Marino was studying her, his eyes interested. “When exactly was this?”
She faltered. “Tuesday, I think. A week ago Tuesday. Late, maybe ten, ten-thirty at night. I worked late in the newsroom, finishing up a story . . .”
He looked confused. “Uh, correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you was on the graveyard beat, six to two A.M., or something.”
“That Tuesday one of the other reporters was working my beat.
I had to come in early, during the day, to finish up something the editors wanted for the next edition.”
“Yeah,” Marino said. “Okay, so this car. When did it start following you?”
“It’s hard to know. I didn’t really notice it until several minutes after I’d pulled out of the parking deck. He could have been waiting for me. Maybe he saw me at some point. I don’t know. But he was right on my rear bumper, his high beams on. I slowed down, hoping he’d go around me. He slowed down, too. I speeded up. Same thing. I couldn’t shake him. I decided to go to Farm Fresh. I didn’t want him following me home. He did anyway. He must have gone by and come back, waited for me in the parking lot or on a nearby street. Waited until I came back out and drove off.”
“You positive it was the same car?”
“A new Cougar, black. I’m absolutely sure. I got a contact at DMV to run the plate number since the cops couldn’t be bothered. It’s a rental car. I’ve got the address of the dealership, the car’s plate number written down if you’re interested.”
“Yeah, I’m interested,” Marino told her.
She dug inside her tote bag and found a folded piece of notepaper. Her hand trembled as she gave it to him.
He glanced at it and tucked it inside a pocket. “So what then? The car followed you. It followed you all the way home?”
“I had no choice. I couldn’t drive around all night. Couldn’t do a damn thing. He saw where I live. I came in and went straight to the phone. I guess he drove past, went on. When I looked out the window, I didn’t see him anywhere.”
“You ever seen the car before?”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen black Cougars before. But I can’t say that I’ve ever seen that exact car before.”
“You get a look at the driver?”
“It was too dark and he was behind me. But there was definitely just one person inside the car. Him, the driver.”
“Him? You’re sure about that?”
“All I saw was a big shape, someone with short hair, okay? Of course it was a him. It was awful. He was sitting rigidly, staring straight at the back of my head. Just this shape, staring. Right on my bumper. I told Henna. I told her about it. I told her to be careful, to keep an eye out for a black Cougar and if she saw a car like that near the house to call 911. She knew what was going on in the city. The murders. We talked about it. Dear God! I can’t believe it! She knew! I told her not to leave her windows unlocked! To be careful!”
“So it was normal for her to have a window or two unlocked, maybe open.”
Abby nodded and wiped her eyes. “She’s always slept with windows open. It’s hot in here sometimes. I was going to get air-conditioning, have it installed by July. I just moved in right before she came. In August. There was so much else to do and fall, winter, wasn’t that far off. Oh, God. I told her a thousand times. She was always off in her own world. Just oblivious. I couldn’t get it to sink in. Just like I never could get her to fasten her seatbelt. She’s my baby sister. She’s never liked me telling her what to do. Things slid right over her, it’s like she didn’t even hear them. I’d tell her. I’d tell her the things that go on, the crimes. Not just the murders, but the rapes, the robberies, all of it. And she’d get impatient. She didn’t want to hear it. She’d say, ‘Oh, Abby, you see only the horrible things. Can’t we talk about something else?’