The Stares of Strangers (7 page)

Chapter 11

When Penny called around eleven o'clock that evening, Carter and I were ready to go.

“
Did you find out anything about Ken?” Penny asked.

“
Yes. Carter did a thorough background check on him. His name is Kenneth Jenkins. He's married with two kids and just happens to live three blocks from your house.”

She almost seemed upset. “You're kidding. So, he wasn't following me after all?”

“
There are several ways we can analyze this,” I said. “The fact that he lives so close to you makes it more convenient for him, in terms of stalking you. He could simply tell his wife he's going out for a run when, in actuality, he's lurking around your house like a peeping Tom. The flip side to that is, he may not have been following you home at all. It's just the normal route he takes to his own house.”

“
What else did you find out?”

I referred to my notes. “He's squeaky clean in terms of arrests. His Instagram page is full of family photos of his beautiful wife and adorable children. He and his wife own The Herbal Path store in Bridgeport, where they also teach classes about natural wellness through vitamins and herbs.”

“
So, what you're saying is, he's probably not my stalker?” Penny said.

“
He doesn't fit the profile, but he might have a dark side no one knows about. We won't discount him just yet.”

Penny yawned. “Well, I should get to bed. I have to be at work by six-thirty. Are you still coming over to babysit?”

“
Yes. We'll be parked across the street, at the foreclosed house. Now, if you see or hear anything strange, give us a call at any time. We'll be right over.”

Another yawn. “Okay, will do.”

“
By the way, did you decide to tell Jessica and Caleb about the hidden cameras?”

“
No, I didn't tell 'em.” Penny lowered her voice to a whisper. “I feel a little guilty about it. I mean, this is their home, too and they have a right to know what's going on.”

“
I understand,” I said. “Just hold off for another day or two. Hopefully this will all be over with very soon.”

* * *

Among Carter's many talents, lock picking is one of his specialties. We were able to get inside the foreclosed home within minutes. In order to keep a low profile, we decided to keep all the lights off as we set up camp in front of a small bedroom window. Carter's laptop was open and tuned into the streaming video feed from the hidden cameras set up at each door in Penny's house.

“
Hey, at least they left some furniture,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “And it's relatively warm in here. Better than I expected.”

“
Yep,” Carter said as he moved a chair over to the window. “This sure beats sitting in a cold car all night long.”

“
I'm glad the electricity hasn't been turned off. I brought some instant coffee to heat up in the microwave.”

“
Good thinking,” he said. “Nothing like a caffeine buzz to keep us alert on a stakeout.”

“
Well, I can't imagine Penny's stalker is going to be making an appearance tonight. It's bitter cold and windy outside.”

“
You might be right, but obsession often comes before comfort. That's the power of obsession, you have no control over it. It consumes you.”

“
Have you ever been obsessed with a girl?” I asked.

Carter gave me a sideward glance. “Why do you ask?”

“
Well, you always seem so in control of your emotions. Like nothing could rattle you. Has a woman ever rattled you to the point where it made you feel desperate in some way?”

He gazed out the window with a thoughtful expression. “The only time I remember feeling desperate was with my first girlfriend. I was sixteen and she was fifteen. Our romance only lasted a few months. When she broke up with me, I thought my life was over.”

“
Were you in love with her?”

“
I was sixteen. What do you know about love at that age?”

“
Do you remember her name?”

“
Barbara Cranton. I looked her up a few years ago, just out of curiosity.”

“
Oh? Did you get in touch?”

“
No. She's twice divorced and morbidly obese. The only pictures on her Facebook page are of her and her three cats.”

“
Well, I bet she looks back and wishes she never broke up with you.”

Carter snickered as he continued to look out the window toward Penny's house. “What about you?” he asked. “Ever been obsessed with someone?”

“
When I was going to massage school, there was this guy I sort of became enamored with. Clay Mitchell. He was gorgeous and flirted with me constantly, but never made the moves. He was very private about his personal life, so I wondered if he had a girlfriend. I found out where he lived and I'd go out of my way to drive through his neighborhood to see if he lived with somebody. I felt like a stalker.”

“
Did he live with someone?”

“
Yes,” I said. “Another dude. Come to find out, his gay lover.”

“
Ouch.” Carter made a pained face. “That sucks.”

“
Actually, it was great. My obsession was instantly cured after that.”

Carter tapped the window. “Speaking of casing the neighborhood, I've seen the same minivan three times now. It drove up the street about five minutes ago, came back, and now it's passing by here again.”

“
Do you have a visual on the driver?”

“
No. The windows are tinted.”

Inching my face closer to the window, I could see the maroon colored minivan driving up the street, but it didn't seem to slow down as it went past Penny's house. “Maybe the person is lost.”

“
You're probably right. But if it comes back again, I'm going outside to take a picture of the license plate.”

There wasn't much traffic on the road at this time of night and nobody was out walking his/her dog or going for a jog. Even the moon in the sky seemed shrunken from the cold.

“
Why don't you take a nap,” Carter suggested. “I'll keep watch for a few hours until I can't keep my eyes open. Then we'll switch.”

“
Are you sure? I can make some coffee to stay awake.”

“
There's no point, Sarah. I can handle this. Besides, I didn't let you take a nap earlier so you need it.” He winked at me as a reminder of our roll in the hay.

“
Well, if you insist.” The bed was just a plain mattress with no sheets or pillows, but I didn't care. I folded up my jacket, placed it under my head, and made myself comfortable.

Chapter 12

Tuesday, December 9

When I opened my eyes, the sunlight was pouring into the bedroom and I almost forgot where I was.

“
Morning, sleepyhead.” Carter's voice sounded groggy.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Did I sleep through the entire night? What time is it?”

“
Almost six-thirty. Penny just left for work.”

Carter's eyes were a little puffy and he needed a shave, but he seemed wide awake.

“
You stayed up all night?”

“
Yep. I popped a few caffeine pills right after you fell asleep, so I'm still wired.”

I moved to the edge of the bed and stretched. My body felt stiff and achy. “I guess nothing exciting happened last night. Otherwise, you would have woken me up.”

“
Pretty quiet. Just the way I like it.”

My cell phone chimed once, letting me know I had a text. It was from Penny.

Just got to my client's house. I'll be here until two, then I'm stopping at the grocery store. Be home by three.

“
Penny got to work just fine,” I told Carter. “She plans to be back home by three.”

“
Good. In the meantime, hopefully our stalker will attempt another visit to her home. I want to get this guy's mug on camera so we can nail him.”

My stomach growled. “Whad'ya say we get some breakfast. My treat.”

He rubbed his hand over his stubble. “I could definitely go for some food.”

We packed up the equipment and headed over to the Hometown Diner and Carter feasted like he hadn't eaten in days. A four-egg omelet with bacon, home fries, wheat toast and a grilled blueberry muffin. I had two poached eggs on an English muffin with fresh squeezed orange juice.

It was quarter to eight by the time Carter drove up the street to my apartment. “I'll drop you off and head back to my place for a while,” he said. “Maybe I can get a few hours of sleep before we go back to Penny's.”

“
Good idea. I'll call officer Bouchard and see what he's got on Brandon Whitman.”

Carter leaned over and we kissed. “Call me later, okay?”

“
You bet.”

Back home inside my cozy apartment, I enjoyed a long hot shower, letting the heat seep into my muscles. I got dressed, styled my hair and, when I returned to the kitchen, I noticed there was a voice message from Officer Bouchard on my cell phone.

Sarah, I have some information on Brandon Whitman. Give me a call back as soon as you get a chance, please.

The sense of urgency in his voice gave me hope. I dialed his number, and he picked up on the first ring.

“
Good morning Sarah?” he said. “Thanks for getting back to me.”

“
What did you find out about Brandon Whitman?”

“
Well, he's never been arrested but, last year a temporary restraining order was filed against him by a woman named Amy Henderson. At the end of the ten day grace period, she apparently decided not to pursue the matter and let it go. I read the file but it didn't give much information. I'm emailing you a copy of Brandon's driver's license with his current address.”

“
Sounds like Brandon could have been stalking this woman or, at least, harassing her. I wonder why she didn't go through with the permanent restraining order.”

“
She'd have to go in front of a judge and prove why she felt Brandon might be a danger to her. It's a lot of work. Maybe after the ten days, Brandon left her alone so she decided he was no longer a threat.”

“
Do you plan to go talk to him?”

A short pause. “I have to be in court for the better part of the day. If you have the time, why don't you pay him a visit?”

“
I'm on it.”

As soon as I ended the call, I checked my email and found the attached file. Brandon's driver's license photo revealed a completely different person from whom I was expecting to see. He resembled an adolescent nerd, complete with dark rimmed glasses, acne and a unibrow. He was twenty-three years old, brown eyes, brown hair, five-eleven and 155 pounds. The kid had to be skin and bones scrawny to be that height and weight. What had Penny seen in this guy? She really must have been drunk when she slept with him. Perhaps he gave a better impression in person. I was eager to find out.

As I grabbed my purse and car keys, I considered calling Carter to tell him about the new development, but he was probably fast asleep. No point in bothering him. I could handle Brandon on my own.

Chapter 13

I got in my car and headed to the historic section of downtown Bridgeport. In the winter months, I can actually get a parking spot unless the snow banks prevent it. The roads are narrow and, if there are even a few inches of snow, they city workers have to come and truck the excess away.

Brandon Whitman's address led me straight to the most prestigious area in all of Bridgeport. I realized there's no way a young kid of twenty-three could afford to even rent an apartment on this street lined with pristine Victorian homes.

He must still live with his parents.

When I located number 333, I opted to park on the road instead of the driveway. I cinched up my coat, hit the sidewalk and walked up the front stairs to the house. Must have been in the single digits with the wind chill. Having lived in New England all my life, you’d think I’d be used to this by now.

The person who opened the door was an elderly gentleman with a perfectly groomed white beard, wearing a wool Irish cap. He reminded me of a professor with his tweed jacket.

“
Hello, sir,” I said with a bright smile. “I'm looking for Brandon Whitman. I was told he lives here.”

The man inspected my face with pursed lips, his eyes the clearest blue color I've ever seen. “Yes, may I ask what this is about?”

“
I just want to ask him a few questions in regard to a case I'm working on.”

“
A case?” The man's eyes widened in interest. “A police investigation?”

“
Yes.”

“
Is he in trouble?”

“
No, nothing like that.” I tried to look past him into the house, but he blocked my view. “Is Brandon home?”

“
Why don't you give me your card,” he said firmly. “And I'll see that he gets it.”

“
Are you his father?” I asked, although the man seemed much older than that. I figured the compliment might endear him to me.

The man raised an eyebrow, but he showed no signs of warming up to me. “I didn't catch your name.”

“
Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Sarah Woods.” I reached into my purse and retrieved a card. “Here you go. Please give that to Brandon.”

He held the card close to his face and peered at it. “A private detective?”

“
Yes, that's me. And what is your name?”

He slid the card into an inside pocket of his sport coat and said, “I'll make sure my grandson gets your information. Good day, Ms. Woods.”

And then he shut the door in my face. So much for warm, New England hospitality.

As I walked back to my car, I knew I'd never get a call from Brandon, even if the old man gave him my card. Nope, I'd have to find another way to approach him.

I decided to drive down the street, make a U-turn and park my car facing the house. I would sit and wait for Brandon to emerge. I'm not sure why, but I had a feeling he was home.

Turns out, I was right about that. Twenty minutes later, a blue BMW with a dent in the bumper backed out of the driveway; the person behind the wheel looked exactly like Brandon. Here we go. I shifted into drive, pulled out into the road, and followed him.

Where was he going? At nine o'clock in the morning, he was probably heading to work but, a few miles down the road, he pulled into Starbucks and parked. He went inside, carrying a laptop bag.

I seriously doubted he worked at Starbucks, so I pulled into the parking lot and snagged a parking spot next to him.

I decided to wait in my car for five minutes before going inside. I wanted him to get settled first.

As I got in line, I noticed that Brandon was already sitting at a table by himself. He was typing on his laptop, a coffee cup and a scone resting on the table beside him.

I ordered a coffee for myself and looped back around to where Brandon had set up camp. Luckily for me, the place was fairly empty.

I really didn't have a plan. Sometimes it's best to let the scene play out organically. You can never predict how someone will react, but you should account for the fact that  he or she might become hostile. Approaching a potential suspect is always best to do in a public location, just in case things get out of hand.

“
Hey, Brandon. What's up?” I helped myself to a chair at his table and sat down. “What kind of scone is that? Cranberry?”

Brandon looked up from his laptop and blinked at me, irritably. “Excuse me?”

“
Hey, I stopped by your house this morning. Did your grandfather give you my card?”

He paused and gave the slightest smirk. “No, who are you?”

Right off the bat, I knew Brandon was a liar, and not a very good one. “Oh,” I said, pretending to believe him. “My name is Sarah Woods. I just have a few questions for you, that's all. It'll only take a minute.”

He inclined his head toward his laptop. “I'm busy.”

“
I'm sure you are. Look, you can talk to me now, or you can talk to Officer Bouchard later. It's your choice.”

He rolled his eyes. “What's this all about?”

“
Penny Graham.”

“
Who is that?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, to let him know I wasn't buying it. “The girl you had a one night stand with a few months ago?”

His wicked smile revealed a set of crooked lower teeth. “Oh, yeah,
that
Penny.”

I had the urge to slap his smug little face, but the freak would probably enjoy it. I decided I wasn’t going to play nice anymore. “I guess you were a little pissed when she blew you off, huh?”

He shrugged. “Not really. She's not as hot as she thinks she is.”

I lowered my voice. “Then why did you go into her house and steal her underwear?”

He laughed but also seemed surprised. “What?”

“
You heard me. You also took some pictures of her from outside her bedroom window. Tell me, Brandon, do you have a panty fetish?”

He stared at me, wide-eyed, as if he'd seen pigs fly out of my ears. “What are you talking about, lady?”

Maybe he wasn't such a bad liar after all. This kid seemed truly perplexed. I felt like backing down but it was too late. I was firmly ensconced in this bitchy attitude I had going on.

“
Let's not play games,” I said, keeping my cool. “Here's how this is going down. You stay away from Penny. If you ever go near her, or her house, again we will file a restraining order and, this time, it will be permanent. I know all about Amy Henderson.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who told you? That's private information.”

“
Tell me, did you steal her underwear, too?”

Brandon slid his chair back and it made a loud scraping sound on the floor. “Look, lady, I've never stolen anything in my life.” He slapped his laptop shut and stuffed it into his bag. He grabbed his coffee and scone and headed for the exit.

I hadn't wanted to cause a scene, but a few other people sitting at other tables were curiously looking in my direction. I smiled at them as I got to my feet. “Sorry about that. Just a misunderstanding.”

I followed Brandon out to his car, practically running after him. “Hey, wait up,” I called out.

Before getting into his car, he looked me square in the eyes and said, “If you don't leave me alone, I will sue you for harassment. My father's a lawyer and he'll throw your ass in jail.”

I stepped an inch closer. “Fine, have it your way. I thought maybe we could settle this without the police getting involved, but it looks like you're unwilling to cooperate.”

He held up a rigid hand, as if he wanted to hit me. “Search my house if you want, lady, because I never stole a damned thing from anyone especially not from that hag, Penny. You hear me?”

I didn't cower from his threatening stance. I wanted him to know that I wasn't afraid of his scrawny, punk ass. “Yeah, I hear you.”

“
Good luck getting a search warrant, by the way.” And with that, he got into his car and started the engine. He flipped me the bird as he drove out of the parking lot.