FicWad

Chapter 8: A harsh introduction



When Kirsh and Pete arrive at his residence in the evening the man is exhausted and tired. After the stop at Dr. Morley's they drove to Kirsh's place where she picked up a suitcase and a bag with clothes and other personal belongings that she would need while staying with her charge. Then she brought the police car back to the station and went with the bassist in his car.

"You can have the guestroom at the end of the hall, left hand side," Pete points towards the room.

"Thanks," Kirsh replies and passes him, carrying her luggage.

"You want me to give you a hand with that bag?"

"I'm good, thank you." I've already made it upstairs with it, moron.

Pete stares at her back as she keeps on walking, "There's an adjacent bathroom. Help yourself to the DVD collection... And let me know if you need anything else."

Kirsh stops and turns on her heel, puts down the suitcase and the bag for a moment. "Thank you, Mr. Wentz. I'm here to guard and protect you, though, and not to watch movies and take long hot baths."

"You know what? I'm just trying to be nice. It's not like my heart's desire is finally fulfilled with you staying here, ok?!"

The woman feels tempted to ask him for his age again but thinks better of it. She was too harsh, his situation isn't exactly an easy one. Now that he's let his defenses down towards her she shouldn't have been all that condescending.

She sighs and then replies, "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I'm behaving unprofessionally, I apologize."

Kirsh is anxious about not coming home regularly. Brian is taking good care of Fey. And there's Mom. I can't let his rockstar's attitude get to me. I'm a professional and this is a career opportunity. If I make a good job of this, there's a promotion in store.

Pete tugs at his t-shirt that has gotten tangled between his belt and jeans, "That's ok. We didn't have a good start. I guess we should be making the best of this situation... No hard feelings." He gives her a coy smile.

"No hard feelings," the detective answers and nods at him. Then she picks up her luggage and continues on her way to her temporary abode.

I can't wait to get to know her early morning personality.





Later at the dinner table Pete puts down a white piece of paper printed with middle-sized characters.

Kirsh spikes a carrot with her fork and examines the man's expression. "Is something wrong?"

He indicates the single sheet that contains information on how to behave when being stalked, including the basic steps to diffuse the motivations of stalkers. Morley gave it to him on his way out.

"I might have done a thing or two wrong," he says, sounding distant.


-> Do not engage in discussion with stalkers. Do not argue and or negoiate.Ongoing communication will only reward them and lead them to maintain contact./


How could I have known that she would stalk me when I replied to her messages?


-> NEVER initiate contact with stalkers. This may be interpreted as you having interest in them.
-> If the stalker indicates that he/ she wishes to have a relationship with you make it completely clear that this is not wanted now or in the future. Say this only once and use plain language. Don't be emotional and avoid using threatening or humiliating language. It's best to rehearse this with a friend before speaking directly with the stalker.


The last e-mail I wrote her was quite aggressive.


-> Do not ignore any threat. Inform the police and save record of threats.
-> Obtain an order of protection.
-> Have quick access to useful telephone numbers and the location of safe places (e.g. police stations, friends' houses, etc.). Keep a packed suitcase in the car for quick departure. Keep gas in your car and money/ credit cards in your wallet.
-> Make sure all personal information on paperwork is destroyed before discarding it. Stalkers may go through your trash in the hope to find personal information.


Or to pick up disgusting t-shirts that they sent you. Seriously, how sick is that?


-> Keep a detailed diary of the stalker's behavior, including photographs of destroyed property, injuries inflicted by the stalker, recordings of harassing messages, etc. Keep pen and paper easily accessible for this purpose.


I shouldn't have deleted the voice messages and e-mails. Why didn't I just save them?


-> Check the security of your home. Install dead bolt locks. Change your locks if you do not know where all of your keys are. Install ourdoor lighting, lockable windows, exterior motion sensor lights and peepholes in doors.


Who knows about the extra key in the hollow Alice in Wonderland figurine next to my mailbox? The guys... Mom... Moranne. Maybe a few other friends?


-> Vary your routes of travel. Park in safe, well-lit areas. Always have someone excort you to and from your car.
Do not change your phone number. A stalker may view this as a new challenge to overcome to be with you.


Ok. So I shouldn't have changed my cell number.


-> Learn how to protect yourself.


"Well," Kirsh swallows and pushes her empty plate away. "You can't make things undone, Mr. Wentz. Now you know what to do and what not to do, that's all that matters."

He nods, "Call me Pete, please."

"Honestly, I'd prefer calling you by your last name. Nothing personal, it just helps me to not become emotionally involved, which is an essential part of my professional ethics."

"Yes, your professional ethics," the man repeats. Even though my life is a mess right now, I'm beyond stoked that I allow myself emotions.

The reason why people judge books by their covers is because it helps them to put others into categories, which seems to make the world an easier place to comprehend. Unfortunately, in doing so they distort their environment, and they deprive themselves of the ability to gain new insights and ultimately question their own self-righteous beliefs.

This holds true for police officers as well as rockstars.

"What's your first name?" Pete asks without thinking.

"I'd also appreciate you just calling me 'Kirsh'", she responds.

"Ok, KIRSH. I just wanted to know... but you know what? Don't bother," he spits out, fuming. Then he grabs the two plates and tosses them carelessly into the sink.

"Adrienne."

Pete's still standing in the kitchen, propping himself up on the smooth surface next to the sink. He grimaces in pain and then runs a hand over his face.

Kirsh finally turns around because he doesn't reply and immediately jumps up, hurries to his side.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. It's just a headache," Pete starts rubbing his temples. "Ever since this fucking stalker business started I've been getting these terrible headaches."

"Could be the stress," Kirsh points out. "You know, Dr. Morley also attends to stalker victims, if you want that."

She leads him back to the table where he sits down. Then she pours him some water from the tap. Pete gulps it down and then gets back up.

"I'm gonna go upstairs and lie down. Got some aspirin up there too."

The detective nods.

As Pete has almost reached the bottom of the staircase that leads to the second floor he calls back to her, "Would you mind going outside with Hemingway for a few minutes?"

Kirsh isn't too excited about the suggestion. When she entered the house a few hours ago the British bulldog wouldn't stop barking at her.

Chances are the intruder is a close friend or relative of Wentz who the dog is rather familiar with. Apparently he didn't bark at her or tried to hinder her to gain entrance into the house as he did with me, a complete stranger.

After the officer had let Hemingway sniff at her and patted him a while, according to Pete's directives, the dog calmed down and didn't mind her in his home anymore. Now that she accosts him lying on the floor with his leash, he just looks up at her dumbly and raises.

"That's a good boy. I'm talking you for a walk."

She feels stupid for talking to a canine like that. She's never owned a dog or has been close friends with somebody who does, for which reason her feeling out of place with this animal is only natural.

After a brisk walk around the block, and her urging Hemingway to finally 'offload his cargo', the duo returns to Pete's house. Kirsh sticks her key into the lock and finds it open.

There is no way in hell she didn't lock it before she left.

Carefully she pushes the door open, trying to keep the dog behind her so she can assess the situation. Noise coming from the living room area.

Quickly, the detective ties the dog leash to the outside part of the door handle, prays that Hemingway will stay silent, enters the house and shuts the door behind her.

The female draws her gun and releases the safety. She won't shoot unless necessary.

Sneaking slowly towards the source of the noise, she notices her breath becoming hitched.

There's a dark-haired woman in the living room, going through one of the cupboards. She's humming a simple melody and wiggling her behind to it.

Gotcha.

"Freeze," Kirsh says calmly but slightly above normal conversational sound level.

The intruder winces in surprise and freezes.

"I'm pointing a gun at the back of your head and at this distance the bullet would go right through your skull if I pulled the trigger. So you wouldn't want to try any silly moves on me, missy. Hands up."

"O.... Ok. Please don't shoot me. You can take anything you want but please don't shoot me," the female's voice sounds shaky and distressed.

Kirsh frowns, "What are you taking about? I'm a cop, not a burglar."

The woman in front of her sobs softly.

"Turn around. Slowly!"

She does as she's told. A second later the officer notices a picture in a golden frame on the wall. She looks back at the suspect.

"You're a friend of Mr. Wentz's?" Kirsh demands to know.

Moe nods intimidated, still staring at the gun that's aiming at her, "I... I'm Pete's girlfriend."

SHIT.

Instantly the detective takes down the gun, secures the safety and puts it back into the holster.

Moranne takes her hands down and breathes deeply. Once the weapon is out of sight her fear turns into anger.

"WHAT THE HELL did you do that for?! Are you insane? I'm not a criminal, you can't just point that thing at me!" she screams furiously.

As Kirsh is about to apologize and explain the situation to her, her voice is drowned out by Moe's yelling Pete's name.

She knows he's home, his car is parked outside. Why am I attacked by a cop and where is Hemingway?

"He's upstairs sleeping," the officer tells her. "Or WAS sleeping."

"Whatever," Moe rushes past her. Kirsh hears her running up the stairs.

Great, I can't wait for the angry boyfriend to enter the scene.

Kirsh walks over to the door and fetches the dog.

"She did WHAT?!"

In the meantime the officer has sat down at the table. Maybe I shouldn't have aimed the gun right at her without asking her who she is first...

But she has a key and the dog must know her quite well.

There's hasty footsteps on the stairs.

"YOU!" Pete appears in the door frame, pointing a finger at her. "How dare you threaten my girlfriend with your gun? I want you to get out NOW!"