“Let’s get back on track,” Marco said. He pointed at me. “Remember Frisbee Guy in Central Park?”
“Oh shit. Yeah, I remember him.” My gut twisted. Both Marco and I had been suspicious of the guy, but there was nothing we could have done. “Unfortunately, I don’t remember what he looked like.”
“And what about that guy in the hoodie at City Lights?” Marco added. “The one who was being pushy when he was asking Greg for a song.”
Michael, who was typing furiously on his laptop, held up his hand. “Slow down. I’m trying to get this all in a document.”
I knew Michael would take all the data he got and put it together in a way that made sense. I waited until he looked my way before adding, “Someone tried to break into Greg’s apartment early this morning.”
“Fuck,” Gabe growled. “Why would someone want to mess with Greg? And when did his status change to boyfriend?”
“Yesterday,” I replied succinctly, not willing to get into my dating life at that moment. To my brother, I said, “Michael, do you think you can get the security feed from Greg’s apartment building?”
He nodded absently. “Probably. I’ll ask first though.”
A snicker went around the table. I glanced at the three newest members of the team, and none of them seemed scandalized. Addressing Gabe’s question, I said, “As for why someone would want to stalk Greg, it’s hard to say. Most stalkers go after people they know: exes, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, that sort of thing.”
“Didn’t you say his ex-boyfriend was abusive?” Marco asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. But Greg left him twelve years ago and hasn’t heard from him since.”
Michael added something else to his document. “We should still look into him, just in case. Do you have a name?”
I shook my head. “I don’t, but the Belmar PD should have a record of the domestic violence complaint.”
“On it,” he murmured.
Marco stood. “I think that’s all we can do for now. Until Michael has more information, we’re just spinning our wheels.” He checked the time on his smartwatch. “We’re scheduled for the gun range in an hour and a half. Get yourselves something to eat in the meantime.”
“Shit,” I muttered. “I forgot all about that. No wonder so many people are here.”
“Do you have your handgun?” Marco asked.
“Yeah. I just have to get some more bullets.”
“No worries,” he said. “I’ve got that covered.”
“Thanks.” I rubbed my hands over my face. “Christ, what a mess.”
Michael closed his laptop and came to stand beside me. He put his arm around my shoulder while Marco stood on my other side and did the same.
“We’ve got your back,” Marco said.
I closed my eyes, grateful as always for my family. “I know you do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
GREG
I paced my apartment, unable to slow my racing heart or calm my shaking hands. I had a stalker. I knew Tony had been trying not to scare me by being vague when he’d suggested it, but once I dropped the veil of denial, my brain slid all the pieces together. The random flowers and the attempted break-in were the main clues.
But my mind kept going back to two encounters with men who made me feel unsafe even though they’d never said or done anything overtly threatening. Could they have been the same man? I didn’t get a good look at either of them. The man in the hoodie at City Lights had kept his head down and his voice low. Frisbee Guy at the park hadn’t stuck around long enough for me or Tony to clearly see his face.
I closed my eyes, trying to remember the man from the park. Average height. Light-brown hair. Nothing about him stood out. Maybe that had been the idea. What would have happened if Tony hadn’t been there? If I had agreed to have coffee with him? Was it even him?
I growled in frustration. Why? Why me? Why now? I’d finally found someone wonderful after twelve lonely years, and he wastrying to ruin it. I wasn’t a violent man, but I suddenly imagined myself beating this mysterious stalker to a pulp.
When my phone vibrated with a call, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Relief flooded me when I saw it was a call from Becky. Anything to take my mind off the possible stalker. “Hey, Becky. How are you doing? How did your finals go?”
