He gives a curt nod with thin lips and narrowed eyes. “Jennifer.”
“What’re you doing out here?” Empty coffee cups are scattered in cup holders. The windows are partly fogged over, but he’s wiped a circle clean on his side of the car. Through that clear patch, I see the front of Caleb’s building.
“I’m on a stakeout.”
“A stakeout?” I laugh, falling back into the seat and clutching my stomach. The word sounds so dramatic, like I’m in the middle of an NCIS episode.
Dean isn’t amused. “At least Iwasuntil you came along and tipped off my location.”
He’s peeved at me.
What else is new?
“Who did I tip off? Who’re we looking for?” I lean past him and squint out the window, trying to see through the snow, my shoulder brushing his.
Why is his body so hot? Temperature hot, although it’s hot in the other way too.
He stiffens at our contact, but I don’t pull away. It’s too much fun rattling his composure, making him squirm.
“There’s no ‘we,’ and the answer is whoever’s stalking Caleb.” He sinks lower in his seat, returning to his vigil. “They come here at night and take photos.”
Dean takes his cell phone out of the cupholder between us and thumbs it on. The light from the screen highlights his features with broad cheeks, dark brows, and thick eyelashes. The flecks in his eyes shimmer like gold dust.
Once he’s navigated to the Caleb’s Secret Santa website, he swipes on the Naughty or Nice photos tab. A few scrolls, and he holds out the phone to show me a nighttime shot of the scene outside his window of the front of Caleb’s building. In this picture, it’s raining, and puddles on the street reflect the moon overhead. Caleb kisses a woman with long, blonde hair, leaning her back like he’s about to dip her.
Gwen.
I recognize her yellow raincoat and rubber boots. Predictably, there’s a big, red, “Naughty” stamp on it.
Dean flicks his finger to show me another, of Caleb stretching his arms above his head with his running shoes on and a fitness tracker strapped to his arm. The next one is of Caleb lifting a hand to wave good-bye to his mother, who is in the corner of the frame. Those two photos are labeled as “Nice.” I guess even the stalker accepts that Caleb should be allowed to hang out with his mom.
The position of each photo is nearly identical, close enough to see what Caleb’s doing but far enough to miss the small details, like the individual buttons on his coat or laces on his shoes.
“Judging by the angle of the shot, I think they hide over there.” He pointsto a cluster of trees across the street, half a block away. It’s lined up to be clearly visible from where we sit. “I don’t know how they figured it out, but there’s a blind spot there where the security cameras of all the surrounding buildings can’t see. I’ve put up temporary cameras aimed at that location, but somehow they disable them every single time. They never show up when I’m here. It’s frustrating.”
I investigate the area he’s staring at, searching for the culprit. All I see is tree branches dancing from the wind. Moving slowly, so Dean won’t notice, I get a sugar-free strawberry candy, the kind with the soft center, from the front pocket of my jeans. I have to rise up slightly and tilt my pelvis to wrestle it out. With exaggerated care, I unwrap it as silently as I can. He turns back right after I slip the disc into my mouth. Holding my lips still, I suck on it while Dean lets out a deep yawn. He rubs his eyes with both fists, the way a small child would.
“How long have you been out here?” I ask, tucking the candy into my cheek, alarmed by the fatigue I sense in the slouch of his shoulders. He and Caleb could have a contest to see who has bigger bags under his eyes. I’m not sure which one would win.
Dean shrugs, the motion lagging. He checks his big, black wristwatch. “Since 5:00 p.m.” He yawns again.
“Uh-huh, and how late do you plan on staying?”
“Dunno. Maybe 2:00 or 3:00 a.m.? That’s when I left the last couple of nights.”
“Wait,” I say, my voice rising in volume. He winces. “How long have you been doing this? I just saw you work all day.”
“I’ve lost track,” he admits, slightly sheepish. “Four or five nights?”
I clap my hand to my forehead. “What are you thinking? Staying up all night and then working the next day? You’ll be no use to Caleb if you’re sleeping on the job.”
His brow lowers, showing that he’s offended. “I wouldneverfall asleep like that. Back when I was with the Army, we trained to stay awake for days on end.”
“The Army, huh?” I figured. He’s got that short haircut and precise way of moving, like he’s used to marching in formation. “How long were you in it?”
“From after college until about five years ago.” He lets out a jaw-cracking yawn.
“Why don’t I take over for tonight? You can get some shut-eye.”
