her throat, speaking louder. "I need to make a report."

"What kind of report?" The woman slid her chair forward.

Glancing around to make sure no one could overhear, she leaned forward. "I think someone's stalking me?" She didn't mean for it to sound like a question. Stalking felt like the only word she had to describe the events happening to her.

The woman's lips flattened like she questioned the claim.

Charlotte looked back toward the door. He could be watching her right now.

Licking her lips, she put both hands on the counter and looked at the woman, desperate for her to listen—to believe her. "I mean, I'm getting phone calls, and I think someone broke into my apartment."

The woman's mouth relaxed as her features shifted to a neutral expression. "What's your name?"

"Charlotte. Charlotte Walsh."

The woman looked at her computer, typed something on the keyboard, then turned her attention back to Charlotte. "Can you take a seat over there?" She stood, pointing to a row of chairs along the wall. "I'll have an officer come speak with you."

"Yes, ma'am."

She moved to the seats along the wall, her stomach still tight and aching. Lowering herself in the seat, she stared down at the sandals on her feet. The chipped lilac polish on her pinky toe reminded her she wasn't okay. She never neglected her nails.

"Miss Walsh?"

She looked up to find a young female officer in uniform who couldn't be much older than she was watching her with a strange expression on her face. "Charlotte?"

"Yes, that's me. "

"I'm deputy Madeline Burgess. If you'll come with me."

Blowing out a puff of air, Charlotte stood. No turning back now.

The deputy led her through the busy station to a maze of hallways in the back. Several doors lined the final corridor, but the deputy took her straight to the farthest one at the end of the hall with a placard on the front.

Before she had the chance to read the engraved writing, the officer pushed open the door and motioned for her to step inside.

A middle-aged man with a light blond crew cut sat behind a long desk, studying his computer screen, brow puckered in deep concentration.

"Lieutenant Meyer?"

The lieutenant looked up from the screen, his pale blue eyes assessing Charlotte as she stepped into the room.

"Come in. Have a seat." He extended his hand, motioning toward the pair of armchairs with gray upholstery in front of his desk.

Taking the seat on the right, Charlotte put both her hands on her thighs, sitting ramrod straight.

The deputy who led her into the room moved around the desk to stand on the left side of the lieutenant with her feet shoulder-width apart, her thumbs hooked on her nylon duty belt.

"So what can I do for you, Miss Walsh?" He sat back, interlacing his fingers across his stomach. "Simone tells me you think you have a… stalker problem?" His fuzzy eyebrow arched in question. The slightest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes before he schooled his expression, but she still caught it.

"Simone?"

"The lovely lady at the front desk."

"Oh." She clenched her fists on her jean-clad thighs. This already didn't look good. She hadn't sounded certain or sure of her claims from the moment she opened her mouth at the front desk. It didn't surprise her they didn't seem to take her seriously so far. "Well, yes, I think that's what you would call this."

"This?"

"Yes, sir."

"So tell me about it. What makes you believe ‘this' is a stalker?"

Charlotte nodded, clearing her throat.

She proceeded to detail how, for the last two months since moving to Athens for college, she suspected someone following her and now saw them. How every week for the last month she received pink roses delivered to her front door from an anonymous stranger. The recent phone call where he gave her—in her opinion—a threat regarding leaving Athens. She was sure the lieutenant would think it a threat if someone told him leaving town wouldn't change things. How she thought the man broke into her apartment and read her journal, giving him insight into her life.

The deputy hummed her disapproval. "You're reporting someone reading your diary?"

Had she heard nothing else?

"Well, yes, but so much more than that. Just last night, he— someone —broke into my apartment while I was home and left a rose on my coffee table."

The lieutenant sat up in his chair. "You caught him in your home?"

"I didn't see him, per se…" Before Lieutenant Meyer had the opportunity to dismiss her, she rushed to add, "But I heard a crash, and there was a broken flowerpot on my balcony. That's when I found the rose."

"And you're sure this rose wasn't from your vase?" The deputy asked. "You said you kept the roses in your kitchen. Why would you keep roses from someone you believed meant you harm? "

She looked up at the deputy. The officer seemed to doubt her more than the lieutenant did.

"I'm absolutely sure. I put them in the vase and don't touch them until they die." She looked back at the lieutenant. "The last time I threw them out before they died, I found a note on my door telling me it wasn't nice to throw gifts away."

"And did you keep this note, or the one you mentioned about your shirt?"

Charlotte pursed her lips. "I… No. I didn't think about keeping them." Her eyes shifted down. How could she have been so stupid? Of course, evidence would help her not seem crazy. She couldn't even provide a phone number because the calls came from Unknown .

"That's unfortunate," the lieutenant said, sitting back. "But it doesn't mean there aren't other avenues we can take."

The hope that sparked in her chest almost took her breath away. Did he believe her?

"Is there anyone you believe would do this? An ex-boyfriend? Friend who you're having a disagreement with?"

"No, not really."

"Think real hard, Miss Walsh. There isn't a boyfriend who wasn't happy with the breakup?"

She shuffled her feet, bumping her toes together. "Sir, I've only had one boyfriend, and that was in high school when I was seventeen. I haven't dated anyone since I was a senior in high school, two years ago."

The deputy tilted her head. "Two years isn't necessarily a long time for someone with a grudge."

"Yes, ma'am, I understand. But Shawn and I didn't break up because of bad blood. He was moving to Arizona for college. We decided it was better to make a clean break. It was mutual, and we'd known each other as friends before that."

The lieutenant nodded, seemingly satisfied by her response. "Any friends or enemies that would wish to play a prank on you?"

"None that I can think of…" She shook her head. "I'm sure no one like that is doing this. It started when I moved here. I left all my friends back in Rosebrook Valley."

"No one who you've had issues with since your arrival?"

"Other than whoever is doing this, no."

The deputy crossed her arms. "No one-night-stands gone wrong?"

This woman…

Everything Deputy Burgess said sounded like an accusation.

"I'm not like that. I don't sleep around."

The deputy squinted. "Really," she deadpanned.

"Really," Charlotte snapped with more bite than she intended. What happened to protect and serve? She wasn't the criminal. She was the victim here.

The lieutenant cleared his throat, and the deputy turned her attention to him. He shook his head and looked at Charlotte again.

"With no leads on possible suspects to check into, at this point, we can only look for physical evidence." He leaned to the side of his chair, propping his cheek against his index and middle finger. "We can request the CCTV footage from your building, see if we can catch the delivery person on camera, and follow up with the flower shop to get a name there. We'll also follow up with your building manager to see if there are any cameras with views of your balcony." He sat up and jotted a few notes on a legal pad on the desk in front of him. "I'll have a couple of officers come to your apartment, dust for fingerprints on your balcony—you haven't been out there and cleaned up the flowerpot, have you?"

Her curls brushed her cheeks as she shook her head hurriedly. " No, sir. I haven't felt comfortable moving the loveseat from in front of my sliding glass doors."

"Good, good. Hopefully, we can find something useful there on the door, or perhaps the broken pot." Setting his pen down, the lieutenant sat back in his plush desk chair, his elbows on each arm. He steepled his fingers. "I can't promise you anything, but you've taken the proper first step by coming in today. We'll file this and get on checking into these avenues. In the meantime, if anything changes, I want you to contact us."

"Yes, sir."

It wasn't much, but it was more than she could do for herself.

He turned to his computer and began typing. "I'll contact the business manager today and get that footage. I can send officers now to dust for fingerprints and look for other physical evidence if you have the time." He glanced over at her.

"I have a meeting with my group members for a school project, but that isn't until after eight tonight."

"This shouldn't take that long." He looked at his watch. "It's only ten-thirty. It shouldn't take all day."

"Okay." She shifted in her seat, trying not to make eye contact with the deputy, who eyed her with a sour expression. "I can meet them over there once the next bus comes through."

"That won't be necessary. I'll have them escort you home. Considering the scope of things, it wouldn't hurt. I'd like you to avoid sticking to your usual routes. Whoever this person is likely knows of your schedule and routine. In similar cases, the predictability of your day-to-day life can be the draw for these types of people."

She frowned. This reminded her of all the things she read online when she researched how to deal with a suspected stalker.

Make sure you don't wear clothes that are too appealing. Never wear a ponytail at night. Carry your keys when going to your car. Don't stay out after dark alone. Stay in a group. Never walk to your car at night alone.

Now, don't have any kind of routine or structure in your life or you're inviting unwanted attention. Do better. Know better. Act better. Society always held women responsible, regardless of their actions.

She understood where a predictable schedule might make it easier for someone to keep tabs on her, but it wasn't her fault someone didn't know how to behave like a decent human being. Still, she could do better.

"Right then. Deputy Burgess will escort you back to the front. If you'll just wait there, I'll have two officers join you shortly after I debrief them on the situation." He sat back in his chair. "We'll do everything we can, Miss Walsh, but like I said before, I can't promise you anything."

She pressed her lips together and gave a tight nod, standing. "I appreciate anything you can do."

Deputy Burgess rounded the desk, motioning with her hand for Charlotte to go through the door. "Just a moment."

Once Charlotte entered the hall, she turned back to find the door pulled to but left cracked open. The deputy's argumentative voice caught her attention. She stepped closer.

"—honestly believe that, do you?"

"Maddie, it's not a matter whether or not I believe it. We take every report that comes through this office seriously."

"It's a waste of resources. She has nothing to go on." The deputy snorted. "Flower deliveries scaring her? Come on, Frank."

"I'll admit, weekly flower deliveries are strange at best—makes me lean toward secret admirer. It's not too far-fetched in a college town to have an admirer, but if someone has broken into her home and is making threatening phone calls…"

"It was windy last night. Flower pots on railings fall. I had to clean the patio furniture off my back lawn this morning before coming into the office."

A thump on the desk was followed by the lieutenant's exasperated voice. "I know we've had this situation happen more times than I care to count—it's a college town, but we can't ignore it. If that little girl goes out there and something happens…"

"With all due respect, Frank, how many of these cases are college girls with egos the size of the Saluda wasting police resources?"

Charlotte wrinkled her nose in disgust. How could the deputy speak so callously about this kind of situation?

"Fair point, but I still can't ignore this." His voice hardened. "So you get out there, grab Hopper, go to that apartment, and do your job."

"Sir."

She scrambled away from the door when she heard movement on the other side.

Deputy Burgess stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut. The fluorescent lighting reflected off her hazel eyes, making them appear to glow a beautiful citrine. When she turned from the harshness of the light, and her eyes met Charlotte's, they looked normal, but she failed to school her expression fast enough. Charlotte caught the sneer on the deputy's face before she forced a strained smile.

"Ready to go?"

Charlotte pressed her lips together and inclined her head. It wouldn't be smart to say anything to a woman who seemed to dislike her so much. Something about the way the deputy looked at her made a chill rush down her spine .

The deputy led her to the front of the station. "Wait here while I go get my partner." Without waiting for an answer, the woman turned on her heel and walked away.

Charlotte lowered herself onto the chair and clasped her hands between her knees, staring at the floor. The lieutenant seemed concerned enough to follow up on the report, but even she recognized the skepticism in his voice. The deputy sure didn't believe her.

If Rachel hadn't listened before when she mentioned she thought they were being followed, what made her believe the police would care?