“What time?”
“Around 6:30.”
“Anyone else see it?”
“Morgan. Now you.”
Zach picked up the note, studying it with quiet, focused intensity. “The print is recent.”
Emma frowned. “How do you know?”
“The toner’s still fresh.” He studied the note for another moment. “Threats like this aren’t about the words.”
She crossed her arms. “Then what are they about?”
“Control.” He folded the paper carefully and slipped it into his chest pocket.
The word settled heavily on her shoulders. “Wait. I need a copy of that.”
Zach didn't even blink. “You'll have one.” His tone sharpened. “That's not the problem. Someone wanted you to know they can reach you.”
A shiver ran down Emma’s spine.
“Who has access to your bungalow?”
Emma sighed. “Housekeeping. Maintenance. Probably half the staff if they wanted it.” She leaned back in her chair. “It’s a resort, Zach. Not a maximum-security prison.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s about to change.”
“Excuse me?”
He tapped the note. “I’ll run prints, check the security footage from last night. And I’m increasing patrols in your sector.”
“That seems?—”
“Standard protocol.”
“—like overkill,” Emma finished. “It’s a piece of paper. A joke.”
“It’s a warning. People who leave anonymous threats under someone’s door rarely mean it as a joke.” Zach’s eyes locked onto hers, and she saw something shift in them—something colder, more serious. “This isn’t random, Emma. Someone came to your door. Specifically.”
Emma didn’t know what to believe. The note was unsettling, yes. But jumping to worst-case scenarios seemed premature.
“I think it’s most likely nothing,” she said finally. “Treating it like a five-alarm emergency is only going to create panic.”
Zach studied her for a long moment before moving to the window, checking the sight lines with the automatic efficiency of someone who’d done it a thousand times.
“Lena told you,” he said. “About what happened in Florida.”
It wasn’t a question.
“She mentioned there were some issues,” Emma tilted her head. “That things got complicated when she and David met. Her stalker.”
“Complicated,” Zach’s tone was flat. “That’s one word for it.”
“She didn’t give me details.”
“Good.” He turned from the window. “You don't need the details. You know enough to know this isn't just a hypothetical.”
