The sharp rap on the door made me jump, even though I’d been expecting it.
“Coming! Just a second!” I gathered the kittens from my lap, ignoring Cheeto’s squirming protest as I carried them to Rhett’s bedroom and deposited them on his unmade bed, then closed the door, not wanting them to slip out. I took a deep breath, tried to compose myself into Professional Podcast Host Aimee instead of Terrified Stalker Target Aimee, and went to let in the detectives.
Detective Joyce was the very essence of a no-nonsense policewoman, with short-cropped silver hair, sharp eyes that missed nothing, and a practical pantsuit—but her expression softened when she saw me. “You doing okay, Hale?”
“Fine.” I avoided her eyes as I stepped back to let her and Detective Lu into the apartment. Lu nodded at me, already pulling on latex gloves. “It’s probably just shoes or something. I feel stupid calling you guys out for this.”
Joyce’s jaw set. “Better cautious than sorry. Lu, radio the bomb squad. Let them know we’ve got a suspicious package matching handwriting from a previous case.”
My stomach dropped. “Bomb squad? You think—”
“Standard protocol.” Joyce cut me off, but her eyes were kind. “Let’s get some officers to clear the floor, just to be safe.”
The next hour passed in a blur of controlled chaos—uniformed officers knocking on doors, evacuating neighbors, securing the hallway. I waited with some neighbors in the lobby, arms wrapped around myself as I tried not to look suspicious.
When two technicians in heavy protective gear arrived to examine the package, I tried to tell myself I’d done the right thing. It felt ridiculous—all this fuss over a harmless delivery. But then I remembered the snakes and the cold weight of fear as they slithered across my floor, and I knew I’d done the right thing.
A few hours later, the package and the bomb squad were gone and I was back in Rhett and Troy’s apartment. Detective Joyce joined me in the kitchen while her partner coordinated with the techs. “The package had a device in it. It’s been sent to the lab for testing.”
My heart dropped. “Dangerous?”
She hesitated. “Let’s wait until we have conclusive answers from the lab. What I can tell you is that it appeared to be a rudimentary device.”
“So it’s definitely from him? No, don’t answer. Conclusive answers, I get it.”
She nodded. “It’s best not to make assumptions until we have all of the evidence. Is that a camera?” She pointed to the one Rhett had mounted on the peephole.
“Yeah. Rhett angled it to capture my whole door and the hallway.”
We were discussing giving her access to the saved footage when the apartment door burst open. I spun around, heart in my throat, to see Troy standing there, still in his uniform pants and navy fire department t-shirt, his face tight with worry.
“Aims?” His dark eyes found mine, scanning me for injury or distress.
Something inside me that had been holding tight to control since I’d first seen that package broke. Before I knew it, I was crossing the room and throwing myself into his arms, burying my face against his chest as a sob tore free from my throat.
“Hey, hey.” His strong arms encircled me, one hand cradling the back of my head. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
I clutched his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent—subtle cologne, laundry detergent, and faint smoke that seemed permanently embedded in his skin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your training. I just—”
“Don’t apologize,” he cut me off gently, his lips pressing against my head. “I would have come sooner, but I didn’t see your text. We were pretty much done anyway, but I told the new chief it was a family emergency.”
Family. The word resonated in my chest, warm and terrifying.
“Lieutenant Matthews,” Detective Joyce greeted him with a nod. “I was about to head out.”
Troy nodded, his hand moving in soothing circles against my back. “What can we do?”
“Stay put for now. We’ll be in touch once we know more.” Joyce glanced at me with kindness. “You did the right thing, Ms. Hale. Don’t second-guess yourself.”
After the detectives left, the apartment felt eerily quiet. Troy led me to the couch, settling me against his side with a soft throw blanket over us. Olive and Cheeto, freed from their bedroom confinement, promptly claimed our laps, purring contentedly as if nothing unusual had happened.
“Rhett’s gonna be pissed he missed the excitement,” Troy said, gently combing his fingers through my hair. “Should we call him?”
I nodded, desperate to hear Rhett’s voice and make sure he wasn’t too worried.
Troy put the call on speaker, and Rhett answered on the first ring. “Tell me everything’s okay,” he demanded. “Tell me you’re both fine.”
“We’re fine,” Troy and I said, and somehow that made me laugh, a slightly hysterical sound that Rhett immediately picked up on.
