Stalking Sydney

By Andie Alexander

When Sydney Burke is almost strangled by a serial killer with a penchant for poetry, she becomes the focus of a certain FBI agent named Joe Ross, who’s hunting for the serial killer. Sydney is a stringer—a freelance journalist who races to newsworthy scenes to get video to put on the air for a fee. She unwillingly becomes a target for the serial killer who wants something from her. Between dealing with a crazy ex-boyfriend, paying off gambling debts to a pimp, and staying away from a congressman with Alzheimer’s in a quest for her identity, Sydney has to find the killer and escape the city before she becomes the next victim of his bad poetry and a gun to the head.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andie Alexander
• Release date: Oct 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452487137

Andie Alexander

Andie writes mysteries and adventures, and also writes as all the author names on SweetTaleBooks.com. Writing is escapism, at its finest.See more at http://www.AndieAlexander.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

Midnight. The witching hour.

And a week until Halloween.

A shiver went up my spine, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Something didn’t seem right, but I had to go inside. My fans and my checkbook depended on it.

I got out of the car with my small video camera in one hand and my mace in the other, while my heart pounded at a rate of a million miles an hour. As I turned on my camera, the familiar whirring sound ratcheted up the excitement.

While inching toward the dark warehouse door, I put my finger on the trigger of the mace, just in case. I never knew what would happen in this type of situation and usually got there after the cops, so it was safe. But this time, no cops were around. I glanced over my shoulder. No one was around. At all.

I was tempted to phone some of my buddies, but I didn’t have their phone numbers stored in my cell phone anymore. I had to remove the numbers for security purposes. Besides, I’d already phoned my brother. If he’d just hurry up, I could get a shot of the perp and my brother hauling him in—a collar for both of us.

This situation seemed almost surreal. Such a quiet area either meant nothing was happening, or a crime was about to be committed. The thought gave me another shiver and an extreme adrenaline rush—my favorite, next to mint chocolate candy bars. I loved my job.

I moved up to the door, almost tiptoeing so I wouldn’t make a noise. The robber didn’t need to know I was there or I wouldn’t get a good shot of his face.

Weird. It was too quiet. It was never this quiet or lonely in the Washington, D.C. area. Even though it was just past midnight on a Monday morning in late October, there would still be some sort of activity, I was certain. I couldn’t even hear cars nearby because of where this warehouse was located.

The door was ajar by about an inch, so I peeked inside, only able to see darkness. Maybe I’d messed up the address? But if so, why would the door be open, even an inch? No, this was right, and the number over the door proved it, even in the dim lighting in the area.

After pulling my camera to my eye, I flipped on the night vision and looked again. Nothing. Just warehouse-type stuff—shelves filled with boxes and moveable stairs.

I had to go inside. This could be the story of a lifetime. I could break the case wide open and really make a name for myself, which was my ultimate goal. However, I should’ve realized that if a goal got me killed, it wasn’t really a goal…it was just stupidity.

I eased the door open with a creak and popped my head inside. More nothingness. I inched into the empty and very dark warehouse using the night vision on the camera to figure out where to walk. The place was empty, putting me both at ease and at attention, if that was possible. A quiet voice in my head told me to call my mini-army of high-up governmental friends, if I could remember their numbers. They could be here in a heartbeat. But I wasn’t allowed to call them—they only called me, designed for safety’s sake. The more I thought about it, the less it made sense, if I were in trouble.

A noise sounded in the back of the warehouse. It had to be the burglar. Robbery in progress, just like the anonymous email had said. This was just a normal case, like I’d done before, without the emergency personnel around. I told myself it was better than having cops push me back behind some line or not allow me to take video. This was like a perk to me.

I started filming and headed toward the noise, one silent step at a time while hearing something that sounded like someone opening and closing drawers. According to the sign at the front, this place was used to store governmental kitschy items, like celebratory plates and key chains for the tourists coming to the nation’s capital. Why would someone want to rob a place like this, unless it was really a front for some terrorist plot or something evil? The thought made me even more determined to get a good story, but my mind tended to run a little wild. Even so, if I could break open something like that, I’d be at the top of my field.

A light went out in an office and all noise ceased when I turned a corner. I was in the middle of the warehouse. If the person saw me, I’d be dead meat. I couldn’t run back out in the dark, using the camera’s night vision, because it shielded some of my view. I also couldn’t continue forward for fear of running into the burglar or monster. My mind raced. I had to hide; terrified I might get caught. What if the guy had a weapon? Now I was really scared, worried I’d be killed.

As I glanced around in the darkness, I realized the burglar would see the camera light. I was like a sitting duck. I turned off the camera to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, but it wasn’t working. It was so dark in the interior of the warehouse; I was completely stuck and helpless. I hated the feeling.

I extended my hand so I wouldn’t run into anything, and inched toward the wall. If I could follow the wall toward the office, I might be able to get a good shot of the burglar at the last moment without him noticing. I took a few steps.

A breath hit my cheek. Someone—or something—had come up behind me.

Sydney, the man whispered. At least it sounded like a man, but he had a high voice, even in a whisper.

I spun around, but couldn’t see anyone. The sound of my name in this empty warehouse made my stomach fall. This was a setup.

Sydney. The whisper hit my ear again. Like the buds on the trees falling away in summer, your days are over. It’s time for you to die.

Even creepier. I had to get away. Someone wanted me dead and I should’ve called my mini-army of governmental friends.

I tried to run away, but not in time. Fingers surrounded my neck and pressed inward, while other fingers pushed in on the back of my neck. I was being choked to death and the horror of the thought hit my brain. I’d never see my family again or live out my dreams. But worst of all, I’d never have another mint chocolate candy bar again.

My breath withered away while I pulled on his fingers with my left hand. Spraying the mace seemed like a stupid idea. The can was in my right hand with my camera, but I didn’t even know where his face was located. While trying to transfer it to my left hand, I dropped the mace, hearing it clink as it hit the concrete floor and roll off into the darkness. I tried to suck in a breath but very little air entered my lungs. The man’s fingers pressed into my skin and I tried to hit him with the camera, but he just dug in more.

I was dying.

You deserve to die. Die, Sydney, die.

What did I do and who could hate me that much? I didn’t have any enemies, because I’d stayed invisible the best I could. Maybe someone was angry with me because I was good at my job. The competition was fierce so I couldn’t rule it out.

I couldn’t talk and could hardly move. If I wanted to live, I had to fight.

I swung my arm downward and back as far as I could, hitting him hard with my camera as he stood behind me. He let go of my neck. I spun around and kicked him while gasping for air. From what I heard and sensed, he ran away, so I tried to run after him, even though my head was spinning and it was so dark. I couldn’t breathe well and my neck hurt. The adrenaline rush was amazing, urging me on toward my attacker, but I faltered, unable to continue, and doubled over to gasp for air. I wanted his picture and I wanted revenge.

Syd! Where are you? It was my stupid brother, Ted, who was a D.C. cop. Considering I’d called him a while ago on the way to the warehouse, he certainly took his time to get there. He needed to be quiet but I wasn’t about to engage him in conversation. My goal was to get my attacker, but I wasn’t able to run.

I continued to fight for air and tried to straighten up. With one gasp, I pulled my camera to my eye to see where he was. I flipped the thing on, seeing if I could get a shot of his face with the night vision, but he was nowhere in sight.

Syd! Are you here? Ted again. I wished I could muzzle him and find the guy who’d tried to kill me.

I took a breath, still feeling the pain in my neck. It was hard to breathe, but I did my best. I tried to swallow, but it wasn’t working well at all. However, I had to get the guy who wanted me dead and I wasn’t going to let a sore throat slow me down. I just wished I could breathe better to get moving.

~~~~~

Chapter 2

"Here’s her mace," Ted said.

The huge overhead light turned on and I winced, the pain hitting my eyes.

Syd! There you are.

I could only open my eyes a slit. Ted. The brat. My voice came out as a mere whisper.

Sure. Who else would it be?

You could be the guy who tried to kill me, I managed to whisper. But it was tough, because I could barely breathe past the sore throat. Reality sunk in and the adrenaline faded. I fell to my knees from the pain, just trying to breathe. My camera hit the floor with my head following suit. I couldn’t stop it.

Syd! Are you okay? I felt hands on my back and a voice in my ear, but closed my eyes.

My neck, I squeaked.

Someone lowered me to the floor, turning me over. Wow. That’s a lot of red makeup on your neck.

I recognized the voice as Ted’s stupid partner, Brooke, the blonde bimbo. They didn’t come much stupider than Brooke.

I kept my eyes closed. Someone tried to choke me, I whispered, holding onto my neck. I could still feel the guy’s fingernails pressing into my skin as I tried to suck in air.

Who? Ted asked.

I don’t know. I tried to breathe, but it felt like my windpipe was damaged and only some of the air was getting into my lungs.

Call an ambulance, Ted said.

No, I whispered. No ambulance. I need to find this guy.

I tried to sit up but Ted forced me back to the floor, hitting my head with a thud. Stay put or Mom will never forgive me. He knelt beside me and grabbed my wrist.

Now, I knew Ted knew nothing medical, but at least he was trying. I had to hand him that.

I heard Brooke try to figure out how to give directions over the phone. Ted sighed, grabbed his walkie-talkie, and barked something into it—a lot of numbers. I forced myself to breathe, the pain making me struggle.

Your pulse isn’t right, Ted said to me.

Like he knew anything about pulses. He was probably just trying to impress Brooke.

Don’t die, he said. Mom will never forgive me for losing her baby.

Very funny. My voice came out as a slight whisper and my head was killing me. I raised my hand to my forehead to give Ted the message I was in pain, but he kept talking about how he was the oldest and it was his job to watch over me. I ignored him, trying to remember what the potential killer said as he dug his fingers into my throat. I wanted to find him to inflict major revenge, but had to figure out why he’d try to kill me. The guy even knew my name, which was chilling, to say the least. He must’ve been the author of the anonymous email, sending me to this warehouse for the robbery. I wondered if my mini-army of friends needed to know about this. I decided it wasn’t a federal problem, but just a freak accident from some crazed fan.

The sound of a siren meant one of my competitors was on the way. I couldn’t let that happen—no way would I let someone make money off my face. I was a stringer—a freelance journalist who strived to get video of newsworthy stories. After I got the story, I would ‘rush it to feed’ with a news outlet to have the video put on the air for payment. It was a tough job, but it was the best thing for an adrenaline junkie like me. As it so happened, Washington, D.C. was a hotbed of stories that could go national. This city was right where I needed to be.

I shook my head and sat up. Get me out of here, I whispered to Ted. The ambulance was getting closer.

He stared at me as if a light bulb went off in his brain. I understand. He helped me to my feet, grabbed my camera and the mace, and took me to the door. I had to go slowly, because a lack of oxygen made my legs feel like lead.

As soon as the ambulance turned off the siren and stopped beside the warehouse, Ted helped me into the back. I glanced out the doors, seeing Danny Murphy’s car with the red flashing light on the top pull to a screeching halt behind the ambulance.

Danny was my nemesis. He did anything to get ahead as a stringer, even taking dangerous risks on the road—more so than I did. He routinely drove on the curb or the sidewalk just to pass people. With the most well-respected name in the area, the local news outlets knew they could count on Danny to get a great shot, even if he had to hang off a bridge, dress in drag to crash a party, or scale a mountain to get the story. He’d done all that and more, just to get his name out there. I don’t think he even wanted the money, because he was one of the richest men in America from his family’s money. Danny did it for the fame and the adrenaline. I did it for all of that and the money. I wanted it all.

To beat Danny, I had a major following on the Internet. Fans sent me stories to check out, and this one was no different. However, this robbery call hadn’t even made it to the police scanners and I was the one to tell Ted it was happening, calling him on the way. I should’ve known it was a trap, but who would want to hurt me—a little 110-pound five-foot-four woman with a blackbelt in karate? Some help that blackbelt did. I was incapacitated and couldn’t get the upper hand, since it’d been a surprise attack.

Danny ran to the back of the ambulance. Who’s inside?

No one, Ted said, holding him back.

I moved further inside the ambulance and lay down on a gurney, hiding my face with my hands. I didn’t need to be the laughingstock on the stringer emails and didn’t need Danny Murphy making fun of me in front of the camera. I peeked out from between my fingers, to see what was going on. If need be, I’d grab a blanket and throw it over my head before Danny could make money from my face.

Ted closed one door and stood in front of the open one, so no one could get in. Brooke, take our car back to the station. Ted threw her the keys. Talk to no one.

Sure, boss.

Ted got into the ambulance and stood in front of me with his hand outstretched. Your keys?

I grabbed my sore throat. Why?

I’ll take it to the hospital. I want to know what happened.

I sat up, reached into my pocket, and handed him the keys. Bring me my purse when you get there, I whispered.

I swallowed hard, watching him. He backed away and got out of the ambulance while the two EMTs pushed me back down to the gurney.

What happened? the one woman asked. The other one closed the doors and locked them.

Are you Janice? I asked. The ambulance took off, racing through the streets with the siren screaming in my sore head.

She nodded. You know me?

I swallowed hard, closing my eyes briefly from the pain. Yes. Someone tried to choke me, I whispered. I’m a stringer.

Both women shook their heads as if I was the most evil person in the world.

Oh, a stringer, Janice muttered. I know all about you guys. You’re making our lives miserable. She started in on a rant and stuck a huge needle into my arm, making me cry out in pain. I wasn’t about to argue, but stopped myself from grabbing her and throwing her out of the back of the ambulance.

After getting to the hospital, I was whisked inside, hearing Danny’s voice in the parking lot. Let me in! I have to see who’s been hurt.

No, Ted said.

How either one got there that fast was beyond me. Danny had probably committed a few offenses, and I’m sure Ted hadn’t followed the law, either, even though he’d been using my car.

The orderlies wheeled me into an exam room. Not more than few minutes passed before an attractive, blond-haired, blue-eyed doctor walked in, grinning from ear to ear. Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Miss daredevil redhead with the green eyes.

Do I know you? I asked in a whisper.

He nodded. I lived on your brother’s dorm floor in college.

You lived on the floor of his room? I whispered. Wasn’t that tough to sleep on the floor? I knew what he meant, but didn’t want him to think I was brighter than he was. I was no slouch, but knew in this world, women weren’t supposed to be smart if they were flirting. It was a stupid rule, but I used it to get dates.

He laughed. No. Third floor. We lived next to each other in the rooms, but he never brought any of your family to see him. I saw your pictures, though, so I recognized you right away as Sydney, the redheaded, green-eyed, daredevil. I wonder why he never brought you guys to see us?

It was more problematic that he had pictures of us, but I didn’t mention it. His choice, I whispered. He was dating and didn’t want to be bothered.

Ted walked in and shook the doctor’s hand with a laugh. Brett? How are ya?

Fine. He slapped Ted’s back. I still can’t believe you joined the cops. You had a bright future in the field of law.

Well, life got in the way and I needed money. I’m taking a course here and there…for now. Life to him was his no-good ex-wife, who took him for everything he was worth. He was certainly taking his time with that degree, too. He had one more course to finish and to pass the bar exam before he could move on. However, he had to find the time to take that course and with his schedule, he couldn’t do it.

Brett looked down at me. Now Sydney’s in my E.R. What a small world. He stepped closer to me while wearing that white coat, looking hotter than a blond-haired surfer dude. It was like candy for my eyes.

What happened to you? he asked, leaning closer.

I was strangled. My voice came out as a whisper again, making him frown. He was so hot, I had to check his left hand—ring…married…off limits. I considered killing off the wife, but ruled it out. Ted would throw me in jail and enjoy it because he could finally keep an eye on me. He and Mom hated my job, but I loved it.

Strangled? Brett asked Ted.

Ted nodded. We got there and I think the guy ran off. Sydney can’t talk very well, so I can’t question her much.

Brett looked at my neck, touching it slightly with his warm fingers. Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an attempted strangulation before. Cool.

Not if you’re the victim.

He did tons of tests—which I passed without even studying—and put some ice on my neck. You’re going to be bruised and sore, but I think you’ll live. You may even be able to talk tomorrow. The guy must not have been very strong, because nothing’s damaged.

The guy was a pansy, I whispered.

Both men laughed.

No talking unless necessary, Brett said, and laughed in delayed understanding. A pansy. I should’ve met you before I married my wife. You’re a hoot.

He had no idea about how funny I could be, probably at his expense.

I was certain Ted had never told me about Brett for a reason, because I wished I’d met the guy, too. He would’ve been fun to play with, because I suspected what I saw was what I got with old Brett. There was no depth in his character, and no secrets.

Ted took some pictures, called in some other officers, and asked me questions. I sat up, poised to write answers for him on a pad of paper.

Who was it? Ted asked.

I rolled my eyes and began to write. If I knew that, I’d have told you already. Like I wrote before, someone emailed me from my website and told me there was a robbery. I didn’t get good pictures of him, but if you check my camera, you might see something.

Your camera’s broken.

That was horrible news—no, terrible, horrible news. I needed that camera. No! Check the feed I shot.

No talking, Ted said, smiling. I’ve been waiting your whole life to tell you that. The video came up empty—nothing there. Don’t you think it’s about time you settled down? Want me to fix you up with my accountant? He’d keep you at home, barefoot, and pregnant.

I rolled my eyes. Oh, my life goal. I hoped he heard the sarcasm in my whisper, but instead, he slapped his hand over my mouth, the brat. He, of all people, should know I had too many other things going on in my life, and an accountant would be left in my dust. I was a shaker and a mover, and not someone who wanted to be tied down by a person with a fear of life and a love of numbers while controlling my money flow. Yuck.

He loves redheads with green eyes, Ted said. Hey, maybe you could model a giant pencil for him or something?

That didn’t even make sense to me, but Ted thought it was hilarious. I shot him a dirty look and grabbed the pen and paper again, concentrating as I wrote. Check my computer. There might be some way to track the guy down. He put his email as anonymous, but I get a lot of those.

Ted shook his head, holding his clipboard and a pen. I don’t think we have the resources for that. Is there anything else you want to tell me?

Didn’t have the resources? How tough was it, anyway? I knew I should’ve gotten my computer degree instead of my law degree.

With a sigh, I thought back and put my pen to paper again. ‘Yeah. He whispered my name in my ear and said something about the buds in spring falling dead in summer or something weird like that. Do you have a list of crazy people who like to quote bad poetry? If so, he’d be at the top of the list. At least I think it was a man from his whisper.’

As soon as he read over my paper, I saw his mouth drop and his face pale. Syd, I’m putting a guard on you and I want you to stay here tonight or come to my place.

That was weird. Why?

Don’t talk. He ran out of the room just as another officer stopped in.

Who are you? I whispered.

I’m a rookie. I work in this PSA. PSA stood for a Police Service Area—like a precinct—and Ted worked in the third PSA in D.C., where my apartment, Ted’s apartment, and our mother’s home were located so he could keep an eye on us. The warehouse was in the second PSA, so Ted was really out of his jurisdiction to help me. Do you know Ted? the rookie asked me.

He’s my brother. I cleared my throat.

He’s one tough cookie. Did you know he’s trying to be a detective?

I nodded. The less I said the better I felt.

Ted ran back into the room. You’re coming with me. He grabbed my arm and helped me to my feet. We’re going to my place.

I hated his apartment. It was within spitting distance of the police station and every time anything happened there, the noise was horrible.

Mom’s meeting us, Ted added.

I