Chapter 15 - It's the Small Thing That Can Kill You! - Red Hooded Sweatshirt

 Chapter 15 – Red Hooded Sweatshirt

After discussing the topic of profiling crime scenes over coffee and onion rings we made plans to meet at the diner again on Wednesday, right after the Men’s Anxiety Treatment Group concluded its session. Clara and I waved goodbyes to Rico and Fenton. Clara wanted to check in on Frank, so I volunteered to walk with her over to Happy Meadows. The mist started up again, but it wasn’t as heavy as before.

The precipitation thinned as we walked. Clara unbuttoned her raincoat, stopping her bicycle briefly. She whispered to me as she glanced over her shoulder. “I think that car is following us.” I looked back and saw a grey ford sedan with Nevada plates slow down and stop. A small figure wearing jeans and a red hooded sweatshirt slowly got out of the passenger side of the car. He shut the door and then stretched. The driver was a large burly looking fellow in his mid-forties, I guessed. The smaller man pounded on the hood of the car twice, an obvious signal to the driver. The car slowly rolled towards us and then passed slowly by. I unconsciously started to stick my hand up to wave. Clara quickly slapped it down.

“Ow! Hey, he wasn’t following us. See, he was just letting his passenger out. He drove right by.” I said with some degree of relief.

“Quit waving at strangers. You are just asking for it.” Clara said out of the side of her mouth.

“It doesn’t mean anything. I also wave at dogs. I’m just being friendly.” I protested.

“You wave at dogs?” She said in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with that?” I looked back over my shoulder at the figure in the red hooded sweatshirt. Clara was doing the same.

“News flash. Ex passenger with red hoodie is stalking us!” She announced.

“Maybe he just happened to be following us” I reasoned.

“He is stalking us, Jax.” Clara said nervously.

“I meant that maybe he is just behind us, going in the same direction at the same time.” I knew that I was losing this argument, but for some reason I couldn’t stop trying.

“That’s the very definition of stalking.” She shot back.

“Doesn’t stalking have to be done at night? In the dark, I mean.” It was clear that this was my anxiety talking back to her, I couldn’t help myself.

“Jax, I swear to God…” She gave me an icy glare and grabbed my hand dragging me towards Juniper Park.

The mist stopped as she dragged me into the park. The park itself was tucked into a little hollow as if the land had been cupping it all along. A winding path of smooth stone curved towards a cluster of wooden picnic tables made out of some kind of red lumber, pale and faded over time.

The tables sat under a canopy of Junipers whose branches held beads of moisture. We both stood by the tables. I noticed that the man following us did so at a leisurely pace. The red hooded sweatshirt that he wore tripped a memory from my group therapy session with Dr. Knivens.

Today Mikey had been acting funny after Rico came in for our session. He fidgeted and refused to share much when his turn came up at the beginning of therapy. It was the way we began our groups, sort of touching base with everyone. Walter calls it ‘making-the-rounds’.

When questioned about why he was so nervous he said that Rico’s hoodie was triggering him. Mikey broke down and said that he was being stalked again by a man in a red hooded sweatshirt. A week ago, he said he had seen the same man walking through his neighborhood, pausing to look at his house before moving on to a convenience store up the street. The same evening Mikey found a dead mouse in his garage and had to ask a neighbor to come over and remove it, much to his embarrassment. Mikey believed that the man wearing the red hoodie had been responsible for leaving the mouse in his garage. He was angry over the incident and told the group that if he ever caught up to the man with the red hoodie, he would do some seriously violent things to him. I wondered if this could be the same guy.

The man sauntered over towards us. He pulled his hood back. I could see that the small man was athletically build. Perhaps he was a runner or a tennis player.

“Whoa, I’m glad you two slowed down. I haven’t walked that much in quite a while. Guess I’m a bit out of shape.” The man smiled.

I didn’t believe him. He had neither been breathing hard nor moving that fast when he followed us. I studied the lines on his face. He wasn’t as young as I originally thought. Athletic-looking and probably in shape, yes. But he was no longer a kid. Far from it. I could see now that he might be well into his early fifties. It was the hoodie and the fact he was wearing expensive-looking sneakers that made me think he could have been much younger.

“If I may be so bold, I had a friend drop me off so that I could have a word or two with both of you. It shouldn't take up much of your time and…”

I jumped in front of Clara and locked eyes with the little man. “You need to turn around and whistle for your ride. Neither one of us wants to talk to you.”

“Hold on!” The man with the red hooded sweatshirt took his hands out of his pockets. Clara, I’m here to help you.”

“How do you know my name?” Clara asked suspiciously.

“I understand that you, Jax and Mikey might be having some difficulty managing Frank.” The small man smiled again. His teeth were perfect.

“Who the hell are you mister?” Clara’s voice had an edge to it now. She was over her apprehension and fear.

“My name is Joey Flowers and whether you believe me or not, right now we need to help each other. For Frank’s sake.