The Stalker (Elvis Presley Story)

Chapter 19

Rain. Sheets of it, blowing sideways in the wind. Slanting down on the deserted road.

The road was dark except for a high, arching street lamp. It's light was a misty orange halo, shining weakly onto a telephone booth only forty feet away from Melissa's motel room.

The phone was occupied.

Melissa saw a pale smudge that might have been a hand or a face. Except for that, all she could see was the dark shadowy outline of a figure.

But she knew.

She knew it was the stalker, watching her through the rain.

Taunting her.
Threatening her.
Melissa was terrified. But her head was clear now. And the nightmare of being pulled back and forth like a helpless, mindless puppet made her realise that was exactly how she'd been acting. Helpless. Mindless.

No more, she thought. Not anymore.

A wave of anger surged inside her, wiping out the terror. "Listen!" She hissed into the phone. "You want to keep playing this game? Fine. But guess what? I'm about to even the score!"

She slammed the phone down, then pulled it off the table onto the floor. On her knees, out of the stalker's sight now, she punched in the number for the police.

"Somebody's across the street from my motel room, in a phone booth!" She cried as soon as she was connected. "He called and he knew what I...."

"Calm down, please, and give me your name and number," a woman's voice said.

"Melissa Williams," Melissa said quickly. "I don't know the number. The....I can't remember the name! It's a motel someplace out of town!"

"All right, ma'am, and this person is where?"

"I told you," Melissa said urgently. "In a phone booth across the street. He's been watching me."

"Don't you know who it is? Can you see him now?"

"I don't want to look - he'll see and figure out I'm calling you!" Melissa said impatiently. "I want you to come and arrest him!"

"Try to calm down," the woman repeated.

Melissa clenched her teeth. "I'm telling you he's out there right now and I want you to do something about it."

"Yes, ma'am, I understand that, but I need to...."

"There isn't time for twenty questions!" Melissa shouted. She started to say more, then changed her mind and hung up.

No time to waste. No time to wait. If the police couldn't do something, then she would. She wasn't about to let him get away! Crossing the room in three steps, she flung open the door and raced outside.

Windblown rain slammed against her like a wall, tried to push her back. Melissa leaned into it, peeled a strand of hair out of her eyes, and kept running. Past the swimming pool, across the parking lot. Rain like bullets on her head, her back.

Don't let him get away!

Onto a narrow strip of grass. Swampy now. Mud oozing between her bare toes.

Take him by suprise. Beat him at his own sick game!

Over the slippery curb and into the street. Water flowed down it in a torrent, foaming around her ackles.

Breathless and furious, Melissa raced upto the telephone booth.

Empty.

No one in sight. No cars. No figure, slinking away in the darkness.