Page 6 of Catching Flynn

“You can tell him,” Zack said. “He’s very professional.”

Flynn opened his mouth, but words had abandoned him completely, leaving only a vague sense of doom and the certainty that he was about to make a complete ass of himself.

“I have a stalker,” he blurted. “Maybe. Probably. The cops think I’m making it up, which is fair because I don’t have evidence, just a feeling and some notes that could be from anyone, really, and I’m probably wasting your time—”

“Need to ask you some questions first. Get a full picture of what’s happening.” Colton pulled out his phone, swiping through screens.

That line hit Flynn’s nervous system like a stun grenade because it was the first truly serious response he’d received about the stalking.

“Right now?” He glanced toward the front of the store, where customers might wander in at any moment, overhearing what he wanted to bury and forget existed. Malcolm, his boss, was supposed to be here an hour ago but had texted something about a dental emergency. Which meant Flynn was alone, responsible for the entire disaster of a bookstore.

More like the entire disaster of my life.

“Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be?”

“Just work.” Flynn gestured vaguely at the surrounding books. “Apparently, I’m the only one here until three, when my coworker shows up. Assuming she shows up. Fifty-fifty odds on a good day.”

Today did not feel like a good day.

“We can do it here,” Zack suggested. “If someone comes in, Colton can pause and you can help them.”

Zack was about the most helpful person alive. It seemed Flynn’s newfound family had a lot of quirks. Was murder a quirk? “Fire away, inspector cop.”

“Start with the notes.” Colton’s thumbs moved across his phone screen, presumably taking notes. “What did they say exactly?”

“The first one said, ‘I see you,’” Flynn said in a ghoulish voice. At least he’d refrained from maniacally laughing. Growth. “Second one was ‘You can’t hide.’ Been hiding my entire life. “Third one got creative with ‘I know where you live,’ which, yeah, obviously, since the note was on my apartment door. After that they got more frequent. ‘You’re mine.’ ‘Soon.’ ‘Beautiful when you sleep.’”

That last one made Zack go pale. “When you sleep? Someone’s been in your apartment?”

“I don’t know.” Admitting it out loud made Flynn’s skin crawl. “I never found evidence of a break-in. No signs of forced entry, nothing missing or out of place. But that note appeared taped to my bathroom mirror one morning, and I know it wasn’t there when I went to bed.”

Colton’s expression darkened. “You change your locks after that?”

Flynn looked at Colton like the guy was daft. “No, I made him a key so he wouldn’t damage the door.” Flynn rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “Landlord wasn’t happy about it, but I did it anyway.” Flynn’ spread his arms while shaking his head. “Lot of good it did! Notes kept showing up.”

Fuck, Flynn was actually losing his mind. Could stabby genes pass to a half-sibling?

Thanks, deployed soldier/spy/amnesic father. First debt then possible insanity genes. Or was it the other way around?

“Where else have you found them?” Colton asked. The guy missed his calling as a detective. Flynn was secretly impressed by the guy’s perceptiveness. Not even the cops had asked Flynn such detailed or thorough questions.

Which made Colton someone to avoid if any murderous genes manifested in Flynn. It would suck getting arrested by his half-brother’s muscly boyfriend. Would definitely make visiting hours awkward.

“Car windshield. Locker at the gym, which I stopped going to after that. One was tucked into a library book I checked out.” The memory made his stomach turn. “That one freaked me out the most, honestly. Like, how did they know which book I was going to pick? Were they watching me in the library? Following me through the stacks?”

“Probably.” Colton’s bluntness should have been alarming, but somehow it felt better than false reassurance. “What about phone calls? Texts? Online contact?”

“Nothing. Just the physical notes.” Flynn paused, thinking. “Although my Instagram got some weird DMs a few weeks ago. Anonymous account, no profile picture. Messages were vague but creepy. ‘Saw you today,’ that kind of thing. I blocked them, but new accounts kept popping up saying similar stuff.”

“Still have those messages?”

“Screenshots, yeah. Saved them just in case.” In case of what, Flynn hadn’t been sure at the time. Now he was grateful for the paranoia that had made him document everything.

Colton nodded, still typing. “Good. Send those to me when we’re done here. What about your daily routine? You follow the same patterns? Same route to work, same grocery store, same coffee shop?”

“Mostly?” Flynn tried to map out his usual week. “I mean, I work here six days a week. Live about ten minutes away, same route there and back. Get groceries at the SaveMart on Fifth. Sometimes grab coffee at Pearls and Swirls next door before my shift.”

“So, someone watching you would know exactly where to find you at any given time.”