As Good As Dead Page 14
And now she was thinking, maybe there’d been something else before that. The day of Stanley Forbes’ funeral. When the ceremony was over and Pip returned to her car, she’d found a small bouquet of roses tucked inside her wing mirror. Except every flower head had been picked off, red petals strewn over the gravel below. A bouquet of thorns and stems. At the time, Pip thought it must have been one of the protesters at the funeral, who hadn’t disbanded until the police were called. But maybe it wasn’t any of the protestors, not Ant’s dad or Mary Scythe or Leslie from the shop. Maybe it had been a gift, from the same person who wanted to know who would look for her when she disappeared.
If it was – if these incidents were connected – then this had been going on for weeks. Months, even. And she hadn’t realized. But maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe she was reading too much into everything now, all because of that second dead bird. Pip didn’t trust herself and she didn’t trust her fear.
Only one thing was clear: if these all were from the same person – from dead flowers to dead pigeons – then it was escalating. Both in severity but also occurrence. Pip needed to track it somehow, collect all the data points and see if there were any connections, if she really did have a stalker or if she was finally losing it. A spreadsheet, she thought, imagining the smirk on Ravi’s face. But it would help to see it all neatly laid out: help her work out if this was real or only real in the dark place at the back of her head, and if it was real, where it all might lead, what the end game was.
Pip made her way across the room to her desk, stepping over the tipped-out contents of the drawer; she would tidy that up later. She pulled her laptop open, double-clicked Google Chrome and pulled up an empty tab. She typed stalker into the search bar and pressed enter, scrolling down the list of results. Report a stalker on a government website, a Wikipedia page, a site about types of stalkers and Inside the mind of a stalker, psychology sites and crime statistics. Pip clicked on the first result and started to read through it all, turning to a fresh page in her notebook.
She wrote who will look for you when you’re the one who disappears? Underlined it three times. She couldn’t help but feel the quiet rage embedded in that sinister question. She did think about disappearing sometimes, running away and leaving Pip behind. Or disappearing inside her own head, in those rare moments when her mind was quiet, an absence she could just float in, free. But what did disappear mean, really, when it came down to it? Define disappear.
Sometimes people came back from being disappeared. Jamie Reynolds was one example, and Isla Jordan, the young woman Elliot Ward had kept for five years thinking she was someone else. They had un-disappeared. But then Pip’s mind went back to the beginning, back to Andie Bell, to Sal Singh, to the victims of Scott Brunswick ‘the Monster of Margate’, to Jane Doe, to every true crime podcast and documentary she’d ever lost herself in. And in most cases, disappear meant dead.
‘Pip, dinner!’
‘Coming!’
File Name:
Potential Stalker Incidents.xlsx
Date
Days Since Last Incident
Type
Incident
Severity Scale (1-10)
29/04/2018
n/a
Online
Tweet: Who will look for you when you’re the one who disappears?
1
11/05/2018
12
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
2
20/05/2018
9
Offline
Dead flowers left on car
4
04/06/2018
15
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
2
15/06/2018
11
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
2
25/06/2018
10
Online
Tweet: (same question)
1
06/07/2018
11
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
2
15/07/2018
9
Online
Tweet: (same question)
1
22/07/2018
7
Online
Tweet: (same question)
1
29/07/2018
7
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
2
02/08/2018
4
Offline
Empty envelope posted through door. Addressed to me.
4
07/08/2018
5
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
2
12/08/2018
5
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
2
17/08/2018
5
Online
Email: (same question)
1
22/08/2018
5
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
2
27/08/2018
5
Offline
Dead pigeon left on driveway (with head)
7
27/08/2018
0
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
3
31/08/2018
4
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question)
2
02/09/2018
2
Offline
5 chalk figures drawn at top of driveway (headless stick people? )
5
04/09/2018
2
Offline
5 chalk figures further down the driveway, closer to the house
6
04/09/2018
0
Offline
Dead pigeon left on driveway (without head)
8
04/09/2018
0
Online
Email and Tweet: (same question) with added PS. Remember to always kill two birds with one stone
5
There was something stuck to her shoe. Clacking against the pavement with every step, the gummy pull unbalancing her tread.
Pip slowed to a jog, then a walk, right down to a stop, wiping her forehead on her sleeve. She raised the leg to inspect the underside of her trainer. There was a crinkled piece of duct tape stuck to the middle of her heel. The silver finish on the tape had muddied to a dirty grey. Pip must have run over it somewhere on her route, unknowingly picked it up.
She pinched her fingers around the filthy piece of tape, peeling it off as the tacky side clung to the dark sole of her shoe. It came free, leaving little specks of gluey white behind, specks she could still feel as she picked up her pace and started running again.
‘Great,’ she hissed to herself, trying to get her breathing in order again. In, step, two, three, out, step, two, three.
She was taking her longer route this evening, up around Lodge Wood. Long. Fast. Exhaust herself so maybe she wouldn’t need to take anything to fall asleep. This plan never worked out, never had and probably never would, and she believed her own lies even less now. The last two nights had been the worst for a long time. That doubt keeping her awake, that niggling idea that someone might be out there watching her. Someone who might even be counting down the days until she disappeared. No, stop. She’d come on a run to get away from those thoughts. Pip pushed herself even harder, out of control, rounding the corner too fast.
And there he was.