The Collector.

by Kim Pritekel.

Part 1.

Prologue.

Silver and shiny. Suffocated light creeps in through heavy, dust-covered drapes, bouncing off row upon row of quarters, glued to the plaster behind them. Like little, round soldiers, they march across the wall, ending on a calendar, heavily marked in small, red writing. Nothing discernable, nothing making sense. The sink, a double stainless steel model, is spotted and heavily fingerprinted.

A kitchen. Linoleum tile is old, bubbled up in places, the pattern long since rubbed away by shoe tread and bare feet. The piss-yellow fridge door is covered with alphabet magnets, some forming words, mostly just jumbled together to form incoherent sentences-no real rhyme or reason, other than theyave been grouped according to color: red blends into blue, which leads to yellow, then green and finally orange with purple as the caboose. An army of plastic letters to perhaps go to war against the quarters, all heads up.

Stairs. Theyare wooden, making the hollow thudding sound as they are climbed or descended. A ware-smoothed wooden rail runs along the left wall, which is painted a muddy orange, though it quickly ends, abrupt and shocking, into gray, cold cement, the seam edges not entirely smooth. Peaked edges could prick the hand or fingers of someone not careful. Down the stairs into darkness, chased away only by a single, naked bulb, shedding light only on the water-stained ceiling above it, and dust-riddled air below it.

A scream With a gasp, Remmy bolted upright, eyes wide as she looked, unseeing, into the images in her head. She could still hear it, hear that awful, scary, blood-curdling scream. Chest heaving, she blinked sweat-soaked brunette bangs from her eyes, gulping in several lungfulls of air. Finally she was able to focus on the room around her, the small, smelly motel room. Blindly she reached to the bedside table for her pack of cigarettes, remembering belatedly that she quit last week.

aJesus Christ,a she blew out, pushing the thin, scratchy sheets and comforter from her legs as she swung them off the bed, feet hitting the floor. The fabric of the dream was beginning to come apart at the seams, stitch by stitch, until all that was left was the tattered remains. aThat was a doozy.a Remmy pushed off the bed and padded to the bathroom, clicking on the light. Leaning on the badly scarred vanity, she leaned forward, studying her face in the mirror. Her eyes were rimmed with red, making the blue color of the irises seem unnaturally vibrant. She looked tired and worn out, far older than her 24 years.

The lid of the toilet hit the tank with a loud crack as Remmy sat herself down, face cupped in her hands as she relieved herself. With a heavy sigh, she let the dream images go, and allowed the earlier exhaustion to seep back in. Maybe shead be able to get back to sleep.

Chapter 1.

Tink!

Julie Wilson was on her feet, cheering on her 8 year old nephew as he shook himself out of the shock of actually hitting the ball, the crowd yelling for him to run.

aDrop the bat, Skylar!a Julieas brother, Matt yelled, hands cupped around his mouth. The boy nodded vigorously, nearly hitting the ump with the aluminum bat as he took off like a shot.

Julie laughed, watching the man of her dreams round first and heading strong for second. She had no children of her own, and the way her love life was going, wasnat sure she ever would. She tried to shake thoughts of Ray out of her mind as she cheered for the little league Brewers.

aMan, that was a great hit,a Matt said, his grin huge as he watched his only child give him a thumbs-up, which he enthusiastically returned. aI really wish Lori were here to see it.a aMe, too, Matty,a Julie said, wrapping an arm around her brotheras waist. Since the death of her sister-in-law four years ago, Matt had been so lost, trying to raise their son on his own. Julie had stepped in, playing mom to Skylar and confidante to her big brother. It was hard, and sometimes downright heartbreaking watching Matt go through the different facets of being a single dad. She often wondered why he didnat date, didnat even blink when a woman looked his way. Shead once asked him about it, and his response was simply that he had his family, and was content. Translated, she knew that meant he was terrified of losing someone again like head lost Lori.

As promised, the mini-Babe Ruth was taken out for pizza and Dairy Queen. Skylar sat proud, cleated heels banging a happy beat on the booth he sat in, hot fudge dripping from the corner of his mouth. Julie didnat have the heart to tell him to wipe his face-he was still basking in the run head scored for his team. The fact that theyad lost to the Yankees didnat matter. Head scored!

aSo, are you ready for the new school year to start?a Matt asked, digging his red, plastic spoon into the depths of his peanut buster parfait, trying to scoop as much of the gooey chocolate from the bottom as he could.

aYeah. Iave been going in off and on over the past couple weekends to get the classroom ready.a They ate in silence for a moment before Matt spoke again, his light brown hair falling into his eyes, just like Skylaras. aHeard from Ray?a Julie sighed, running her spoon through the soup that had become of her sundae. aNo,a she said finally. She chewed on her bottom lip, tucking a piece of short, blonde hair behind her ear. She was warring with the idea of talking to her brother about what had been bothering her. She was about to open her mouth when Skylar boomed.

aDad, are we still gonna go to the park later and practice my catching?a Relieved, Julie kept her mouth closed. No doubt she was being paranoid, anyway. She rested her cheek on her fist, listening to the men in her life prattle on about baseball, tee ball and sports in general, a subject Julie wasnat entirely enthralled with. Even so, listening to them got her mind off other topics.

Soft Italian music played in the background, the portable CD player tucked into a corner by the washer and dryer. Sergio Venti sang along softly, more of a hum, really. He went over to the fridge, pulling open the door and grabbing the carton of eggs head bought with his large grocery purchase the day before. He just hoped she liked eggs. They hadnat really gotten that far in their conversation yesterday. His grin would be infectious if he werenat alone in the kitchen, cooking for him and the beautiful woman waiting for him.

As Sergio chopped up bell peppers and ham to mix into the eggs, he thought about their time together the night before. All night theyad made passionate love. He could still hear her cries in his ears, eyes closing at the memory and chills racing down his spine. She had loved it, just as he promised her she would.

Sergio heard a thud at the front door, and wiping his hands on the thighs of his immaculate slacks, headed that way, through the living room. Unlocking the knob and locks, he pulled open the door, waving at the young boy who delivered his paper. Bending down, he picked it up, reading the above-the-fold headline as he stepped back inside his house, closing the door soundly behind him: ANOTHER GONE MISSING IN THE WOODLAND AREA. POLICE BAFFLED.

The building inspector shook his head. aHow sad.a Tossing the paper to the coffee table, he headed back into the kitchen, feeling energy flowing through him as his favorite aria came on. He cranked up the CD player, closing his eyes and singing out with Placido Domingo as he sang of his pain and agony, losing the woman he loved.

aI understand your pain,a Sergio said, once the song had ended. Finishing his breakfast preparations, he loaded everything on a tray. aAre you hungry, my love?a he called out. Not getting an answer, he smiled and shook his head. aSheas deaf sometimes, I swear.a Whistling softly under his breath, Sergio grabbed the tray and headed out of the kitchen.

aGod, itas hot,a Remmy muttered, hitching her backpack up further onto her shoulders. She turned around, walking backwards down the lonely highway, thumb pointing toward the heavens. She had only seen three cars in the past two hours, and both had rushed past her, leaving her in their dusty wake, just like the pick-up truck that was zooming past. aAsshole!a she yelled, throwing the driver a single-fingered salute. aDamn it.a Turning back to face forward, Remmy began walking again, cursing the empty water bottle she still carried. She couldnat bring herself to litter. So, instead she tapped it against her leg as she walked, head bobbing to the tune she heard in her head. Shead lost her DiscMan back in Phoenix, and hadnat had the money to pick up another one, which sucked. Remmy loved music, any kind at all. Shead go through phases-one week it was R&B, the next country with a mix of bluegrass. This week, for some reason, it was Italian opera. She wasnat sure what it was, but suddenly one day she heard the 3 Tenors belting it out. Luckily today it was Bon Jovi. It would suck trying to keep herself entertained with Madam Butterfly.

She began to sing a'Bed of Rosesa out loud when the sound of a car engine pulled up behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she grinned when she saw a small, white Miata pull to a stop. A woman was behind the wheel, short, blonde hair tucked behind an ear.

aHey,a the woman said, leaning over the passenger seat to look up at Remmy through the window, which was slowly buzzing down. aLooks like you need a ride.a The blonde looked out through her windshield. aNot much around here for miles.a Remmy grinned. aYou are all that is holy and good.a The woman smiled. aI donat know about that, but I will give you a ride.a Remmy happily climbed into the tiny car, shoving her backpack to the floor between her legs. She didnat bother with the seatbelt, a little trick shead learned along the way-if she werenat belted in, she could get away faster. Shead learned that the hard way.

aWhere are you headed?a Remmyas savior asked.

aAnywhere where thereas a toilet. Iave had to pee for two hours, and,a she indicated the barren landscape around them. aNot much privacy on this highway.a The blonde woman laughed. aNo, that thereas not. I know thereas some civilization about four miles up the road here. Will that do?a aThatall be peachy,a Remmy nodded. She glanced at the blonde again, seeing her smile. Remmyas own smile melted from her face. The blonde glanced at her, her gaze hidden behind the lenses of her sunglasses. That didnat matter: Darkness. Cold. Pain. Back is hurting. Water dripping-drip, drip, drip No! No, please, no! A shadow, dark and foreboding, coming. Heas coming. A naked light bulb.

Remmy gasped, her heart pounding out of control in her chest. She swallowed, throat and tongue cold from sucking in the cool air in the air conditioned car.

aHey.a Remmy was startled by the feel of a hand on her shoulder. She blinked several times, face tight from too much sun in her travels. The blonde woman was looking at her, concern in her green eyes, sunglasses shoved up on top of her head. Remmy realized the car had been stopped, a convenience store off to the right. When had they arrived there?

Remembering the womanas question, she nodded. aYeah. Sorry. I just a her voice trailed off, not sure what she had just had. Am I awake?

aWeare here,a the woman said, nodding toward the gas station. Remmy followed her gaze, then nodded. aAre you sure youare okay? Youare pale. Look like youave seen a ghost.a aNo. Really, Iam okay.a Remmy gathered her bag, grunting as she heaved its weight to her lap, hand on the door handle of the tiny sports car. She was about to pull, but stopped, glancing at the driver. aBe careful. a'Kay?a The blonde grinned. aThis from the woman who takes rides from strangers?a She studied Remmyas face, sobering. aOkay. I will. You, too.a Remmy nodded, then climbed out of the car. She watched until the little white Miata was out of sight. Looking up into the gathering clouds and rumbling sky, she cursed softly under her breath. Walking into the store, she nearly ran to the bathroom, whistling as she came out ten minutes later. Remmy dug into her pockets to see how much money she had left- $8.15. It was enough to buy lunch, convenience store style.

The tired clerk behind the counter barely looked at Remmy as she laid out her bottle of Quick chocolate milk and ham and cheese sandwich. He ran nimble fingers over the keyboard of his register, announcing a total and taking the proffered money with little fanfare.

aHey,a Remmy said, getting the kidas attention. aYou guys hiring here?a Without a word, the clerk reached behind the counter, sliding an application across the scarred surface of the veneered counter. aThanks. Got a pen?a The pen followed as rudely as the application had.

Remmy took her $3.93 in change, shoving it in the pocket of her jeans, and then retrieved her goodies from the counter, along with the application, and headed for a table toward the back of the store. She quickly filled in all the information, just as shead done a hundred times before. If she let herself think about how many jobs shead had in the past eight years, she may actually think she was a loser.

The clerk glared at her as she once again interrupted his magazine reading. She slapped the application and pen on the counter with a victorious grin.

aIs your manager here?a she asked. The kid nodded with an annoyed sigh. He reached for a small walkie-talkie hidden behind the register. Pressing a button, her spoke into the speaker.

aJoan, some chick here to see you.a aThanks,a Remmy said, stepping away from the counter to peruse a jerky display and wait for Joan. Within a few minutes, a rather plump redhead approached Remmy. She wore a dark green apron with the storeas name and logo stamped in crumbling white ink.

aCan I help you?a she asked, eyes supported by heavy bags, finely tweezed brows, as fiery as the hair on her head.

aAre you Joan?a Remmy asked, holding her hand out. Joan took it, nodding as they shook.

aI just gave your clerk there an application. See, I donat have a phone, heck, I donat even have a residence, yet.a She grinned. aJust got into town. aI need to know if Iave got the job or not. Good worker, ethical and friendly,a she assured. Joan just stared at her for a moment, seeming unsure of what to think of this stranger.

aJosh, lemme see the ap,a Joan said, reaching back toward the counter. She took the piece of paper in her hand, scanning over the information on it. aNo address?a she asked, not bothering to look up.

aUh, yeah, uh, well, just got dropped off, actually.a Remmy grinned. aSo, if once I begin working, you can point in me the direction of someplace I can stay where I wonat have six-legged roommates, Iad be grateful.a Joan looked up at this girl, who had some set of big ones, walking into her store like that, all but demanding a job. Even so, she couldnat help but like the girl. She had tons of experience, that was for sure. From the look of the girl, she was a drifter, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, skin deeply tanned from what Joan assumed, were many hours out on the roads. aHow long you plan on staying in Woodland?a she asked.

aAs long as I got a job.a aI see.a Joan glanced over at the clerk behind the counter, who had been watching the exchange with mild interest. aJosh, go get me an employment package. Theyare in the top drawer of my desk.a Joan turned back to her new charge. aOkay, Remmy Foster. Iall give you a chance.

Chapter 2.

The rain pounded on the rag top of the Miata as Julie pulled into her driveway. She shut the car down, and looked out over the landscape, seeing plants and trees pelted nearly to the ground. She squealed as she dashed from the tiny car up the few stairs to her front door, hair plastered to her head by time she go the door open. Two very excited Yorkies met her, barking and whimpering.

aHello, my babies,a she cooed, falling to her knees to be attacked by tiny pink tongues. aHowas my Bonnie and Clyde?a she asked of the brother and sister. The sweetness of her words got their entire bodies wiggling with the speed of their stubby tail wags. Pushing up to her feet, Julie looked down at herself, groaning at the drenched clothing. Tugging her shirt off over her head, she tossed it into the laundry room on her way toward her bedroom. The two dogs followed, growling and playing with each other along the way.

The teacher pressed the PLAY button on her answering machine as she passed the phone/machine combo on her dresser. She had a message from her nephew, thanking her for spending the day with him, and for going to his game. Julia felt pride swell her chest, as love for Skylar washed over her. She pushed a drawer closed with her hip, a fresh, dry shirt in hand. She was about to pull it over her head when the next message came.

aJulie, this is Ray. I know youare at your nephewas game, and I know what time youall get home. I still want to talk to you, and I donat care how many times you say you donat wanna talk. We will talk.a Click, as the line went dead.

Julie hurried over to the machine, making sure to save the message, as she had done with the others. Never were they threatening, per se, but they made her uneasy, all the same. She pulled the tape from the machine and walked over to her closet, pulling one of the double doors open. Inside, on the top shelf was a small box. Inside it were other tapes, pulled from the machine at different times. Each tape contained a message from Ray-some rude and mean, others demanding, like the one she added to it now. All were being kept for evidence, should it come down to that.

Julie decided not to worry about it, instead shead feed her babies, then get to cleaning the house. She had intended to do it earlier in the day, but Skylaras pleas for her to go to his game and dashed those plans. In all honesty, shead much rather watching him run the bases than mop the floors.

The three bedroom house had been purchased four years ago. It was a ranch-style, decorated in bold colors and contemporary styles. She loved the house on Poplar Street, and planned to live there for the rest of her life. It was large enough and had enough storage so that the dreaded clutter was an issue, yet it wasnat too much house, or impractical, for a single woman with her two micro-dogs.

She and her ex, Ray, had been together for a year and a half, but she never would let him move in, no matter how hard he tried to push her into it. Something just felt wrong. After their break up a few months ago, Julie had felt a relief like nothing shead never known. Shead tired of his demanding, controlling ways, and couldnat take it anymore. It had been messy, to say the least. Ray hadnat heard the word a'noa aimed at him very often, but Julie had to. Ray was sucking the life out of her, and she couldnat do it anymore. So, one day she came home from work, a full day of school behind her, with rowdy sixth graders, and walking into the house to the sound of some sort of sports, and then tripping over empty beer cans. Ray had been drinking more and more over the past six months, and when he drank, he got mean.

Independent and self-reliant, Julie decided she wasnat going allow herself to depend on a man-or anyone-again. She had a job she loved, a home and car payment, and was fine on her own. It wasnat as though shead exactly found a relationship that really sustained her, anyway. Almost 30, and she would have figured shead a been at least married by now. Matt and Lori had been high school sweethearts, and had married on Mattas twentieth birthday.

Long since an internal battle, Julie had always wondered if it were something wrong with her: was she too picky? Was she too independent? Why did men think they could treat her however they felt? It truly made no sense. When her parents had been alive, her father had treated their mother like a queen, and he and his little girl had been extremely close. Matt was a great guy, treated Lori like gold, treated Julie like gold. Julie had often had this discussion with herself, trying to get to the bottom of the reasons that she picked the men she did. The basic conclusion shead come to is simply this: for whatever reason, she wasnat ready for a relationship, so subconsciously picked men that she knew were bad for her, or would leave or cheat on her, or would beat her up, then that way she would be kicking them to the curb. No muss, no fuss.

Julie walked into the kitchen, intent on grabbing the broom and dustpan from the small closet in there when she cried out, hand going to her chest. From the back window, she swore someone had just been looking in at her. She hurried over to the sink, raising up on her tippy toes to look out in the yard. Seeing nothing, she hurried to the French doors, pulling them open and looking left then right. Though she saw nothing, she swore she heard the squeak of the back gate.

aWhat the hell?a she breathed, closing the doors and locking them. She felt uneasy, a feeling that wasnat new to her. Over the past few weeks she had felt that she had been followed on more than one occasion, and two nights ago, when shead taken the garbage out to the curb, she had the distinct feeling that someone was watching her. All that coupled with the messages Ray had been leaving on her phone, Julie decided it was time to go into action.

Remmy tossed her backpack to the bed, watching it bounce back up. Well, at least she wouldnat be sleeping on a brick. The room was small, painted in an orange hue from the drawn curtains, 1977 orange, which matched the comforter that had nifty threads of gold and olive green throughout. Bad motif aside, it wasnat an all around bad room. She picked up the receiver on the phone that sat on the bedside table, satisfied to hear a dial tone. Not that she had anyone to call, but wanted to make sure it worked, all the same. Placing the handset back into itas cradle, she began to hum an aria from La Boheme, doing a little jig toward the bathroom as the music began to swell in her mind.

The bathroom was very typical-itty bitty tub with cheap, plastic shower curtain. Plain, white toilet with the cheapest toilet paper possible formed into a little arrow flap on the roll. A goodly amount of towels were folded neatly on the rack mounted above the toilet tank, which was good. Nothing worse than stepping out of the shower and no towels.

Leaving the shower for another time, Remmy headed back to the bed and her backpack. Unzipping it, she pulled out the contents, her worldly belongings. She set out the framed picture of her and her beloved cousin, Monica, whom she hadnat seen in more than seven years. She wondered where Monica had landed. Their early years had been spent experimenting with everything from alcohol to drugs to sex. Sadly, Monica had never gotten out of the life, and had disappeared from sight.

Deciding not to dwell on something that could be far too easy to dwell on, Remmy finished unpacking and then counted what was left of the advance her new boss had given her. She had enough left, after paying for a weeks stay at the motel, to pay for a modest trip to the grocery store. She was glad that the room had a teeny fridge in it. That would make things easier.

The small grocery store at the end of the block was quiet, a few patrons milling about. Remmy pushed her buggy through the aisles, snatching microwavable foods and a few cases of bottled water. She loved water, and besides-soda made her dreams even more vivid and strange. She didnat need her sleep to be any more interrupted than it already was.

Groceries in hand, Remmy headed out into the mid-August heat, like a blast furnace on her face. Times like this was when she really wished she had a car. She had one once. So driving at high speeds over a mountain pass isnat wise. If only someone had told her that two years ago. Ever since then, she hadnat been working or living in one place long enough to afford another one. She smirked as she headed back to the motel, remembering when shead gone into a bank once to ask for a loan. That had not been pretty.

Remmy whistled happily as she entered the motel parking lot-not a trouble in the world. Juggling her packages to one hand, she dug the key to her room out of her pocket, inserting it into the lock and letting herself in. The room was exactly as she had left it. The tune in Remmyas head continued as she played a game of Tetris to fit all her purchases in the tiny fridge. She walked over to the bed, throwing herself down, exhausted after a long day-walking, getting a job, a place to live and food to eat. She deserved a break.

As she lay there, eyes closed, brows drew as sounds of groaning began to filter in from the wall behind her. Blue eyes popping open, Remmy listened, a slow grimace sliding across her lips. Sure enough-a quickie over lunch met her ears.

aLovely,a she growled, grabbing a pillow and putting it over her head as she turned onto her side. aNot nice to tease someone who hasnat had any in more than a year,a she whined muffled from the weight of the pillow. Finally Remmy decided to ignore it, determined to get some much-needed sleep.

The light flickers. Dizzying. Gray wall, cold, cold against skin. Sharp edges. Blood. A form, shadow, someone, coming, holding out their hand. Something shiny-small, centralized bit of cold on skin.

Pain! Burning pain, it wonat stop! No, stop, stop! Please, stop!

aNo!a Remmy cried, thrashing in the sheets with her nocturnal attacker, finally rolling off the bed. The hard landing brought her back into the world of the conscious, her eyes wide, frantically looking around the dim motel room. The sun was going down outside, leaving the room in an eerie orange/red glow.

Getting to her feet, Remmy ran a shaky hand through her hair, pushing it all back from her face. She was trembling, the fear still gripping her stomach in a vise-like grip. Typically as wakefulness gained, the fear and images faded. Her heart was still pounding, and no matter how many deep breaths she took, it wouldnat slow. The brunette began to feel fearful. She switched on the bedside lamp, looking around at her room, trying to think of what she could grab to use as a weapon. As the fear clung to her, she began to check the room-bathroom, shower stall, under the bed and behind the curtains. Nothing. She was as alone as she had been when shead fallen asleep.

aMy god,a she whispered, taking a final deep breath.

Julie sat, seemingly patiently, her tapping toe the only evidence that she was actually quite antsy. Sitting on a hard, plastic chair in the lobby of the Woodland police station, one leg crossed over the other, she watched the goings on in the busy building. She watched at the counter as a handsome black woman stood talking to an officer. By her clothing-a pantsuit with badge on a chain hanging around her neck-it seemed that she was either someone in a supervisory position, or a detective. She was listening intently as the officer gesticulated over some papers he was holding, trying to show her. Julie couldnat hear what they were saying but it was obviously important. They were also what the teacher was waiting on, as they had the desk clerk involved in their animated conversation.

Finally, the suited woman patted the officer on the arm, and turned away, headed toward the front door of the station. She glanced at Julie, giving her a small smile before pushing through the glass double doors.

aCan I help you, miss?a the desk sergeant asked.

Julie pushed up from her chair, small box of answering machine tapes in hand, and walked over to him. aHi. My name is Julie Wilson, and I need to file a report about a stalker.a She set the box on the counter. aI have some answering machine tapes here, too.a aAlright, maaam. Hold on a second, and Iall send an officer out to speak with you.a Julie smiled politely and turned toward the lobby as she waited. She was tired of feeling afraid. Less than six months after getting with Ray, she had the distinct feeling that she had maybe gotten in over her head. After the first year, she knew she was. Afraid of the man, whom shead been introduced to through mutual friends, Julie hadnat been sure what to do, or how to get herself out. For the next six months, she had been trying to get out of the relationship, until finally shead managed to force Ray from her life for, what she thought, was for good.

aJulie?a The blonde turned to find a uniformed woman standing not far from her. The redhead smiled when she saw she had Julieas attention. aIam Officer Renee OaReilly. Iall be handling your report, today. Come with me.a Julie followed, scanning the long halls of the station, officers and staff passing her on their way to one destination or another. Some nodded in greeting, others ignoring her completely.

aHere we go,a Officer OaReilly said, pushing a door open for the petit blonde. Inside the small room was a table with two chairs on either side. The officer took one chair, indicating the other for Julie. aWhat do we have here?a she asked, tapping the box Julie set on the table.

aTapes from my answering machine.a Julie gently pushed them toward the other woman.

aOkay.a The officer had a notebook with her and uncapped her pen. She looked up at Julie expectantly. As Julie told her tale of the doomed relationship with Ray, Officer OaReilly took careful note, asking a few pointed questions to clarify. After the fifteen minute interview, Julie shook hands with the kind officer. aEnjoy the rest of your Sunday, maaam.a aThank you. You do the same.a As Julie stepped out into the warm day, she pulled her cell phone from her purse, flipping it open and dialing the number she knew by heart. Her brother, Matt answered. aHey, Matty. Iam just heading to the school now, so Iam going to be late.a aI thought you were headed to the school an hour ago?a the older Wilson asked.

aI was. I got held up.a She unlocked her Miata, tossing her purse to the passenger seat and climbing in behind the wheel. aI want to tell you something, Matt. But,a she held up a finger, unseen to her brother. aBefore I do, I want you to promise you wonat go all crazy on me.a aOkay,a Matt drawled, confused, and mildly concerned.

aIam leaving the police station right now. I just got finished filing a report against Ray. The police lady also advised I get a restraining order against him, so Iall do that at the court house tomorrow, when theyare open.a aWhat? Why?a Mattas voice was low, dangerously low. He had always hated Ray, never trusting the son-of-a-bitch with his sister.

aI think heas been following me, watching me.a Julie glanced around the parking lot, half-heartedly looking for her exas truck. aHeas also left some messages on my machine that were less-than warming.a aOh, Jules,a Matt sighed. aWhy didnat you say anything?a aI wanted to be sure. Well, now Iam sure. So, you have nothing to worry about. The report is being filed as we speak, and heall get served with his restraining order tomorrow. So,a she smiled with a shrug. aAllas well.a Inserting her key into the ignition of her car, the engine roared to life. aSo, that said, tell Skylar Iall be by around five or five-thirty.a She grinned, thinking of her beloved nephew. aI bet heas already packed to go, isnat he?a aAre you kidding? Spending the night with his Aunt Julie? Heas been packed for two days!a Matt smiled at his sisteras laughter on the other end of the line. He sobered. aListen, Iam not going to a'go crazya as you said, but I do worry. Iam glad youare taking care of this.a aI am. Donat worry.a aOkay. See you later, then.a Julie flipped her phone shut and headed out of the parking lot, headed toward the school where shead worked for a few years, and which she loved. The new school year would start soon, and she wanted to make sure her classroom was up and ready to go for her new batch of monsters.