Page 43 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“Things came to a head when Angie talked me into going to a Halloween party. She knew about my stalker but said everything would be fine because there would be so many people there.
“So, I went. Angie’s guy was there. It was at his house, in fact. But apparently, he didn’t feel the same spark of interest for Angie that she did for him. He spotted me sitting off in a corner and, as the host, felt compelled to come over and talk to me, I guess. It was all very innocent, but Angie saw us, got the wrong idea, and left without telling me. I knew it was the booze talking, but it still hurt that she thought I’d do that to her, you know?
“Anyway, I left shortly after she did. There was no point in sticking around; I’d only gone there for her to begin with. I remember walking to my car and feeling a little off. I got in, closed my eyes, and …” I shrugged. “Next thing I knew, I was waking up on a wooded trail during a thunderstorm.”
“You don’t remember anything about how you got there?”
I bit my lip. “I didn’t at first, but then I started getting these nightmares. I don’t know if they’re actual memories or my brain trying to fill in the blanks, but they sure feel real.”
I filled him in on the bits and pieces, disjointed as they were. The storm. The drainage ditch. My personified Grim Reaper forcibly expelling water from my lungs. Waking up in the hospital days later with a concussion, a broken arm, snapped ankle, cracked ribs, and pneumonia.
“My therapist said the nightmares might be my mind’s way of revealing what happened in little pieces, but so far, I’ve remembered nothing that might be helpful. It’s so frustrating!”
Steve pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head. At some point, he started stroking my arm, and it gave me the courage to continue.
“The police suspect someone slipped me something at the party, but they couldn’t prove anything because too much time had passed. The tox screens were inconclusive.”
“How long were you out there before someone found you?”
“Four days.” Three had passed before Angie had reported me missing. An unknown Samaritan had found me and called it in a day after that.
“Jesus, Casey.”
“I was in the hospital for about a week. My company, Kleiner, was great. They let me work from my apartment while I continued to recover. The police had no suspects, and with me unable to provide help, the investigation stalled and got moved to the back burner. Angie was super supportive. She did all the shopping and didn’t pressure me to leave the apartment. I was scared of my own shadow at that point, afraid my attacker was still out there somewhere, biding his time, waiting for the next opportunity.
“Everything was quiet for a while, and I thought maybe, just maybe, whoever it was had given up and moved on. I even started going back into the office. Then, the cards and flowers began showing up again, and this time, they included pictures of Angie—getting into her car, going into our apartment building, shopping at the grocery store. On the backs were handwritten notes, like,She can’t watch over you all the time.
“Then, one day, I came home and found Angie unconscious. She’d left work early, surprised someone in the apartment, and gotten a blow to the back of the head for it.”
“Surely, the police took that seriously.”
“They did, but there was no evidence linking her attack to my stalker. There’d been a series of break-ins in our complex, and they said our apartment might’ve just been next on the hit list.”
“Jesus,” he said again.
“I know. Maybe it wasn’t related, but my instincts told me it was, and I wasn’t willing to take the chance. I convinced Angie to move to another apartment. A nicer one with better security. I resigned from my position with the firm, packed a suitcase, bought the most boring used car I could find, and hit the road. I’ve been traveling ever since. I check in with Angie occasionally so she knows I’m still alive, but that’s it.”
“I can’t even imagine what that’s been like for you,” Steve said, pressing his lips to the top of my head.
“It hasn’t been all bad,” I told him truthfully. “I’ve gotten to see a lot of places I might not have otherwise. The most important thing is, the cards and gifts stopped coming—at least for a little while. A few weeks ago, Angie told me that a bouquet showed up at the office with a note that said,Tell her I’m thinking about her. Again, no name, no threat, nothing to say definitively that it had anything to do with me, but…”I shuddered.
“Who knows you’ve been in contact with her?”
“No one, as far as I know, and Angie assured me she hasn’t told anyone. But she has been known to let something slip when she’s had a few. That’s why I only use burners to contact her and never actually tell her where I am.”
He considered that for a while, absently stroking my arm. I was perfectly content to stay where I was, tucked against his body, feeling drained but also a lot lighter for having shared.
“That’s a hell of a way to live, Casey,” he said finally.
“I know. I can’t keep it up much longer. I need to go back.”
“I disagree.”
I repositioned myself so I was straddling his legs and could see his eyes.
“Are you saying that because you don’t think it’s safe for me to go home or because you want me to stay?” I whispered.
He grunted, pulled me closer, and kissed me soundly. “What do you think?”
