Eyes of a Stalker by Valerie Sherrard Page B

twisted and embellished.
    â€œAnd it could help catch this idiot.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œBy having the whole town — and especially this neighbourhood — on the alert. If everyone around is watching for anyone or anything suspicious, someone is bound to see something.”
    â€œThat isn’t
always
a good thing,” Mom said. When Dad and I both looked at her questioningly, she explained. “Well, the police could be swamped with calls. If their time is wasted looking into every person who happens to walk along a sidewalk in our neighbourhood,they’ll be so busy they might not have time to check legitimate leads.”
    â€œThat might happen anyway, once the rumours get around,” I said.
    We went over the pros and cons for a while, and then they asked me what I thought.
    â€œYou’re letting me decide?” I said in surprise.
    â€œNot exactly,” Dad admitted. “We have to make whatever decision we believe is best, but we’d like to know how you feel so we can consider it along with everything else.”
    â€œI think we should go ahead,” I said, relieved I wasn’t actually calling the shot.
    â€œSo do I,” Mom said. I knew she was reluctant about it, considering the possible drawbacks, but, like me, she saw more good than bad in the idea.
    â€œIt’s unanimous, then.” Dad got up and headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll give Alyson a call and tell her she can come over.”
    Mrs. Stark must have had her keys in her hands, waiting for Dad’s call, because she drove into our driveway less than ten minutes after he let her know we’d decided to give her the details. She burst into the kitchen trying to keep her face solemn, though there was a spark of excitement in her eyes. I suppose that’s what makes for a good reporter: feeling the thrill of a story even if it’s about something bad.
    â€œShelby,
honey
,” she said to me, though I don’t think we’d ever actually met before, “I was just
horrified
when Nora told me about this. I mean, this is Little River, right? Things like this just don’t
happen
here.”
    â€œWould you prefer to sit in the living room or here in the kitchen?” Mom asked, keeping her voice neutral. Even so, I could tell immediately that she didn’t like the breezy way Mrs. Stark was acting.
    â€œWherever Shelby is more comfortable,” she said.
    â€œI’m afraid we’re not quite on the same page here, Alyson,” Dad interrupted. “You won’t be interviewing Shelby.”
    â€œOh?” Her eyebrows shot up like he’d just said the most surprising thing ever.
    â€œNo. You’ll be talking to me and my wife, and no one else.” Dad’s voice and expression were both mild, and I wondered if Mrs. Stark would try to persuade him to let her talk to me. If she did, she’d see that his tone and appearance were both deceptive.
    She went for a different tactic. “Well,
of course
, whatever you think is best. We’ll just get a couple of quick shots of Shelby and then she can run off and do whatever she likes.” A camera materialized in her hand as if by magic. “If she’s anything like Nora, she probably has a
truckload
of homework to get done anyway.”
    â€œThere won’t be any pictures,” Dad said. Same voice, same look. “Darlene and I will give you the details ofwhat’s happened and that will be it.”
    â€œAre you sure about this? I mean, not everyone knows what Shelby looks like. It would be helpful for them to see her. Otherwise there could be calls left, right, and centre about every teenaged girl who happens to be walking down the street with a boy anywhere near her.”
    â€œNo pictures,” Dad answered evenly. “The neigh-bours all know Shelby, and they’re the ones who are most likely to see and report anything suspicious.”
    I saw her weigh whether or not