"It means I don't have enough information." He takes the phone from me again, scrolling through my camera roll with a different kind of attention now. "Your comments. You mentioned something yesterday about feeling like someone was always watching. Did you take any screenshots."
"I did, they should be coming up soon, if you keep scrolling right. They probably meant nothing. It was just random onesthat felt too specific. Like they knew things they shouldn't know."
He keeps scrolling, pausing occasionally to read. His jaw tightens.
"What?" I lean over to look. "What is it?"
"This account." He shows me the screen. "SunriseWatcher_23. They've commented on almost every post for the past three months. The language is possessive. 'Looking beautiful as always.' 'I see you've been busy.' 'You should be more careful hiking alone.'"
I feel cold despite the fire. "That's just a dedicated follower. I have lots of those."
"This one knows your locations before you post them." He scrolls to a comment from two weeks ago, on a photo I posted from a trailhead in Arizona. 'I knew you'd end up here eventually. Our spot.'
"That's creepy but it doesn't mean anything. People guess where I'm going based on patterns."
"Your patterns are random. You said so yourself. You chose this trip to Nevada on impulse after Derek's engagement." He locks the phone and sets it aside. "This person isn't guessing. They're tracking."
My heart is beating too fast. "You think it's Derek? Using a fake account?"
"I think it's possible. I think he didn't handle the breakup well, and the engagement seems designed to provoke a reaction from you, and forty-seven calls in one night is not the behavior of someone who's moved on."
"But he's engaged. He has a new girlfriend."
"Having a new girlfriend doesn't mean he's stopped obsessing over you."
I want to argue. Want to explain all the reasons this is ridiculous and paranoid and impossible. But the words won't come, because somewhere deep in my gut, I know he's right.
Something has felt off for months. The comments I brushed aside. The feeling of being watched. The way Derek's engagement announcement felt less like closure and more like a provocation.
"What do I do?" My voice sounds small.
"Nothing yet. I need more information before we do anything." He stands and crosses to the radio on the counter. "I'll have my team run a trace on the account. See if we can confirm who's behind it."
"And if it is Derek?"
He looks back at me, and the expression on his face makes my breath catch. Cold. Deadly. The kind of look that reminds me exactly what he used to do for a living.
"Then we deal with him."
He keys the mic and starts talking in a low voice, using words I don't fully understand. Tactical jargon, maybe. I pull the quilt around myself and stare into the fire, trying to process everything.
Derek might be stalking me. My controlling ex-boyfriend who called me forty-seven times in one night might have spent the last three months tracking my every move, hiding behind a fake account, watching and waiting for something.
And I'm snowed in on a mountain with a man who kills people for a living.
A week ago, this whole scenario would have terrified me. But when Wolfe finishes his radio call and turns back to me, I don't feel terrified. For the first time in months, maybe years, I feel completely safe.
"Mace is on it." Wolfe settles back onto the couch, closer than before. "He'll have answers by tomorrow."
"And until then?"
"Until then, we wait." He pauses. "And you tell me everything about Derek. Everything you remember, no matter how small. I need to understand who he is."
So I tell him.
The whole story this time, not just the highlights. How Derek pursued me relentlessly when we first met, showing up at events where I was speaking, sending flowers to my apartment, sweeping me off my feet with grand romantic gestures. How the possessiveness started small and escalated slowly. How he isolated me from friends, criticized my work, made me feel like I needed him to survive.
Wolfe listens without interrupting. His eyes never leave my face. When I finally run out of words, throat raw from talking, he reaches over and takes my hand.
