This family takes care of its own. Especially the women.
“What about her?” he asks.
“She’s being stalked,” I say. No sugarcoating. “She’s been getting texts. Anonymous gifts left on the porch. Calls from blocked numbers. It’s been going on for a while. Weeks, maybe longer.”
Grayson’s jaw tightens. “Has she reported it?”
I shake my head. “No. She didn’t want to make anyone worry. Thought it might stop on its own.”
He breathes out slowly, like he’s trying to rein in his reaction. His jaw ticks again as he processes the information.
“And is it serious now?”
I nod. “The bastard was watching the welcome-home party you all threw for me. Sent a message right after it ended.”
I pull out my phone and show him the screenshots. Sabine sent them all to me after we talked. The messages, the photos of the porch gifts. The last one still makes my stomach twist:Who is that man you brought home? Is he your lover?
Grayson reads it in silence, his face unreadable. Then he looks up at me.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s serious.” He hands the phone back and takes a long drink from his mug before setting it down with a soft clink. “You think this guy’s local?”
“He has to be,” I say. “He’s either planted cameras or he’s close enough to watch the house in real time. No one guesses that kind of detail unless they’re there. Consistently.”
Grayson nods once, sharp and decisive. The police officer in him is already assembling options.
“Alright,” he says. “You want me to pull her call logs? Get her on a trace list?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Anything you can do without it going through the official channels. She’s still freaked out about drawing attention.”
“She’s not wrong,” he mutters. “The second it goes through official channels, there’s a paper trail. That alone can push the wrong kind of man over the edge. Guys like this, they feed on control. The moment they feel it slipping, they spiral. Get sloppy. Dangerous.”
He pauses, glancing down at the baby, who is now chewing on the edge of a toy block.
“Gotta handle men like that carefully,” he adds.
I nod, jaw tight. “Yeah. I figured.”
I pause, then draw a breath and say what’s really on my mind.
“But honestly? I’d rather scare the bastard off than sit around waiting for him to show up with a knife. Or worse. Letting him dictate the timeline, letting Sabine live under that kind of pressure. It’s not an option. I’m not going to be here forever, and I don’t want to get shipped out while this is still unresolved. Still hanging over her like a loaded gun.”
I shake my head, the unease settling deeper in my gut.
“That guy… I’ve got a bad feeling about him. It’s not just stalker behavior. It’s something else. Something worse.”
Grayson studies me, then nods slowly.
“You think it could get violent.”
I meet his eyes. “If I were this guy? And I’d made it this far without getting caught?” I pause, let the words sink in. “Yeah. I’d be planning something.”
He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t try to downplay it.
“Alright,” he says again, quieter now. “I’ll talk to someone I trust at the precinct. We’ll keep it off the books. See if we can get a tag on the number, trace the origin. Might take a couple of days, though.”
“Good,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Oh, and I’ll need Sabine to send the messages herself,” he adds. “Chain of evidence.”
