Obsessed
Peter wiped sweaty palms on rough jeans, then lifted his head just enough to peer out the driver-side window. This time, his rusty red 2001 Ford Taurus was parked across the street from her building. He was careful to vary his vantage to avoid attracting attention. It was late and he wore a black hoodie, but he reclined way back to avoid the notice of nosy passers-by, or worse, the notice of Jessica herself as she headed out for the evening. It was doubtful she knew his car, she probably didn’t even remember him. No matter, he was going to change that. The other night at the club, when she blew him off, that was really his own fault. He should’ve known better than to approach with so little research to reference. That’s the objective here, research. Just gathering information. Maybe a discreet keepsake or two.
He checked his phone. It was just after 10 p.m. She’d be leaving soon, same as every Friday night these last four weeks. Her friends always picked her up around this time. As he watched, familiar headlights approached. The beams on the lifted truck briefly illuminated inside his vehicle before they turned into the lot. Peter quickly ducked as they passed him over, resurfacing just long enough to watch Jessica come outside and climb into the back of the cab. He stayed down until they passed a second time and the red glow of brake lights disappeared.
Still, Peter waited a full ten minutes to be sure they would not circle back, then grabbed his pack, opened the car door and slipped silently across the street.
Her apartment was on the ground floor, which made him happy. Window locks were far easier to spring than heavy deadbolts. He removed his tools and got to work. Using a pocket knife, he cut a careful slit in the exterior screen to give him a grip on the frame. He removed it smoothly, leaning it against the brick wall beneath the window. Next, he got to work on the window latch. It was a simple task, really. There was enough play between the window and its sliding track that he could move the window a fraction of an inch in all directions. Plenty of room to work a metal wire in and around to push the lever into an unlocked position.
Peter enjoyed exploring the space a person lived in. He could learn so much about a person. He was especially excited to explore Jessica’s apartment because he’d found almost nothing about Jessica online. No Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. He’d only discovered where she lived because he followed her home from the bar that first night. Her ride drove so far to drop her off that first time, he’d nearly given up.
Such a mystery, this woman. Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that Jessica was different from everyone he knew. She was complex, a puzzle he needed to solve. Once he understood her, he’d make her see how much he cared about her. How well he knew her. Women wanted to be understood.
He shone his light around, already aware that he was in the bedroom because he’d looked up floor plans beforehand. A full-sized bed, dresser, and a small desk crowded the space. Though small, the room was immaculate. There wasn’t a single article of clothing nor any other clutter in sight. Cleanliness was attractive, but it meant he would have to be careful to leave things exactly as they were.
Moving to the dresser, he opened the top drawer. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he resisted the urge to sift through her underwear; he wasn’t a pervert. Instead, he contented himself with plucking the top pair of panties and pocketing it. She wouldn’t notice the single missing pair, she had so many.
He finished examining the remaining contents of the dresser and moved to the desk. It was the kind with a single drawer beneath the work-space. He drew it out, a smile playing on his lips when he saw her college ID. Confused, he picked it up. The image was Jessica, but the name accompanying it was not hers.
Victoria Reede was printed beneath her picture. Freshman appeared just beneath the name. He chuckled. Of course. He’d been searching for an alias. Jessica wasn’t her real name and she wasn’t even twenty-one. He was right. She was more than she seemed. She was a lawbreaker, which apart from being sexy as hell, could be useful to know.
One more thing in the drawer caught his eye. A generic manila folder. He pulled it out and flipped it open. It contained a handful of images. The first was a 2001 Ford Taurus. He moved the light closer. It was rust red. A coincidence. He moved to the next. He was looking at himself. Outside his house. Then there was a picture of him walking into work. And another he recognized was taken just outside this apartment, where he’d parked last week to stake her out. His hands shook seeing himself slinking down low in the front driver’s seat. There was one more image. It was a picture of Jessica — Victoria — blowing a kiss.
Peter’s racing mind was dizzying, but one emotion seized control. Fear. Trying to stop his hands from shaking, he replaced the photos and returned the folder. Jessica knew all along what he was up to. He felt like a cat who’d just discovered it was a mouse. He had to assume she knew he was there.
Outside, high headlights passed by on the street. Peter jumped. It couldn’t be. She was always gone all night. He knew this. But she knew that he knew. The sound of sliding metal drifted to him from the front room. It was the deadbolt shifting as it unlocked. Turning to escape through the window, he stopped short as the outline of a large man was framed in the window. The bedroom door swung open.
