It was a sweltering day, the heat was rising in waves off the pavement. Abigail Chase, a blonde woman in her thirties, flipped through a rack of summer dresses. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt, and a pair of navy blue shorts. The street was filled with kids running around with face paint and balloons, and teenagers with skateboards tucked under their arms. It was the first street festival of the summer, and it was jampacked full of people, because the weather had warmed up considerably this week.
She suddenly felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, the feeling that she was being watched. Abigail turned around, and scanned the crowd. Nobody was paying her any mind. "Weird," She thought, turning back to the vendor's stall. She continued to browse, dismissing the unnerving feeling.
Abigail finally decided on a blue paisley dress, and a pair of white sandals. She paid the vendor, then walked down the road to watch the live band. They were good, she thought, as she listened to the teenaged garage band. Not something she'd normally listen to, so she passed up the merchandise table. Abigail ordered a hotdog with saurkraut, and a coke from the food truck, and sat down at the picnic table.
As she was about to take a bite, the certainty returned that she was being observed. She lowered the bun, and looked around her. Nothing. Again. She wanted to chalk it up to paranoia, but she was unnerved. Abigail decided that it was time to go home. She got up, and walked to her car. Had she turned around again, she would've noticed a figure staring intently at her from the crowd.
By the time Abigail arrived home, she'd completely forgotten about being watched. She emptied the bags of groceries out of the trunk of her car, and rushed to put them in the freezeer before the melted in the heat. As she was putting the food away, her phone jangled in her pocket. She pulled it out, seeing Ben Gates, her husband's name on the screen.
"Hey Dear," She said, putting the phone into the crook of her neck.
"Abi, I'm at the airport. My flight from Paris is delayed. I won't be home until tomorrow morning." Ben told her.
She was disappointed that Ben wouldn't be coming back that night. Riley had helped her plan a special dinner for his return, as he'd been in France for two weeks at a conference.
As soon as she got off the phone with Ben, she called Riley to let him know that the dinner would be postponed.
"Oh man," Riley said, crestfallen. They arranged to have the dinner tomorrow night at eight PM.
Abigail took the beef steaks off the counter, and put them in the fridge alongside the blueberry pie, and tub of potato salad. She'd purchased the steaks at the local butcher's, and the pie was from one of the vendors at the street festival. "So much for the BBQ," She thought, as she grabbed a book and curled up on the couch.
When the phone rang hours later, the jangling noise startled her in the deathly quiet house. She picked up the receiver, and held it to her ear.
"Hello, Gates Residence." She said. There was a harsh breathing sound on the other end, followed by an audible click. She hung up, then returned to her book.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang again. She thought about letting it ring until the crank caller finally gave up, but she felt angry. This was her house, Verdammt! She ddin't need to be fearful in her own gingerly picked it up, and listened to the heavy breathing. She could hear a few muffled sounds, but nothing recognizable.
"Who is this? Why are you calling me?" She yelled, hearing the person on the other end start to laugh in a high-pitched giggle. The line went dead.
Abigail stared at the antique phone, wishing that they had caller ID. She regretted not buying the cordless phone at the Best Buy the previous week. Something a bit more modern, with a digital screen was what they needed.
When the phone rang for the third time, she picked it up mid-ring, and held it to her ear.
"Whoever this is, I'm calling the police! Arschloch! Stop calling me!" She shouted, hoping to scare away the prank caller.
"Abigail?" a voice said, sounding surprised. She knew that voice. It was Riley.
"Riley, you've got some nerve, prank calling me! That's not funny!" Abigail told him, hotly.
"What! No! I - " Riley stammered, sounding hurt. "I called to ask if you wanted me to bring anything to the BBQ tomorow!" He said.
"Oh." She replied, feeling silly. She quickly apologized. "I was shopping today, and I could've sworn somebody was watching me. Now I've been getting all these weird phone calls."
"Do you want me to come over?" Riley asked. "Keep you company until Ben gets home tomorrow." He suggested.
"No, that's okay." She told him. "I'm sure it's nothing. I'll see you tomorrow." She hung the phone, and was about to pick up her book when the doorbell rang.
She peered through the glass keyhole, and saw a woman in a UPS uniform. The woman had her brown hair tied in a bun, and was holding a small parcel.
"Who is it?" Abigail called out.
"UPS, ma'am. I have a parcel for a Mrs. Abigail Chase. You need to sign for it."
Abigail opened the door, and took the box. It was light, and rattled slightly. She took the small machine and started to electronically sign her name. She turned her back on the woman for a moment to put the parcel on the table. Abigail shrieked when she was grabbed from behind, as a handkerchief was clamped over her mouth. She inhaled the sweet scent, and fell limp in her attacker's arms.
"Bring her to the truck!" the woman called out, as two men entered the house, and carried Abigail to the UPS truck parked in front of the house.