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But the door is double locked, and her bravery disappears as quickly as it came.
She herds Pearl into the bedroom with her, locks the door, and shakily dials the emergency number.
* * *
The police officerdoesn’t appear interested.
“You say you saw an Alpha?” He’s not even looking at her as he stands at her doorway, typing into his phone.
“I did.” She rehearses the story she has ready. “Um, as I was coming home from the grocery store. I think I saw him in my neighborhood.”
The lie sounds fake to her ears.
But she still feels just as sick as before, and with the adrenaline rush over, she’s minutes from toppling over in her front room.
“And can you describe him?” the officer asks.
“Uh, I think he was tall, and—”
He finally meets her eyes with a bored expression. “All Alphas are tall, ma’am. Were there any distinctive features he had?”
This is pointless, she realizes. The only “proof” she has is the notebook and knife, and she can’t tell the officer how that relates to the Alpha without admitting to her crime.
She only saw him in the light of her cell phone in the lab.
‘Just really tall and scary looking’isn’t going to cut it.
“I don’t know,” she mumbles in defeat. “Just…big.”
She winces as her headache worsens, and the officer raises an eyebrow.
“Look, ma’am. Maybe you should get some sleep, and if something else happens, call us again,” he says, sighing. “I can make a report, but without any more details, there’s not much I can do.”
She shakes her head in defeat. “Okay. Thank you anyway.”
He nods. “Have a good rest of your day.”
She shuts the door as he heads to his patrol car, sighing and rubbing at her forehead.
She should call Mindy, but she’s not ready to hear her sister’s lecture or freakout.
She’s always had to take care of herself, anyway. As the well-behaved child, her parents decided she didn’t need attention, and she’ll be damned if she asks for it from her older sister.
She’s an adult. If the police won’t help her, then she’ll handle it herself.
Her head is still killing her, and she struggles to swallow down some soup as Pearl watches her intently. The cat nudges at her binder of notes, flopping down on the hard plastic aggressively and purring loudly.
“We get it,” Audrey mutters. “You think it smells good. Weirdo.”
Or the cat thinkshesmells good.
His subtle Alpha scent still lingers on the binder, even though she wiped it down with cleaning spray.
She hates that it smells so tempting.
She dealt with this in her lab; the artificial scents she replicated at work always smelled better than the fanciest cologne or perfume.
But she’s always been more sensitive to scents, so maybe it’s just her.
