Lucky me, a police cruiser rolls to a stop outside of my townhouse before he can think of anything. Two cops, one short and impossibly broad, the other is average height with a shaved head.
“We got a call about a disturbance?” the shorter officer asks as he walks up.
“Yeah, Wilkins,” Ellis says, positioning himself slightly in front of me. “Someone kicked her door in and trashed the place.”
“Wilder,” he exclaims, holding his hand out for one of those bro-hand-slap-hugs all guys do. “How the hell have you been, man? It’s not the same without you.”
“Everyone at the station misses you,” the other cop says, also going in for the same dumb handshake.
“Living the dream, fellas.” Ellis sounds so cocky and calm that my fingers twitch with the urge to throttle him. My homehas been violated and destroyed and here he is shooting the shit like it’s just another day.
“More like a fucking nightmare,” I mutter, curling my fingers into tight fists as I suck in what’s meant to be a calming breath.
Ellis shuffles to the side and nods toward me. “This is Scarlet. She’s the homeowner.”
“Scarlet is about to lose her mind,” I grouse, too upset to even care that I referred to myself in third person. I’m about fifteen second from breaking down on my front porch and crying in front of the four men crowding me. I’d literally rather get a root canal than cry in front of them. “So, if we could save our reunion for a later date, that’d be wonderful.”
“Right, sorry,” the bald cop says, exchanging a look with Officer Short Stuff. Both men have the good sense to look chastised. “Lead the way, ma’am.”
I pivot on my heel and stomp back inside, all four men hot on my heels.
“Holy hell,” Baldy says, pausing in the entry way. “Nightmare is right.”
“Any idea who might’ve done this?” the short one asks.
“Not a clue.” I huff out a big breath, sending my wisps of hair flying. “I filed a report about being stalked like a week ago. Didn’t know who it was then. Don’t know who it is now.”
“Noted.” Baldy pulls a notebook from his front pocket. “Have you noticed anything suspicious since you made the report?”
“I’ve gotten a few more anonymous letters but haven’t had a chance to report them.”
He nods, clicking his pen twice. “Have you noticed any strange people or activity around your house?”
“Not that I’ve seen. But someone left food on my porch with a note last night.” I rock back on my heels. “The, um, food is... well, you see it. And the note’s in my car.”
“Did you notice anything missing?”
“Nothing stands out immediately, but I haven’t really looked.”
“The worst of it is in the bedroom,” Ellis warns.
Short Stuff and Baldy—I really should ask their names—both nod and start methodically working their way through the mess that it is now my home.
I shuffle out of the way and slump onto my living room ottoman, which is miraculously not destroyed. My vision goes fuzzy, like static on an old television set. I blink, trying to clear the fuzz. If anything, it only makes it worse. Suddenly, it’s like I’m a million miles away, watching my life play out on the big screen rather than sitting smack dab in the middle of it. Scene after scene flashes before my eyes as they collect evidence, dust for prints, and snap what feels like a thousand picture.
“I hate this,” I whimper, wrapping my arms around myself. I hate that my oasis no longer feels safe. I hate the mess. I hate all of these people in my space. I hate it all.
“I know you do, Princess,” Ellis says, kneeling next to me. “It’ll be over soon.”
I tunnel my fingers through my hair, tugging hard at the roots. “It feels like it’ll never end. He knowseverythingabout me, and I don’t knowanythingabout him.”
“We know he’s a fucking psychopath.”
Atlas grunts.
“Got something to add?” Ellis asks.
“Just feel like I’m in upside-down-world or some shit.”
