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He won’t hurt you again. No one will. I’ll take care of you. You’re mine.
Her stomach rolled. “Oh, God.”
She scooped up her phone as the paper drifted to the floor. Her fingers fumbled across the screen until she found Daniel’s name. It took her three tries to hit Call.
He answered on the second ring, his voice low and slightly muffled. “Polly? Everything okay?”
Her breath hitched. “He’s been here.”
That stripped the calm from his tone instantly. “What do you mean, ‘been here’? Are you inside right now?”
“Yes. I—I found Luna out of her crate, and I thought I’d left it unlatched, but now… My toothbrush is gone. The trash liner was replaced. Things…have been moved. And there’s another note.” Her voice broke on the last word.
“Listen to me.” She could hear him moving—chairs scraping, a door opening, the soft murmur of voices behind him. “I’m leaving right now. Stay on the phone with me until I get there.”
She shook her head even though he couldn’t see it. “No. I can’t stay here. I have to get out of this place right now. I don’t know how he got in. What if he comes back?”
“Polly—”
“I mean it.” Her voice steadied as adrenaline surged. She ran to her bedroom and stepped into her boots. “Luna and I are leaving. I’ll meet you at your place.”
There was a pause—long enough for her to picture his expression, jaw tight, weighing risk against instinct. Then his voice came back, clipped but calm. “All right. You know my address?”
“Tell me.” She didn’t even bother to tie her boots. She grabbed her coat and purse with one hand, the leash with the other. Luna sensed the urgency and stood poised by the door, tail curled under her backside at the fearful energy she must be exuding.
Daniel rattled off the address, his tone all business now. “If you get there before I do, go to my neighbor’s place—Mrs. Maynard. She lives in the duplex attached to mine. She’ll let you in. Don’t wait outside alone, you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Don’t touch anything. Just go. I’ll call Standage and your stepdad.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you needed your group—”
“You’re not interrupting anything. I’m on my way. Polly?”
She paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”
“Keep the line open. If anything happens—anything—you tell me right away.”
Her throat felt tight, but she managed a whisper. “I will.”
She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the phone pressed to her ear, Luna close at her side. Every sound seemed amplified—the click of the lock, their footsteps on the old tile.
As she started down the stairs, her pulse beat hard in time with her footsteps.
The thought kept looping in her mind like a pulse of static she couldn’t shut off.
Someone had been inside.
Someone had touched her things.
And they might come back.
The drive across town blurred into a tunnel of wet asphalt and traffic lights. A chill drizzle speckled the windshield. Polly barely registered the familiar landmarks flashing past her windshield. One hand gripped the steering wheel, the other rested protectively on Luna’s harness in the passenger seat. The puppy sat alert, head turning at every passing shadow as if she, too, felt the weight of unseen eyes.
Daniel stayed on the phone the whole time—steady, practical, grounding. “You’re doing fine,” he told her when she took a wrong turn and had to double back. “Just keep driving. You’re almost there.”
“Are you on your way?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was holding her breath.
