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I made it to the school in four minutes.

Jo was standing in the parking lot, arms wrapped around herself. She looked shook. Vulnerable.

I was out of the truck quickly. “You okay?”

She nodded, but her hands were shaking. “He left this.”

She motioned at the car, with the fluttering white note under the wiper. She held out her phone, showing me a photo. I took it, studying the image, my jaw tightening.

Sorry about yesterday. Let me make it up to you? -Blake

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.

Her eyes were wide with fear. “It’s under my windshield wiper. He knows where I work. He knows my car. He had to have talked to one of the children to get the paper.”

“Did you touch the note itself?”

“No. I used a pen to push it open.”

Smart. I pulled out my own phone and took several photos—the note, the windshield, the parking spot, the building. Then I used a pen to carefully lift the note, sliding it into an evidence bag from my truck.

“I’m filing a formal report. Harassment. Stalking behavior. And I’m running that phone number.”

“Lane, I don’t want to make a big deal⁠—”

“Jo.” I turned to face her. “This is a big deal. He approached you aggressively. Now he’s tracked down where you work and left you a note. That’s escalating behavior.”

“Maybe he just⁠—”

“Maybe he just what? Happened to know which car was yours?” I gentled my voice. “Trust your instincts on this.”

She nodded slowly, then seemed to be weighing something.

“What,” I asked, sensing there was more.

She heaved a sigh. “Since the grocery store, I’ve felt... watched.”

My hands curled into fists. “Have you seen him? His truck?”

“No. Nothing concrete. Just a feeling.”

“Feelings matter.” I stepped closer. “I want you to be careful. Lock your doors. Vary your routine. Don’t walk to your car alone after dark.”

Her pale eyes were wide in her face. “You’re scaring me.”

“Good.” The word came out harsher than I intended. I softened. “I’d rather you be scared and careful than relaxed and vulnerable. We need to think about getting you a protection order.”

Jo hugged herself tighter. I wanted to pull her into my arms, but we were standing in the elementary school parking lot. There were still a few people moving around, but nobody was paying close attention.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go inside. I’ll take your statement properly.”

We walked to the teacher’s lounge—a comfortable room with faded furniture. She settled onto a leather couch, her arms crossed under her breasts. She wore a cute outfit today. Jeans that hugged her curves and a pretty blouse with a chunky necklace dangling down into her deep cleavage. I had to drag my gaze away from that.

“I need to do this officially,” I said, clearing my throat. I pulled the notebook from my pocket. I sat in a chair and started writing. Date, time, location. I also radioed dispatch for a report number. Then I looked up.

“Tell me everything. From the grocery store until now. Don’t leave anything out.”

She did. The way Blake had blocked her path. The things he’d said. Finding the note. The feeling of being watched.