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Also, by far the best hookup I’d had in a long time. Achingly good. I was going to drive myself nuts if I kept thinking about it.
The moment we landed, my cell phone and Roman’s both went crazy with notifications.
“Is it Madeline?” Roman asked, staring at his phone and then to mine.
“Yep. Madeline,” I said, worry already cresting inside me. “Why would Madeline be barraging both of us with texts and calls?”
I dialed her immediately and she picked up after only one ring. “Theo. You’re there.”
“What’s up?”
“Can we swap over to a video call really quick? I need to show you something.”
“Let’s do it,” I said. The anxiety in my chest gnawed at me harder as we swapped to video. She didn’t exactly sound happy.
When the video call came through, Madeline showed us a piece of paper. “While you guys were in the air, this letter was left at the door of my office. Just twenty minutes ago.”
She opened the envelope and showed us what was inside. It was the photo I’d taken of myself, with the palm trees behind me, just a few hours ago. My stalker had apparently printed it out and left kiss prints all over it. Madeline turned over the paper and showed the back, where there was a note scrawled.
I’ll go anywhere you are, Theo. Why can’t we just talk? I don’t want to hurt you. I can, though. I could do anything I want to you. I still see you in my dreams. It would hurt me to hurt you, Theo Castille. I just need to know where you are. Always. I will follow you to the end of the Earth.
A chill ran down my spine.
“Jesus,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” Madeline said. “We’ve already called the police. Going to try to fingerprint this, even though we already know he never leaves fingerprints.”
“And the fucking kiss prints are always DNA-free,” I said.
“What does he have, a fucking stamp? Of his lips?” Roman said. “I need to get this man behind bars. This is ridiculous.”
“It has to be a stamp, yes,” I said. My hand was shaking a little now, and I couldn’t focus on the phone screen any longer. Roman noticed and he gently took it from me, holding it up as Madeline came back on the screen.
“Wait,” Roman said, turning to look at me. “Did you post something to Instagram before the party at Garett’s house last night?”
“I—I don’t know,” I said, sitting back down in a chair. “Wait. Yes. It was just a picture of some detailing on my shirt, though. I tagged the designer, but the picture didn’t have my face in it, and definitely didn’t have any location information.”
“Do you know how your stalker might have known you were back in Los Angeles?”
“Because Garett posted about his party.”
“Right,” Roman said, thinking deeply. “But there is a pattern here, Theo. Every time you post something, your stalker makes a move. Whether it’s a note, a burglary, whatever it is. Even if he doesn’t know exactly where you are, he will make some sort of move every time you post something.”
My heart lurched in my chest. “Shit.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Madeline said on the call.
“So I was right,” I said, my throat suddenly constricted. “I am bringing it on myself.”
“No. God, no,” Roman said. “Technically, when you make a post, it leads your stalker to action, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop. It means we have information, now. We have an advantage. We can draw him out.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, bouncing my leg up and down rapidly. I was too frustrated to think. Too anxious, too scared, too overwhelmed. “How would that even work?”
“You never post location information anymore, right?” Madeline asked.
“God, no. Never. Not in a million fucking years—”
“What if we purposely had you post your location, connected to a photo?” Roman said.
I swallowed hard. “You’re scaring me, a little. There’s a reason I don’t do that.”
Roman immediately reached out his free hand, touching my shoulder and squeezing it to comfort me.
It was like an elixir. After this morning, some part of me had thought he’d never touch me again. But Roman knew that touch grounded me, that it brought me back toward peace. And even after everything, now, he was giving me that comfort.
I drew in a deep breath, letting it out.
“It wouldn’t have to be scary,” Roman finally said. “It could all be planned out. We inform everyone. The police would be ready. I would be right there with you. And then… we bait him out.”
A rush of adrenaline coursed through me. I was terrified, but at the same time, I knew that what Roman was describing was the closest thing we had to a possible solution.
“It could work,” I said softly.
“It will work,” Roman told me, an electric look coming over his eyes. “One of my old buddies from my early security guard years is on the police force here now. I know the police really haven’t been of much help to you with this in Los Angeles, but it’s worth a shot. Tim’s not on the force just for power. He tries to do good.”
