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Frozen.
I was utterly and completely frozen as the fear gripping my chest consumed me.
Because someone had been in the house—in theroom—and I didn’t know if they were there still. I was afraid to move. Afraid to look. I just stood there, staring at the hallway as tremors racked my body and a hollow ringing filled my ears and dulled the sound of thundering steps until he was there.
Crashing into me and pulling me into his arms. Hands quickly searching my body and cupping my face, forcing me to look at him as he shot questions too fast for me to comprehend.
But then it was pouring out of me.
Just as quickly as he’d been demanding answers and without sense as I choked over words and gestured wildly behind me.
“It’s here—someone’s—the door. They closed—I ran into the door after the shower, and then I saw the picture. It wasn’t here. It wasn’t here, remember? They left the picture,” I hissed, voice dropping to a whisper as if that could save us now. “They were here when I was in the shower. We need to leave! They burned my face!”
“Wait, what?” he snapped, holding me tighter to him and taking a step into the brightly lit bedroom. Stare sweeping my face before scanning the bedroom and widening with dread when he saw the canvas above the bed frame.
“What the fuck?” he breathed before glancing around the bedroom again. “What the actual—where’s your phone? Get your phone.” Before I had a chance to move, he was charging into the room with me still tucked securely against him to swipe my phone from the nightstand.
In seconds, he was calling nine-one-one as he turned, looking everywhere while he kept one of his hands on my head, preventing me from seeing the canvas again.
I don’t remember much after Chase told the dispatcher someone had broken in and left a threatening message. I remembered being moved to lock ourselves into the bedroom while we waited for police to show and search the outside of the house before Chase had quickly led us to the front to let them in...but that was it.
I don’t remember even worrying over the possibility that the person might still be in the house as we’d rushed to the front door. I barely remember moving—only that we made it there and were suddenly outside, talking with officers.
I wasn’t sure if it was the shock or disbelief of it all, or if it was because my mind was so weighed down with the worry ofwhohad done it.
“Yes, the door to the bathroom was partially closed,” I told the officer again, glancing at the canvas that was being carried away for evidence.
“And how certain are you that you hadn’t closed it?” the officer asked, and I tried to hold back an irritated sigh.
“I can’t remember the last time I actually touched that door before this morning,” I finally responded, tearing my stare from the ruined picture of Chase and me. “We don’t close it, and it doesn’t slide without force.”
He nodded at the answers I’d already given him multiple times before asking, “And is there anyone you’ve been able to think of who might want to scare you or send this kind of message to you?”
My gaze flitted to where Chase was talking with another officer. My stomach dipped with worry and that doubt that fueled my sleepless nights. “No one,” I muttered as I met the officer’s gaze again. “It’s obviously personal, but—” My stare snapped back to Chase as a thought slammed into me. “My fiancé used to have sketchbooks all over the house. At least half a dozen. I’m not sure when they went missing, but we haven’t seen them in a few weeks, so probably around the time the canvas did. I’m not positive, but it’s possible whoever did this also took his books. They would have to know what those meant to him.”
“Have you noticed anything else missing?” the officer asked as he quickly wrote in his notebook.
“No. Not that I’m aware of,” I added as an afterthought.
“And who would know about the sketchbooks?”
My lips opened and shut a few times before a defeated laugh tumbled past them. “So many people,” I admitted. “Anyone who knows him knows he has one near him at all times. But, again, they were scattered all over the house, not just in one place. It’s weird for them all to be missing except for one we found hidden away in a closet.”
The officer made some sort of grunting sound before leveling me with a look like he was about to ask something I wasn’t going to enjoy. “You said you don’t keep a hideaway key outside, and the door was locked when we arrived. Is there any way your fiancé’s the one behind this?”
“No,” I said adamantly, then repeated, “No,” when he continued watching me, waiting for me to doubt myself.
“It isn’t uncommon for the partner to be the one behind these sort of occurrences,” he said simply, then blew out an unsteady breath. “Just as often, it’s someone they’re having an affair with who’s feeling scorned.”
I kept my eyes on the officer even as the drop in my stomach made me feel lightheaded and weak. Made that doubt he’d been looking for come rushing to the surface.
“Best scenario, it’s a friend playing a joke. But it looks like someone is trying to get your attention, Miss. Whether the threat is real or not, keep a watchful eye out. Keep yourself safe. And if I were you, I’d change the locks on your doors today.”
I nodded and mumbled my thanks as he turned to leave, then glanced over to find Chase watching me.
Jaw locked tight. Brow drawn close in worry and fear and a deep rage as he listened to the officer he was talking to. With a quick dip of his head, he shook the officer’s hand and then hurried over to me. Pulling me against his body and cradling my cheek as his forehead fell to mine.
“You okay?” he asked, voice tight.
