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“Well, this in inappropriate.” I grin, taking the cup. I push my hair out of my face, wishing I’d had time to wash it last night.

“Inappropriate?” he repeats, his lips parting into a grin. “I promise you I’m here strictly for business. I was hoping you could spare me a few minutes to run over your history with this stalker.”

“Isn’t it all in my file or something?” I ask, not exactly sure how it all works.

“Yes, but you’d be surprised at how many memories can be tweaked just by running through it all again. If you’re busy, come by the station—”

“No, now’s fine,” I interrupt. “Come in.”

As he walks past me and into my living room, the musky scent of his aftershave hits me. I study him for a moment. If I had a type, he is definitely the kind of guy I’d go for.

I haven’t been in a relationship or even dated since this whole stalker business began. My friends back home tried to set me up a few times, but it was hard letting someone in when you know you’re the obsession of somebody else. It’s hard to move past that. And the few times I tried to, it was hard explaining who was leaving me flowers and lingerie. Guys don’t like to be challenged; at least, not the guys I knew.

“Studying?” he asks, noting my open laptop and textbooks.

I nod and move forward to close them up, pushing them to the end of the coffee table.

“What are you studying?” he asks, leaning down to pick up one of the books.

I’m taken aback by his forwardness when it comes to touching my things, but then I remind myself that he’s a cop. It’s what he does.

“Business,” I mumble.

“Pretty nice place to be able to afford as a student.”

I gape at him. Is he for real? I don’t like the suggestive tone in his voice that hints I might be doing something illegal or dirty for income—though with some of the kink that goes on in the club, it wouldn’t be a far stretch.

“I didn’t mean to suggest—”

“Yes you did,” I interrupt, crossing my arms over my chest. “And though it’s none of your business, my parents help me out with rent while I’m studying. They wanted me to stay somewhere secure.” I laugh and shake my head. “Great lot of good that did.”

“Where are you from?” he asks, sitting down.

“Originally from San Francisco. I moved out here for college and to get away from…” My voice trails off. I sigh and turn around. “Do you want a drink or something?”

He points to my coffee and I blush as he takes a sip of his own.

“Sorry, I forgot,” I mumble.

“So, when did this guy first start bothering you?”

I sit down on the edge of an armchair, setting my drink down on the coffee table. “Back in January of 2013. To begin with, it was just flowers and chocolates. My friends thought it was cute, and secretly it made me feel good to have caught the attention of someone.” I pause, my cheeks heating up. Could I sound any more desperate? I glance at him. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes burn into mine. I shift in my seat and continue. “Pretty quickly, it became more than that. Letters declaring how I belonged to him, I’d feel someone watching me when I walked down the street…”

“That could’ve just been paranoia,” he points out.

“And I suppose coming home to find my cat dismembered on my front lawn was just paranoia too?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. His gaze drops and I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I’m sorry. It’s just talking about him puts me on edge.”

“Did he give a reason for your cat?” he asks.

“I was seeing somebody at the time.” I laugh, my eyes stinging with tears. “We went out on like two dates, but apparently that was enough to drive him nuts.”

“That’s pretty intense,” he says, putting his notepad down. “Have you ever seen him? Even just a glimpse, an idea of his height or build?”

I shake my head. “Never.”

He sighs, his eyes leveling on mine. “I’m not going to lie to you, Raven. We don’t have much to go on. Chances of us catching this guy are pretty poor, and even if we do, there isn’t a great deal we can do about it other than possibly charge him with breaking and entering.”

I know the drill because I’ve heard it all before: because this guy isn’t hurting or threatening me, there isn’t much that can be done.

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