Page 12 of The Stalker Snafu

Suspicious.

“I have to go,” I told my mother distractedly as I picked up my pace. I’d seen enough crime shows to know what happened next.

“I still need to speak with you about the Livingstons’ gala coming up later this month,” she said.

“Can it wait?” I asked through clenched teeth before taking a right turn in front of the School of Business building. I walked ten steps, then glanced over my shoulder.

The stalker had turned right, too.

“I suppose. I should be getting ready for the Ladies of Leawood brunch anyhow.” My mother made an art out of humblebragging about something while sounding completely over it at the same time. I knew she was secretly thrilled. “I’ll give you a ring later to discuss details.”

“Sounds great,” I lied, rubbing at the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. “Bye, Mo⁠—”

The dial tone cut me off, and I stuffed the phone into my backpack’s side pocket before dashing around the back of the nearest building. It was a long sprint, and my breath came in big puffs.

Coming to the other side, I slinked down the skinny alley between buildings until I could peek around the corner. My heart thudded in my chest as I scanned the front of the business school building.

The stalker was gone.

I frowned, glancing both ways before spotting him another building over, standing near the side of the library. He gazed around the quad.

After taking a moment to debate the pros and cons of doing something incredibly stupid, I went with my gut and threw caution to the wind.

He thought he could stalk me?

Then I’d stalk him back.

This ended today.

Jumping into action, I ran back down the alleyway and looped around the back of the library until I was wheezing for breath behind it.

Bad idea. The short sprint caused my lungs to revolt, demanding air as I clung to the library’s brick wall. I gasped in small bursts, kicking myself for not attempting any exercise since my last gym class in high school. It didn’t help that the class was about bowling.

Giving my rapid heart rate a chance to settle, I crept along the back wall and peeked around the corner—spotting the back of a disheveled head of dark hair at the end of the alley.

Bingo.

Who was the predator now, buddy?

I briefly considered phoning campus security, but there was no reason we couldn’t try resolving this in a civil manner first. We were in a public place, students milling about just feet away from the alley’s opening.

Plus, I always had my pepper spray handy in my backpack.

I tiptoed across the pavement behind him, quite proud of my newfound sleuthing skills—until my knee banged against a metal trash can.

Oops.

I could only watch in growing horror as the trash can’s lid sailed through the air like a Frisbee. It tumbled across the ground, making enough racket to wake the dead. I bit my tongue to muffle a curse at the sharp, resounding clangs echoing off the walls before it finally spun to a stop on the ground.

I’d been a mere six feet away from getting the jump on him.

Creepy Stalker turned at the mouth of the alley, and his eyes darted from the traitorous lid to me. Up close, he was alarmingly intimidating. Dark eyes, darker hair, and a prominent nose that bent a bit in the middle. Artsy tattoos slithered up his arms, which must be wider than my head.

“Are you following me?” I blurted, glaring at the mountainous guy. I refused to be cowed by someone bigger than me, considering most people were bigger than me. If I were to enter a weight division in wrestling, it would probably be filled with twelve-year-old boys.

He towered over me even from half a dozen feet away, casting a shadow the size of a rowboat. At first glance he looked too old to be an undergrad, but I’d bet all my coffee money he was on the football team. The guy looked me up and down before his head cocked to the side.

When he spoke—speeding through a flurry of words I couldn’t keep up with—I was so focused on the hoarseness of his voice that I didn’t realize he wasn’t speaking English.