She halted at the top of the staircase, and I reached around her to unlock the door. Her sudden sharp intake of breath had my gaze snapping to her face. But she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at the postcard taped to the door.
Before I could stop her, she snatched it off the door and flipped it over to read the message.
IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE US.
Bold, angry letters.
This postcard was different. It didn’t smell like vanilla and oranges. It smelled like lighter fluid.
Lennon’s hand clenched into a fist around the postcard. Color rose in her cheeks. “Fuck you,” she hissed to the postcard. “Fuck.You. There is no us.”
“There she is,” I muttered, gently prying her fingers open. “Please don’t destroy the evidence, honey.”
“Mycar. He burned my car.” The helpless fury in her voice made me want to hit something.
“I know.” I managed to get the door unlocked and both of us inside while only touching the corner of the postcard. It was doubtful we’d find prints, but maybe his anger had made him careless.
“I’m trapped here.Trapped.”
“You’re not trapped. I’ll take you anywhere you wantto go. Or you can stay.”Please fucking stay. I stole a glance at her as I carefully slipped the postcard into a sandwich baggie and sealed it shut.
She didn’t seem to have heard me. She faced the window, hands planted on her hips, her brow pinched. “It feels like a big jump. I mean, two years of postcards and then boom, he sets my car on fire? That escalated quickly, don’t you think?”
I rubbed my jaw, frowning. “Sheriff thinks that might have something to do with me. He doesn’t want to share your attention.”
“Well, I don’t want to give himanyof my attention. I just wish I knew who he was so I could tell him to his fucking face.” The furrow between her eyebrows deepened and she shook her head slowly, like she was thinking something through. “But it’s not like you’re my first boyfriend. So why now?”
My brain stuttered. Did she just call me her boyfriend?Focus, you dumbass virgin. You have a stalker to catch. I cleared my throat. “You said the postcards started two years ago? Have you dated anyone seriously since then?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. “It was serious with Benny. If he asked me, I probably would have married him. And, yes, I wouldn’t have been with him if he didn’t have money. But if I hadn’t liked him, no amount of money could have kept me there. Which is more than a lot of marriages have. Maybe it wasn’t storybooklove, but we cared about each other and we took care of each other. It was honestly the healthiest relationship I ever had.”
The jut of her jaw told me she expected condemnation. But she wasn’t going to get it. Not from me. All I had to give her was respect.
“All right. So it was serious with Benny, but would your stalker know that?”
She blew out a heavy breath. “There were photos of us. Dinners, galas, that kind of thing.” Her head tilted as she mulled it over. “Nine months ago. That’s when I started dating Benny, and that’s when the postcards started getting…I don’t know…judgmental. Telling me I was making a mistake, that kind of thing. And then six months ago, I started getting the brochures for Mercy River Ranch.”
I nodded slowly. “So the stalker does escalate when you’re in a relationship.”
“But it still doesn’t make sense. Benny and I were heading to marriage. That’s permanent. Being here with you is…” Her face scrunched like the words physically hurt her.
That same pain echoed in my chest. I rounded the counter to get closer to her. Cupping her face in my palms, I forced her to look at me. “Lennon.”
I could feel her swallow against my fingertips. “Being with you is wonderful, but it’s temporary. If Mr. Stalker doesn’t like the attention I’m giving you, all he has to dois wait another four weeks and I’ll be gone again. He didn’t need to set my fucking car on fire.”
“Lennon.” I tried to keep my voice gentle, because she wasn’t going to like what I had to say next. “I don’t think your stalker has any intention of letting you leave this ranch.”
“Shit,” she whispered. Her eyes widened as the realization hit. Of course he hadn’t lured her out here just to let her leave again. “Shit.”
“He’s getting careless. That fire tonight was brash. Anyone could have seen him. He was so angry he couldn’t stop himself. He’s going to fuck up, Lennon. It’s only a matter of time. He’s getting careless.”
“I’m not going to sit around and wait for that to happen.” She wrenched free and paced the small living room. “Every time I do something he doesn’t like, he pops in to let me know. I move into your apartment, he tells me it was a mistake. I sing a duet with you, he sets my car on fire. What a little bitch.” The scorn in her voice had me biting back an inappropriate laugh. “I did not rescue myself from my mom’s handsy boyfriends and New York’s insane rental prices to be taken down now by a delusionalman. Absolutely the fucknot.”
She stopped. Turned to look at me.
Ah, hell. That gleam was in her eye, and that gleam meant trouble.
“I have an idea,” she said.
