Project Produce by Kari Lee Harmon Page A

a bit, so anything was possible. I chewed my lip and decided to call for help. I pulled out the new cell phone Gloria insisted I buy, even though I couldn’t afford it, and punched in the number for the police.
    No ringing, no dial tone, nothing.
    I cursed. Guess it would’ve helped if I’d actually charged the thing. What would Hot Britches do? He sure wouldn’t stand around out in the open like live bait.
    I grabbed my keys with shaking fingers and let myself inside the apartment then slammed the door. The key hook beside it rattled, and I jumped. As fast as my trembling body would allow, I locked the door and let out a huge sigh. As I snatched up the wall phone, I glanced out the window but still didn’t see anything. So I dialed the police and then hung up.
    I couldn’t call the police. What would I say? Some shadow had spooked me? I had no proof. I hadn’t even seen my stalker, but I knew in my gut someone was out there.
    Waiting. Watching.
    The only person I could call was Dylan. No way . He’d think I had changed my mind. Not that I’d ever intended to start an actual relationship with him. Not gonna happen, no matter how sweet he was, or how much I missed him, or how great that kiss had been. Although, I wouldn’t mind catching a glimpse of Big Betty right about now.
    Fine time to disappear, Zuc .
    I dropped into a chair at the table and propped my head in my hand, staring out the window. A half hour later, the sun shone brighter on the people milling about the street. I had begun to think I’d imagined the whole thing, but then the bush across the street rustled beyond the frozen sidewalk.
    “I knew it. I’m not crazy.” I jumped up and raced to the coat closet, searching the top shelf for the binoculars. I’d seen Gloria use them to spy on the hottie across the street in apartment 3B.
    Grabbing the phone from the kitchen, I dialed the police and stretched the cord until I could see out the living room window. I crouched low and held the phone to my cheek with my chin while I peeked through the blinds and stared at the bush.
    “New York City Police Department, may I help you?” asked a female voice with a Long Island accent.
    “Um, yes. I want to report a crime.”
    “What type of crime, ma’am? And speak up. I can barely hear you over all this racket,” she said above the hum of people talking, phones ringing, and keyboards clicking.
    “Oh, well, I’m not sure. But someone followed me.”
    “Someone followed you. Ma’am, this is a city of more than ten million people. Are you sure they weren’t just headed in the same direction?”
    “No. Yes. I mean, I’m sure they were following me. I could feel it.”
    “You could feel it. Uh-huh.” She snapped her gum. “And what exactly did you feel, ma’am?”
    Pretty darn stupid . I rolled my eyes. “Their presence. I could feel their presence. Right behind me.”
    “Uh-huh. Did you see anyone, ma’am?” Papers rustled in the background.
    “Well, no. Not until I came inside and peeked out my window with my binoculars.”
    The officer paused. “Let me get this straight. You’re calling to report that someone followed you. You didn’t see anyone, but you could feel them. And now you’re staring out your window with a pair of binoculars like a... if you don’t mind me saying, ma’am, a Peeping Tom.”
“Yes. I mean no. Look, I’m not staring in anyone’s window. I’m staring at a bush.”
“A bush. So now you think a bush followed you?”
“Of course not.”
    “Uh-huh.” Snap, chew, snap .
    “The person who followed me is hiding in the bush. I saw it move.”
    “Sure you did. So tell me, when you look through your magic glasses, crystal ball, or whatever the heck you’re using, what does this person look like?”
    “Look, I’m not crazy. I’ll tell you what I see.” I focused my binoculars on a gap in the bush. “Holy cow, I see Cat Woman.” I pressed my lips together and smacked myself in the forehead.
    Note to self: