Page 10 of Archer

Every move I’d made to get here without being tracked had been carefully calculated.

I always paid in cash. I never used credit cards, and I hadn’t posted on social media or told anyone outside my immediate circle where I was going.

I’d even changed my phone number. Twice.

How had he found me?

My stomach churned as I thought about the other gifts I’d received. Roses delivered to my Nashville apartment, never with a card or sender information. Always immediately following a performance. Photos of me at the grocery store, the gas station, or coffee shop, neatly packaged in gilded frames.

I hated the phone calls impossibly more. They reminded me of something from a horror movie. Always from unknown numbers, and no one spoke. There was just breathing on the other end.

His text messages said things like I see you and You’re so beautiful when you don’t know I’m watching.

I’d reported everything to Nashville PD. I’d changed my locks. Stopped leaving the house. And I’d traveled as far away as possible. Often.

Yet, he’d kept coming.

My phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Alexis’s name appeared on the screen.

I answered immediately. “Hey.”

“Did you go?” She sounded as amped up as I was. “Did you find the guys from the paper? Are they going to help?”

“I did, and I think so.” I stared at the cottage through the windshield, looking for any sign of movement. “The one named Archer Stone is coming here at five to do a consultation.”

“Archer Stone.” Alexis repeated the name like she was committing it to memory. “That’s not for three hours. Are you okay until then?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Harper.”

“I will. I’m going inside now to wait.” I reached for the ignition. “I’ll call you after he leaves, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I disconnected and released the key without turning it, reconsidering my decision. Maybe I could wait in the truck until five and pretend I’d just arrived when Archer got here.

I thought of his assessing eyes and forced myself to climb out. He’d probably put his palm against the hood of my truck and know how long I’d been sitting here based on the temperature.

I could move the truck into the sun, so the hood would be too hot to touch when he arrived, or I could put on my big girl pants and go inside.

I’d locked up before I left. No one was in there.

Just that damn music box that I’d brought inside myself.

I killed the engine and climbed out.

I approached the front door slowly. Nothing looked disturbed.

The deadbolt turned smoothly, no signs of forced entry. I stepped over the threshold and listened.

Silence.

I locked up behind me, then moved room-to-room, checking behind doors and inside closets. I even looked under the bed.