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“No, I haven’t. Good thing reunions are useful for something.” Wrapping my arms around Litza, I give her a hug. Her back straightens before she stiffly taps my arm. I take a step back, before making my way to the end of the stairs.

“Where’s Zarya?” I shout.

“She left about a half an hour ago. Something about needing time to gather supplies.”

Yeah, right. Her idea of “supplies” is most likely something rat poison aspires to be.

I shake my head and trudge upstairs to prepare for what is sure to be a long day.

I’m not fucking lucky enough to have any other kind lately.

As I pull down the outfit I set out, the hinge of the door groans. Litza stands at the door, her lips drawn into a line.

“What is it?”

She looks down at her shuffling feet as she shrugs. I can’t help rolling my eyes as I set the clothes on the bed. I walk to her and playfully shake her shoulder. My sweet sister, who struggles with voicing any of her opinions, lifts her eyes to look at me.

“Litza, what’s wrong?”

When she doesn’t answer, I gesture for her to follow me, and we sit on the edge of the bed.

“It’s just that…well…we aren’t any closer to finding the guy taking the girls…now this…I just worry. That’s all.” She looks down at her hands.

“I know. But we have more information than the police. We know his height. How he operates. His signature. The police haven’t even noticed the marbles placed at the scenes.”

“But—”

Raising my hand, I cut her off. “Trust me. We’ll figure this out. We have something no one else does—each other. We’ll get through it.”

My response seems to settle her. Barely. Though I can see the wheels of her mind turning as she prepares another barrage of arguments. I pull her in for a long hug, and she freezes for a moment before tapping my back. Someday, she won’t freeze. She just needs more hugs.

“All right. Just be safe, please? Cause I can’t handle Zarya on my own.”

Chuckling, I nod. She leaves the room, turning to flash a lopsided smile as she closes the door.

As I put on my pantsuit, my mind replays Litza’s expression. It’s bad enough that someone messed with my displays. Now they’re upsetting my sister. It was already unacceptable before, but now they better fucking hope they’re immune to getting stabbed. My fingers begin to twitch. Reaching for the phone, I open the message to view the photo for the hundredth time. I type a message too fast for my mind to catch up.

Asshole.

The moment it’s sent, I kick myself.

Very good, Patience, yes, call the stalker man names.

That’s just so helpful.

6

Several days pass with no more photos. No more texts. My text remains unanswered. Litza has worked herself into a state but still hasn’t been able to find anything. She’s taken the entire thing very personally. When I saw her this afternoon, she was sporting a messy bun that looked like it had become home to a family of mice. I’m not even going to mention the stains on her shirt. She needs more to go on but doesn’t know how to tell me. I can only imagine how upset she’d be if she knew I was planning this little tête-à-tête. Changing into my running clothes, I leave Gerald at the door with a kiss and set out.

I’m hoping that being out in the open and obvious about my preparations will be seen for what it is. An invitation. To my supposed stalker.

After an hour of winding roads, I turn left into the designated parking lot for the trailhead. I’ve been scouting this location for months. Low foot traffic except for the weekends. A waterfall.

My stomach sinks as realization hits me.

I may have to abandon my plans after this. Pushing my shoulders back, I let the uncomfortable feeling of loss roll off my back. It’ll be worth it if it gets Litza the information she needs.

Grabbing my hiking pack out of the trunk, I close the door on a sigh. This better fucking work.