Page 29 of See Me

"I told you that the note used some of the same phrases!"

"You mean when compared to the notes you don't have anymore? Again, I'm not saying that you're wrong. In fact, I think there's a good probability that you're right. But as a former prosecutor, you know what the phrase 'beyond a reasonable doubt' means. And right now, there's not enough for an indictment under the stalking statutes."

"He's been following me, watching me, and monitoring my actions. That meets the course of conduct required in the law. He wrote a note that terrifies me. He slashed my tires. That constitutes harassment. His actions have caused substantial emotional distress, which is why I'm here. He's clearly stalking me and that's a crime."

Margolis raised an eyebrow. "All right, Miss Former Prosecutor. But if he denied writing the notes once, he'll just deny it again. And then what?"

"What about the pattern? Notes, flowers, following me around, dead flowers. He's mimicking what Laws did to Cassie."

"The pattern is similar, but not the same. Laws sent letters and identified himself. You received short, unsigned notes. Laws spied on Cassie at dinner and made sure she knew he was there. Someone bought you a drink at a club, anonymously. Cassie knew that Laws had sent her flowers. You don't even really know for sure who sent you the roses."

"It's close enough."

"To you, maybe. But in a court of law, it's different."

"In other words, because he's been careful, he's going to get away with it? You're not even going to talk to him?"

"Don't get me wrong. I'll try to talk to him."

"Try?"

"You're assuming that he's still in town and that I can find him. On the other hand, if he's in Charlotte or another city, I'll probably have to turn it over to a detective there."

"And what would you say to him if you were able to find him?"

"I'll let him know that I know what he's up to, and that it's in his own best interest to stop, or the authorities will intervene." When it became clear that Maria hadn't expected him to say what he had, Margolis went on. "In other words, I believe you. With that said, I can't arrest him because you think he bought you roses. Or because you think he bought you a drink. Or because you think he put a note on your car. You and I both know that's not going to fly. And, in the end, he might make things even worse for you."

"Excuse me?" she asked.

Margolis shrugged. "You made an accusation before and the father threatened to sue you and the police. Now you're accusing him again. It's possible that he could make a claim for harassment against you."

"That's ridiculous!"

"But it's possible."

"What am I supposed to do, then? If you're not going to do anything to help me?"

Margolis leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "I've taken your statement and the report will now be on file. I told you I would talk to him, assuming I can find him, or that someone else will. I'll review the files on Laws's arrest and Cassie's death. And I'll find out what I can learn about Lester Manning. I'll talk with the Charlotte police and have them check whether the old notes are in a file somewhere. Considering you've offered me nothing whatsoever in the way of proof that you've been threatened at all--and taking into account your questionable judgment in choosing a boyfriend--I'd say that's more than enough, wouldn't you?"

Maria's face was a mask. "What about a restraining order?"

"Anything is possible, but you and I both know it's not automatic, for all the same reasons we've discussed. But let's say that by some miracle, a judge does grant one. The law says that it's not valid unless Lester Manning can actually be served. Which, again, may or may not be possible."

"In other words, you're telling me to pretend it isn't happening."

"No. I'm telling you to let me do my job." He reached for the file. "I'll let you know what I find out."

"I don't know why I went to him in the first place," Maria said on her way back to the car, her face tight. "And you know what really pisses me off?" She didn't need an answer. "He's right. About all of it. And I know he's right. If a detective had brought me a case like this, I would have turned him away. There's nothing in the way of proof. Even if I know it's him."

"Margolis will check into it."

"So what?"

"Margolis may be an ass, but he's smart. He'll get Lester to say something incriminating."

"And then what? You think Margolis will convince him to stop? I thought it was over when I moved here, but even that didn't end it. He knows where I live, and for all I know, Lester killed Copo. He might have been inside my parents' house!"

It was the first time that Colin had heard her link Copo's death to everything else that had occurred, and her obvious fear made something coil inside him.

This was going to stop. Let Margolis do whatever he was going to do, but right now, that wasn't good enough for Colin. It was time, he thought, for someone to find out just what Lester was up to these days.

After he dropped Maria off at work, Colin popped in his earbuds, put on some music, and perched himself in front of the computer at his desk.

Lester Manning.

Proof or not, having a name helped to focus his thoughts, and he wanted to find out as much as he could about the man.

The only problem was that without easy access to government databases or official records, there wasn't much he could do. There were no listings in the white pages for anyone named Lester Manning in North Carolina, nor could he find a cell number. There were two Lester Mannings on Facebook; one was listed as living in Aurora, Colorado, and the other in Madison, Wisconsin; the first a teenager, the second a man in his forties. Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat turned up nothing, nor did a general Google search using the name and the city of Charlotte in various permutations.

There were a few sites that held out the promise of more information--phone number, most recent address, and the like--for a fee, and after debating, he typed in his credit card number and gave it a whirl. Thankfully, an address popped up in Charlotte.

There was a little more on Avery Manning, including a phone number in Charlotte listing an Avery Manning, MD, along with the same address he'd found for Lester.

Father and son living together?

Or outdated information?

There were also a few short articles on the father. The most recent one confirmed Maria's recollection that Manning had had his license suspended for eighteen months, apparently for improper care of a number of patients. The most prominent case involved a young man who'd committed suicide. According to the article, Manning failed to properly diagnose the patient's attention-deficit disorder and monitor his use of Adderall. Other patients claimed that they simply got worse under his care. If the date of the suspension was accurate, then Avery Manning still wasn't able to practice.

Interesting.

There was a photograph, too: a man in his midfifties, with thin blond hair and light blue eyes staring out of an angular, almost bony face; to Colin, he could have passed for a washed-out gravedigger. Colin couldn't imagine sitting across from the guy for an hour, spilling his guts and hoping for empathy.

Another article mentioned Manning's work with prison inmates. The article quoted Manning as saying that many prisoners were sociopaths and beyond practical rehabilitation. Humane incarceration, he said, was the most pragmatic solution to criminal pathology. Other than commenting that Manning considered himself an expert on criminal behavior, Maria hadn't mentioned his work in prisons, and he wondered whether she had even known about it.

A little more research eventually brought up the obituary for Eleanor Manning, which said nothing about suicide, but that wasn't surprising. Most people didn't want that fact made public. It also noted that she'd been a mother of three, and was survived by her husband and son. Cassie he'd heard about, but there was another sibling?

He reviewed half a dozen articles on Avery Manning before finding the answer; in an interview on the subject of depression, Avery noted that his wife had bat

tled depression ever since their son Alexander Charles Manning had died in an automobile accident when he was six.

Alex. Cassie. Eleanor.

So much tragedy for one family. And Lester blamed Maria for one, maybe even two of the deaths.

Enough to make Lester torment and terrify her?

Yes. The original notes made that plain. As did the pattern.

Chronologically or not, Maria was experiencing the same fears that Cassie had. And like Maria, Colin knew how the rest of Cassie's story unfolded.

After he got out of prison, Laws met Cassie face-to-face.

Cassie filed a restraining order.

The police couldn't find Laws.

In the end, Cassie was abducted and murdered.

Was that part of Lester's plan as well?

It was a massive jump to go from what had happened to Maria so far to the final step. Tormenting was one thing, murder was another, and he didn't know enough about Lester to try to guess what he might do. That didn't mean, however, that Maria should take any chances.

He spent another hour without learning anything more. So much for the easy part--information that anyone could find--and he wondered about his next step.

What did he know about Lester? And what could he assume?

Lester had a car. Or had use of a car.

Not a big assumption, of course, but he wondered what kind of information he could find if he had a license plate number. A few keywords into the search engine turned up a couple of companies with access to all kinds of public records, including car registrations and license plate numbers. It was a bit expensive, but it just might be helpful, and he made note of the websites in case the need arose.

Anything else?

Yes, he thought. If he was correct in his assumption, Lester had hidden on the roof across the street when Maria was at work. As for her condo, it would have been easy for Lester to watch her as she came and went, if only because her schedule was predictable. He wouldn't have had to camp out for hours; he could have observed her from the coffee shop across the street or from a parked car. Following her to the restaurant and the nightclub would have been a piece of cake.

And?

Based on the meeting with Margolis, Colin needed proof that Lester was stalking Maria, and he wondered if he should drive to Charlotte in the hopes of putting a face to a name. Maybe even get a photograph, assuming he could find Lester. But then again, even that might not be enough. The florist had admitted he hadn't gotten a good look at the guy, and Colin doubted the waitress would recognize him. Even Maria hadn't recognized him up close.

And finally, there was Copo. The dog's death also fit with the pattern, and the more he thought about it, the more probable it seemed that Lester had killed Copo to hurt Maria and her family. Because he'd been following Maria, he'd know where her parents lived. But more than that, it also meant that he'd watched the family regularly. How else would he have known that Copo had been left behind at the house? Maria had said that Felix brought Copo everywhere, even to the restaurant. That her parents rarely left the dog at home.

But how?

The Sanchez backyard had a privacy fence, and in a tight-knit suburb, a lurking stranger would have been noticed.

How indeed.

Twenty minutes later, he was driving through the Sanchez neighborhood, trying to piece it together.

Her parents' house was quiet, apparently no one at home. There were, however, others out and about. A woman jogging on the sidewalk; an elderly man pruning the bushes in his front yard. A man pulling out of his driveway, heading somewhere.

Colin turned at the corner, then turned again, heading down the street that ran parallel to the Sanchezes' street, backyards bumping up against each other.

The neighborhood was bustling, the kind of community where people probably watched out for each other.

Lester definitely would have been noticed.

Unless...

He slowed the car as he approached the houses that backed up to the Sanchez place, and the answer became clear.

The house directly behind Maria's parents' home was for sale.

More than that, it appeared to be vacant.

Maria was reserved when he picked her up from work that evening, and their conversation was desultory. It was clear that she wanted to avoid talking about Lester or Margolis.

She wanted to spend the night at her parents', so he drove her home and waited outside while she packed an overnight bag. Next, he drove her to pick up her car at the tire shop, waiting until Maria was on her way before finally exiting the parking lot. He'd wanted to follow her, but thinking it would only make her more nervous, he asked her instead to text him when she reached her parents' place. Fifteen minutes later, she let him know that she'd arrived.

Though she said nothing, he guessed she'd spent the drive to her parents' house repeatedly glancing in the rearview mirror, wondering if Lester was following her.

Colin waited until after midnight to return to the neighborhood, his mind on Lester Manning.

Dressed in black, he'd parked a few blocks away and approached the vacant house. In his backpack he carried a small flashlight, a couple of screwdrivers, and a small crowbar. Still, if Lester had been inside the house multiple times--and unless he was an expert in picking locks or had a key--then Colin guessed he'd be able to get in through the same window or door that Lester had used. The entry point might still be unlocked; unless the Realtor had noticed it, there would have been no way for Lester to relock it once he'd left.

Colin just had to find it.

And if Lester happened to be there tonight, having realized that Maria wasn't at her condo?

As much as Colin itched to exact punishment, he'd call Margolis. Maybe they could charge Lester with trespassing, maybe even breaking and entering, in addition to stalking.

The street was quiet and empty. On either side of him, through gaps in the curtains of the nearby houses, he saw the occasional television flickering, but he suspected most people had turned in for the night.

He reached the vacant house and a quick check of the front door showed a lockbox on the doorknob, courtesy of the Realtor. There were no partially open windows on the porch, nor any pry marks. He went around to the side of the house and noiselessly hoisted himself over the fence, into the backyard. With the flashlight, he inspected the windows one by one, hunting for a small gap or pry marks.

It wasn't until he reached the opposite side of the house that he found it.

A bedroom window, five feet up, nearly but not fully closed. Pry marks on the frame, no doubt used to take off the screen. Easy for Colin to climb through, despite the distance from the ground, but for Lester? He scanned the yard and spotted an old plastic picnic table set, made for children. Based on four imprints of flattened, yellowing grass, the table from the set had been moved recently.

Bingo.

Using the screwdriver, he popped the screen off, then wedged the window open a bit farther before pushing it wide with his hands.

With a quick jump and climb, he was inside.

He walked through the darkened house, observing that the floor plan was similar to Maria's parents' house, with windows in the kitchen and a family room offering an unobstructed view of the Sanchezes' back porch. But the view was almost too perfect, facing both ways, and Colin knew that Lester wouldn't have wanted to be spotted.

Which left only one possibility.

Colin traversed the short hallway, turning into the only bedroom on the rear side of the house. Unlike the ones in the kitchen and family room, the window that offered a view of the Sanchezes' back porch had curtains. Turning his flashlight on, he scanned the pile carpet.

Indentations near the window. Footprints.

Lester Manning had been here.

And there was also the chance that he might return.

It wasn't until he was driving home that Colin realized he'd overlooked something important.

Where had Lester parked?

>   It struck him as unlikely that he would have parked in the driveway of the vacant house, or on the street in front of someone's home. It was too noticeable, especially since many people wanted to park their own cars in front of their houses. At the same time, Lester probably wouldn't have wanted to park too far away.

Turning around, Colin drove back through the neighborhood, not sure what he hoped to find, until he came upon a park that included a grassy field, a jungle gym, and benches stationed beneath oak trees. On the opposite side of the street, ten or twelve cars were lined up; adjacent to the park were seven more. The lateness of the hour suggested that they belonged to the people who lived across the street, owners with multiple cars and nowhere else to park.

However, another car here would be more likely to go unnoticed--ideal for Lester--and he was sure he was right. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he snapped photos of the cars, along with their license plates. He wanted to know which ones belonged. And as he did, his thoughts began to coalesce.

He wanted to know what Lester looked like.

He wanted to find Lester's car and license plate.

He wanted to know whether Lester was staying in the area, and if so, where.

Then, after that, he wanted to spend a few days watching and learning everything he could about the man.

"To what end?" Evan asked, squinting at him across the kitchen table; Lily was already asleep in the bedroom.

"Margolis said that he needs proof. I'll get him proof."

"You're sure you're not doing this because you want to beat the crap out of him?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you want to beat the crap out of him, or yes, you're not going to beat the crap out of him, even though you want to?"

"I don't intend to go anywhere near him."

"Good idea. Because you have serious issues."

"Yes."

"And how exactly do you intend to find him? Are you just going to hang out at the park and watch for strange cars?"

"Probably."

"Because you think that Lester might one day park there again?"

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