She picks up on the third ring. “What’s up, Dyl? Did you find a dress? You didn’t send me pictures,” she pouts.
“Yeah, about that… it’s missing.” I go inside and close the door, making sure to confirm that I locked not only the deadbolt, but the doorknob lock too. Alaska greets me at the doorway, her tail wagging.
“Missing? Like it got stolen, or?”
“That’s the thing. I know I locked my truck. At least I think I did. I thought I heard the beep. And there was no sign of breaking and entering.” I bend down to scratch her head before I walk into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter and leaning over it, placing my hand on my forehead.
My friend hums before she speaks. “Then you had to have accidentally left it unlocked. There isn’t another explanation. Maybe some teenage girls walked by, saw it, and thought it would be perfect for homecoming. Or maybe they just wanted to be rebellious. I know I did when I was their age.”
“That does not surprise me. I don’t know, maybe you’re right. Do you have any suggestions for natural sleep remedies at all, or a recommendation for a doctor I could go see to get a prescription?”
“Yeah, I’ll look into it and send you some. Just try to unwind for now. I’ll help you go look for a new dress tomorrow. I’m getting another call though, I’ll talk to you later.” Before I have a chance to respond, she hangs up on me.
I quickly decide to heat up some leftovers, too exhausted to make anything new, and take them to bed with me. I’m thinking of enjoying them with a glass of wine in my tub. But as I walk upstairs and into my bedroom, I go still, the plate slipping from my hand and shattering on the hardwood floor beneath me. Words fail me as I stare at what lays on my bed.
The dress.
Chapter
Two
DYLAN
Iblink. Then blink again to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me, but this isn’t a hallucination. The dress lay there pristinely, and below it on the floor lay a pair of heels that came from my closet. Immediately my body goes on high alert, my mind catching up to the fact thatsomeonehas been in my house. That someone has been watching me, following me. I can feel my heart start to beat faster and faster, and I feel sick and shaky. My eyes scan the room from side to side, my open closet door telling me that nobody is hiding inside. I walk across my room to my window, scanning the darkening sky, but I see no movement, nobody hiding behind a barrier. Ducking to the floor I check under my bed as my dad once did for me when I was little to check for monsters, but none reside there.
I should get my gun out of the safe.
Taking slow and tentative steps back to the hallway, making sure to avoid pieces of the shattered plate and mess of food on the floor, I pause and listen. I hold my breath as my ears strain to grasp onto anything, but only a cool silence greets me. Alaska tries to help herself to the mess I’ve made but I usher her back downstairs so she doesn’t accidentally ingest glass. Our safe is in the closet in themaster, which is a few doors down, and I make sure to check both the bathroom and the office as I make my way to his door. Blessedly, both rooms are empty. I pause outside of my dad’s room, hesitating to open the door. I haven’t come in here since his death notification. Swallowing and taking a deep breath, I close my eyes as my hand grips the door handle and begins to turn it. As I swing the door open, I release my breath and open my eyes, his room exactly the way I left it after cleaning when he left on deployment.
Touches of him are everywhere, from the gray of the accent wall I made him paint to add some dimension to the room, to the simple navy and gray bedding of the queen-sized mattress he has pushed against that same wall. Only two pillows adorn the bed, for he never brought anyone home to attempt to be my stepmom, or that I know of I suppose. There is a bookshelf on one wall of the room adorned with military memorabilia and photos of him with his squad mates, and others of him and I. A few books lay here and there, and a jacket hangs on the outside of the ensuite door.I wish I hadn’t washed all of his things…
I feel my eyes well up as I cross the room to the ensuite and go to the master closet just off to the left. The safe is at the back wall. I don’t know why I never bought my own safe to keep closer to me in my room; I never thought I would need it being on base housing.Until today.I think to myself. I enter the code before turning the dial and retrieving my handgun. The only time I’ve even bothered to utilize it is at the range during the lessons that Dad insisted on. Closing the safe and turning the dial to ensure that it latches, I go back to my own room, temporarily forgetting about the shattered glass on the floor until a sharp pain slices through my foot.
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Hopping on one foot, with my gun in my other hand, I make my way to the hallway bathroom, blood dripping along the floorboards as I go. I slam the gun down on the counter and grit through my teeth as I balance on one leg and search for the first aid kit in the cabinet. Finding it, I sit down on the lid of the toilet and prop my injured foot up on the edge of the tub. I have a shard ofglass cutting into the skin in the center of my foot, but thankfully not deep enough to need stitches. Although, it will still hurt like a bitch to put pressure on. Whoever was in my house and laid out those heels is going to be sorely disappointed, because I will no longer be wearing them. I prepare some gauze and grab the bottle of saline to flush out the wound after I extract the glass, the blood running down the edge of the tub and to the drain beyond. I breathe deeply through the stinging sensation before applying pressure to slow the bleeding. As I hold the gauze to my foot, I search through the first aid box for some medical wrap and bind it around my wound to keep it clean, and from bleeding further.
I take my time to stand, testing the level of pain, and decide to take some Tylenol to prevent any incoming pain. I quickly clean up the bathroom and then go retrieve the broom from downstairs to begin sweeping up the mess of food and glass in my bedroom. Alaska once again joins me on my trek back upstairs, begging for my ruined dinner.
“Oh, no you don’t. Only good dogs get table food, and you let a stranger into the house!” She just tilts her head sideways, licking her chops. “Don’t act like you don’t know what you did. So much for unbridled loyalty,” I huff as I stand once more. On my way back down, I secure the handgun and set it on the kitchen counter next to my books and cell phone. Having lost my appetite but needing something to numb my senses all the same, I pour myself a generous glass of wine and go to grab one of my new books before deciding I should probably call the police and report this. Wishful thinking has me hoping it’s just Thea messing with me to try and add some humor to the bleakness that has become my life, but even I’m not that naive.
I dial 9-1-1 and report what happened before dispatch advises me that they’re sending a unit my way. When they arrive, I move the handgun out of sight so as not to startle them, and make Alaska come and sit next to me. I repeat what transpired to the two officers before they begin to inspect my house, checking all doors and windows and dusting for fingerprints. Just as I thought, no windowswere unlocked, and all the doors were secured. No signs of forced entry. Although the officers do notify me that it doesn’t mean somebody couldn’t have picked the locks, they don’t know who would be dumb enough to try that in broad daylight. Not a strong argument, in my opinion.
“Next time, Ma’am, make sure you leave everything as you found it and call us right away. I know adrenaline makes us do odd things, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. And it makes it easier for us to get a clearer picture of events. If you need anything else in the meantime, feel free to give us a call. We should get fingerprint results back soon and will contact you once they come back. But at this time, there isn’t much else we can do. Is there someone who can stay with you, or are you able to stay elsewhere?”
“I have no more family, and I’m actually getting ready to leave the area anyway. I’ll be fine. But… what do you mean by next time?” I bite my nail.
“Based on the fact that nothing of value was taken from the home, and care was taken to enter both here and your truck earlier to retrieve the dress, lay it out, and present it in the way it was, this speaks to me as more of a stalker incident. Therefore, it likely won’t be the only one. And when these incidents do occur, they tend to increase in nature and severity. The hard part obviously is figuring out exactly who they are and what they want. Ideally, if we can figure out who they are, then we can get a protective order in place which would offer you more protection if they were to violate it, but…”
“But seeing as we don’t know who it is and that they aren’t currently threatening in any way, I just have to sit on my ass and wait?” I all but finish his sentence as he looks to his partner and nods.
“Unfortunately. And just to confirm, there have been no other incidents that you can think of?” I try to rack my brain for any information, but everything in my life has been changingso much that I haven’t paid attention. I relay as much and ask one last question. “If this were the first incident, is it likely it would be this drastic?”
“That depends on the perpetrator and if this is normal behavior for them. I really can’t answer that for you. But if I can offer a piece of unsolicited advice…” He nods to where Alaska is now lying on the floor next to me. “It might be worth investing in a dog who actually cares about your well-being and not just anyone who offers a sliver of attention. With the way she was following us around, I do believe she would go home with the Devil himself.” He chuckles and winks at me.
I look at Alaska then back to the officers. “Okay, well thank you again for your time. I’ll certainly consider that piece of advice. Have a good rest of your night.” I walk to the front door and open it before they have a chance to say anything else and bid them farewell. When I close the door, the sound of the deadbolt latching is loud in the now-silent corridor. I turn to face my suddenly solemn Golden Retriever. “I told you… so much for unbridled loyalty. You’ll whore yourself out to anyone and everyone if they offer you a scratch and a treat.” Her ears perk up at that. “That doesn’t mean you’re getting any. Based on the fact that whoever was in the house before made it to my room, I’m sure he or she gave you plenty. Now off to bed with you.” I kneel down, patting her back and kissing her head before sending her on her way.
Retrieving my handgun once more and returning upstairs, knowing that any chance at sleep has been lost for tonight, I decide to run myself a bath. I add a splash of bubbles and light a few candles to help relax my nerves and my senses, and while the tub fills up, I grab the handgun and place it where it will be in reach if I need it. Next, I go to my bedroom to undress and grab pajamas, quickly realizing that in my haste to search for the intruder, I left the blinds to my window open—the window I just got undressed in front of. I duck down. Just because I don’t see anybody outside, doesn’t mean there isn’t. I quickly crawl to my closet and grab myrobe, wrapping it around myself, shaking my head at how impossibly stupid I am before I hurriedly close the blinds.
“It’s an absolute miracle I haven’t been kidnapped yet,” I say, talking to myself as I return to the bathroom, sinking into the warm water but being careful to keep my injured foot out. “An absolute bloody miracle.” Although there was still time if I wasn’t careful. Who am I kidding? This isn’t like one of the smutty books I like to read. It’s not like I have anybody alive in my family who would be able to pay my ransom. I literally have nothing to offer aside from being able to fulfill some sadistic fuck’s whims. I’d be their most boring conquest ever. Chuckling softly to myself, I take a long drink of my wine before double-checking the reach to my handgun, picking up my book, and settling in.