I look from Fran to the counter and slowly walk toward it. I don’t recognize the number. There’s a text message, which reads simply,Nicescarf.
And my heart stops.
He was out on my street when I opened the door, kissed my husband. He was outside my house. Watching me. Watching us. With a police detail parked right there.
I look at Fran. I think about Amy asleep upstairs, and Mitch on his way to work. My family. God... no...
“Mommy?”
I take her hand and pull her away from the table.
“Let’s go wake Amy!” I say. I need to have my girls in my sight. In my arms.
Fran doesn’t ask why I take her with me. She follows, instinctively aware that something has just alarmed me.
Suddenly, I feel a new need—one that is more powerful than the search for answers that brought all of this upon me and my family.
The need to make him stop.
Chapter Ten
The texts come rapid fire as I get Amy dressed and fed and drive both girls to school. The principal is informed and alerts the security guard, who now watches the entrance with more care. There are already cameras and door alarms. The school is a virtual prison. We’re in the same state as Sandy Hook, and the precautions put in place after that horror are now routine. My boss, Sergeant Aaron Burg,agrees to add one unmarked car as well, and I fight the urge to have the place locked down by the National Guard. I don’t want to alarm the children, and there doesn’t seem to be a need to take additional measures until we know more about this man.
Still, it’s not easy to drive away. I remind myself that I’m the one he wants and so my children are safer away from me.
His messages sway and swerve like a car with no one at the wheel.
I just want to see you.
We are connected. You can’t changethat.
Don’t believe theirlies.
Why won’t you answer me?
Answer me!
Bitch.
Cunt.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say those things.
I need to see youagain.
Mitch wants to take us all away, butwhere?I ask him. We’re safer here with the detail and the department and the neighborhood that knows us.
Rowan is a live wire when I reach the station. He meets me at the elevator on our floor.
“Let me see...” He reaches for my phone and reads the messages. Then his eyes turn to me and the scarf around my neck.
“He was outside the house,” I tell him. “He must have seen me then.”
We walk quickly to our shared desk where I set down my bag, but we don’t stop. We continue to the back corner, where Aaron waits for us in his office.
The squad room is a large open space except for one row of enclosed rooms against the back wall. One for conferences. One for interviews. And one for Aaron. We work at shared desks and behind cubicles with computers and files, and there is normally a buzz that never stops from phones and machines and people. I don’t hear anything today. Maybe because my return and what is now happening to me has silenced my colleagues. Or maybe because I can’t hear anything beyond the fear that rings in my ears.
Aaron stands as we come in. “Elise,” he says. “How are you holding up?”
