make you feel as though you’re in danger.” He pulls me close. “But you’re not, Issy. Just because he knew where you were doesn’t mean he can get anywhere near you.”
I let myself rest against the warmth of his body, forcing myself to take the logical view.
The stalker can’t get to me. He just wants me to think that.
“ The stalker fits the profile of a psychopath,” adds James. “He has an obsession with fame. He thinks he can somehow steal your fame away by inflicting terror.”
He’s certainly managed to do that.
“He gets a kind of thrill,” continues James, “when he thinks he’s scaring you.”
“He is scaring me,” I say. “I hate that he knew where I was. Even with a time delay. It’s… really disconcerting. How did he get a picture of the signpost?” I add.
“Satellite pictures,” says James. “That’s why the image looked strange to me. He used a satellite image of a landmark near to you and digitally added his lipstick mark.”
That sounds way too clever for my liking.
“How could that have happened?” I protest . “He’s supposed to be locked up in prison. Surely the police have a duty to stop him harassing people?”
“That’s what we don’t know,” James admits. “We’re trying to find it out.”
I ponder this. I don’t like it at all.
“This feels… wrong,” I say.
“We’ll find out more,” says James. “The main thing to remember, Issy, is that he’s trying to mess with your mind. But he can’t actually get to you.”
“It sounds like he’s clever,” I add, not liking the thought. “Tracking my phone. Using computer imaging.”
“He is clever,” admits James. “Many dangerous criminals are. But that doesn’t matter, Issy. Because he’s been caught and locked away. Try not to let this bother you. It’s exactly what he’d want.”
I nod, mentally resolving to stay strong.
“Can we find out who’s helping him?” I ask. “Do we know anything about them at all?”
“ It’s someone with plenty of money,” says James. “But that’s about all we know.” He smiles grimly. “There are laws to protect the stalker too,” he says. “We’re not allowed to pry into who’s paying his legal defence.”
“But he’s sending me text messages!” I protest. “Surely that’s not allowed.”
“Of course not,” says James. “And it will only strengthen the case to put him away. We’ ve reported it and given evidence to the police. We have to hope they take it seriously. But the police force is overloaded, and they have hundreds of other cases on their hands.”
James sighs and takes my hands. “The stalker is still entitled to a fair trial, Issy. That means the information we can ask for is limited.”
I breathe out. “Ok,” I say. “I won’t let this get to me. I don’t want him to win. ”
“That’s my girl.”
“But you’ll keep me informed?” I add. “Promise you’ll tell me, James, if anything else happens.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I promise. Now put all thoughts of the stalker out of your mind.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Good. Now, I had another reason for taking you out of hair and make-up.”
“You did?”
“ There’s someone you need to meet,” he says, “before we start filming.”
“Really? Who?” I am genuinely baffled. Is it something more to do with the stalker? Another security guard?
In answer, James starts walking, gesturing I should follow.
“I’ve made a couple of last minute casting decisions,” he says as I walk fast to keep up with him. “Firstly, there’s a young man who I think will do very well. He’ll play a reporter.”
“Ok,” I reply, mentally placing the character. There is a young male reporter we haven’t shot any scenes with yet. But he’s quite a small character, and I hadn’t given much thought to who might play him. He only has a few lines, and they’re mostly with Camilla.
“You’ll meet him later,” explains James, “with the rest
I let myself rest against the warmth of his body, forcing myself to take the logical view.
The stalker can’t get to me. He just wants me to think that.
“ The stalker fits the profile of a psychopath,” adds James. “He has an obsession with fame. He thinks he can somehow steal your fame away by inflicting terror.”
He’s certainly managed to do that.
“He gets a kind of thrill,” continues James, “when he thinks he’s scaring you.”
“He is scaring me,” I say. “I hate that he knew where I was. Even with a time delay. It’s… really disconcerting. How did he get a picture of the signpost?” I add.
“Satellite pictures,” says James. “That’s why the image looked strange to me. He used a satellite image of a landmark near to you and digitally added his lipstick mark.”
That sounds way too clever for my liking.
“How could that have happened?” I protest . “He’s supposed to be locked up in prison. Surely the police have a duty to stop him harassing people?”
“That’s what we don’t know,” James admits. “We’re trying to find it out.”
I ponder this. I don’t like it at all.
“This feels… wrong,” I say.
“We’ll find out more,” says James. “The main thing to remember, Issy, is that he’s trying to mess with your mind. But he can’t actually get to you.”
“It sounds like he’s clever,” I add, not liking the thought. “Tracking my phone. Using computer imaging.”
“He is clever,” admits James. “Many dangerous criminals are. But that doesn’t matter, Issy. Because he’s been caught and locked away. Try not to let this bother you. It’s exactly what he’d want.”
I nod, mentally resolving to stay strong.
“Can we find out who’s helping him?” I ask. “Do we know anything about them at all?”
“ It’s someone with plenty of money,” says James. “But that’s about all we know.” He smiles grimly. “There are laws to protect the stalker too,” he says. “We’re not allowed to pry into who’s paying his legal defence.”
“But he’s sending me text messages!” I protest. “Surely that’s not allowed.”
“Of course not,” says James. “And it will only strengthen the case to put him away. We’ ve reported it and given evidence to the police. We have to hope they take it seriously. But the police force is overloaded, and they have hundreds of other cases on their hands.”
James sighs and takes my hands. “The stalker is still entitled to a fair trial, Issy. That means the information we can ask for is limited.”
I breathe out. “Ok,” I say. “I won’t let this get to me. I don’t want him to win. ”
“That’s my girl.”
“But you’ll keep me informed?” I add. “Promise you’ll tell me, James, if anything else happens.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I promise. Now put all thoughts of the stalker out of your mind.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Good. Now, I had another reason for taking you out of hair and make-up.”
“You did?”
“ There’s someone you need to meet,” he says, “before we start filming.”
“Really? Who?” I am genuinely baffled. Is it something more to do with the stalker? Another security guard?
In answer, James starts walking, gesturing I should follow.
“I’ve made a couple of last minute casting decisions,” he says as I walk fast to keep up with him. “Firstly, there’s a young man who I think will do very well. He’ll play a reporter.”
“Ok,” I reply, mentally placing the character. There is a young male reporter we haven’t shot any scenes with yet. But he’s quite a small character, and I hadn’t given much thought to who might play him. He only has a few lines, and they’re mostly with Camilla.
“You’ll meet him later,” explains James, “with the rest
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