“I left before noon to meet Kate for lunch, then took a walk on the beach. I came back and found that here,” Lena said.
He rose with slow deliberation as she joined him. “Tell me what else has happened.”
She wrapped her arms around herself even though the humid air surrounded her like a heavy blanket. Her voice came out quiet, brittle. “Nothing big. I’ve been getting prank calls on my cell and my desk phone. Breathing, mostly. Sometimes muted clicking. On the last one, I thought I heard a laugh as the call disconnected. Wednesday, someone left dead flowers on the porch. Before that, it was seashells—broken ones.”
It still sounded kind of silly to her. Well, not silly, but not earthshaking.
Zach’s expression darkened. “You’re only now telling me about this?”
She flinched under the weight of his disapproval and hugged herself tighter. “I dismissed them as pranks.”
“What else? Anything small. Anything that made your stomach twist, even if it didn’t make sense?”
“Um, you think this is serious?” she whispered, gut clenching.
“Yes,” he said, tone flat and unwavering. “You are describing classic stalker behavior. Think, Lena. I need everything.”
Zach paced to the edge of the porch and inspected the package again, nudging it with his boot, as if testing for snakes. “Before I open it, you go inside. I want you out of range in case this is something worse.”
He stepped up to her door and tried the doorknob. Locked, of course. Using his access card, he let himself in and prowled through the rooms with fluid, confident precision, checking each room quickly, decisively, leaving no shadow unseen. The softsound of doors opening and closing felt out of place in her cozy, solo haven.
Tires crunched on gravel, and she snapped her head around to see David’s golf cart bouncing up the path. Her heart lurched. She hadn’t expected to see him tonight—not with the way he left yesterday.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice cracked as she struggled to hide her surprise.
“Zach called. Said you had an issue.”
Oh, her unease dissolved. He wasn’t angry. He was worried. About her.
Behind her, Zach moved onto the porch and leveled them with the same grim stare. “She may have a stalker. She’s been gettinggifts,” Zach said the word like it offended him, “and she was about to tell me what else happened in the past several days.”
Lena threw up her hands in surrender. “I’ll have to think about it. I’d dismissed all of this as my imagination or stupid pranks until tonight.” Her voice shook. “What about this box?”
Zach turned to David. “Take her inside. I’ll open it. Stay behind the door.”
David nudged Lena’s elbow. “Come on. Let’s move.” His steady voice was grounding, and she followed him in without protest. He closed the door, save for a thin crack.
From her limited view, she watched Zach pull a scary-looking knife from somewhere and slice through the bow, then the gleaming paper, exposing a simple cardboard box. He cut the tape with the point of his knife, like a surgeon, before nudging the top off. Lena held her breath so tightly her lungs quivered. Zach cocked his head at the contents, gaze unreadable.
“Well?” she blurted, then flinched. You didn’t make demands of Zach, not if you wished to live to see another day.
A quick glance from his ever-serious eyes. “You definitely have a stalker.” He lifted the box and turned toward the door. “Let’s finish this inside. I don’t want anyone watching to see your reaction.”
Lena recoiled, a cold sweat trickling between her shoulder blades.
Zach closed the door behind him and set the box on her coffee table. “Ready?”
“I guess.” He took the cover off for her. She leaned forward, peeking in. Her breath stuttered in her throat, and nausea grabbed her tight.
A delicate porcelain doll lay nestled in black tissue paper. Pale skin, blond hair, a bright fuchsia suit. Just like the one Lena wore two days ago. Its head had been removed.
The bile turned her stomach inside out.
She recoiled from the box and dropped back onto the couch, staring upwards blankly, trying to stem the rising tide of horror. Her heart thundered. The room faded out for a few moments until David and Zach’s composed presences grounded her again.
“I wore a suit that color two days ago.”
They were watching her, unmoving. Expressions carved with tension—but there was empathy, too. Zach’s granite expression had cracked enough to let a little concern show through.
