Michele lived alone in a condo on the twentieth floor of a newer downtown high-rise. She couldn’t afford the lake views, but her city views were pretty spectacular. Not that there was much to see at six a.m. in the winter. She dressed for the day and took the elevator down to the rear entrance. There were parking spaces in the lower level of the building, but they were pricey. She didn’t mind parking on the surface lot out back; it was well lit and crime wasn’t much of an issue in the area.
She pushed through the heavy glass door and paused under the halogen floodlight outside. She thought she’d heard someone whisper her name. “Miss Fields,” it came again nearby, from within the tall arborvitae trees that lined the building’s exterior. “It’s me. It’s me…the shooter.”
She froze with fear and her hands began to shake. She held her keys and they jangled uncontrollably. Her heart pounded in her chest and she tried to decide whether to try to get back into the building or make a run for her car. But she couldn’t move in either direction.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” the voice whispered. “I would never hurt a woman. I’ve never hurt anyone who wasn’t hurting someone else.”
Michele tried to find her voice and swallowed hard. “Then, then why are you here? Why are you stalking me?”
“I don’t mean to scare you; I just want you to understand me. I thought if you could listen you might come around and help my cause. At least stop attacking me.” The voice was still a whisper, but it was becoming agitated. “I sent you an email earlier this morning, did you read it ?”
“I, I did read it,” she stammered, leaning to look closer at where the voice was coming from. Though she was still afraid, she thought if she could see him, she would be able to describe him and help put him away.
“You need to know that those people who set that clinic on fire in Louisiana aren’t working with me. They’re scum. They weren’t careful and good. Honest people were killed.”
“I believe you,” she blurted. “I said as much on national television last night.”
“I didn’t know,” the voice said. “Thank you for that.”
Michele wanted to jump into the thick evergreens and tackle the person there. He was supposed to be a smaller man, although maybe heavier and powerful for his size. She might not be able to subdue him, but if she could claw him and get his DNA under her nails, even if he got away they might catch him. She tried to will herself to charge into the darkness of the arborvitae but remained rooted to the walk.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he said. “But I want you to know that I am not a bad man.”
“I never said you were,” she said, swallowing again. A breeze came up and the cold sunk deeper. If she didn’t try something soon, she knew she never would. She slipped her car key between her right index and second fingers and tightened her hand into a fist, the teeth of the key jutting out like the blade of a knife. She bit down on her lower lip, tensed, and jumped into the arborvitae. Something akin to a growl rose from her throat. She pushed through the dense evergreen limbs, slipping on ice, stabbing at the darkness in front of her. Snapping through the tender branches, she smelled red cedar and her own fear. Out of breath, she reached the end of the arborvitae and stumbled out of them. The killer was nowhere to be seen.