Stalk Her

STALK HER

By

D.K. Lynne

Copyrighted 2014

Smashwords Edition

Prologue

He climbed the stairs to his apartment, feet plodding slowly up. Nineteen stairs altogether, he knew, and it made him frustrated that there were only nineteen and not an even twenty. He slowly passed the empty apartment, 2A. His next-door neighbors in apartment 2B had multi-colored Christmas lights in their window, though the curtains were closed. As he passed their window, he peeked in. There was a gap between the two curtain panels that allowed him to look inside but not be seen. Pressing his face against the window, he could see a small Christmas tree, also covered in multi-colored lights and silver tinsel. He could hear the laughter of children and the muffled sounds of the television. Then, he heard the yipping of their Chihuahua and he moved quickly away from the window and approached his own doorstep, 2C. Christmas was only a few days away, and yet he felt sad.

He entered his apartment and flicked on the overhead light. His place was sparsely furnished with just a worn, brown sofa, a black coffee table, and a television sitting on top of another black coffee table. He drew his own curtains, making sure to fasten the edges together with seven safety pins. The thought of someone looking in on him made him angry. He tossed his bus pass and wallet onto the kitchen counter and then pulled a soda from the refrigerator. He took delicate sips from the can until he spied a drinking straw on the counter next to the stove. It looked clean enough, so he used it to continue drinking his soda. He knew he needed to make dinner, and his stomach was growling after a long day at work, but he had something more important to do first. His hand jerked immediately to his pocket and to the treasure he had there. His palms began to sweat and his heart beat faster. Wait, he told himself, he had to do one other thing first.

From a drawer in the kitchen, he pulled a small canister and then walked back over to the black coffee table in the middle of his living room. A small fish bowl sat in the middle of the table, and inside swam one small goldfish. The colored rocks at the bottom of the bowl caught his eye first. They were so much like the multi-colored Christmas lights he saw all around him, and the undulating plastic plant was almost hypnotic. He loved his fish. Tapping the canister above the bowl, he watched as the fish flakes dropped into the water, floated for a moment, and then began sinking. The little fish darted here and there sucking up the flakes before they had a chance to reach the bottom of the tank. When the fish was done catching flakes, he lifted to bowl up and stared into it. The fish, he swore, stared back. He knew his fish loved him.

Gently, he set the bowl down and walked into his bedroom. As soon as he opened his door, he caught the scent of vanilla. His hand reached down to squeeze the treasure in his pocket. He felt the wall for the light switch, his fingers crawling the wall like a spider until he found it and flipped it on. Then, he caught sight of his most prized possession.

Against the wall stood his shrine. Two plastic milk creates stacked one on top of the other formed the base. On the top was a piece of plywood used to hold the photo frames. Pictures inside the frames showed a blond woman engaged in various activities: talking to children, making copies, and toasting with a plastic cup. That last one, he recalled, was from the Christmas party just the other day. Below the plywood, on the bottom of the first milk crate was a variety of items including drooping dandelions, a pencil, and an empty bottle of hand sanitizer. On the bottom of this makeshift shrine was a construction paper drawing taped to the plastic of the milk crate. The lines were rough and thick, and the coloring was wild scribbles. The stick figure in the drawing looked much like the woman in the photos on the top shelf, only this picture seemed to have been drawn by a child.

He eyed the area, sizing up where to put his newly-found treasure. Then it came to him. He pulled the silky scarf from his pocket, catching the vanilla scent on it. Closing his eyes, he pressed it to his nose and inhaled deeply. He rubbed it against his lips and felt the softness of it. He closed his eyes as his fingers toyed with the fabric, and for a moment, he was lost. Then, he lovingly coiled the scarf around the frames of the three photos on the top shelf. He stood for a moment staring at the photos. She would be his, he said to himself. Next year, he would make his move.

Chapter 1

The hooded figure dashed in the rain across the empty playground. It was January in Southern California, and the early morning sky was just getting light, though, from the looks of things, Lisa Rowan knew that the sun would not shine that day. The rain had been coming down steadily since around midnight, and the street out in front of Poplar Ridge Elementary School was slick as was the blacktop of the kindergarten playground. Lisa, wearing a hooded black raincoat, clutched her purse and satchel close to her chest and kept her head down, though her face was damp and the strands of her blond hair that peeked out from under the hood were dripping. The two large poplar trees that, in the spring and fall provided shade on the playground, today stood bare like skeleton sentries. Lisa arrived at her classroom door and fumbled in her purse for the key, which was attached to a long lanyard in blue and black, the school colors.

She unlocked the classroom door and opened it. The automatic lights came on and Lisa stood on the faded linoleum dripping as she pulled her hood down and set her purse on the top of a nearby bookcase. She sighed and smiled. Boy, it feels good to be back, Lisa thought with a lightness in her heart that she hadn’t felt in a while. She glanced up at the clock—6:30 a.m.. She had only two hours before the children would be here and she had so much to do. Moving quickly, she removed her wet raincoat and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. It would have time to drip and dry enough for her to be able to hang it inside her cabinet by the time the children arrived. She made her way to her desk, which stood directly in front of her, and then moved quickly to the sink. She knelt down, opened the cabinet under the sink. Where are they, she said aloud before her fingers felt the rough fabric and she pulled several old black towels from under the sink. She would lay these down in front of the door to mop up the rain and catch any drops coming off her raincoat.

After cleaning up the water, Lisa moved past the small tables with small chairs stacked neatly on top to the back door of her room. She unlocked the door so that both doors were ready to let in all the bodies that moved through her classroom on any given day. She always laughed that kindergarten was the Grand Central Station of an elementary school—besides the office, of course—for it seemed everyone walked through her classroom during a week. Children, parents, older siblings, the principal, custodians, the school nurse, and various district office visitors could be found passing through. Lisa never minded, though, She was very proud of her room and of her kids. Though she had stripped the walls bare at the end of last year, she always had art projects on the walls and hanging from the ceiling. For the holidays, she recalled, she had had the children create paper ornaments covered with colored macaroni, glitter, feathers, and paint. She’d hung them from the ceiling, and they had twirled and glinted each time someone opened the door and a winter wind came through.

Now, however, the room was nearly naked. The bulletin boards were empty, ready and waiting for the new work that the children would soon be producing. The ceiling, devoid of any hanging artwork, would soon be fluttering with their spring art project: giant paper butterflies. And the counters, also empty, would soon become a vibrant kindergarten classroom complete with fantasy play area, library, cubbies, game space, and music corner.

As the rain thrummed out a tune on the windows and roof, Lisa busied herself cleaning up her classroom and readying it for the children. She pulled all the books, which had been separated into small baskets by reading level, from under the cabinets that held up a counter space nearly as long as one classroom wall. This area was probably her favorite space in the room. It was here that she grew plants in the large windows during the spring, and here where she and the children sorted leaves in the fall, and here where she put up a Christmas tree and menorah in the winter. The windows were covered with blue gingham curtains that Lisa had made herself and also held a number of pretty sun catchers in varying shapes like the sun, roses, and stars.

Lisa was pulling open the curtains when she heard the squeakety-clack, squeakety-clack of the custodian’s cart. A moment later, Jesse, one of several school custodians, was entering her room pushing his custodian’s cart. It contained a large Rubbermaid trash can, a broom, a mop, cleaning supplies, and rolls of toilet paper and paper towels.

Hello, Ms. Rowan. Welcome back.

She turned, a smile on her face. Good morning, Jesse. How are you? How was your holiday? The custodian’s kind brown eyes twinkled.

Good, good. Never long enough. I have your big trash cans. You want me to bring them over? Jesse wiped his hands across the front of his navy blue jumpsuit before wrapping both his hands around the handle of his cart.

Lisa said yes, for she knew she would definitely need both trash cans. She could not begin to imagine what the children would be bringing to class today. Jesse nodded and said he would be back soon with her cans.

Please put one by each door, Jesse. When he agreed, Lisa smiled again.You’re the best, Jesse. Thanks so much. Jesse smiled and left the room without another word.

Lisa worked in silence for another thirty minutes, straightening, pulling worksheets from her tall metal filing cabinet, and placing all the chairs on the floor. Jesse dutifully brought in the trash cans and placed them by each door.

Anything else, Ms.Rowan? Jesse said as he was heading out.

Lisa looked around the room tapping her lips with her forefinger. She knew there was something else. She noted the empty space by the door. That was it. My small cubbies. They aren’t here.

Jesse nodded. We took them out so we could wax the floors over the holiday. I’ll send David back with them.

Lisa thanked Jesse, who wished Lisa a good day before heading out and off to another task on campus. As Lisa was about to put out some air freshener sticks, she heard the door open. Her head turned toward the front door, and she saw the familiar face of her bilingual aide Maria. Lisa squealed and ran to the older woman, wrapping her in her arms and hugging her tightly.

Maria! Lisa said with joy. How are you? How was your holiday?

Maria pulled her raincoat off and, as Lisa removed her nearly dry coat from the hook on the door, Maria hung hers up. She pulled the plastic rain bonnet from her head and shook it onto the towels on the floor. "I’m doing great, mi’ja. How are you? Did you get to see your parents?

Lisa moved to the area behind her desk. Her desk was a typical schoolteacher’s desk. It was metal with a laminate top. The bottom left-hand drawer, the drawer where she kept stickers and other little trinkets for the children, always squeaked when she pulled it out. The area behind her desk had tall, nearly floor to ceiling cabinets. One she used as a locker for herself, keeping her purse, her coat, and other personal objects and materials in there. It was here she moved her nearly dry raincoat. Another cabinet was Maria’s. Lisa opened it for Maria.

No, she said wistfully. I spent Christmas alone and New Year’s with some friends. She had mixed feelings about the holiday, this first on her own. She enjoyed being able to spend the day in her pajamas, but she missed her parents. They had spent the holiday on the road somewhere between South Dakota’s Black Hills and the Texas panhandle.

They’re sure enjoying their retirement, aren’t they? Maria asked, moving toward her cabinet. She placed her plastic grocery bags onto the bottom shelf and placed her plastic rain bonnet on a shelf. Checking her hair in the mirror on the cabinet door, Maria brushed a strand of short, dark hair from her face and smoothed her top over her full-figured frame before turning to Lisa and smiling.

Maria was the closest thing to a mother that Lisa had since moving to Southern California. Maria was older, approximately fifty, and the best bilingual aide in the district. Lisa knew how lucky she was to have her in her classroom.

How was your holiday? Did you get to spend much time with your grandkids?

Maria nodded excitedly and, as the two women worked together cutting shapes out of construction paper, Maria told Lisa of her vacation, which included time spent in Ensenada with her husband, time making tamales with her grandchildren, and time reading.

Maria strode over to the front classroom door. I’m heading over to the office. Would you like me to check your mailbox?

Lisa nodded as she began pulling shapes from her desk for the January wall calendar. Yes, please. Thank you, Maria, Lisa called as Maria dashed out.

It was quiet in the room again except for the rain. Lisa was lost in thinking ahead to what she would be doing on this first day back from break. She knew she would have to remember to lock her cabinet. Too many things had gone missing last semester, and she didn’t want to lose anything more. She also knew that she would need to prepare for the testing that would be coming up. She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not hear the soft rap on the door. The door pushed open tentatively and a face peered in. The cold draft from the open door