Chapter Thirty

Stalking is a cruel and incessant crime with often terrifying consequences.

—Amber Rudd

The next morning, Caitlin met Melissa at the gallery and sat down to schedule shows for the next year.

“So,” Melissa said, “how is the woman no mortal man can resist?”

“Just call me dud-magnet.”

“After all this drama of yours, you’re fast becoming story material.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Besides, I’ve settled things with Von, and Hunter and I are doing fine. He hasn’t called has he? I can’t believe he hasn’t phoned me yet.”

“Musicians are notorious for sleeping late. He works nights, remember?” When the phone rang, Melissa said. “I bet that’s him. Caitlin, there’s a phone call for you.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a man with an accent.”

Caitlin took the receiver and covered it with her hand. “You better get that smirk off you face, Melissa before I slap it off.” She turned so Melissa couldn’t see her face. “Hello, Von.”

“Caitlin, please, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About us.”

“There is no us, Von. Now please, I need to get back to work. Stop this. You’re acting childish.” She hung up.

The phone rang again.

Caitlin blew out her breath in exasperation. “What is it, Von?”

“Don’t hang up on me this time. I saw your cheating boyfriend with another girl last night. I saw her mouth on his—”

“You are a lying son of a bitch.”

“Well, you ask him if you want. I think he got in some kind of scrap involving the girl and they had to take him to the doctor. I’m not exactly sure where they took him. I put an envelope in your mailbox. Something’s inside it you may find of interest.”

“Please. No more gifts.”

“Just go to your mailbox at the boat. I’m doing you favor. You won’t try to give this one back.”

The phone went dead.

“That’s a first, Melissa. Von hung up on me.” She called Jed at the Backdoor Lounge.

“Jed, this is Caitlin. Did something happen to Hunter last night?”

“Somebody whupped up on him pretty bad last night, Caitlin. The ambulance took him to emergency at Glenwood and they patched him up. He’s all right, but pretty banged up.”

“What happened? Did he make some girl’s boyfriend mad?”

“You better talk to Hunter. I learned a long time ago to not get involved in shit like this.”

Caitlin called Hunter’s hotel, but there was no answer. She told Melissa she needed to go out for a while and left the gallery.

His truck was outside the motel. She knocked, quietly at first, then pounded on the door with her fist, the envelope from Von in her purse. She heard the chain rattle, then the door opened. Hunter’s face was swollen and badly bruised. Hunter wore only boxers, and he had Ace bandages wrapped around his torso. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hair matted and wild.

“Oh, Hunter… I thought you had changed.”

“Thanks for asking. I’ll be all right. Just a mashed-up face, a couple of broken ribs, and some wounded pride. Come in.” He turned, limped to the small fridge and pulled out a beer. “Want one?” He opened a pill bottle, swallowed two Tylenol 3’s, and sat on the bed.

“It’s a little early to start drinking, don’t you think?”

“I’m in no mood for a lecture if that’s what you came for. It wasn’t a fight. I didn’t get to throw the first punch. Three men jumped me. One of them was your psychotic African boyfriend.”

“Von?”

“Yeah. He said this would just be taste of what I’d get if I didn’t stay away from you and get out of town. He also said bad things would happen to Tejan and your friends if I didn’t.”

“He called me with this story about you getting beat up because you were with a girl. Is that true?”

“You were the only girl whose name was mentioned.”

She took the picture of him and Veronica and flipped it at him. “You are such a liar. Same old song, isn’t it, Hunter? Same old song. I wonder how many blowjobs you got when we were dating?”

“It’s not what you think, Caitlin. Nothing happened with that girl. She came on to me and they took that picture before I pushed her away. Can we talk about it later?”

“No. Tell me what you feel, Hunter. Tell me what you honestly feel.”

“I feel like I should go to Daddy’s and get a gun. I feel like shooting the son of a bitch.”

****

After Caitlin left, Hunter drove to Jed’s bar, told him he wanted to take off work a few days. Jed nodded, paid him, and wished him the best. Hunter loaded up his equipment and drove to his parent’s house. Stonewall ran up to him, and as if he understood Hunter’s hurt, licked his hand and walked alongside him to the house.

His mother was on the porch shelling peas. When she saw him, she said, “Lord have mercy, Hunter. What has happened to you?”

“I got jumped last night at the club. I’m all right. Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s at the table drinking coffee. He’ll be glad to see you, even in your present condition.”

Hunter walked to the dining room.

His father set his coffee cup down and shook his head. “Lord, what kind of trouble are you into now? I thought you’d give up scrappin’.”

“It wasn’t a fight, Daddy. I was jumped by three men.”

“You owe somebody money?”

“No, sir. There’s some guy who thinks he owns Caitlin. He and his two friends did this to persuade me to stay away from her.”

“Did it work?”

“Not hardly.”

“Is this man likely to do it again?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know. You got any ideas? I’m taking off work a few days and do some thinking.”

Hunter spent the night with his parents. The next morning he woke at sunrise and joined his father for coffee on the porch. His father rocked slowly, and Hunter remembered the sound of that steady rhythm that sometimes had rocked him to sleep as a baby. A soft creaking sound that even now soothed him. The chair itself was ritually symbolic of his father and would be as long as chair or father lasted.

They watched the sunrise together. The neighbor’s cotton field was blanketed with fog, and the sunbeams brushed the clouds with pastel strokes as they crept south.

His father said, “So, were you able to sleep, or were you too churned up?”

“Didn’t sleep much or well. I’ll be damned if this woman ain’t messin’ with my redneck head. And I’m not going to let this son of a bitch Von scare me away or bother Caitlin anymore. I’ll kill him if he does.” He shouted it again at the stream of eighteen-wheelers passing him. “I’ll kill him!”

His father filled his pipe and tamped it down. “I know you’re just talking how you feel, not how you think. But you need to get those violent thoughts out of your head. When a man starts deciding who he’s going to kill, the devil puts that man’s own name on the list too.”

“I know, Daddy. I’m going to stay here a few days if that’s okay. I’m still stove up, and I don’t feel like working.”

Hunter’s father lit his pipe and waved the match out. “You’re my boy, Hunter. You stay here as long as you need to.”

****

Hunter returned to his hotel. At the desk, he asked if he had any messages.

“No messages,” the clerk said, “but you did have a visitor. One of your lady friends came by looking for you. Ain’t none of my business, but she was a looker. There was something odd about it though. She seemed a bit on the nervous side, and she had this boy with her, a black boy who called her mama. I know times are changing, but I thought it a mite bit odd, a white woman coming in with a young black boy.”

“She adopted him when she was in Africa. What she’d say?”

“She wanted to know if you had changed rooms. I told her you were gone for a few days, but you didn’t say where you were going. She asked if you left a number. No, I said. He didn’t say much at all.”

“What did she say then?”

“Didn’t say much. She was crying though when she left.”

****

By the time Caitlin reached the houseboat later that afternoon, Von had left a half-dozen messages on her phone, pleading with her to come to see him or call him. He promised to explain everything and to change and do anything, if only she would marry him. He said he couldn’t bear the thought of living without her, and he had even thought of killing himself if he didn’t hear from her soon. That was the only part of his messages she felt he didn’t really mean. Von was too selfish to do something noble like ridding the world of himself. She went outside and saw Tejan sitting sullenly on the deck, his knees drawn up to his chest.

“What’s wrong, Tejan?”

He looked past her. “Nothing is wrong with Tejan’s world, but he feels something is wrong with his mamá’s. Maybe mamá works too hard. Call Mr. Hunter and ask him to come. He will make your heart feel better.”

Caitlin sat down next to him. “I’m not sure Hunter will come over again, Tejan.”

“Why, Mamá? You love Mr. Hunter. Did Tejan make him angry?”

She put her arm around him and pulled him to her. “No, silly boy. Hunter angered me. I think he was with another woman.”

“Mr. Hunter does not love mamá?”

“That’s not the point, Tejan. I don’t know that I can be with a man I can’t trust to only love and want me.”

Tejan stood and placed his hands on the gunwale, looking into the river. “I do not understand, Mamá. In Sierra Leone, a man can have many wives. I think he love them all, though he always have one he loves most. I think Mr. Hunter love you most of all the women in the world.”

“It’s just not the Christian thing to do, Tejan. You’re Catholic. You know that.”

“I once heard Father Ambrose speak to us of David and Solomon. They were great men in the Bible, and Jesus came to us through them. They had many wives. Why should a man only have one woman? It does not mean Mr. Hunter does not love you.”

Oh, great, Caitlin thought. I’m being lectured by my son. He’s only been here a short time and he argues like a left-wing philosopher. “Why would he be with another woman?”

“Why were you not with him? If you had been there, Mr. Hunter would behave himself. A man can be strong in battle and his work, but tremble before a woman who owns his heart. When Mr. Hunter is your husband, he will change his ways.”

“I just can’t stand the thought of him being with another woman.”

Tejan shrugged his shoulders. “Then tell him.” Tejan stretched, his eyes touching the cloud-laced sunset. “But mamá should forgive him first.”

****

The next morning, Caitlin woke to Tejan shaking her arm.

“Mamá, someone is outside.”

“Who is it?”

“It is the white Africa man. I tell him mamá is asleep, but he say for me to wake you. So, I come and wake you.”

“Tejan, would you make mamá some coffee?”

“Oui.”

Caitlin stepped out on the boat’s deck, pulling her robe together at the front. She squinted in the daylight and sat down on one of the deck chairs.

“Good morning,” Von said.

“What do you want, Von? Do you always wake up people who don’t want to see you?”

“Why are you treating me this way? You don’t return my calls, you don’t write me, you won’t come and see me…”

“Yes, that’s the idea of not seeing someone anymore. I’ll call you if I ever change my mind, but if I were you, I wouldn’t hold my breath.” She stood up. “I’m going back inside. You can find your own way off my boat.”

“You’re a whore, Caitlin. A dirty whore.”

Caitlin wanted to spit in his face. “Get out of here! I don’t want to see you again—ever. You’re a moron if you think you can pressure me. After what you did to Hunter? He’s so hurt he can hardly stand up. After threatening me? Leave! Go!”

“He said I hurt him? What about how he hurt you? What about that slut I saw him with?”

“Leave!”

Von turned over a small ceramic tile table, scattering dishes and books. “You will change your mind.”

After Von left, Caitlin called Melissa. “Hey, I need your advice. Von is becoming more of a problem. Did you know he broke a table? He’s starting to act a little crazy.”

“A little? This guy followed you all the way from Sierra Leone. And to be honest, Caitlin, it sounds like you led him on a little.”

“Well led on or not, he needs to be grownup enough to understand I’ve changed my mind and I don’t want to see him anymore. And he and two other men hurt Hunter.”

“I don’t know what to say, Caitlin. But don’t worry about it. His fight with Hunter was just the typical male fight for dominance over the female. He’ll probably give up after a while.”

“I hope so. Hey, I’ve got to shower and have some coffee, but then I’ll come down to the gallery.”

“Okay, see you in a few.”

After cleaning up and spending some time with Tejan, Caitlin walked to her car. The gas cap lay on the ground. “Damn!” she said. She screwed the cap back on, thinking someone had siphoned the tank. The Civic’s gas gauge indicated the tank was still full, so she thought that maybe the thief had been interrupted before they could siphon the gas. Before she had pulled out of the Cottonport’s parking lot, the engine began to shake and sputter, and then the car died. She got out of the car, called her mechanic, and walked on to the gallery.

Her mechanic called the gallery a couple of hours later.

“What’s wrong with my car, Paul?” Caitlin asked. “It won’t be expensive I hope.”

“It’s not too bad. About fifty bucks, counting the tow. Now, about what was wrong with it. Well, if you hadn’t told me you found the cap on the ground, I would have thought it was bad gas, but the best I can tell is that someone put some sugar or something like that in your gas tank. I drained it, flushed it as best I could, and put some clean gas in it and now it’s running fine. I’d suggest you get a locking cap. This was probably just someone pulling a prank. Do you want me to drop it off for you?”

“That would be great. Thanks Paul.”

Someone sabotaged her car. Why? Who? Was it Von? If so, what did he think to gain by doing it?

Caitlin didn’t see Von the next week, but she was reminded of him daily. One day flowers and a note were sent to the gallery, the next day a letter, the next day a gift certificate, the next day more flowers, another letter, and every day he left phone messages, both at the gallery with Melissa, and on her machine on the houseboat.

She called Melissa’s friend at the Ouachita Parish Sheriff’s Department.

“Is this Deputy Stewart?”

“Yes, it is. What can I do for you?”

“I’m Caitlin Johnson, a friend of Melissa’s. She said I should call you. I need your help. There’s a man who bothering me, bothering me a lot, and I want to know what I can do to make him leave me alone.”

“Come and see me.”

Caitlin met Deputy Stewart and told him everything that had happened—how Von and she had met, the things he had said, the things he had given her, his phone calls, his letters, the gas tank, his jealousy over Hunter, his obsession to marry her.

“He’s not just bothering you, Caitlin,” he said. “He may have been a boyfriend in the past, but now he’s stalking you.”

“Am I in danger? How can I make him stop?”

“I don’t know if he’s dangerous. Let’s hope he’s not. This type of situation is not easy to fix, Caitlin, and you may have to make some radical changes.”

“I’m not going to change my life because I’m being stalked.”

“I’m sorry, Caitlin, but once someone stalks you like this, your life has changed, and changed forever.”

“I hardly know this guy.”

“Exactly how long have you known him?”

“Not very long. We dated a few weeks when I lived in Africa. Certainly, I don’t think it was long enough for him to expect marriage.”

“Hmmm. That short a time is not a good sign. It could mean he is a hopeless romantic that you just affected at a vulnerable time in his life, or he could be really disturbed individual, perhaps borderline erotomaniac.”

“Which is…”

“Erotomania is a condition where a person believes without justification that someone else is in love with him and pursues the notion that the object of his affection reciprocates his romantic feelings and fantasies. That’s the dictionary definition, but I’m sure you get the idea.”

“So how bad can this erotic condition be?”

The deputy shrugged his shoulders. “Depends. When rejected this type of individual can spiral out of control and demonstrate expressions of anger, rage, frustration and violence.”

“But I’ve told him I’m not interested.”

“I know it’s strange, but the erotomaniac typically does not see the victim’s lack of interest. He is delusional, maybe psychotic and definitely no longer in touch with reality. Often, such men are so flipped out that they construe any negative reaction to pressure as a signal of approval.”

“This is crazy. He says I’m his life.”

“Believe him.”

“It’s not fair!”

“No, it’s not.”

“I feel sorry for him,” Caitlin said. I don’t want to crush anyone. Maybe I should try one more time and let him down easy.”

“Don’t feel sorry for him. Odds are that he has a criminal history not related to stalking.”

He paused, studying Caitlin’s silent face.

“He does, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know for sure. I have a friend who warned me about him. He said Von was a diamond and gun smuggler.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, I’m dead serious.”

“I’ve many files on stalkers, but no diamond merchants and gun smugglers.”

She pounded her leg. “What should I do?”

“Telling him no or that you’re not interested is not enough. Start by never speaking to him again. He just won’t get it any other way. Don’t offer explanations, certainly do not allow time limits, and don’t let him plea bargain. Any act of kindness you show him will be blown out of proportion into a deeper delusion of intimacy.”

“Am I in danger?”

“Usually not.”

“Usually? So that means I could be. He did hurt my boyfriend and tried to get the government to take my son away.”

“To be on the safe side, I’d get a dog and a good alarm system. Block your address at the DMV. Move if you have to.”

“I can’t leave Monroe! Stalking me? But I’m not famous. I’ve got no money. I’m no Rebecca Shaeffer or Jodie Foster.”

“The vast majority of stalking victims are not celebrities at all. If you thought someone like yourself could never be stalked by a crazy stranger just because you aren’t a model or famous or rich, you are so wrong.”

Caitlin sighed. “I’m getting sick of his messages. I guess I could change my phone number.”

“No. He will only find the other number and that will make him angry and things will get worse. Leave him this outlet. Let your voice mail or recorder handle all the incoming calls on the other line. Leave a long, pleasant message on it. Perhaps the sound of your voice will soothe him. Then, get another phone, perhaps a cell, with an unlisted number and only give it to the people you know. You can even block it from receiving any calls at all.”

“Would a restraining order keep him away?”

He took a pencil and tapped the eraser end on his desk. “Yes, certainly you could try that. However, from what I’ve seen, they are seldom effective, and violation is only a misdemeanor unless he packs a gun. A restraining order can also anger him and make things worse. On the other hand, if he does try something really weird, at least he might go to jail for it. You might get some justice, but you won’t get safety. In the meantime, document everything that he does, and be extremely cautious. Write down anything you see that you think is suspicious.”

She thought of Hunter. Maybe he could move in with her for a while and would bring Stonewall. Tejan would like that. “I think I’ll take a chance on angering him. How can I get a restraining order?”