Read Online at First Sight (2008) by Stephen Cannell - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Cannell
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10 P . M . on the night my whole life changed.
Chapter 9
THE HOUSE WAS SMALL, WITH A TINY FRONT LAWN. IT was not the kind of place you'd expect to find the scion of the Chandler media fortune, certainly not a house I would choose if I had his money. I was parked a little way up the street. The address, written down so carefully in Hawaii, was open now on my lap. The letters, in her delicate hand, were wavering under my blurring vision.
2367 LIPTON ROAD, CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA
I looked at the house and I remember saying out loud, "Chick, this is nuts?' Of course it was way beyond nuts. This was real, hard-core, front-of-the-line stalker nonsense.
I had driven more than six hundred miles to park outside another man's house, so I could look into his lighted living room, hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife as she passed by the window. Unacceptable.
It was as if just letting the vision of her find its way into my brain might salve the pain of these past few days--of Melissa in jail, my sorry business going bankrupt, and the dwarf in the shiny pants with the hair growing out of his ears.
I watched. I waited. What was I doing? I swear, at that moment I didn't have a clue. I wanted to start up the blue Taurus and leave, but I couldn't move my hand to the ignition key. Every time I tried, I hit some sort of powerful force field. My fingers hovered inches away, unable to make contact and close the distance, which would have saved me.
I don't know how long I sat there. My thoughts were becoming pretty jumbled . . . pretty abstract. I thought about my dad, my wife. The first time I saw Evelyn at Mike Donovan's pool party. I thought she was beautiful then, never seeing the woman she would become. Not seeing the anger or the self-hatred that now drove her to pump iron obsessively for hours in our basement gym. I thought about Paige and Chandler Ellis and this little house so far away from L . A . I thought about the insanity of this trip down here, not knowing until I pulled the address out of my pocket what I was really doing, but then knowing in a flash that it had been my plan to come here all along.
That realization, that truth, hit me harder than any of the events of the past month. I knew this was insane, and still I couldn't leave. I couldn't put the little car in gear and save myself, because, you see, I knew that no matter what happened to me, whether I stayed or left, I would never again be the same Chick Best. Somehow, I knew right then that my coming here had changed who I was forever.
I didn't need some Beverly Hills therapist to explain that, either. The trip here had convinced me I had lost control. My love for Paige Ellis had morphed into an uncontrollable obsession.
That's when the door opened and Chandler Ellis walked out of his house. At first I thought he was going to the mailbox. But instead, he walked to the green Suburban parked in the driveway, got in, started the vehicle, and backed out.
I ducked down as his headlights swept over my car. Then I sat up, and without knowing what the hell I was doing, I started the Taurus.
I followed him.
Why did I follow him? I've asked myself that question at least a thousand times since all this happened. I wanted to see Paige. I came all this way to maybe find a way to talk to her. So why was I following Chandler? I didn't know. I couldn't answer that, except to say some psychic force had taken control and was driving me.
At any rate, my mind reeled with questions. What was Chandler doing, leaving his house at eleven in the evening? Where was he going? Did he have a girlfriend stashed across town? Was he cheating on Paige? Was he so stupid that he didn't know he was married to the most desirable woman on earth? What would happen if I caught him with another woman in some cheap motel someplace? What if I found him screwing his brains out? How would I deal with it?
These were some of my fantasies as I followed him. Of course, the answer to that last one was I'd
Chapter 9
THE HOUSE WAS SMALL, WITH A TINY FRONT LAWN. IT was not the kind of place you'd expect to find the scion of the Chandler media fortune, certainly not a house I would choose if I had his money. I was parked a little way up the street. The address, written down so carefully in Hawaii, was open now on my lap. The letters, in her delicate hand, were wavering under my blurring vision.
2367 LIPTON ROAD, CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA
I looked at the house and I remember saying out loud, "Chick, this is nuts?' Of course it was way beyond nuts. This was real, hard-core, front-of-the-line stalker nonsense.
I had driven more than six hundred miles to park outside another man's house, so I could look into his lighted living room, hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife as she passed by the window. Unacceptable.
It was as if just letting the vision of her find its way into my brain might salve the pain of these past few days--of Melissa in jail, my sorry business going bankrupt, and the dwarf in the shiny pants with the hair growing out of his ears.
I watched. I waited. What was I doing? I swear, at that moment I didn't have a clue. I wanted to start up the blue Taurus and leave, but I couldn't move my hand to the ignition key. Every time I tried, I hit some sort of powerful force field. My fingers hovered inches away, unable to make contact and close the distance, which would have saved me.
I don't know how long I sat there. My thoughts were becoming pretty jumbled . . . pretty abstract. I thought about my dad, my wife. The first time I saw Evelyn at Mike Donovan's pool party. I thought she was beautiful then, never seeing the woman she would become. Not seeing the anger or the self-hatred that now drove her to pump iron obsessively for hours in our basement gym. I thought about Paige and Chandler Ellis and this little house so far away from L . A . I thought about the insanity of this trip down here, not knowing until I pulled the address out of my pocket what I was really doing, but then knowing in a flash that it had been my plan to come here all along.
That realization, that truth, hit me harder than any of the events of the past month. I knew this was insane, and still I couldn't leave. I couldn't put the little car in gear and save myself, because, you see, I knew that no matter what happened to me, whether I stayed or left, I would never again be the same Chick Best. Somehow, I knew right then that my coming here had changed who I was forever.
I didn't need some Beverly Hills therapist to explain that, either. The trip here had convinced me I had lost control. My love for Paige Ellis had morphed into an uncontrollable obsession.
That's when the door opened and Chandler Ellis walked out of his house. At first I thought he was going to the mailbox. But instead, he walked to the green Suburban parked in the driveway, got in, started the vehicle, and backed out.
I ducked down as his headlights swept over my car. Then I sat up, and without knowing what the hell I was doing, I started the Taurus.
I followed him.
Why did I follow him? I've asked myself that question at least a thousand times since all this happened. I wanted to see Paige. I came all this way to maybe find a way to talk to her. So why was I following Chandler? I didn't know. I couldn't answer that, except to say some psychic force had taken control and was driving me.
At any rate, my mind reeled with questions. What was Chandler doing, leaving his house at eleven in the evening? Where was he going? Did he have a girlfriend stashed across town? Was he cheating on Paige? Was he so stupid that he didn't know he was married to the most desirable woman on earth? What would happen if I caught him with another woman in some cheap motel someplace? What if I found him screwing his brains out? How would I deal with it?
These were some of my fantasies as I followed him. Of course, the answer to that last one was I'd
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