Mistaken Identity

Throwing her bag on the couch, Ellen took in the stillness of the room. She wasn’t sure what she expected however after being gone for 3 months she thought some sort of fanfare had been in order. Looking over at her answering machine, she saw the blinking red light. Her friends thought it was too old school to have an actual landline in her house, much less an answering machine. They had not been the subject of a very active stalker either. She hoped they never understand her need to get unplugged and go away.

Pushing the button to listen to the first message, she leaned against the wall and slowly sank to the floor. It wasn’t until she had reached it, that she realized she was starting to hyperventilate. It was him. The guy that had been stalking her for the last 2 years. Confusion swirled in her mind as she racked her brain to figure out how he had gotten her number. It was unlisted and the address associated with it was a PO Box in another county. Something he said caught her attention and she bolted straight up. Pressing the rewind button, she listened again. She barely made it to the bathroom as she throw-up.

From the bathroom she could hear the second message play. It was him again, same message different day. As each message played, she realized he had been there with her. On her trip. He was describing what she had done everyday, down to what she had worn. She was numb by the time she heard the machine tell her the tape was full. Rinsing out her mouth and pulling her hair back into a bun, she walked back to the bag she left in the living room. Pulling out her burner phone, she started to call the detective working her case when a red envelope came sailing under the door. It was the same envelope she had been receiving like clockwork every day for the last 2 years. She knew not to touch it. She also knew not to open her door. However, this time she could not help herself and flung it open, stepping into the hall. There at the end of the hall was a kid, about 16 years old, pushing their bike towards the elevator.

“Hey!”, Ellen yelled down the hall as she reached into her apartment to get the envelope. “Did you just put this under my door?” Holding the envelope up for the kid to see. The kid slowly turned around. Squinting like they needed glasses, they yelled back, “Yeah! Some guy gave me a $20 to put it under 3F.” Hearing the voice, Ellen realized it was a girl on the bike. “What did he look like?”, Ellen asked more softly. The girl shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know. He was on a bike outside the door and stopped me as I was passing. All I saw the $20. Sorry, man.” The doors behind the girl opened up and she pushed her bike onto the elevator. Looking down the hall at Ellen, she gave her a smirk and waved as the doors started closing.

That smirk made Ellen run back inside and look out the window. Waiting on the girl to come out of the building, she called the detective. While the phone was ringing, she rushed back to the bag and grabbed her camera. It had been one of her first purchases after she ditched her iPhone. She was not about to go on this fabulous international trip and not take pictures. Pictures! Just as the detective answered the phone, she quickly said, “He followed me on my trip. He called and left voicemails for each day, even down to what I was wearing. He was just here. Had some teenager bring up the red envelope. I am waiting to see if she talks to anyone when she comes out of the building…..hold on. There she is.” Taking a breath, Ellen put the phone on the window sill and put the camera lens through the slats of the blinds. Focusing on the door, she saw the girl come out of the building and look to her right with a “thumbs up” signal. Following the girls line of sight, Ellen started taking pics of everyone she could see and then she saw him. He was there, on a bike just as the girl had said he was. She knew it was him because she had spoken to him at a cafe in Greece.

Spinning away from the window, she almost dropped the camera. Picking up the phone and stumbling to the couch, she said, “Are you still there?” “Ellen, what is going on?” “He left another envelope. And I just saw him outside my apartment building. Mike, how did he find me?” “Ellen, lock the doors. Do not open the envelope or answer your phone. We are on the way. And Ellen, don’t answer the door either. I will call you when we are on the other side.” Nodding at the phone, she hung up.

Eight minutes later, she was sitting in the same spot when her phone rang. Thinking it was Mike, she answered it without looking at the screen. “Silly girl, you will never find me no matter how hard you look or how many times I allow you to see me. I will always be one step away.” And then silence was all she heard from the phone. The phone rang again, startling her. Looking down at the phone, she recognized the number and answered it, “Mike he just called me. On the burner.” “Open the door, we’re here.”

Two hours later, they had gone through every picture Ellen had taken on her trip and the pics she took that morning of the man on the street. Ellen had also given a very detailed description of the man from the cafe, down to the tiny mole just above his right nostril. After being stalked the last two years, she was leery of even saying hi to the guy but her wallet had been left open and her money had fallen out. While she was telling Mike the story, she remembered that when she went to put her money back into her wallet, it had been closed. Mike asked her for any Drachma she had left from her trip. She had kept one as a souvenir and gave it to him. He took it from her with a gloved hand and put it in an evidence bag. He put the bag with the one that contained the red envelope from that morning.

That night, she had tossed and turned for hours unable to sleep. Just as she started to doze, she heard the floors in her bedroom creak. Sitting straight up in bed, she picked up the gun that was in her hand and shot the man standing at the end of her bed. Hearing him hit the floor, she turned on the light on the nightstand and walked over to the crumpled heap laying on the floor. Having grabbed her phone, she called Mike.

Twenty minutes later, Mike had arrived back at the apartment and he had brought Ellen with him. The detective that had come to her place yesterday with him was a woman with the same size and build as Ellen. She had brought with her a duffle bag, presumably for collecting evidence. They knew that the stalker was watching the apartment so Ellen would not be able to leave on her own. When they had finished looking through the pics and were ready to leave, they had given Ellen a uniform to wear so that she could leave the apartment unnoticed. The second detective, Merideth, had stayed behind in hopes that the stalker would make a move. He had been brazen by sticking around after dropping off the envelope and calling her earlier that day. And he did not disappoint. Staring down at the man, she felt a slight satisfaction as he took his last breath. The shock on his face as she stood over him in Ellen’s apartment proved that they had been right.

The following Thursday, Ellen left her apartment for the first time in two years without looking over her shoulder every 5 seconds. She finally felt like she could go back to whatever normal was supposed to be. She and Mike had really grown to like each other and had decided to explore what could be a very nice relationship. She was lost in thought when someone pulled on her jacket sleeve. Stopping and looking at the little boy next to her, she had to stifle a scream as he handed her a red envelope.