The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 1 (9 page)

              Rick held the door for Alex, ushering her into the police precinct. A meeting was arranged at one o'clock with the officer in charge of her case, a specialist in stalkers. They walked to the front counter, and a sweet-faced receptionist greeted them with a smile, probably glad to have normal-looking people walk in the door rather than the regular derelicts and criminals that frequented this place. She picked up her telephone, alerting the officer expecting them to their arrival, and asked that they have a seat in the waiting room.

              “I don't see how this is going to do any good,” said Alex, seating herself near a window.

              “Anything that they can do to help is good,” said Rick, standing near to the door, scanning the room for any sign of danger.

              “You already said that they didn't find any fingerprints on the photographs,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, frustrated. “What else can they do? This seems like a waste of time to me.”

              She looked to him, noticing that his mouth was tight, the corners turned down. She wondered if that was worry that she saw in his eyes, if he was looking to the police because he thought that he could not save her from this man by himself.

              “Alex,” said an older gentleman, walking toward her from the entrance to a hallway leading deeper into the station. He held out his hand, taking hers in a warm and comforting handshake. “I'm Detective Smythe,” he said. “Come with me, will you?” He gestured for her to walk with him, and Rick fell into step behind them, silent and stolid as they made their way to the detective's office.

              His office was small, with one window looking out onto the parking lot filled with patrol cars and officers standing around talking and smoking cigarettes as they waited to be called out to an emergency or a crime. Alex seated herself in one of the decrepit leather chairs facing his desk, seemingly having been part of the office since before this man was even born.

              “As I told Mr. Andrews on the phone,” he said, seating himself behind the desk, “we were not able to come up with any usable fingerprints from the photographs. The smudging was just too great.”

              “Yes,” Alex said, folding her hands in her lap. “He informed me of that.”

              “I called you in here today to discuss options for what we should do next.” The detective reached into a drawer, pulling a file folder from his desk and setting it before her. “There are protocols when it comes to a stalker case, steps we should take to not only avoid anyone getting hurt, but also to aid our department in being able to identify the person responsible.”

              “Steps?” Alex asked, reaching for the folder and opening it. “What kind of steps?”

              “We would install a camera outside your apartment, as well as your office, and monitor the footage, making note of any people with abnormal behavior. We could put a tap on your phones, tracing any calls that came in. We could place an officer outside your apartment.”

              Alex felt her world growing smaller, her life more restricted with each suggestion that the officer made. She didn't like how this man, whoever he was, was making her a prisoner in her own home. She had a bodyguard, and now she would have officers watching her every move, listening to her every word.

              “I don't know,” she said, leaning back in the seat and closing her eyes, tension radiating through her body. “If that's what you think we need to do.”

              “I do,” he said, “but it's completely up to you.”

              There had been nothing for weeks, no photographs, no gifts, nothing to alert them that her stalker was even paying attention to her anymore. Alex wondered how long she would be stuck with Rick before she would be able to convince her father that his services weren't needed anymore. She picked up her laptop, sliding it into bag, along with the layouts that she had created for the meeting today. A quick check-in with the Maybelline people, to deliver the first set of advertisements, before heading out to the shoot at the pier later this afternoon.

              She hadn't done an outdoor shoot since the day that the Polaroids had shown up, feeling too vulnerable out in the open, where anyone could watch her, unnoticed among the crowd. But each day spent in normalcy, living and working with no sign of danger, had distanced her from her fear, and now it was time to get back out into the world. Summer was coming to an end, and she wanted to take advantage of the natural light of the sun, while it still lasted.

              “Are you ready?” she called to him from the living room. He had insisted on driving her everywhere, being at her side each and every minute of her day. He checked each room before she entered it, and double checked all locks when she left her office each day. He didn't talk much, didn't put his arms around her, kissing her passionately. He didn't really acknowledge her at all. She would be glad when he was out of her life, forever.

              “Yes,” he said, slipping on his jacket, his gun holstered beneath it, and pulling open the front door. He scanned the hall, then gestured with his head for her to precede him.

              She strode confidently to the elevator. He had frowned upon her taking the stairs, claiming that it was too isolated, too convenient for someone to attack her without being noticed. Pressing the button to call the car, she stood, her gear bag thrown over her shoulder, waiting. She could feel him standing behind her, the heat from his body tingling on the skin of her bare arms. Part of her still wanted him, ached to have him grab her, touch her, but she shook it off, shoving those feelings deep into the darkness, where they could not make her do something stupid, not again.

              The morning was uneventful, the meeting went smoothly, but Alex was anxious about the shoot this afternoon. She would be exposed, vulnerable, her mind and body focused on the models, leaving herself open to attack at any time. Rick would be there, she reassured herself; that was his job, to keep an eye on the world around her, so that she could continue to live her life without fear. She sighed, sipping at a cup of coffee at her desk, and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

              Her cell phone vibrated on the desktop, and she scooped it up, pleased to see her father's name on the screen. “Hey, Dad,” she said, answering it, and relaxed into her leather office chair.

              “There's my girl,” he said, the sound of his voice calming her frazzled nerves. “I was just calling to check in, make sure that everything's going well.”

              “As well as can be expected,” she said, “considering I'm over budget for this project, and behind schedule.” She chuckled.

              “Glad to hear it,” he said. “Nothing more from…” He hesitated, not wanting to talk about the subject of her stalker. “Nothing to worry about?” he asked.

              “Nothing,” she said, “not a peep. The officer in charge of my case called yesterday, saying that at this point it looks as though he has lost interest, that I probably will never hear from him again.”

              “Oh,” said her father, sighing with relief. “That's a great thing to hear.”

              “I think it might be time to start thinking about relieving Mr. Andrews of his duties,” she said, leaning forward.

              “Well,” he said, contemplating, “we'll have to think about that, won't we. Perhaps we can all get together this weekend, and discuss it.”

              “That,” she said, relaxing in her chair once again, “is a date. Listen, Dad, I have a shoot in an hour, so I'm sorry to say that I have to cut this short.”

              “My busy girl,” he said, chuckling. “Go, work your magic. I'll call you soon. I love you.”

              “I love you too, Dad,” she said, pressing the button to end the call. She was relieved that he was considering her proposition. She was ready to be rid of Rick, despite the comfort of knowing that he was there, watching out for danger. It was well outweighed by the discomfort of spending each day and night in such close proximity to him, knowing the scent of his skin, the taste of his kisses, the weight of his body on hers, and being met with his cold responses each time that she talked to him. She couldn't stand it, the frustration of wanting to be close to him, while he was so distant.

              “That, that right there,” Alex said, elated. The light glittered on the water of the bay, sparkling in the bright afternoon sunlight. The models were in fine form, the heat of the sun warming their skin, glimmering in their bright eyes, casting stark shadows in the crooks of their arms. She loved it. In the images that she was able to capture, she could already see the masterpiece that this was to become.

              They had been at it for hours, hundreds of poses, thousands of pictures being snapped. She was in her element, focused on the work at hand, oblivious to the world around her. Rick had walked the perimeter of the area when they arrived, searching for hiding places where one would be able to see the area cordoned off for the photo shoot without being seen, and had found very few. The crowd was thick at the marina today, families having picnics, building sandcastles together, young women laying out on towels in the late summer sun. The whole atmosphere had a feeling of relaxation, of gaiety. Even Rick had climbed up on the hood of her car, stretching out in the sun after a while, his sunglasses masking his half-closed eyes.

              The sun began to set, the light cast over them taking on a red tone, when Alex decided that she had what she needed. “Bravo, ladies,” she said, stepping back from the group and taking a long drink from her water bottle. “Great job today.” Looking down at her camera, she scanned through a handful of the images that she had captured, pleased with what she found there. She would be at work for hours, perhaps even days, searching for exactly the right shot, the one that spoke to her, for this project.

              She paused at her work table, packing her cameras into her bag, and thought momentarily of the last onsite shoot that she had done. How she had come back to find the Polaroids, starting the ball rolling on the nightmare that had been her life for the last few weeks. No gifts today, no pictures waiting for her as she gathered up her things. She smiled, glad that the whole thing seemed to be behind her. She could get her life back to normal.

              Looking up, she searched the area for Rick, expecting to find him still dozing on the hood of her car, or perhaps flirting with one of the models wrapping themselves up, preparing to head home. He was not anywhere nearby, so she scanned the boardwalk, thinking perhaps he had stepped away for something to eat. He wasn't there either, and Alex's stomach began to tingle, fear bubbling inside her.

              Wait, she thought, why am I afraid? Because Rick left, and she was here on her own. Anger welled in her, anger that this man had taken away her feelings of self-sufficiency, the very thing that she prided herself on most. It was the reason that she had done most things in her life, to prove that she could. She had stepped away from her family, not wanting to be coddled and spoiled, to set out on her own, making something of herself, without their help. She didn't need Rick to watch after her; she was a powerful and capable woman.

              She threw her camera bag into the back of the car, sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door behind her. She didn't need him, damn it, she could take care of herself. She put on her sunglasses, turning the ignition of the car, smiling as it roared to life beneath her. Fuck that guy. He could just find his own way home.

              Turning out into the street, she made her way to the freeway. She turned the radio on, cranking the volume up to full blast, and broke out in laughter as she sped along the highway, the wind blowing through her hair.

              She headed to the office, wanting the peace and quiet of the empty building to get started on the editing. She knew that if she went home, that soon Rick would show up, angry that she had abandoned him to catching a cab back to the apartment. And as satisfying as it sounded to have a ball-busting argument with him when she was in this mood, with the grand finale being that she could give him the information that his contract was short-lived, she really wanted to get started on those images. She was on a roll.

              Pulling into the parking garage, she noted that not a single car other than hers was here. She smiled. She loved having the whole office to herself, no one to interrupt while she was working. She would crank up the music and dig in. She jumped out of the car, grabbing her camera bag, and headed up the stairs.

              The office was dark, everyone having gone home, and Alex flipped on the lights in her office, tossing her camera bag on the couch. She kicked off her shoes, pleased with herself, and opened the small refrigerator, snatching out one of the bottles of wine that she kept hidden there for just such an occasion. Pouring the wine into a glass, she settled into her chair, swinging her legs back and forth, celebrating her freedom.

              The sky had darkened beyond the windows of her office as Alex diligently scanned each picture, searching for the spark of perfection that she needed for this project. The wine bottle lay discarded on the floor next to her desk, several soda cans taking its place on the desktop. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch time. Relenting, she switched off the computer, slipping it into its case and throwing it over her shoulder. She would pick up some dinner, then head home and finish looking through today's pictures. She flipped off the lights in her office and headed toward the stairs to the garage.

              The amber glow of the security lights illuminated the parking garage, their light casting dark shadows between their reach. Alex paused, searching the area for any sign of danger, her keys gripped in her hand. Her car was still the only one here; she was being silly. This whole stalker thing had made her paranoid. Her father hiring Rick as a bodyguard had probably done nothing but made the situation worse. She straightened up, threw her shoulders back, and strode confidently to her car.

              Pushing the keys into the lock, she turned them to open the doors, and a hand reached around her face, blocking out the dim light with a cloth held over her face. She screamed, the sound echoing through the empty vastness of the parking garage, and whoever was behind her shoved the rag deep into her mouth, choking her scream. Alex struggled, dropping her bag, flailing her arms and legs as her attacker lifted her from the ground, his arms around her ribcage. She fought to turn her head, to see where he was carrying her, unable to catch a glimpse of the man's face. He carried her to the back of the car, the trunk popping open, and threw her inside. Her face struck the floor of the trunk, her vision going white with the pain of her nose slamming into the unyielding, steel body of the car. She tried to roll, her body cramped in the small space, and he slammed the lid, leaving her in utter darkness.

              Alex yanked the rag from her mouth, casting it aside, and screamed again. Her voice rang back to her, filling the darkness around her as she hammered her fists against the lid of the trunk. “Help!” she yelled, her voice cracking with fear. “Help, somebody help!”

              A door slammed, and then the engine of the car roared to life. Alex dug in her pockets, hoping to god that she had her cell phone, only to realize that she must have left it on her desk upstairs. It wasn't going to do her any good up there. She was alone. There was no one coming to save her. He had her, and she didn't have any idea where he was taking her, or what he was going to do with her once he had her there. Her breathing quickened, panic shooting adrenaline into her blood, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

              She lurched to the side as the car turned out of the parking garage, heading out onto the dark city streets. Alex continued to scream, pounding the walls and ceiling of the trunk, hoping to catch the attention of someone nearby that could help her. The driver of the car turned on the radio, blasting the volume, surely hoping to drown out her cries. Hot tears rolled down her face.

              She thought of Rick, her bodyguard, her savior. Now, when she needed him, he was nowhere to be found. She had cast him off, left him at the pier to fend for himself, striking out on her own. He was probably at her apartment, sitting in the living room, ready to tear her to pieces for ditching him – if he hadn't given up on her altogether. She sobbed, sucking in great gulping breaths of air, and continued to scream. The car sped up, its engine roaring, before coming to a quick stop, throwing Alex against the wall of the trunk, knocking her head hard against the steel.

              Her vision went dark, and there was no more.