Teaching Ms. Riggs. Stephanie Beck
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Teaching Ms. Riggs - Stephanie Beck страница 6
Название: Teaching Ms. Riggs
Автор: Stephanie Beck
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
isbn: 9781616503154
isbn:
He nodded and turned at an intersection. “Yeah? That’s great. And it works out well for the school too. I always like when they hire hometown people. It’s good for the kids to see someone who’s been in their shoes make something of themselves, and then come back and share their gifts.”
Ben nodded at his thoughtful words. It was something she’d been told a few times by school board members and fellow staff, and it had made the transition sweeter. No one she’d spoke with regretted coming home, and she didn’t think she would either.
“I’m glad to be back.”
When Mark took a second at a stop sign to turn and smile at her she smiled back. He went back to driving, and she missed the joy his expression had shared but they were nearly to her place. It was probably best she didn’t get addicted to his presence.
“I’m on the north side of the building.”
The car driving in front of them turned onto a side road. Nothing about the vehicle stood out, but when the driver was in sight for a split second Ben gasped.
“Whoa, all right there, Ben?”
She wasn’t all right. If the driver was who she suspected, Ben was a long way from okay.
“Um, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Did you know someone in that car? I think she waved,” Mark said, and Ben fought the urge to jump out of the truck and run to the safety of her apartment.
“No, I didn’t know her.” Ben looked between the windshield and rearview mirror as Mark pulled the truck to the curb. She didn’t know if the car would return or not, but if it did she had to be ready to run.
“I can try to catch her if you want,” Mark offered.
Her stomach turned at his words. “No, God, no. Why would you do that?” She grabbed her grocery bags in one hand and jumped out of the truck before she said something more. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Hey, no problem,” he called. “Is everything okay, Ben?”
She waved but didn’t look back as she made a beeline for the building. She had to get inside.
The renovated Victorian house had homie touches like the front porch and shared hallways Ben liked aesthetically, and for safety sake, they provided an openness that made it difficult for intruders to hide. Ideally she would have moved into a second or third floor apartment, but only the lower front had been available. After she’d found out her husband hadn’t been killed randomly, those things had become important.
He’d been murdered by a woman he’d been seeing for over a year. Ben had never met her, had never known about her, until the police had shown her pictures. When she’d begun to get frightening messages in Chicago, she’d known it was time to go home.
Ben vaulted up the porch stairs and closed the main door behind her, telling herself she was overreacting. She walked to her door and blew out a relived breath when she found it locked as she’d left it. The police in Chicago had told her not to worry, and she tried to follow their advice. That didn’t stop her from triple locking her door.
Chapter 4
The calls started at dusk. Ben looked at the phone and waited. It could be anyone, but she knew it wasn’t. Only one person called her at dusk. She chewed her thumbnail, a horrible habit she’d broken years ago, but it was back. Just like the harassment.
She considered not answering the phone or just turning it off, but Ben knew it wouldn’t work. If she didn’t answer, rocks started coming through her window, or worse. Ben didn’t think she could handle worse again. The door was locked and had the chair in front of it. Her bedroom was also bolted shut. The windows were locked, and all the shades were drawn. Her world was as small and protected as Ben could make it. All but the phone. The new number didn’t matter, and the fact that it was unlisted seemed like no deterrent at all against her stalker.
The phone rang again. Ben tasted blood on her lip and realized she’d bitten through the skin on her thumb. She wiped her abused nail with a tissue and lifted the receiver to her ear.
“Leave me alone, please, leave me alone.” She was begging. She needed peace and if begging was what her stalker wanted, she’d push aside her pride and do it. “I’d give you money if I had any. Please, just tell me what I can do to get this to stop.”
“I don’t want your money, Bennie. Don gave me plenty.” The voice. It wasn’t often that the woman actually spoke, but every time it gave Ben chills. There was something wrong with the woman. Something evil.
“Then what? Please. I want this over.”
“Oh. I don’t know, Bennie, there’s so much.” She laughed, a nearly sweet giggle that made her sound like she was flirting, and Ben cringed. Between the front door lock and the bolt on her bedroom door only feet away, she was safe. She knew that, but the knowledge didn’t stop her from shaking.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded again, checking the windows.
“I watched you at the funeral, and you cried and I liked that. I want you to cry while I watch. I want to taste your tears.”
“I’ve cried,” Ben confessed, the tears threatening again as helplessness filled her. “All the time.”
“Good, then you’re doing something right,” the stalker replied, the bubbling flirt so strong in her twisted words Ben felt dirty just listening. “Don’t worry, by the time I’m done with you those itty bitty tears will be the least of your worries. You just wait and see.”
The line went dead again, but Ben didn’t let go of the receiver for a long moment. She stared at the phone and at her bedroom door, straining to hear if there was movement in the rest of her apartment. She was going crazy.
But this time she wasn’t running. She had nowhere to run. She set her phone beside the cradle and pulled her cellphone from her nightstand. It was a pay-by-the-minute plan and wickedly expensive, but in Chicago the police had used her hanging up the phone as a reason not to pursue the threatening phone calls.
Ben turned on her cellphone. She’d made enough mistakes to know if she started making them again she’d be dead. As much as she didn’t want to bring anyone into her problems, she couldn’t handle them herself. Praying for patience and for the help she so desperately needed, she dialed nine-one-one.
* * * *
Ben didn’t know how she was going to stay awake. Her normally uncomfortable stool at her desk was worse than usual, but that still didn’t keep her eyes from drooping.
After calling the sheriff, she’d agreed to go down to the station to give the full details while an officer looked over her apartment. She’d gone over all the sordid details of her past with the sheriff and one of his deputies. The ugliness was all Don’s and, unlike in Chicago, the Flathead Falls police left the blame on him and let her be the victim.
In СКАЧАТЬ