I laughed a humorless laugh. “They don’t believe me. You saw how they looked at me as I told them what happened. Like I was freaking crazy. And even if they did believe me, they have a homicide to deal with and the last thing they’re going to worry about is some sicko watching me.”
“Jagg is going to personally search Andrew’s house before he leaves. If anything is there, he’ll find it.”
I laughed again, feeling like I was sliding off the rails. “Then, what? The bear and recorder are going to get buried in some evidence box somewhere and I’ll never hear about it again. I know how this stuff goes. I know how things slip through the system, trust me on that.” The words seethed from my lips. He looked over at me, but I kept my eyes ahead. The guy didn’t know a thing about me. About my past.
“They wouldn’t be buried in an evidence room, Rose, if they have something to do with a homicide.”
“What… what?”
He shook his head—like I wasn’t seeing the whole picture. “Rose, someone broke into your house and implanted a secret video camera. You take the thing to Andrew, and eight hours later, the recorder is gone and the kid is stabbed to death.”
“Stop, Phoenix.”
“Thinkabout it, Rose. I believe you, and I don’t think this is some ironic home burglary. I think whoever is stalking you didn’t want that recorder to be found. They broke into Andrew’s to get it back, Andrew confronted him, and he killed Andrew and took the evidence, then staged it to look like a break-in.”
“No.” I shook my head like a crazy woman. “No. You’re wrong. Who… how would anyone even know that I took it to Andrew? Even if the guy was watching me through the camera feed, it would have clicked off when I left the house and broke the internet connection.”
“Someone is obsessed with you, Rose. Stalking you. They know where you live, where you work.” He glanced in the rearview mirror.
“You think I was followed to the morgue this morning? No. I would have noticed.”
“Would you have?”
“Yes,” I snapped.
“How many cars were in Andrew’s driveway when we left?”
“What?”
“How many cars were in Andrew’s driveway when we left?”
“I don’t… I don’t?—”
“Five. Two squad cars, an ambulance, and two trucks. Six, if you count the media van that had just pulled up.” He paused. “What was the color of the truck that parked directly in front of yours? The one that you stared at for an hour waiting for me?”
I blinked.
“You don’t know because you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.”
“Yes, I?—”
“No youweren’t,Rose. Most people don’t, especially under duress. When you were driving to the morgue this morning, you were stressed out. From the rain, the bear, from separating your breakfast out by color, height, and weight.” He slid me the side-eye, which I ignored. “I’m one hundred percent confident a herd of wild buffalo could have been following you and you wouldn’t have noticed.”
Everything was getting way too real, including the headache pounding between my ears.
He passed the turn that led to Shadow Mountain, where he lived.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Your house.”
“My house? No. No way.”
“Rose, I hate to spell this out for you, but it’s a good bet last night wasn’t the first time the sicko broke into your house.”
My stomach dropped. The idea that someone had been watching mebeforethe bear—lurking, waiting—sent a bolt of panic through my chest. I scrubbed my hands over my face, then held them up, palms out. “It’s too much,” I whispered. “Everything is just… too much. No. I don’t need you to come over. I’m fine. I can call Officer Willard?—”
“I’ll handle it.”
