“He won’t tell me,” said Hansen, going to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He poured me one too and brought it to me as I sat in one of the lounge chairs, still seething over this morning’s debacle.
“Butler,” Chief Davis said, spotting me from the other room. He came in to confront me, his hands on his hips dangerously. “What’s the matter with you?”
I shook my head and sighed, but there was no hiding it now. “Someone vandalized Peyton’s car,” I said. “And threatened her.”
“What?” said Paisley, looking like I must have been flat-out lying. “Who would want to threaten Peyton?”
“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug.
“Her ex,” said Hansen thoughtfully. “That’s my bet. You told us that the sonofabitch attacked her just the other night.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe it was Jake. I don’t know.”
“Are the police looking into it?” Chief Davis asked, and I nodded.
“Sure, but I imagine it won’t do much good.”
“Korbin,” said Paisley, sitting on the chair across from me. “You’re not thinking of trying to take care of this yourself, are you?”
“No,” said Chief Davis before I could respond. “No, he is not.” His eyes met mine sternly, expression hard. “Because that would be a good way to lose his job, and I think Butler knows that.”
“I do, sir,” I muttered, but I was still livid somewhere deep in my gut. What would happen if the cops did nothing? What would happen if no one was caught? Whoever this was would continue to harass my fiancée, and I wasn’t okay with that.
I just didn’t tell them that.
“It will get figured out,” I said confidently, but beneath the façade, I barely held it together.
“So,” Hansen said a moment later, grinning at me. “Should we expect a wedding soon?”
I opened my mouth to say something that I’d typically say—something sarcastic, I’m sure—and then closed it again, drawing in wide eyes from Hansen.
“I don’t know,” I said, looking away from him with a shrug.
“Let me guess,” said Paisley, crossing her legs. “You’re taking itslow.”
I laughed despite myself, and so did Hansen. Peyton would have loved that.
“We’re just—happy,” I told them with a slight shrug. “Is that okay? Can we just be happy?”
“Don’t think for a second that Peyton isn’t already planning this,” Paisley said, going to the kitchen for a bag of chips. “She’s a woman. That’s how it works.”
“Speaking of woman,” Hansen said, lowering his voice even though it was only the three of us in the room. “Have you seen Amanda around since your escapade in the elevator?”
“No, why?”
“Because somebody is stalking the station,” said Paisley, munching on her chips. “I see the same car drive by every time I’m here, and we’re pretty sure it’s Amanda.”
I shook my head and looked down at my hands, wondering what was going on with that woman and why she thought stalking me was the way to go. She needed help. Desperately.
“Something is off with her,” I said. “I just don’t know what. It’s starting to make Peyton uncomfortable, and I can’t blame her. It is me, too.”
“Turn her in,” Hansen said with a shrug, snatching a chip from between Paisley’s fingers. “Report her for harassment.”
“I can’t do that,” I said. “She’s not really harassing me. I mean, not in a bad way. I think she’s lonely. And sick. I just don’t know how to help her.”
“And desperate,” grumbled Paisley, and this made me grin.
“And desperate.”
