Willow slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the side entrance of the house.
They’d barely reached the door when she turned to see Crew striding toward them, his long legs eating up the distance. His gaze locked on her, and the intensity in his eyes made her breath hitch.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was low, steady.
“Fern might be in trouble,” Willow quickly explained, and Crew’s jaw tightened. “We need to talk to my brothers.”
Fern felt every thump of Crew’s boots on the floor as Willow urged her toward a spacious room with a long table and a dozen or so chairs. Big screens covered one wall of the security office.
Her mind reeled. Maybe she was wrong about the truck. Maybe she was imagining things.
Maybe she should stop listening to her ex’s voice in her head.
Willow pulled out a chair and urged Fern to sit. A bottle of water appeared in front of her. Crew dropped to the seat across from her.
“Talk to me, Fern.” The tendon in the crease of his jaw bunched under the force of him grinding his teeth. “Did you see something on your security cameras?”
Willow looked between them. “There are security cameras?”
“I installed a doorbell cam at her place. We can check the footage.”
Fern nodded, relief flooding through her. “I-I didn’t think to check the footage. It’s all new to me.” She bowed her head. “Something isn’t right. I don’t think I’m imagining this.”
Crew brushed his hand over her arm. “Then we’ll treat it like a pattern until we prove otherwise.”
Her throat thickened.
He held out his hand. “Can I see your phone?”
She fumbled in her back pocket for it, and Crew came around to lean over her as she opened the app, his solid presence a comfort.
Willow peered over her other shoulder.
The footage showed the truck parked outside her apartment. It had been there all night. The timestamps confirmed it.
Fern’s mind whirled, and her stomach dropped. “Oh god.”
A tall guy in a cowboy hat walked into the room, and Willow looked up. “Theo. We need your help.”
A crease appeared between his dark brows, as sharp as his tone. “What’s going on?”
“This is Fern. She’s designing our community garden for the therapy program. But she thinks someone is stalking her.”
At the word “stalking,” Fern’s stomach turned to ice.
“Fern, this is my brother Theo. Can I see your phone? I want to project the footage onto the big screen. We need a better look.”
When she handed the phone to Willow, her hand shook.
Crew made a sound in the back of his throat that sent goose bumps skittering all over Fern’s skin. He didn’t move from her side, almost bent around her like he was shielding her with his body.
She folded her hand into a fist in her lap, trying to make sense of the truck and the succulent she didn’t buy for the job.
“You say you saw the same truck at your new job site?” Willow asked.
“Yes.” Her voice came out as a hot rasp.
Crew issued a noisy breath. “Where is the job location?”
