know it’s a man, but I can’t tell if he’s old or if he’s young. I told
you that I’ve heard him many times on the phone. He started calling
me in Albany and then he followed me here to New York. I
never saw him in Albany, but I’ve seen him here, stalking me, not
close enough to identify, but I’m sure it was him I saw three different
times. I reported this eight days ago to you, Detective Morales.”
“Yes,” said Detective McDonnell, a man who looked like he
sliced and diced criminal suspects for breakfast. His body was long
and thin, his suit rumpled and loose, his voice cold. “We know all
about it. We acted on it. I spoke to the police in Albany when we
didn’t see anything of him here in New York. We all compared
notes, discussed everything thoroughly.”
“What else can I tell you?”
“You said he calls you Rebecca, never shortens your name.”
“Yes, Detective Morales. He always says Rebecca and he always
identifies himself as my boyfriend.”
A look went between the two men. Did they think it was a
vengeful ex-boyfriend?
“I’ve told you that I don’t recognize his voice. I have never
known this man, never. I’m certain of it.”
Detective Letitia Gordon, the only other woman in the room,
was tall, wide-mouthed, with hair cut very short, and she carried a
big chip on her shoulder. She said in a voice colder than McDonnell’s,
“You could try for the truth. I’m tired of all this bullshit.
You’re a liar, Ms. Matlock. Sure, Hector did everything he could.
We all tried to believe you, at first, but there wasn’t anyone around
you. Not a soul. We wasted three days tagging you, and all for
nothing. We spent another two days following up on everything
you told us, but again, nothing.
“What is it with you? Are you on coke?” She tapped the side of
her head with two long fingers. “You need attention? Daddy didn’t
give you enough when you were a little girl? That’s why you have
this made-up guy call himself your boyfriend?”
Becca wanted to punch out Detective Gordon. She imagined
the woman could pulverize her, so that wouldn’t be smart. She had
to be calm, logical. She had to be the sane adult here. She cocked
her head at the woman and said, “Why are you angry at me? I
haven’t done anything. I’m just trying to get some help. Now he’s
killed this old woman. You’ve got to stop him. Don’t you?”
The two male detectives again darted glances back and forth.
The woman shook her head in disgust. Then she pushed back her
chair and rose. She leaned over and splayed her hands on the
wooden tabletop, right next to the clump of dried food. Her face
was right in Becca’s. Her breath smelled of fresh oranges. “You
made it all up, didn’t you? There wasn’t any guy calling you and
telling you to look outside your window. When that bag lady got
blown up by some nutcase, you just pulled in your fantasy guy
again to be responsible for the bomb. No more. We want you to
see our psychiatrist, Ms. Matlock. Right now. You’ve had your fifteen
minutes of fame, now it’s time to give it up.”
“Of course I won’t see any shrink, that’s–”
“You either see the psychiatrist or we arrest you.” A nightmare, she thought. Here I am at the police station, telling them
everything I know, and they think I’m crazy. She said slowly, staring
right at Detective Gordon, “For what?”
“You’re a public nuisance. You’re filing false complaints, telling
lies that waste manpower. I don’t like you, Ms. Matlock. I’d like to
throw you in jail for all the grief you’ve dished out, but I won’t if
you go see our shrink. Maybe he can straighten you out. God
knows someone needs to.”
Becca rose slowly to her feet. She looked at each of them in
turn. “I have told you the truth. There is a madman out there and
I don’t know who he is. I’ve told you everything I can think of. He
has threatened the governor. He murdered that poor old woman in