Page 6 of Guarded By the Lumberjack
Girlfriend then, maybe?
Some woman who comes and goes but only stays long enough to...
I don't like the way that idea makes me feel, so I squash it. Then find myself looking around at what else I can see of the house for any other signs that a woman spends time here.
Calvin
Penny's story circles back to the beginning, when she first told me she tracked me down because someone's been stalking her.
"So you picked up an obsessed fan, I take it."
There's never been any social media accounts in my name. They didn't exist when I joined the Navy and we were either discouraged or not allowed to have them once they did. I've seen what that shit's done to the world, to basic human relationships-- I don't figure I've missed out on anything.
It's hard to miss some of the stories about delusional fans getting out of control though.
Penny's accounts of messages, emails, and then texts and voicemails on her personal phone number seem to follow the pattern. I get why the advice she got was "block and delete" at first. What I don't understand is why no one took her seriously when she started seeing signs of an intruder on her property.
She shakes her head at my assessment.
Damn, she's pretty. Curvy in a way that's all woman. Golden blonde hair, big brown eyes, perfect skin that has a soft, sun-kissed color to it.
And way too young to have my dick perking up attentively.
Trouble lines those chocolate eyes and I don't like the way she looks over her shoulder, clocking the door and the windowsaround us as if she's the one who's been ambushed a hundred times.
I catch myself moving closer to her. Unbidden, as if I get caught in the gravitational pull of her scent.
She's too young. She's scared and likely for good reason. And she's the widow of one of my men. It doesn't matter that she smells like sunshine and sweet peas or that she looks at me like she'd let me take her in my arms if I gave in to my impulses to do just that.
She's off limits.
I won't take advantage of her vulnerability.
"I did a series of videos talking about how I wished Tyler had never joined the military... someone decided it was unpatriotic. It-- it got worse from there."
Footprints in her garden that weren't hers. A row of dead flowers that she'd planted in Tyler's memory. Coming home to find her doors unlocked when she knew she'd locked them.
Someone wasn't content with trolling her from behind a keyboard. Someone wanted her to know they could get to her.
"Like I said, my family thinks I'm imagining it. My friends think I'm looking for attention. The cops think it's a play for publicity for the channel and then they said there were 'perfectly rational explanations' for all the physical evidence and nothing could be proven that I was in danger."
She bends her delicate fingers to make air quotes and lowers her voice in a mock male baritone as she repeats what the police told her.
It's cute as hell, but my blood boils at hearing the way everyone around her has brushed off the obvious signs that someone is harassing her.
"Show me the messages."
I expect her to hand over a cell phone, instead she jumps up, fishes in an oversized purse and brings me a stack of print outs.
"I changed my number. I got a new SIM card. I got a new phone-- he kept texting me every time. I got another text when I was driving out here. I freaked out and threw my phone off a cliff on the side of the highway."
She fills me in on more details as I read through the increasingly unhinged messages she's received.
When he got bored staying outside her home, things inside started moving. Tyler's flag taken off the wall and set on her kitchen counter, things in her refrigerator and bathroom rearranged. Nothing that proved an intruder had been inside, just enough to give the people who should be taking care of her ammunition to gaslight her.
The guy has gotten it in his head that Penny's anti-American. A few messages even suggest she might be a spy.
Whoever he is, he's unhinged. And he's a ghost-- like me.
