Текст книги "Stalk Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

All of a sudden someone rushes past us.

Then a couple more people.

Then someone bumps into me and almost knocks me down.

Black-suited, sunglass-wearing security guards rush by in droves.

Brooklyn gets off the couch, and we both look in the same direction to try and figure out what’s going on.

“Someone probably just crashed the party or got drunk or something. There’s plenty of security here. They’ll get it all sorted out,” I tell him.

But then I think about Mom’s stalker. About how worried James has been about the party. How he promised to keep her safe.

I panic.

Oh my God, I’ve got to find Mom.

“Brook—” I start to say, but I’m interrupted when one of the security guys practically picks me up off the ground and carries me away from Brooklyn.

The security guy yells at me. “We’re getting you out of here now!”

“Why?” I pull back. I look for Brooklyn, but he’s lost in the crowd behind me.

The security guy drags me to the other side of the dance floor, opposite the commotion, near where I made out with Cush.

I’m scared, but I don’t want to leave. Where is Tommy? Where is Mom? And why do they have to get me out of my own party? What’s happened to Mom?

Everyone is heading toward the commotion. The area he’s dragging me to is almost completely empty.

“Stop it!” I yell. “I need to go check on my mom! Is she okay? Tell me what’s going on!”

The security guy stops moving and wraps a strong arm tightly around my waist.

“The whore is fine. I told her I was moving on. Bet she never guessed it was with you.” He lets out an evil chuckle.

Oh my god!

He’s not security.

James was right! It’s the guy!

The stalker!

“Let go of me!” I struggle to get away from him, but he’s still dragging me like a rag doll toward the exit.

“I’ve got a van out back. We’re going to do great things together.”

How do I know that voice? Why does it sound familiar?

Wait. He’s taking me to a van out back?

What. The. Fuck.

I scream bloody murder. “AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

But no one can hear me.

Except the stalker.

“Stop screaming. No one can hear you over the music,” he says coldly.

I realize he’s right. I don’t stand a chance. No one can hear me.

Something I see out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.

It’s the stalker’s arm.

I see the end of a scrolly tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve.

I know that tattoo. How do I know that tattoo?

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

It’s the Y on Vincent’s Abby tattoo.

It’s Vincent.

Vincent’s tattoo.

Vincent’s voice.

Vincent, who thinks I look just like my mom did when he fell in love with her. Vincent, who wants to make a movie with me. Mom’s movie.

Vincent is the stalker?

Could that be right?

I wriggle myself around so that I’m facing him.

“Vincent! What are you doing? Stop it! Let go of me!”

I make my body go limp, so that it will be heaver, and I drag my feet behind me. But he’s strong, and all that happens is that I lose one of my gorgeous shoes.

He says coldly, “Don’t act so surprised. I told you the other day I was going to get you locked in. We’re going to make a movie together and have all sorts of fun. I know you want it as much as I do.”

I start to shake as I think about all the things he told me. All the things that felt flattering. I see them in a new light. And in that light, they are not pretty. I’ve never been so scared in my life.

The music is still playing loudly.

There’s no one to save me. No one to help me.

Tears start streaming down my face.

What am I going to do?

The locket James gave me swings in front of my face, and I hear a quiet voice speak to me.

A voice that I haven’t heard for so long.

My dad’s voice.

It’s both soothing and serious.

You can’t let him get you out the door. Whatever you do, don’t let him get you out the door.

Vincent grabs my wrist tighter and pulls me in closer to his body. Like he’s shielding me from what’s behind us.

The door keeps getting closer.

You don’t have much time. 

I have to get him to stop.

“Stop. Please, Vincent. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. I promise I’ll make the movie with you. Just please don’t do this. Please.”

He doesn’t stop.

And he doesn’t reply.

He just keeps dragging me, closer and closer to the door.

When we’re almost to the door, he says, “I want you, and I’m going to have you. All to myself.”

We’re right in front of the big black exit door.

He stops to push it open.

This is your last chance. Remember P.E.? The defensive move they taught you. 

Use it. 

Do it now.

A rush of adrenaline suddenly courses through my body. I pick my foot up then smash the heel of the shoe I’m still wearing into the top of Vincent’s foot with as much force as I can muster.

It’s a stupid defensive move we learned in Freshman P.E.

But it works.

Vincent’s grip loosens.

Just enough.

I quickly pull away.

Run.

I break completely free of his arms, turn, and run as fast as I can. I run straight into James and another security guy.

“That’s the stalker! He’s trying to kidnap me!” I turn around and point at Vincent.

His glasses are still on, and he’s racing toward me.

James hands me off.

Then he and Vincent come face to face.

Vincent holds his hands up in protest and starts to say something, but James punches him in the face, knocking his glasses off.

I watch Vincent and James trade punches.

James falls back for a minute, but then his training kicks in.

In a fury of fists and kicks, Vincent is down and out cold.

James flips him over and wraps his wrists together with zip ties.

I drop to my knees.

And throw up my birthday cake.

Not a party ’til someone pukes.

1:15am

I’m sitting on a couch in the family room wrapped up in a blanket. Brooklyn is in Tommy’s office on the phone with his dad. Damian has his arm wrapped around my shoulder, and my head is buried in his chest. My eyes are closed and I’m shaking, but I’m not cold. After the adrenaline rush I feel like I’m crashing. Kind of like I drank four Red Bulls all at once and got the caffeine, but not the energy.

I’m pretending not to listen, but I’m hanging on every word that’s said.

Everyone is pacing and talking.

Mom is freaking out.

Two police detectives are here, as is Garrett Smith, the head of the personal security firm that was in charge of protecting Mom tonight. No one has asked for my side of the story.

It’s been all about James.

James saw a man pulling me toward the exit. James saw me stomp on his foot and get away. I told James it was the stalker. James tackled and punched him. James had him arrested.

Right now, I should be having fun at my after-party. The party where I hoped both my worlds would come together.

The party that probably would’ve been a fail anyway.

But anything would’ve been better than this.

Only a few people were allowed to come here. Besides Garrett and the detectives, there’s Damian and his dad, Brooklyn, Millie and Deron, James, Kym, Mom, and Tommy.

At Cush’s parties, everyone always says, It’s not a party ’til someone pukes. 

Not in this case.

I have never been so scared in my life.

We have tons of food. It was all set out by the caterers, who were asked to leave before we were allowed to enter the house.

Deron tries to lighten the mood. “Well, the good news is there’s plenty of food. The bad news is, we’re gonna have to eat it all.”

Damian runs his hand across my back gently, and I start sobbing again.

He whispers to me. “It’s okay, Keats. You’re safe.”

He doesn’t know why I’m crying. He doesn’t know what he’s saying is a lie. He doesn’t know that I’ll never be safe again.

The room gets quiet.

I look up and see that everyone’s eyes are glued to one of the detectives.

He’s speaking into his phone. “I understand. I’ll let them know.” He addresses us with a pained expression. “They released him.”

Quick whats, hows, and whys?” come from Mom, Tommy, and James.

“Because there is no proof he tried to kidnap her. It's her word against his.”

James protests. “I saw him dragging her toward the exit.”

“He said there was a commotion and he was worried about her safety. He says he was helping a friend.”

“Well, obviously, that’s a lie,” Mom says. “I still don't understand how he got in. We had a list. We had security.”

“He wanted you to know he’s sorry for the confusion. He’s also agreed not to press charges against James for the assault.” He looks at James. “He understands that you misread the situation.”

James looks at the officer incredulously and says, “Just who the hell is this guy?”

Garrett Smith takes over the conversation. “This guy is Thaddeus Samuel Kingston. Mother: Letitia Kingston. Father: unknown. He went to the finest prep school in Beverly Hills. Football team. Prom King. Valedictorian. Very high IQ. Was in and out of trouble for fighting. He also was ticketed for shooting animals that wandered into his yard. His mother was married six times. The last time, she married for money. They were killed in a mugging gone bad. It says here that the case has never been solved. The stepfather had no heirs so, at twenty, Thaddeus inherited a few million dollars. His net worth today is estimated at around twenty-five million.”

“He doesn’t sound like a stalker, does he?” Mom says.

“Based on his profile, he exhibits traits we tend to see in sociopaths. Intelligence, bullying, hurting animals. Sociopaths are often good looking, and people are always shocked to find out that they’ve killed people.”

“Killed people?!” Mom screeches. “Do you think that’s what he would have done?”

“I don’t know what he would have done,” Garrett says quietly.

But I know. He was going to make a movie with me. He was going to lock me up somewhere and make me film his sick version of Mom’s movie. Everything Garrett said about his childhood fits what Vincent told me, but did he lie about his name? Is he not really Vivianne’s grandson? Was he pretending? I know she really died. Were the ashes fake? Was his crying on my shoulder only to manipulate me into trusting him?

One of the detective speaks. “It doesn’t help our case that the guy is rich and good looking. The female cop questioning him said that he could stalk her anytime. There’s nothing we can do. We can’t even get a judge to issue a restraining order. There just isn’t any proof.”

There has to be proof. What proof do I have? A business card with a fake name? Big deal.

Then I remember the tattoo. “He has an Abby tattoo,” I say quietly.

The detective says, “They questioned him about that as well. He had a high school girlfriend named Abby. It checked out.”

“What about the van?” I ask.

“What van?”

“He told me he was taking me to a van out back. If he wasn’t going to kidnap me, why the van?”

The detective’s expression turns grim, and I know what he's thinking. He wanted to rape me or kill me.

But I know he had something even worse planned.

The other detective says, “No one said anything about a van? Are you sure he said that?”

“I’m positive. It was the first thing he said to me. I’m taking you to a van out back. We’ve got to get you safe.”

Garrett grabs his phone and says, “I still have people on the scene. I’ll get them to check.” He dials then speaks into his phone. “Check outside the exit door and see if there’s a van. I’ll wait.”

Everyone raptly awaits his answer. We need some sort of clue to connect him to me. Can they connect him through the van?

I know if they don’t figure out something I’ll never be able to leave my house again. I’ll never be able to sleep at night. He knows too much about me. Where I live. Where I go. What I do. Who my friends are. He knows everything.

“They found a van,” he announces. Then he says into the phone, “Sweep it and get back to me.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, a screeching wail pierces the air.

WHOOOOOHHH!!! WHOOOOOHHH!!! WHOOOOOHHH!!! WHOOOOOHHH!!!

Someone’s house alarm is loudly shrilling.

Brooklyn’s phone buzzes.

He looks down at it, like he’s forgotten what it is. He blinks, then answers. “No, I didn’t accidentally set off the alarm. Yes, send the police right away!”

James and the two detectives look at each other, agree on something with their eyes, draw their weapons, and go tearing out the back door.

“Well, this has certainly been an exciting night,” Deron jokes. He’s trying to use his great sense of humor to keep us all calm.

It just doesn’t seem to be working.

Fifteen nerve-racking minutes later, the alarm wailing the entire time, James calls Brooklyn.

Brooklyn gives him the alarm code, and the night is silent again.

Brooklyn sets down his phone. “The house is clear. From what they can tell, it wasn’t robbed, but they want me to go see if anything is missing.”

Garrett picks up his walkie-talkie and says, “I need a two-man team to the back door.” He leads Brooklyn out the door, where armed security men are waiting to escort Brooklyn safely to his house.

We wait in tense silence.

While we wait, Garrett gets a call.

He listens, ends the call, and reports, “They did find a van outside the exit door he was taking you to. The keys were in it. It was stolen from a rental agency and the plates don’t match the van. Because it’s a rental, there are a million fingerprints in it. There’s nothing that’s going to make this stick.” He turns to Mom, who is standing at the bar in the kitchen picking the crust off a mini sandwich. “I think maybe you better sit down, Abby.”

“Why?” Mom says quietly.

“They found some things in the van that are quite disturbing and although we can’t prove he was trying to kidnap Keatyn, we know for sure that he was.”

“What was in the van, Garrett?” Tommy asks slowly. I get the feeling he doesn’t really want to know the answer.

“Duct tape, zip ties, syringes preloaded with a drug we’ve yet to identify.”

I start crying again, so Damian tightens his arms around me.

“It’ll be okay, Keats. You’re okay. You’re safe,” he mutters softly into my ear. When Damian talks, he practically sings. It’s very soothing.

I lean my head against his, but tears are still rolling down my face.

But I’m not crying because of what was in the van.

I’m crying because I know I have to tell them.

Tell them all how stupid I am.

Tell them that I was the one who invited him to the party.

Brooklyn, the detectives, and James walk through the back door about twenty minutes later.

Brooklyn looks freaked out.

James walks straight to Garrett and speaks to him in hushed tones.

Brooklyn swallows hard and looks at me. “Keatyn, your bikini. You didn’t grab it, did you? Remember, you left it on my floor?”

Mom says, “Why was your bikini on Brook’s floor?”

“Because it was wet,” I say. What I don’t say is that he stripped it off me, had sex with me, and then told me it was chilling.

Mom snaps at me. “How many times have I told you not to leave your wet bikinis on the floor?”

Tommy grabs Mom’s hand. “I don't think that's really the issue here.”

“I didn’t grab it.”

Brooklyn says, “I didn’t think so. I thought I remembered seeing it when I was getting ready for the party.”

James whispers something to Tommy.

“What’s going on? What’s with all the secrets?” I ask. “So he took my bikini. What else did he take?”

“He didn’t take anything else,” Garrett says a little too quickly.

“Fine. What did he leave?”

James sighs. “There was a manila envelope addressed to Abby.”

“Let me see it. Is it another letter?”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Garrett says quietly. “We, uh, need to fingerprint and analyze it first.” Then he turns to Mom and Tommy. “Let’s go in the other room.”

There’s something he doesn’t want to say in front of me.

Something bad.

That’s why Brooklyn looks so freaked out.

I wipe my eyes, sit up straight, and find a little bit of strength. “Whatever you want to tell them in private, you need to tell me about it too. You can’t protect me from him.”

“Keatyn . . . ” Garrett says.

But I stand up and interrupt him. “Don’t patronize me. All this expensive security didn’t do us any good. I could’ve been tied up in the back of a van tonight. And if that had happened, I suspect this little party would’ve been a whole lot different.”

Mom clutches her stomach like she’s going to throw up.

Tommy takes a gulp of the scotch sitting in front of him. “Just tell us all, Garrett. What’s in the envelope?”

The detective motions for us to join him. He puts on a pair of latex gloves while he walks over to the big kitchen island. He pulls a baggie out of his coat pocket, pulls the envelope out of the baggie, and begins to open it.

I get up off the couch. My knees are shaking, but Damian grabs my hand and pulls me into the kitchen.

Everyone’s eyes are on the envelope. You’d think it held the answer to who won the next Academy Award.

He turns the envelope upside down. Out drops a flash drive and a note.

My Dearest Abby-

I told you I’d moved on. Bet you never thought it would be with your beautiful daughter. 

Tell her I’m sorry tonight didn’t work out for us, but not to worry. 

We’re still going to make a movie together, and it will be perfection. 

And in case you need further convincing, whore, check out the flash drive. 

I’m everywhere.

I shudder and feel faint.

Damian is holding me up.

Garrett sets up a laptop on the counter, and they slide the flash drive in.

A slide show pops up.

Photos of me pass by.

Me on the beach the first day I met Vincent. I’m in the skimpy French bikini, smiling and tossing sand at Brooklyn.

Me at the Undertow wearing the I-didn’t-try-I-just-look-this-amazing outfit.

A grainy nighttime shot of me, Brooklyn, and Damian in the hot tub on the deck. 

Me and Cush at the Santa Monica pier. I’m carrying the big stuffed seal he won for me by shooting baskets. 

Me and B walking hand in hand down the beach.

Me standing on a deck in the beautiful white gown I wore to Monte Carlo night. The night he told me we could walk down those steps and no one would even know we were gone.

Me lying on the chaise at the hotel pool when I got back from Europe. 

Me doing a cartwheel in the ocean on my birthday. When he recorded me. I can still feel how tightly he gripped my wrist. How strong he was.

Me drinking a beer and eating shrimp today at Buddy’s. 

Then there’s a video. It’s the one Vincent took when he told me to do my own version of Mom’s famous poster. I pranced out, threw water at him, and blew him a kiss.

I feel sick again.

“Oh my God,” Mom says. “Keatyn, this video. How did he get this?”

I breakdown and start bawling. Tommy puts his hand on my shoulder. I turn around, throw myself into his chest, and sob. My body heaves, and I feel borderline hysterical.

I don’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened to me if he had gotten me out that door. I grab ahold of my locket and say a thank you prayer.

Tommy whispers to me soothingly as he holds me. “Shh, baby, it’ll be okay. We’re not gonna let this guy win.”

He runs his hand across my hair.

My sobs slow down a bit.

“I . . . know . . . the . . . stalker,” I say in between sobs.

“You what?! What do you mean?” Tommy says.

“I . . . mean . . . I . . . invited . . . him . . . to the party.”

Everyone looks at me with confused, shocked faces.

Garrett is the first to recover. He grabs my shoulder and guides me back over to the couch, gestures for me to sit, and then sits on the coffee table directly in front of me. “I think you need to explain. If you knew who your mother’s stalker was, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because I didn’t figure it out until he tried to kidnap me.”

“Tell us the whole thing. Walk me through what happened at the club before James got involved.”

I take a deep breath.

“I was standing on the edge of the dance floor talking to Brooklyn when there was a commotion. A guy who was dressed like one of your security guys—dark suit, sunglasses —picked me up off the ground and told me he had to get me somewhere safe. I immediately panicked and assumed that meant it wasn’t safe and that something bad must’ve happened. I was afraid the stalker had got to Mom, so I told him no. That I needed to find her. That’s when he said, The whore is fine, and when I realized he was the stalker and not a security guy. I tried screaming, but the music was too loud and no one could hear me. And everyone was gathering near the commotion. Then I saw part of his tattoo and realized that not only was he the stalker, but that I knew him.”

“Ohmigawd, Keatyn,” Mom says.

I look at her. “I tried to plead with him, but he just laughed. He thought it was funny that Mom never suspected that he was moving on to her own daughter. I tried to get away. Tried to make my body limp and heavier. I struggled. He was just so strong.”

I stop and run my hand across my face then back through my hair. “Like, really strong, and I couldn’t get away. I knew I wasn’t going to get away. I knew what he wanted. I knew he was going to kidnap me, and there was nothing I could do about it. The door kept getting closer, and I was freaking out, full-on panicking. Then this voice started talking to me. It calmed me down.”

“A voice?” Mom asks.

My eyes fill with fresh tears. I nod and bite my lip. “A voice that sounded like Daddy. He told me I couldn’t let him get me out the door and reminded me of a stupid self defense move I learned in P.E. So I did it. I smashed my heel into his foot just as he was getting ready to open the door. And it worked. He loosened his grip on me, I broke free, and ran.” I let out at big breath of air. I’m exhausted. “You guys know the rest.”

“What are we going to do?” Tommy says flatly.

Garrett Smith stands up and takes control. He puts his hand out to the detective closest to him and says, “We appreciate everything you’ve done. We’ll take it from here.”

The detectives nod at him, mutter something about if they can do anything else to let them know, and are escorted out the door.

Tommy hands me his glass of scotch.

Garrett comes back and sits in front of me. “Tell me how you know him.”

I cover my face with my hand and shake my head no. “I can’t. You’ll be mad at me. But I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

Tommy rubs my back. “None of us knew, baby. You’ve got to tell us. We aren’t going to be mad. We’re so glad you were smart enough to figure it out when you did.”

“But that’s just it. I’m not smart.” I look at my mom. “Mom, remember the hot older guy I had dinner with? Vincent Sharpe?”

“Yes?”

“It was him.”

“What do you mean?”

“The stalker, Thaddeus whatever. He either goes by Vincent Sharpe or was pretending to be him.”

Mom’s legs buckle. James grabs her elbow. “Oh my God, Keatyn. You had dinner with him.”

Garrett flips back through his notes and mutters, “Sharpe. Where did I see that name?”

I answer. “He said his grandmother was Viviane Sharpe.”

“Yes, that’s it. He wasn’t lying about that. So you know him? Went to dinner with him? Spent time with him?”

“Basically, yes.”

Everyone in the room starts to murmur and ask questions.

Garrett stands up and holds up his hands to get everyone to stop. “Look, I know you all have a million questions, but I’m going to ask them. We’ve got to piece this all together and figure out why he went from long-time fan to kidnapper. So, Abby, we know he’s been a fan of yours for years, but it was never a problem. When did things first escalate? Was it when you found the note in the backpack? When I was brought in?”

Mom thinks. “No, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal at the time, but before that, he broke into my trailer on set.”

“And he stole a family photo,” James says. “One of Keatyn and Abby on the beach in Hawaii.”

Garrett surmises, “So he sees a photo and instead of seeing Keatyn, he sees the Abby he first fell in love with in the photo. Young Abby.”

“That was the same day I met him. I remember, because you were in the living room with all those men in suits when I came back from shopping with Sander. It was the day we broke up.”

“Where did you meet him? When you were shopping?”

“No. On our beach.”

Mom audibly gasps. “He came to our house?”

Brooklyn says, “He was on the beach, down more toward my house. He told us he was buying a house up the beach and asked me to teach him to surf. He seemed cool, except for the way he was staring at Keatyn. I didn’t like it, but he quickly apologized for staring. He told us she looked just like Abby in A Day at the Lake, and how he had a big crush on her when he was fourteen. He said Keatyn brought back some memories.”

Garrett says, “Okay, do you remember when you saw him next?”

I nod. “Yeah, it was that same night. He was at Damian’s last gig. He kinda flirted with me. Told me he wanted to make a movie. I laughed and asked him if that line usually worked for him in the bar. I kinda blew him off, but he told me he was doing a remake of A Day at the Lake. I joked that I didn’t want to stand around in a bikini and scream. He told me it wouldn’t be like that. That I’d be a kick ass heroine and it’d be a blockbuster. He gave me his business card. Told me to call him. I didn’t. The script wasn’t even written. I’m not dumb.” I close my eyes tightly. “Well, I thought I wasn’t dumb.”

I take another slow sip of Tommy’s scotch and slowly open my eyes. The burn of the scotch on my throat is a harsh reminder that this isn’t just a bad dream.

Garrett says, “So he fantasized about remaking Abby’s movie. Now he’s found an Abby look-a-like to play the role. Still, there has to be something in his life that happened. Something that made him snap.”

“His grandmother died,” I say. “He idolized her. She was an old film star, and he said she was a lady. He went on and on about how Grandmother—that’s what he called her, never Grandma, always Grandmother—respected Abby because she never took off her clothes in her movies; that hers were clean, like they were in the old days. He had a bad childhood, and it sounds like his mom was pretty slutty. She was married like six times. The last guy she married had money, but didn’t want kids, so she dumped him at his grandmother’s house. It was good for him though. It sounded like he kind of had low self-esteem, like maybe kids used to make fun of him. But his grandmother told him he could fake confidence. He said eventually he didn’t have to fake it anymore.”

“So the woman he idolizes dies. Okay,” Garrett says. “What else?”

“I helped him spread her ashes on our beach. He was very sad. I don’t think he was faking it. He sobbed on my shoulder. I hugged him and cried too. He was buying the beach house for her birthday. Apparently, she met the love of her life on this beach and was happiest there. She wanted Vincent to find true love. He told me she would have loved that he met me on their beach. The next day, he texted me and asked me to dinner. He wanted to thank me for being nice to him.”

“That’s the night Barbara called and said you were having dinner with a hot, older guy, right?” Mom says.

“Yeah. We drank wine on the patio first.”

Garrett says, “What happened that night?”

I think about it. “We talked all about the movie, but then not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even though we talked about the movie, it was like . . .” I trail off, and finally whisper, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

Garrett touches my arm, and I immediately flinch. “Did something happen?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I always thought I was good at reading people. I was so wrong about him.”

“Don’t question your instincts. Tell me what you really thought.”

“Even though the things he said were about the movie, it kinda felt like he was trying to seduce me. His hand would accidentally brush against my knee when he filled the wine. He asked me when I’d be legal. He told me I have an expressive face and all about these things I do with my mouth, like how I bite my lip. He ran his thumb across my lip. After dinner, he kissed me on the cheek, but it was longer than a kiss on the cheek should be. Then he looked at me and told me he could tell my other cheek was jealous, so he kissed it too. He was really quite charming.”

“Sociopaths are charming, Keatyn. People are naturally drawn to them, but they’re cold inside.”

I look at a photo of the girls on the coffee table. They’re all in rainbow tutus, except for Gracie. She’s in full-on princess garb. I remember the note in Avery’s backpack, and I instantly know what made him snap. “Mom became a whore,” I mutter.

Mom goes, “What?”

“The note that was in Avery’s backpack. He was pissed at you. You did those sex scenes and instead of being like the grandmother he idolized, you became a whore . . . like his mother. He hated his mother.”

“That’s very insightful, Keatyn. Now we’re getting somewhere,” Garrett says. “His grandmother, the woman he idolizes, dies. And the other woman he idolizes becomes a whore. That’s what did it. What sent him over the edge. Tell me the rest. Every time you had contact with him.”

I tell him everything.

Garrett looks very somber when he says, “Keatyn, Abby, this isn’t going to stop.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to have to send Keatyn away for a while. She can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous.”

“We’re getting ready to go to Vancouver to shoot a movie,” Mom says. “She’ll come with us.”

“Abby, this has gone beyond your typical obsessed fan. The pictures, his following her, and breaking into the house a few doors down in a private, gated community all suggest that this has become a game to him. He managed to work his way into her life. Vancouver isn’t the answer. This is very serious, and I think it would be best for the whole family if you split up for the time being.”

Mom gets a fierce look on her face, like a lion protecting her young. “We’re not sending her anywhere. She’ll stay with us.”

“I was thinking of something like witness protection. We can change her name and she can go away until he finds someone else to obsess over, or until we can catch him.”

“Change my name? Move away? What happened to I’m not going to allow myself to be victimized. Isn’t that what you always say, Mom?”

“This is different, Keatyn, because you almost were a victim,” Garrett says bluntly.

That knocks out what little wind I had left in my sails.

Garrett continues. “Look, he’s obsessed about your mom for years. He got mad at her over the nude scenes and switched his focus to you. I think if he can’t find you or see you, he’ll find someone new to focus on. Worst case scenario, you go away for six months, maybe a year.”