The Shadow Watcher Page 3

  “I'm a little sick to my stomach but otherwise fine.” They both looked skeptical. “No really, he didn’t even touch me.”

  “I heard your name when the call came in, and insisted on taking it. What the hell happened?”

  “Why don’t you come in and have a seat?” I was terrified that they would see right through me. I hoped they would write it off as a victim being shaken after getting out of a bad situation. “Can I get you something to drink Tim, Officer-?”

  “Marks, mam, my apologies,” he was very rigid and formal. I could tell he took his job seriously.

  “None needed. I’ve got soda, water, lemonade,” I offered again.

  “Nothing for me thanks, Sam. Anything for you, Chris?” Officer Marks shook his head. They both sat, and Tim asked, “Why don’t you go ahead and tell us what happened?”

  I took a deep breath, before I began. “I was walking home from the bookstore and heard something behind me. He shined his flashlight in my eyes and identified himself as police. When I asked to see his badge he pulled out a gun and said he was going to follow me home and, well…” At least that part was true.

  Tim was visibly angry. If I was a cop, I think it would be harder for me to deal with crimes against people I know. Officer Marks was more dubious when he asked, “So how did you get him in the dumpster?”

  “It all went by in such a flash, I don’t know exactly how it all happened, but I pretended to trip, and when he got closer, I punched him in the nuts. He reached down reflexively, and I twisted the gun out of his hand, cocked it and told him to get in the dumpster. Then I hit him over the head. I ... I’m sorry ... I don’t know what I did with the gun. I ran out of there, and fainted as soon as I came in the door. I came to on the floor, and called the police right away.” I recited the story, hoping it would be good enough.

  Tim seemed to accept my version of events. “It sounds like you were pretty lucky.” His phone rang, and he said, “Excuse me,” before answering it. “Hello?” There was a pause as he listened. “Good. We’ll be back in ten minutes. Thanks,” he hung up. “They’ve got him, and are taking him in right now. You may need to testify in court.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Officer Marks rose to leave, “Since he didn’t actually touch you, there isn’t any physical evidence we need to collect. We have nothing more to do for now.”

  “Thank you for coming out.” I managed a weak smile, and shook his hand at the door.

  Tim paused at the door, letting Marks go down the stairs ahead of him. “I wish I could say it's been a pleasure,” he hugged me again. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Maybe we should let up on the walking in the alleys at night? I know you think you’re invincible and all but … does Bailey know about this yet?”

  “No.”

  “You should call him; have him come over.”

  “Why? You’ve got the guy, and I’m fine. I can tell him in the morning.”

  “He’ll be pissed.”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  ***

  Somehow, I managed to fall back asleep, and I dreamt of a story my father told me when I was very young, when he thought I was asleep. I didn’t remember the words, or story, exactly, but there was a princess, and a beautiful tree destined to save their kingdom one day. Both were in need of protection from dark forces threatening to destroy them.

  The dream was dark, and confusing, but one line from the story stuck in my mind when I returned to the realm of the waking, “He lingered in the shadows, watching her always, ready to take arms if the need arose. Her Shadow Watcher would protect her at all costs.”

  CHAPTER 4

  9/22/2006

  Conflicted

  Bailey rushed right over and nearly beat down my door when I called in the morning and told him what happened. I don’t know why I kept quiet about the man in the trench coat again, as I had with the police. Maybe I thought no one would believe me. I wouldn’t have believed me.

  He nearly cracked my ribs with his arms, holding me to him. “You should have called me last night,” he growled into my hair.

  “I know,” I said hoarsely, as my breath had been squeezed out.

  He pulled back, holding me at arm’s length, and then crushed me again, “You should not have been in that alley.”

  I pulled back this time, “I have lived in this town my entire life, and I’ve walked down that alley hundreds, if not thousands of times. I-”

  He silenced me with his lips on mine. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I am, really. That’s why I didn’t call you; it wasn’t that big a deal.”

  “I would have been here last night. I should’ve been here with you.” He held me close, tucking my head under his chin. “Sam, I really want you to move in with me - today.”

  Suddenly I felt very claustrophobic. I enjoyed the peace and freedom of living alone; my “creative process” flows more readily in those conditions. The thought of sharing my living space with anyone besides Artemis was too much on top of what happened the night before.

  “Bailey, really, I’m fine.” I gently released myself from his arms and moved to sit on the couch. “I promise no more walking in alleys; I’ll be a good girl.”

  A cloud of disappointment passed over his face, followed by one of anger. “If you don’t want to move in with me you can just say so, Sam. I’ll get over it, don’t worry.” He paced back and forth a little. I had never seen him that upset before. “Yesterday I ask you to move in with me, and then what happened last night? You cringe as though it’s some kind of punishment! It’s not a trap; I want to be with you, to keep you safe.”

  “I don’t see how me living with you would’ve made any difference in a situation like last night.”

  “If he did follow you all the way home, I would be there.”

  He was trying to rationalize, but he was only annoying me. “And what would you have done with the gun pointed at you, tough guy?”

  “You shouldn’t be out walking that late at night,” he condemned.

  And that tipped the scale the wrong way. “You are not my Father,” I shoved myself away from him and got up from the couch. “I am a grown woman; I live in a free country and will do as I damn well please.” I stomped across the room and threw the door open, “No one speaks to me like that in my house. Get out!”

  He rose from the couch but he made no move to leave. “Samantha,” his tone was much more subdued suddenly. “Baby, please. I only want what’s best for you.” He approached me slowly, taking my hand in his. I let him. “I’m just worried about you.”

  I sighed, he was giving me the puppy-dog eyes, batting those way-too-long-for-a-boy eyelashes at me, and I melted. “I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t call you last night.” I burst into tears, finally releasing the fear and anxiety I’d repressed from the night before.

  He closed the door again, and led me over to the couch. I sat on his lap and cried into his neck for at least a half hour. When I was done, I felt like an idiot, because nothing actually happened to me. My mysterious protector had seen to that, but I couldn’t mention that tidbit to Bailey without setting him off again.

  After a few more minutes of sniffling, I looked at the clock. It was 9:48 a.m. “Don’t you have to be in LA somewhere to sign paperwork?” I slid over onto the couch.

  “No, I put that off until tomorrow. I was thinking we should go get some breakfast.”

  “Okay,” I got up from his lap, but he caught my hand and pulled me back down next to him.

  “One more thing, and I promise I’ll let up on the moving in together talk for awhile if you promise not to be too upset.” He brushed a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “Upset about what?” I was confused.

  “We’re going to have to cancel our Hawaii trip. There are three big meetings that week, and there’s just too much to get done.”

 
I had actually forgotten about it, but I pouted anyway so he would think I was disappointed. “I understand, this is a once in a lifetime chance. We can always go to Hawaii after you’re home,” I raised my eyebrow suggestively, “to celebrate.”

  He smiled and ran his finger down my nose. “Thank you for being understanding.”

  We walked to the door, “Bailey?”

  He turned toward me, and said, “Hmmm?” I kissed him and he smiled, and said, “I love you, Sam.”

  ***

  Bailey feigned disbelief at my insistence the guy hadn't touched me, and decided after breakfast he would thoroughly examine me himself. We left the bakery, and went over to his place. Over the next couple of hours he made sure not one inch of my body went unchecked, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

  When Bailey was done playing doctor, he hit the shower and I went out on the balcony for a smoke, wearing his t-shirt. I was thinking about moving in, honestly I was, but I just couldn’t see myself living in his apartment - or anywhere - with him, and I wasn't sure how to break the news.

  "You can be a tough woman to track down," Tim's voice carried up from the sidewalk below.

  I grinned at him over the railing, "Couldn't be too tough, it’s been less than twelve hours since I saw you last. Come on up, I’ll let you in."

  Bailey was walking into the living room, still shirtless and toweling his hair. I waved him back to the bedroom, "Tim tracked me down, and he’s coming up right now."

  “And we’re meeting him in the bedroom?”

  I hopped into my jeans, “No, you’re putting a shirt on.” I crossed the apartment back to the door, and opened it for Tim just as he was about to knock. “Come on in.”

  “Sorry to bother you Sam, just a couple of follow up questions.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “The guy that attacked you, name is Raymond Morrison. Does that mean anything to you?”

  It was the first time I’d heard the name. “No, can’t say that it does.”

  He nodded, expecting that response. “We checked out his place, seems he’s been following you for awhile.”

  “How long is awhile?” Bailey asked.

  “We don’t know exactly, looks like at least a couple of months, maybe longer. He has photo and video surveillance, notes tracking your every movement.”

  “That’s weird.” I was stunned, and more than a little freaked out. “That’s really weird. Why would he be following me?”

  “We don’t know. He was on something when we took him in, we haven’t figured out what yet. The tests have all come up negative for the usual suspects. Probably one of those new designer drugs that isn’t officially illegal yet.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. My Shadow – I began to think of him this way – saved me from more than just some random psycho. “Tim this is giving me the creeps.”

  “I don’t blame you Sam. But I’m not entirely surprised either; guys followed you around like puppies back in school.” He produced a picture from his inside coat pocket, “You don’t recognize him from anywhere? Maybe he came into the bar when you were working?”

  I shook my head, “No, I’ve never seen him before. I mean, I sort of saw him last night, but it was dark. I wouldn’t recognize him either way.”

  “One thing Morrison did say that didn’t add up was that it was a man who tackled him and dumped him.”

  I just stared blankly at him and shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know what to tell you Tim, there wasn’t anyone else there.”

  Tim seemed convinced easily enough, which was a little disconcerting, “Well, he was definitely high, or maybe he just didn’t want to admit to being bested by a woman.”

  “Perhaps,” I went along with that.

  “Well, that’s all I have for now. We’re still going to need you down at the station to give a formal statement, but that can wait until tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 5

  09/23/2006

  The First Revelation

  Saturday morning Bailey drove me home before he headed out to LA, and insisted on coming inside to check everything out before leaving me.

  “I’ll call you later when I get back.” He leaned in to peck me on the cheek, “I love you.” He lingered in the doorway a moment before turning to leave.

  I locked the door behind him, and I pondered why I still hadn’t said it back until I realized that my cell phone was blinking with a message. The missed call log indicated it was the police station, and upon checking the message I learned they wanted me to come back down to the station to sign a formal statement. So I scrapped my plans for writing that morning, got ready and headed out.

  ***

  At the station, the desk sergeant showed me to an interview room, which was nothing more than a ten foot by six foot space with one way mirrors along two walls. “Ramirez and Marks will be in with you shortly,” was all he said before he shut the door.

  After five minutes of sitting there, I began to feel like an inmate, and got up to pace around the room. I bumped into Tim as he came in the door. “I’m so sorry,” I blurted as Marks followed him into the room, “I was lost somewhere in thought.”

  Smiling, he said, “It’s all right. Sorry we kept you waiting so long.”

  “No, no. Please, what can I do for you?”

  Tim continued, “It’s all pretty cut and dry, really. He is pleading guilty to impersonating a police officer and kidnapping. This will be his third strike in fact; he’s going away without a fight.”

  “We just need to take down your official statement about what happened, and clarify some discrepancies.” Officer Marks chimed in.

  “What discrepancies?” Uh-oh.

  “Look, Ms. Marquet, we understand if you didn’t want to say anything to Tim in front of your boyfriend, but….”

  Tim continued, “Morrison insists there was a man who rushed him, nearly strangled him and cracked him over the head with his own pistol.”

  Deny, deny, deny my gut said, so I shook my head and gave them my best wide eyed innocent look. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

  Marks wasn’t giving up that easy. “Ms. Marquet, Morrison has sustained injuries that corroborate his version of the story. Are you going to tell me you knocked him down and strangled him? Then hit him so hard his skull nearly cracked?”

  He probably cracked his head hitting the pavement, and my Shadow Watcher was definitely the one who strangled him. “No, it happened as I told you. Maybe he got into a fight with someone else earlier? You said he was strung out of his mind.”

  The officers exchanged looks, and Marks sighed. “That is plausible. The problem is Morrison wants to sue the guy.”

  I laughed, “He wants to sue the imaginary bad guy who stopped him from attacking me?” They were both trying not to laugh. “I really don’t see how I can be of any help with that; as I’ve said, no one else was there.”

  Tim turned to his partner, “This is coked out crazy vs. upstanding citizen, Marks. Let’s have her sign the statement and let her move on with her day.”

  “Will I have to testify in court?”

  Marks answered, “Not if he sticks with his guilty plea. I suspect he will with or without this mystery hero he wants to sue.”

  “I don’t see what good suing anyone would do him anyway, if he’s going away for life?”

  Tim shook his head, “He said it was ‘the principle of the matter.’” He was furious with the whole thing, I could tell. “The nerve some of these scumbags have.”

  Marks excused himself to attend to other reports, and Tim stayed with me while I wrote out my official statement. Then he walked me back out to the reception area. “I’ll call you if there’s anything else we need, Sam.”

  “Thank you Tim,” I smiled.

  “Want me to have an officer drop you off at home?”

  “No thanks, you already got the bad guy.” I winked and headed out the door.

  ***

&
nbsp; The bright sunny morning gave no hint of trouble lurking, which is why I decided to walk to the Police Station when I left. It was safe enough to walk those four blocks at any time of day or night in Novica. Nothing happens here, ever. Well, except for that unfortunate incident with Raymond Morrison.

  So imagine my surprise when, on my way home, a black Yukon pulled up next to me on the curb, its rear window rolled down, a thin straw poked out, and I was struck in the leg with a dart.

  Whatever the drug was, it kicked in immediately. Darkness swirled around the perimeter of my vision, staying at bay long enough for me to see the two pairs of black gloved hands reaching for me from the Yukon’s back door, before swallowing my sight. I hit the pavement, and felt the hands take hold, but then I felt a third set of hands pulling me the opposite direction. There were some loud noises, and then the first two sets of hands let go. The next sensation I had was that of being swept up into the air and away.

  ***

  When I came around, I was on my couch again. This time, my Shadow was staring at me from across the room, without his glasses on. His eyes were a striking grayish-green, and seemed for a moment as though they had already seen decades more of life than his face. I felt them looking straight into my soul.

  With that thought, I was fully awake, and sat straight up. “How long was I out?”

  “Just an hour.”

  “How are you always where I am?”

  He smiled, “It’s my job to be where you are.”

  “Does someone pay you then?” I inquired further.

  Hesitantly, he responded. “Yes, I suppose you could say I have a patron, or sponsor.”

  Finally, I had an honest and direct answer. “And why do I need your protection?”

  “After the last two days, do you really need to ask me that question?”

  “You’re right, allow me to clarify. Why are these people after me?”

  He stared out the window behind me.

  “All right then. Who is your patron?”

  This pause was much longer; I could feel the weight of the answer before he gave it. “Your father.”

  My father died when I was ten - almost eleven - in a plane crash. “That’s impossible.” I took several gulps from the glass of water on the end table to my right.