Page 21 of Saved By the Ex-Military Sheriff

"I need to work on that logo. It's due tomorrow, and I've been avoiding it because I can't make it look right." She wraps both hands around her mug. "What about you?"

"Paperwork, mostly. Check in with Ethan. Try to track down Trevor Hayes and make sure he actually left town." I pause, remembering her fear last night. "Actually, before I go to the station, I should check your car. And your phone."

She looks up. "How do you do that?"

"Tracking devices. GPS. Apps. You said you couldn't figure out how Trevor found you. If he didn't hire someone and you've been careful about everything else, he might have put something on your car or phone."

"Could he do that?"

"It's easier than you'd think. Small GPS trackers you can stick under a bumper or in a wheel well. Apps that look legitimate but track location. If he had access to your phone at any point, he could've installed something without you knowing."

She sets her mug down, looking worried.

"Don’t worry, I know what to check for."

After we finish our coffee, we head outside.

The morning is cool and bright, leaves crunching under our feet. She's shivering in just her leggings and tank top, so I pull off my henley and drape it over her shoulders.

Her car is a small sedan, a few years old, nothing fancy. I start with the exterior, checking the wheel wells, under the bumpers, behind the license plates. All the places someone would hide a magnetic tracker.

Nothing.

"Can you pop the hood?" I ask.

She does, and I check the engine compartment, looking for anything that doesn't belong. Still nothing.

"Okay, that's good. Now your phone."

We go back inside and she hands me her iPhone. I scroll through her apps, checking for anything suspicious. Location services, privacy settings, recently installed apps. Everything looks clean.

"I think you're okay," I say, handing it back. "No trackers on your car, nothing obvious on your phone."

"So how did he find me?"

"He had to have hired someone. A private investigator, maybe. Someone who tracked your movements, figured out where you went." I lean against the counter. "It's the only thing that makes sense. And if that's what he did, there's not much you could've done to prevent it. PIs are good at following people without being noticed."

She looks relieved and unsettled at the same time. "That's actually terrifying."

"Yeah. But it also means he had to spend money and effort to find you. Which tells me he's not going to just give up and go away."

"What do we do about that?"

"I make sure he understands that coming back here isn't an option." I take her hand. "And if he doesn't listen, we get a restraining order and escalate from there."

She nods, but I can see the worry in her eyes. I pull her to me and just hold her for a minute.

"It's going to be okay," I say.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm not going to let him hurt you."

We stand there in her small kitchen, and I can feel her slowly relaxing. After a moment she pulls back and looks up at me.

"You should probably go," she says. "Before you're late."

"Yeah. But I'll come back later if you want."