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“I’m not. I’m going to live prepared. I called about upgrading security. It’ll cost, but hey, I wasn’t planning on using my vacation days for exotic travel, anyway.”
Wyatt stood. “Well, it’s been a stressful few days, wins and losses both. I’m ready to drink. Ladies—Beer? Wine? Cocktails?”
Igor hopped onto his chair and pawed a sliver of carrot to the table’s edge.
I shook my head. “None for me, thanks.”
“White. Thanks, hun.” Lisa pointed a chopstick at the TV. “Speaking of, wanna marathon ‘Say Yes to the Dress’? I’ve got two months to buy mine before my mom dry-cleans her shoulder-padded monstrosity.”
The doorbell rang. I tensed. Wyatt volunteered to answer.
Igor leaped from her perch, kicking her half-chewed carrot onto the floor in a mad dash. Samson’s head rose at her gravelly snarl. From the way she stiffened, I knew who it was. I flung myself from my chair and pressed my butt against the fridge out of view of the opening door.
Lisa raised her eyebrows and mouthed, ‘What?’
“I'm not here,” I hissed.
“Pardon the interruption,” came the smooth, clear voice. “I was hoping to have a word with Miss Davins?”
“She's not here!” Lisa shouted.
“Will she back soon?”
Wyatt looked to Lisa. She waved him on. “Yeah. Buying some, uh, lavender tea. She's had a scary couple nights.”
“Noticed her car in the lot. She go on foot?”
“Aw, shit,” I muttered, dropping my face into my hands.
Helpless, Wyatt glanced again at the pair of us—we shrugged—then turned toward the sheriff. “Would that be a problem if she had?”
“Might could be. We’ve reviewed surveillance videos from around the neighborhood and one game camera. Our suspect observed her comings and goings over the course of several nights.”
My stomach bottomed out. I sank onto the floor. Samson climbed into my lap.
“Oh my God,” Lisa whispered, blue eyes widening in shock.
“Please ask her to exercise extreme caution in her travels. See she gets a ride home. You’ve got my number. You have trouble reaching her after a reasonable hour, give me a holler. I can also arrange to have someone pick her up.”
“Sure,” Wyatt said.
“Thank you. And would you please give this to her?” There was a soft rustle of cellophane. Igor's posture changed from offended to curious. She wound around Wyatt’s leg and stretched toward the crinkly bundle. The sheriff’s voice rose in pitch enough to indicate he knew I was listening. “Tell Marcy I am sorrier than a sinner in church, but we’ll have to try for another night.”
Wyatt closed the door.
Lisa’s jaw dropped. She helped me to my feet. “Girl, what the fuck is going on?”
“Too much,” I said, taking a few steadying breaths.
“He said the psycho was stalking you!”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
She gasped. “Do you think they know you’re here? Are we safe?”
“We don’t even know why he’d be watching me, but maybe we move my car to a commuter lot,” I suggested. “I imagine if we weren’t, Caelan, I mean, the sheriff, would take me to a safehouse or put a detail on me or something.” Like Cho.
“I think you’re right, Marcy. We’re okay here.” Lisa’s fiancé came to the table, a vase of colorful daisies crooked in his arm and Igor suctioned to his leg. He flicked a petal at the cat. “So, you didn’t want a drink with us ‘cause you were planning on getting one with him?”
