Chapter 2 Chapter 2

I waited there for twenty minutes. I saw Star and the others file out with their own bags and walk off.  The police had George. Great, now I need to find another damn job. Star and the others were across the road; I made my way to them. She looked annoyed, but the others weren't. “Shit, you got out?” Berry said.

“Yeah. What the hell happened?” I asked, confused.

“George was dealing. He was selling drugs,” she said with a sigh. “Now we need to find other jobs; one of the cops said it’s getting shut down.”

“I see. Okay then. Good luck, ladies,” I said, waving at them and heading off. I walked to the metro and waited. I pulled my phone out; it was ten. When the train pulled in, I got on and took a seat and just stared out the window.

Tessa Jansen, twenty-five years old. I moved here from Fredericksburg, Texas. I didn't move; more like I had no choice. I wanted peace and quiet, so when I happened upon a small, quaint two-bedroom house in Irvington, I took it right away, hoping I had left it all behind, but it followed me here.

When the train stopped, I got out and walked. This was my life. Work, eat, sleep ,well, not much sleep anyway. I made my way down the quiet street. Everyone was either asleep or in Manhattan. I walked up the front steps and stopped in my tracks. The roses were here again along with the card. My entire body began shaking.

I didn't touch them; I sank into the chair and pulled my phone out and dialed the number. The call was answered on the second ring.

“It...it's here again. The same, he’s back,” I whispered.

“Don’t touch it; don’t go inside. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he replied before ending the call.

I sat there shaking. I thought it was over. I thought I had escaped him, but he still found me. I couldn't control the shaking of my body. Twenty minutes later, red and blue lights were flashing in front of my house. I looked up when I heard the car door slam. He walked up the pathway and stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the flowers and card.

“Have you gone in?” he asked.

“No. I thought it was over.” I asked, looking at him.

“No, and I'm sorry that I can’t do anything more, Tessa,” he said quietly.

I heard the other car pull up; the officers got it. They came up the stairs, and I just let them do what they have been doing for the past two years.  After they took the flowers and cards, they left. Detective Ryan sat beside me.

“Just be careful. Do you still have your taser and pepper spray?” He asked, his voice quiet and comforting.

“Yes. I thought. I… can’t afford to move. He won’t stop,” I whispered.

“Witness protection,” he said, and I stood up. “No. I'm not doing that. I’m not about to let Alex scare me away from my home.”

“I understand, but just be careful, okay? I’ll let you know what we find. The house is clear,” he said, standing up.

“Okay. Thank you.”

He waited until I was inside and the door was locked before he left. I let out a sigh. I hurried through a shower and poured myself a glass of wine and sat curled up on the living room couch with a blanket. Here I was thousands of miles away, and he still found me; he always did. I thought I had left that part of my life in the past. My father was ruined because of him, and he wouldn't stop. I shook my head; no, I didn't want to think about it. I grabbed my phone and began searching for jobs. Busy , always keep busy; too much quiet leads your mind to dark places.

I began searching the job listings; one caught my eye. A caretaker for an elderly woman in Manhattan. From eight PM to eight AM. I jotted down the number; I would call in the morning. I jotted down a few more numbers. I snuggled into the couch and just stayed there.

I opened my eyes to my phone ringing. I grabbed it; it was a private number. I hesitated but answered eventually.

“Hello?”... No answer.

“Hello?”...

Someone was screwing with me.

“Look…”

“Sorry, are you one of the employees from Starlight Lounge?” The man asked. I paused for a second.

“Who wants to know?”

“The individual that you had a private dance with last evening,” he said, and he sounded professional. I let out a sigh.

“I no longer work there.” I replied calmly.

“I see. Well, there is an offer for you. Five hundred thousand. You do not mention last evening or who was present. You forget last evening.” He said in all seriousness, and I began laughing.

“I may be a dancer, but I can guarantee you, every single customer is the same to me. I don't know who you are, nor do I want to know. Keep your money. I have no interest in saying anything about someone I don't know. Now don't call me again.” I ended the call and made my way to the kitchen and made myself a coffee.

I stood waiting for the machine. The low hum of the coffeemaker was the only sound. Five hundred thousand. That kind of offer, that kind of power... it wasn't about some drunk guy. The cold, professional tone had to be related to the tattooed man with the blue eyes. That wasn't my problem.  I took a seat at my kitchen table with my coffee and called the first number. It rang three times before a man answered.

“Hello, good morning, my name is Ms. Jansen. I am calling in regard to the caretaker ad you posted on the job forum.”

“Ahh, good morning. My name is Anthony Bryce. The individual is my eighty-three-year-old mother.  She had a stroke a few months ago and is unable to do anything herself. I work nights and need someone. I could hire a nurse from a company, and I have, but they weren't a good fit. My mother, paralyzed or not, doesn't want them. And this is my last hope,” he said.

“I can understand that; she needs to feel comfortable with the person taking care of her.” I said,

“I've been fielding calls from lunatics all morning. Can you answer some questions for me?” he asked

“Oh, of course.”

“Great. Are you in a relationship? Do you do any illegal substances? Do you have an arrest record?” he asked.

“The answer is no to every one of your questions.”  I heard a heavy, grateful sigh on the other end, the kind of sound a desperate person makes when they finally find a sliver of hope.

“Okay, can you make it over to . The Athena Tower. 111 West 57th Street, Unit 72-A, Manhattan, New York, NY 10019,” he asked.

“Yes, I can. I'll be there for nine if that's okay for you.”