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It was almost as if he knew she’d begun investigating the missing children case. But that would be impossible. Wouldn’t it? The only people who were aware she was even looking into it were her and Jen. And the few police and other professionals she’d contacted for her research. Unless this stalker somehow had an informant. Or unless he was one of the people she’d contacted. Could her stalker possibly be one of the people on the inside of this case? The idea raised goose bumps on her forearms, and she had to put her wine glass down as her hands began to tremble. Could it really be possible that she was getting closer than she thought?
But her stalker had appeared after those articles she’d published twelve years ago, about the girls from Port Pirie. Why would he be worried about her investigating this new case? Unless they were somehow linked. And if they were linked, was it because he was still trying to protect someone or something from the first case?
Sierra had often wondered about her stalker. Who he was and what his motives were. He’d always been decidedly vague as to what it was about her articles that upset him the most. Was it just the fact that he hated all journalists, and had zeroed in on her as a target for his fury? She knew of journalists with similar stories, of a nutcase who’d held them personally responsible for a story they’d filed in a newspaper.
You are merely a purveyor of lies and innuendo. All you do is twist the truth to suit yourself. Why do you believe you’re so much better than everyone else? Your shit stinks just as much as the rest of us. You should look in the mirror, Sierra. Hold yourself to the same scrutiny you subject others to.
Which was all a complete load of hogwash.
You have no right to persecute the police the way you do. They are only doing their jobs the best way they know how. You’d better watch your back, Sierra, or someone might just start persecuting you.
Not for the first time, Sierra considered whether this stalker was perhaps in the force, or at least had been, at some stage. The cops at the time had never been able to pin it down to any one option, and even though Sierra thought that perhaps they hadn’t tried all that hard—hadn’t taken him seriously—after the accident she’d tended to agree with them. There were more important things to consider than one unstable person sending her deranged letters. She’d decided to try and ignore him and get on with her life. His threats were meaningless and mindless. He could never possibly hurt her as much as she’d already been hurt.
But now, here he was, getting back up in her face again. And it didn’t seem like a coincidence anymore. If that was the case, she had to find out how her stalker was related to this newer case. She really needed to talk to Jen about this. First thing in the morning, she was going to call her.
But right now, she was going to get some sleep. If, indeed, she’d be able to sleep with all of this going around in her head. Leaving the dishes in the sink, Sierra tamped down the wood stove and made her way to her bedroom. Tonight, for some reason, her large, king-sized bed looked cold and uninviting. She walked over and pulled out the bottom drawer of her dresser. The pink bunny blanket was nestled there at the bottom. She picked it up and held it close to her chest. Maybe having this near would help her sleep. Hold the memories of her baby girl close, and perhaps banish thoughts of evil pedophiles and stalkers.
* * *
Sierra stretched and yawned. It’d been a fitful night of broken sleep. Neither of the cats was on the bed with her, which was unusual. The night had been full of noise as the wind got up and whipped the trees into a frenzy. She still had the pink bunny blanket wrapped around one hand. Carefully unwrapping it from her fingers, she folded it neatly, leaving it on her pillow. Time to get up and get moving; she had a lot to do today.
As Sierra padded through to the kitchen on her slipper-shod feet she saw both cats sitting at the back door glaring at her as if affronted it’d taken her so long to get up because they wanted out. One of these days she was going to install a cat flap, then they could come and go as they pleased.
“All right,” she grumbled and went to the back door, then was surprised when they both skittered outside like the devil was on their tails. Silly things. The wind was still strong, but not as gusty as it had been last night. She went and stood on her back veranda to stare out at the gray ocean. Should she go for a swim today? She hadn’t been out in over a week now. But winter always put a damper on her ocean swims. Even with her thick wetsuit, it would be icy and rough out there today.
Movement in her back yard caught her eye and she glanced down towards the chicken run huddled in the far corner near the fence.
A drift of feathers floated over the lawn.
Sierra realized she couldn’t hear the normal contented clucking of her six girls as they pecked in the open area of their run. As she looked carefully, she noticed there was a dark lump in one corner of the pen.
She put a hand to her throat. Her heartbeat suddenly sounded loud in her ears.
Spinning on her heel, she ran down the steps towards the chicken enclosure, not caring she was still in her pajamas. No. No. Please let her girls be okay.
But they weren’t. She could see even before she came to a complete stop outside the wire fence. They were all dead. Little lumps of brown feathers lay in motionless heaps around the pen.
What had happened? Had a fox got into the pen? A feral cat? But the pen had been built to withstand these kinds of predators. She slipped in through the gate to take a better look.
And that’s when she saw it.
The chickens hadn’t just been killed. They’d been murdered.
All of them had their heads cut off.
A sob escaped Sierra’s throat.
Who would do something like this? Why?
Sudden understanding grew in her mind, and her head sprang up as she searched the bushes. She needed to get back inside and lock the door. Sprinting for the back door, she nearly slipped and fell in her stupid woolly slippers. But she made it and slammed the door behind her, peering through the glass pane to the outside to make sure no one was there.
