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She switched off the light and ran to the bedroom window, her heart hammering in her chest. She opened the curtain just an inch or two and scoured the area. Nothing. Her breathing eased slightly, and she managed to take one deep breath before heading into the living room. She repeated the process.
And there he was, leaning against the wall opposite, staring up at the window.
A cry escaped her lips as she pulled the curtain back together tightly, as though that would make him physically disappear.
She had the urge to burst into tears. How the hell had Charlotte put up with this for years without losing her mind?
Think, think, think, she told herself as she tried to regulate her breathing.
She weighed her options. She could call for a squad car. She could ring Devon and tell her the truth. She could ring any one of her colleagues, who would be over like a shot. But every one of those actions labelled her a victim – weak, reliant, diminished – and it gave all the power to him.
At this point he’d done nothing physical. She suspected he’d jumped out of a bush at the side of her building. She couldn’t be sure. She suspected he’d been in the rear alley the night before. She couldn’t be sure. She suspected he’d sent her flowers. She couldn’t be sure. She suspected he’d sent her a Facebook message. She couldn’t be sure.
‘Okay, you bastard,’ she said, raising herself to her full height. It was time for this to stop. She was not a victim and he wasn’t going to intimidate her.
She grabbed her keys and phone and headed out of the door and down the stairs. The fear was crystalizing into rage with every step she took.
She slammed the front door behind her, bringing his gaze down from her window. The look of surprise was quickly hidden beneath a sneer.
‘What the hell are you doing, Birch?’ she asked, crossing the road.
He shrugged. ‘It’s a free country. I can go where I like.’
‘Not really – there are laws against what you’re doing,’ she shouted.
‘Out for a walk, needed to stop and rest,’ he said, shrugging again. ‘What’s the law against that?’
So that was his first line of defence.
‘The same law that prevents you being in the alleyway behind my flat last night.’
He shook his head. ‘Nah, not me. Home all night.’ He peered at her closely. ‘You seeing things, sweetheart?’
‘Don’t you dare call me that,’ Stacey spat, feeling a rush of revulsion at the endearment on his lips. ‘The flowers went in the bin but not before they were seen by my colleagues.’
‘What flowers?’
His constant denial was taking the rage out of her sails. She knew it was all him but proving it was another matter.
‘Leave me alone, Birch. I’m not Charlotte. I won’t put up with this shit for years.’
‘I’m over Charlotte,’ he said. ‘I’ve met someone else.’
Her stomach turned but she held her nerve. ‘Don’t you even care that I’m a police officer?’
He shook his head.
‘I could arrest you, have you charged.’
He looked up and down the street. ‘I don’t hear no sirens, which tells me everything I need to know,’ he said as a Cheshire Cat grin shaped his face. ‘You feel exactly the same way as I do.’
‘I don’t,’ Stacey protested. ‘I’m married. I love my wife.’
‘I forgive you that mistake. We hadn’t met but you’ll see eventually that we’re meant to be together.’
‘You disgust me and if this doesn’t stop, you’re gonna find yourself back in prison.’
‘That’s fine. You’re worth it.’
