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Tenaya’s pulse spiked. “You have no idea. The stalking started almost a year ago. Daily phone calls, gifts I never wanted. When I refused to go out with him, he got nasty. He sent raging messages about how I belonged to him, how he’d make me pay for rejecting him. He followed me constantly—I’d come out of a coffee shop on the other side of the county, and there he’d be, parked across the street watching me.”
Fury and fear clawed at her insides. She jumped up to pace the small room.
“I quit parking in my building’s garage because I didn’t feel safe walking to my car alone. He left creepy notes on the windshield no matter where I parked. My firm finally stepped in and got a restraining order and changed the security codes. We even hired a private protection service for two weeks, but as you can imagine, the expense isn’t sustainable.”
She halted at the window overlooking Wilshire Boulevard and the thick traffic 12 stories below. “Things got better. It’s been six months since his last contact—a dead rose on my car. I thought maybe he’d gotten bored. Or arrested.” She gave a harsh laugh. “My bad.”
Morris and Fuller exchanged a loaded glance. “It’s not confirmed,” Morris said.
Fuller cleared his throat. “I know, but we should tell her.”
Morris made a helpless gesture and nodded.
Tenaya’s legs wobbled. She sank into her desk chair.
Jarrod slid into her office, taking the small couch across from her. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Irate client.”
Fuller made eye contact with Tenaya. “Guys like this don’t stop killing. They like making the torture last. My guess is he’s going to toy with you a while.”
Tenaya pressed trembling hands over her mouth, muffling a sob.
She had to do whatever it took to stop him, or the body count would only grow. Ending with her.
Fuller leaned into the doorjamb. “We’ve already alerted the building’s owners. They’re tightening security, but our advice is to get out of town until Victor is apprehended. Staying here puts you and others at risk.”
She immediately shook her head. Just this week she had two trials and at least ten settlement conferences. “My clients depend on me. I can’t just?—”
“Lives depend on your cooperation, Miss Washington.” Morris’s blunt words silenced her protests. “Montalvo clearly has no limits. And he’s focused on you. You can hire private security again, but…” He shrugged ruefully.
He didn’t have to spell it out.
“You can stay at my place,” Jarrod offered instantly. “I don’t want you alone for a second.”
No way she’d put him in danger. Besides, she might not be the most perceptive woman, but she knew he wished they could be more than friends. Staying at his place would only be a cruel taunt. Tenaya scoured her brain for a nice way to reject his kind offer, but thankfully, the detectives did it for her.
“That’s a nice gesture, Mr. Vogler, but Miss Washington needs professional help. This guy’s on a mission. He’s already escalated to murder. No way he’s going to let anyone stop him. Unless you’re an expert at close combat and weapons…” He shook his head.
Jarrod eyed her helplessly. “Yeah. No.” He smiled crookedly. “I can hold my own at video games, but I’m guessing that won’t help.”
Fuller laughed. “Not so much.”
Morris’s voice grew faint as he spoke of reinforcing security measures within the building, urging Tenaya not to return home without protection. Did she have anywhere else to seek refuge?
She shook her head. Apart from her desolate condo, she had no one. Her mom and stepdad were in the middle of a two-year mission in Guatemala. She couldn’t bother her stepbrother, or her younger half-brother with this. Not that a software engineer or a college junior would know how to handle a freak like Victor. The same went for her friends from church, and the handful of law school friends she still kept in contact with.
More importantly, there was no one she’d dream of endangering.
Jarrod offered to hire a security firm again, but Tenaya knew that would be futile. No one could hover twenty-four seven. More importantly, neither she nor the firm could hire enough security to protect those around her.
“And I gotta say,” Fuller added, “this guy might be difficult to catch. He’s got money and connections. He could go to ground for a long time.”
She knew that only too well. The answer came like a lightning bolt. She wanted to say it was the Lord offering His hand, but the solution pained her almost as much as Victor’s latest, horrific act.
Until Victor was in jail, she had to leave. And there was only one place to go.
Much as it killed her to admit it, for literally the first time in her life, she needed her real father.
She needed Graham Washington.
