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Back Stalker Save as PDF
Chapters (66)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. EPILOGUE
  63. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  64. MORE FROM GEMMA ROGERS
  65. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  66. ABOUT BOLDWOOD BOOKS

I check the day she registered, then I find her. She arrives at the gym late in the afternoon. Ian had been in earlier that day too and I scroll back to see him entering at around quarter past ten. I rewind it back to watch again, but my finger slips on the mouse and pushes the timer further back. I catch a glimpse of a figure on the periphery of the screen. She looks up towards the camera before swiftly turning away out of shot. On the screen for maybe two seconds at most. The back of my neck prickles and the fluttering develops into giant swoops in my stomach. I slow the video down, holding my breath. Twenty or so seconds after Ian enters the gym, I freeze the video and it stutters. Eve’s grey image nods at me in agreement, eyes wide and lips parted. She doesn’t look vengeful. She looks terrified.

I hear footsteps come down the corridor and close the video down, rushing to the toilets to be alone. I lean over the sink, staring at my reflection, inhaling deeply. The blood has drained from my face. The initial elation of my findings dissipated as the stretch of skin on my inner thigh burns incandescent. The memory of a cigarette end pushed into my flesh all those years ago. A reminder of why it is hard to see women like Eve dragged through the system. Victims whose assailants are never caught. Did she take matters into her own hands? Would I? If I could go back?

55

SATURDAY 27 JANUARY 2018

‘Ben! It’s been years, how are you, mate?’ Ian stuck out his free hand towards Ben, who looked shell-shocked; still trying to connect the dots. I was pleased I could blame the cold wind for the colour of my face. How on earth did Ian know Ben? They couldn’t be more different if they tried. My stomach knotted.

‘I’m good, thanks, I hope you’re treating my flatmate well?’ Ben said. I saw his body stiffen, but he shook Ian’s hand, glaring at me with a ‘what the fuck’ expression.

‘Of course, you know me. I didn’t know you two lived together?’

‘It’s a small world,’ I chipped in, adding, ‘I thought you were at a wedding?’

‘Amy was sick, so we left after the service.’

‘How do you two know each other?’ I asked.

Ben continued to frown at me.

‘We used to do door work together. Good times, good times.’ Ian chuckled nostalgically before glancing at his watch. ‘Anyway, we’ve got a reservation. I’m sure I’ll see you around, Ben.’