Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino.

STALKED

By Lola Presents

Chapter 4

Lola froze, and her heart nearly leaped from her chest. A moment later, the knock came again, only louder and more insistent. She didn't know why, but at that moment, she stood defiantly and made her way to the door. Perhaps her action was being dictated by adrenalin. Or, maybe, it was purely flight or fight instinct. She tried to see who it was through the frosted glass but couldn't make out any details.

"Who is it?" she called, with one hand on the alarm's manual alert button.

"A friend. I need to talk to you," a male voice said from the other side of the door.

"What about?" Lola questioned the man.

"You aren't safe here," the visitor said aloud. "Please, let me in, and I'll explain."

Then, Lola recalled something from the manual she read the previous night. There was a section on how to operate the remote camera feed, and utilizing that knowledge, Lola turned to the control panel mounted near the front door and turned it on. It took a moment to come into focus, and when it did, she swallowed her fear with difficulty. It was the homeless man.

"I'm sorry," Lola returned to the man. "I can't do that. Now, speak your mind, then leave."

"But, Lola..." the man said, with utter frustration in his voice. "Your life is at stake."

"Yeah. By you!" shot the woman behind the door. "You should know that you're on video. If you don't tell me whatever it is you need, I'm signaling the authorities."

"No, please," requested the man as he leaned against the door and touched his head lightly to it. "Just let me in."

"3..." counted Lola loudly.

"Alright, alright!" shouted the man. "But, you don't understand the trouble you'll cause. My name..."

"Yes?" responded Lola. "2..."

"My name is Winston," the man said. "Winston Chesterfield. The man you know as your husband is not what he seems."

"Now I know you're insane," Lola spat through the door and pressed the signal button on the panel. "1. The police are on their way."

"NO!" yelled the man, pounding on the door. "Lola! You don't understand..."

"Well," sighed Lola, bracing herself for whatever happened next. "You have until they arrive to talk. I suggest you do that or run. Either way, stay the fuck away from me."

"It's true," the man said. "I am Winston Chesterfield. But, I was a screw-up, and my parents disowned me. After a while, they had another son and gave him my name, trying to replace me. The thing is, he's a psychopath. They wanted to keep it covered up, but they knew. Our parents knew the truth, even when they agreed to your marriage."

"Nice story, but I'm not buying it," Lola yelled through the door. "I've known Winston since we were kids, and he's not a psycho! Now, you probably have a few minutes left. Make it count."

"It was me, Lola," the man cried. "I sent the flowers. I've been in love with you since I first saw you. Yeah, I know what that says about me, and I'm sorry. It's not what it seems, though. I never left your side, and I'm still in love with you."

"What does this have to do with my husband?" asked Lola, intending to stall until the police arrived.

"My brother has always wanted to be me, for whatever reason, and when he learned I had a thing for you, he had to have you too. I know this sounds crazy, but it's true. Just do some research. Please? I beg you!"

Then, somewhere down the road, they heard sirens approaching. While Lola became emboldened, the man outside gave in to fear and prepared to flee.

"I'm sorry, I'm out of time," the man told her. "But, please, look into it. I won't bother you again."

Then, the man ran off, his blurred image disappearing from the frosted windows. Soon, two marked cars approached the house and pulled up to the curb, parking at odd angles. Four officers emerged, and while two began casing the property, the other two ran to the front door.

Lola turned off the alarm and welcomed the officers. After which, she detailed the entire story, beginning with the first time she saw the man until now, then she let them watch the video.

"You did well, ma'am," one officer said as the other two circled the house and announced they hadn't found the man. "Stalling him like that was a good idea. Unfortunately, he evaded us this time. "Getting this system was a good idea as well. Please keep the video feeds on from now on, and alert us if he shows his face again."

"Can you do anything?" Lola pleaded. "I'm not entirely computer savvy, and I'm not sure what to do."

"We'll take this photo, and the story he told, then a case file," the lead officer told her. "In the meantime, be on guard. We'll let you know if we find anything of use."

Lola nodded, not truly satisfied, yet enough so that she could relax somewhat. It wasn't every day that a crazy person visited one, claiming to be someone they weren't and telling them their life was in jeopardy.

"If I may suggest, ma'am," another deputy interjected. "Perhaps having someone around while your husband was at work would be a good idea. Do you know anyone who might sit with you?"

Lola considered the idea for a moment and smiled. "I do. Thanks for all you've done, officers."

After a few obligatory statements and farewells, the officers left, and Lola fished her phone out of her pocket. "Hello, Lincoln?" she asked after her brother answered. "Listen, I don't want to explain over the phone, but I need you to come over immediately. Can you do that?"

"I don't know, Lola," Lincoln responded, struggling to hold his phone between his shoulder and cheek. "That's a heck of a thing to say out of the blue. I'm right in the middle of a co-op game. What's wrong?"

"Lincoln..." Lola said low and insistently. "I don't give a fuck about your game. If you care about me at all, get over here, now!"

"I'm on my way," Lincoln belted at Lola's intensity. Pocketing his phone, he dropped his controller and headset and ran from the room, not even bothering to quit the game or notify his teammates.

Twenty minutes later, Lincoln stood on his sister's front porch, knocking on the door. However, it took Lola a moment to deactivate the alarm again and let him. Once he'd entered, she reactivated it and briskly walked into the living room.

"Care to tell me what this is all about?" Lincoln demanded, worried for her. "Please, tell me this isn't another one of your wild schemes to get me to do something for you."

"No," Lola sighed as she sat on her couch and began to weep. The stress of the ordeal took its toll on her, and she completely broke down. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "But, I have a huge favor to ask of you."

After calming Lola down, Lincoln prodded her to explain, which she did over the next thirty minutes, in a bit more detail than what she gave the officers. She hadn't held back anything important, and her embellishments merely included what went through her mind at the time.

"So, what did you call me for?" asked Lincoln. "Wouldn't you rather have one of your sisters with you? Perhaps, Lana?"

"Lincoln, you're the only one in the family who has any computer smarts," Lola explained. "I was hoping to have you here while Winston is at work and help me do so digging. I have to know what's going on."

"You don't believe that kook, do you?" gasped Lincoln.

"Well, no, but..." Lola began, becoming somewhat pensive at discussing her marital life. "Only, Winston has been acting strangely lately, and it's unnerving me. I have to know for sure."

Lincoln nodded. "I see," he said. "You should've come to me sooner. I could've done more from the start. Where's your computer?"

"It's in Winston's office, down the hall," said Lola, generally pointing in the right direction behind her. "But, be careful in there. Winston doesn't like anyone going in there or messing with his stuff."

"Really?" gasped Lincoln. "Even you? I mean, you're his wife, for crying out loud."

"As I said," sighed Lola, holding her hands in her lap. "He's been off recently."

"Alright," conceded Lincoln, smiling as best he could at his sister. "I'll do what I can, but I can't promise anything. Most of my skill is in games, not hacking."

"I understand, Lincoln," Lola replied. "And, thanks. You doing this means a lot."

Lola showed her brother to her husband's office and watched as Lincoln booted the unit, giving him the password when required. Lincoln asked about Winston's date of birth, then searched for birth announcements between then and now, with Chesterfield's last name in the Royal Woods area.

The only record that came up was Winston's. Still not entirely convinced, Lola prodded him to continue. Lincoln thought about the situation with no other leads, then asked, "Say, did they live anywhere else before Winston was born?"

"Actually... yes," Lola told him. "Seattle, Washington, I believe."

"And how old did this man seem?" inquired Lincoln, wanting to narrow the search as much as possible.

"I don't know. Mid-thirties, perhaps?" Lola said after considering the man's appearance.

"Thanks. Now, hang on," Lincoln announced as he submitted a new search.

This time, several records came up, which wasn't surprising as Seatle was much larger than Royal Woods. Again narrowing the search by parent's names, he brought the results down to a single entry. The listing contained both Winston's parents and date of birth, putting the child's age at 34. However, the child's name was blurred out.

"I hate to say this, Lola," Lincoln muttered, leaning back in the desk chair and folding his arms. "But it looks like that guy was truthful about one thing at least. Winston does have a brother, but their parents wanted him to remain unknown by the look of things. Why I couldn't say, but his name got obscured."

"Is there any way you can, I don't know, enhance it or something?" suggested Lola.

Lincoln cocked a brow. "No, Lola," he informed her, surprised she didn't already know this. "That stuff only works on cop shows. In real life, you can't make something out of nothing."

"Damn it!" Lola exclaimed, then walked across the room, facing away from Lincoln. She stood there, holding her head with one hand while her other rested on her hip.

"I'm sorry, Lola," Lincoln apologized. "I wish I could do more."

"Wait..." Lola chirped, turning back toward him. "Maybe you can."

"What did you have in mind?" asked her brother, arms still folded. Only now, he furrowed his brows.

Lincoln knew all too well that most internet searches get logged, and he wanted to avoid someone finding out where he was digging in case there was something to the man's story. There had to be a reason for being singled out for deletion, and Lincoln had no intention of pissing them off.

"I don't know!" exclaimed Lola. "You're the computer geek. Try something! Look around his hard drive thingy, or whatever it is you people do. If he's hiding something, you should be able to find it. Right?" she asked hopefully.

Lincoln tilted his head. "A random internet search is one thing. I can clear the search history, after all," came his reply. "But you want me to go snooping? What if I find something? What then? What if there is something on here and I trip an alarm?"

"Then..." Lola stammered. "Then, I don't know..."

Lola sat down in one of the spare chairs adorning the small office and began to cry once more. However, it wasn't a full-on wail but silent tears that tracked down her cheeks.

"Alright, look. I'll do a cursory glance through the directories," Lola's brother told her. "But I'm not opening any zip files or anything encrypted. Do you understand?"

Lola nodded, though her tears never ceased. Then, Lincoln spun around and began his perusal of Winston's computer. As far as Lincoln could tell, there was nothing out of the ordinary present, save for a single encrypted folder on the root of the "C" drive labeled "W."

"Again, I'm sorry, Lola, but this is all I could find," Lincoln told her, pointing out the folder.

"Isn't there anything else you can do?" Lola pleaded. "Like, break into or something?"

"I'm afraid not," Lincoln admitted. "If he's hiding something in it, he could have it set to delete if the wrong password got entered. We'd only get one shot, and then he'd know someone was snooping."

Lola sighed heavily. "Very well. Thanks for trying, Linc. Let's turn this off and get back downstairs."

Lincoln nodded and did as she asked, closing the apps he'd opened and the search history, then turning the box off. He then followed his sister back down the hall to the living room, where they sat and continued chatting.

"Have you told anyone else about this?" asked Lincoln, interested to see who she may have reached out to.

"Well, Mom and my friend, Lindsey, know," Lola admitted. "But other than that, no. I wanted to keep this as low profile as possible."

"Why?" gasped Lincoln. "We could've been a lot of help to you before now. Why would you not tell us?"

Lola shrugged. "I don't know. I've always done things on my own. Besides, most of our siblings are off on their own. I didn't want them feeling obligated to drop everything and come running."

"Well, I guess that's understandable," Lincoln conceded. "But still... you should've at least told me."

"Why?" grumbled Lola. "Because you love me so much?"

"Of course, I love you," Lincoln said forcefully. "You're my sister. You don't think I did all those favors for you when we were younger because I hated you, did you?"

Again Lola shrugged. "And, I had to bribe you every time, too."

"Yeah, but we were kids!" Lincoln said, exasperated. "Kids do dumb, selfish things." Then, calming himself, he spoke again, with a softer tone. "Look, I didn't mean to snap. But, I love you all so much, and I hate to think that something might have happened to you during the time I wasn't aware."

Lola smiled at him. "Thanks, Lincoln. We should've had this talk a long time ago."

"That reminds me," exclaimed Lincoln. "A long time ago, you and Winston shared the stage at some of the pageants, didn't you?"

"Yeah?" acknowledged Lola. "So?"

"So..." Lincoln said, dragging the word out. "Maybe there's a clue in an old photo from those events."

Lola's eyes widened. "You know, you might be right!" she gasped, grabbing the photo album which still lay on the couch from the previous day. "If they are brothers, he might have come to one!"

Lincoln smiled, then moved from the recliner to the couch, beside his sister, and the two of them began going through the album one page at a time. There were images of them as children, growing up and leaving the house, all of which nearly brought them to tears.

Of course, they scrutinized the ones of Lola at her pageants. Most of the book was of these moments. For a while, nothing of interest appeared, other than the occasional selfie faux-pa. Both snickered whenever such a photo appeared. Then, about three-quarters through the pages, Lola halted.

"Lincoln!" Lola gasped. "Look, it's him!"

Lincoln peered at the image her finger rested upon, and sure enough, near the back of the crowd was a young man dressed in a pea-green trench coat. The one noticeable difference being he wasn't sporting any facial hair. Lola studied the image intently.

"Geez, he does look a lot like Winston," Lola muttered, retreating from the photo and staring straight ahead. "I wonder if that man was telling the truth, after all."

"What date was this taken?" inquired Lincoln insistently.

"How would I know?" asked Lola in response.

"Take it out," suggested Lola's brother. "Sometimes Mom would write dates on the back. If we can get that, we'll have something to give the cops."

"What do you mean?" Lola asked her brother, not entirely following his reasoning.

"Don't you see?" barked Lincoln. "They can request the guest log for that date! Maybe we can see what name he goes by and maybe get an address!"

Quickly, Lola pulled the self-sticking clear cover back and gently pulled the photo from the album. Turning it over, she was shocked to see that her mother had indeed date-coded the picture. Turning her head, she smiled broadly at Lincoln.

"If we're lucky, we've got him," Lola grinned as headlights turned into the driveway. "Oh shit, Winston's home!"

Lola nestled the photo between the pages, randomly tossed the album aside, then ran to the door to disarm the system and let him in. She'd only just managed when Winston turned the knob and entered the house.

"Hi, honey," he chirped. "What's for dinner?"

"Uh..." stammered the young woman. "I hope you're not disappointed, but Lincoln stopped by for a visit, and I overlooked making any. How about we go out tonight?"

"What?" barked Winston. "I only ask you to do a few things, and you forget? What kind of appreciation is that?"

"Whoa, hold on there, Winston," said Lincoln, announcing his continued presence. "Nobody talks to my sister that way. Not even you."

"Oh, sorry," stammered Winston. "I didn't know you were still here."

"It doesn't matter whether I'm here or not," Lincoln growled. "Don't ever raise your voice to her again. Got it?"

"I think you should leave now," Winston said, puffing his chest out. "What we say to each other is our business!"

"Yeah, I'll go," Lincoln said, gritting his teeth. "But if I hear one word from Lola, you're toast."

The two men stared each other down for a moment, then Winston backed down, making his way to his office as Lola kissed Lincoln on the cheek, begging him not to worry. Lincoln tentatively agreed, but his heart was full of fear as he left the house.