The Face Behind The Mask

14

At the dining room table, Skyden held her daughter tightly, both of them squeezed onto a single chair, clinging to each other. Kelsey was pale, wrung out, still shaking.

Cameron paced behind them.

Across the table stood a young uniformed Pittsburgh Police officer with the stature and fresh face of a dairy farmer. He seemed like he'd be far more comfortable with Holsteins rather than with an emotional family.

"You say you didn't get a good look at him," he said. When Kelsey shook her head he scribbled on his tablet. He looked over his shoulder toward the front door. "And you don't have a doorbell camera?"

"No," Skyden replied quietly.

He chewed the cap of his pen. "Lately, have you felt like maybe someone's been following you or watching you?"

"There was some guy," Kelsey said.

"What guy?" Cameron's loud voice startled her.

"On the hill when Alexa and I were playing tennis."

"When was that?" the officer said.

"At school. A couple days ago. I don't know."

"Why didn't you tell me?" her mom asked.

"It wasn't a big deal. Nothing happened. Prob'ly wasn't anything." She rested her head on her mom's shoulder.

The policeman said, "Anything else unusual happen? Anything you can think of?"

Kelsey shook her head again.

"Well, there was one thing," Skyden said.

Cameron glanced up at her.

"Some stranger contacted me on Facebook pretending to be an old friend from high school."

"And?"

"And there were some inappropriate comments made. About me." She lowered her head for a moment.

"And your daughter?" the cop asked.

She nodded sheepishly.

Cameron's words came in a burst. "Damn it, Skyden. Why didn't you--" He cut himself off and gulped down his impulsive reaction.

"I blocked them. Took down my photo album. Everything."

As though Kelsey was invisible, the cop said, "Is your daughter on TikTok or Instagram?"

"I'm barely on social," Kesley said. "I don't have time."

A second policeman entered, old enough to be the young cop's father. Referring to his notes, he said, "Gotta neighbor says he saw a plumbing or HVAC truck parked out on the street. A neighbor across the street said she saw a dark-colored SUV she didn't recognize. Didn't get the license number but was pretty sure it was Ohio plates."

The young officer asked, "Do you know anyone from Ohio?"

"Lots of people," said Skyden. "I grew up in East Liverpool."

"So, what can we do?" Cameron asked.

"Keep your doors and windows locked and your eyes open. If you see something unusual, give us a call."

It wasn't comforting advice.

His partner said, "You might want to consider a doorbell camera or a security system of some kind."

"Yeah," said Cameron. "Okay." His face and tone of voice softened.

The McKenzies lived in an affluent community and, up until now, had avoided installing a security system on general principles.

"Is that person still trying to contact you on Facebook?" the cop asked.

"No," said Skyden.

Tucking away his tablet, the young officer said, "Okay, then. You folks have a good evening and let us know if you run into any other problems."

Problems, Skyden thought, watching Cameron accompany them to the door. To a police officer, at least to this particular police officer, an attempted home invasion was a problem. To Skyden, a clogged drain in the bathroom, or a flat tire, or an unhappy client, or a late food delivery were problems. A maniac attempting to break into her home and do who knows what to her daughter wasn't a problem. It was a five-alarm, all-hands-on-deck crisis. Have a good evening? There wasn't a chance in hell that was possible.

"What were the cops doing here?" Brick asked as he lumbered into the house. When he saw the expressions on the faces of his mother and sister he said, "What happened?"

........

The man slowed to a stop in the Walmart aisle, a roll of plastic under his arm. He'd made his way through the women's clothing department on his way to the check-out, and there laid out on the display table were women's underwear. Not just any underwear. The package said Cute Low Rise Bikini Rib Cheeky Panties.

He was riveted by the picture. A rear view of a girl wearing a pink form-fitting pair of undies stretched tight across her fanny. You couldn't see her head, just her torso from her shoulders down to mid-thigh, right below that firm derriere of hers. You could see just a bit of her long blonde hair. He knew she was pretty even though he couldn't see her face. She was thin, curvy, and tan, and not an ounce of baby fat on her. She'd outgrown that stage. She was becoming a woman. And look at that ass. Of course, they wanted you to look. That was the whole point. Look and see these Cute Low Rise Bikini Rib Cheeky Panties on this sexy young woman.

"Stare much?" said a guy wearing camo shorts who smelled like a cigar. He chuckled and pushed his cart past.

The man didn't like those kinds of remarks. They weren't funny. They were rude and mean. He felt his cheeks flush, his glare cold and steely as he walked away. He ought to wait out in the parking lot for that joker and bash his brains in when he came out of the store. People shouldn't be allowed to get away with that. You think you're funny? Actions have consequences, asshole.

He'd been working on controlling his temper. His therapist gave him some exercises to practice but so much of that psychologist mumbo-jumbo was bullshit. One thing he knew for sure was that therapists love to talk and talk and talk and talk.

He steamed as he walked to the check-out.

The Walmart cashier smiled at the man. "Did you find everything you were looking for?"

He set the roll of plastic sheeting on the conveyor.

"I say, did you find everything you were looking for?"

"Yeah," he said. He watched her scan the roll. She wasn't attractive. That's probably why she wore so much eye makeup. There were gray smudges beneath her eyes. Probably even when she was young she wasn't pretty. He could tell. She didn't have a pretty face and it was getting older and wrinklier by the day.

Her red lacquered nails caught his eye. Her metal bracelet clacked against her cheap watch. He hated when girls wore junk jewelry. It made them look foolish and cheap. And then he saw the tattoo on her arm, the face of some cartoon cat with big, bulging eyes. Why would anyone choose something so stupid inked onto their skin where it would remain for the rest of their dumb life? She probably thought it was cute but it wasn't cute. It was stupid. Stupid and ugly.

"That's twenty-six eighty-seven," she said. "Will that be cash or card?"

He noticed the loose skin beneath her chin. He opened his wallet, trying not to think of her sagging face, and produced a twenty and a five.

"That's twenty-six eighty-seven," she repeated emphasizing the six.

He checked his wallet again.

"We take cards," she said with a soft smile.