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I glance through the windshield. Mercer's house remains quiet.

I turn back to her. “How the fuck did you find me?”

“I followed you.”

My jaw tightens. “You followed me?”

“Yes.”

“From my house?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does not exactly mean?”

She sets the bag on her lap. “I was going to your house.”

I go still. “Why?”

“Reconnaissance.”

“Of what?”

“Your house.”

I stare at her.

She’s really crazy.

She smiles like this is normal.

I close my eyes. None of this is fucking normal.

“Why the fuck would you be doing reconnaissance on my house?”

“You’re grumpy.”

I scrub my hands over my face, then open my eyes. “I fucking wonder why.”

“Wow. You’re abusing sarcasm with your tone.”

I don’t even bother commenting.

“Why aren’t you at home?”

“I was home.”

“Why aren’t you there now?”

“I already told you⁠—”

I cut her off. “You found out where I live three hours ago. And you're already conducting reconnaissance?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds obsessive.”

“It is obsessive.”

“Agree to disagree.” She twirls a lock of her hair around a finger and frowns. “Should I pull my hair up?”