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The morning air hit my face as I stepped outside, instantly waking me up.There was a slight chill in the air, so I pulled my jacket on and headed to my car, which was already running in the driveway.
James was standing next to it in conversation with Everett. He is wearing blue jeans and a dark gray long-sleeve shirt. His unruly hair was now brushed and combed over to the side.As I approached, James turned toward me and greeted me with a warm smile. I couldn't help but notice the serious expression on Everett's face as they wrapped up their conversation.
“Hey, Miss Monroe.” Everett greeted me with a cheerful smile.
“Ava, please.”
“Ah yes, sorry. I forgot to update the team with your name preference.” James apologized and gave me a sheepish grin, running his hand down the back of his neck. “I will ride in your car with you, and Everett and a couple of others will follow in our suburban. Sarah and the remainder of the team will stay here and keep an eye on things.”
“Okay, sounds good.” I nod and walk around to the driver’s side and get in.
The drive to downtown, where my shop is, was relatively quiet. James would talk into his earpiece while performing security checks with the rest of his team, but otherwise, we didn’t really talk. Every once in a while, he asked about landmarks or buildings we passed, and I got into a long-winded story about the rich history behind the town.
I loved living in Harborview.
It was the most beautiful place I had ever lived.
Every Saturday, there is a farmer’s market that closes the downtown streets, so I pull into the alley next to my shop, and James follows me.
He enters first to make sure that the shop is clear before he gestures for me to come in. Everett and the other agents park a little bit further down the street, with a clear view of the front of my shop.
I stay busy, spending the day watering plants and filling bouquet orders while James wanders aimlessly around, looking at the plants and reading the plant magazines I keep stocked at the counter. Every once in a while, he offers his help, but otherwise, he keeps to himself, just like he told me he would.Despite his wandering, I catch him watching me. When he sees me looking at him, he swiftly shifts his eyes away from me and pretends to be engaged in reading or some other activity. I’m not sure what to think about it, but I can’t pretend like my stomach isn’t doing backflips.
When customers come in, he pretends to browse the shelves, but I see the small-town curiosity in their eyes. No one goes unnoticed in this town.Although no one has asked me who he is yet, I see how they watch him, waiting to see if I will introduce him to them, but I let them wonder for now.
Several weeks pass, and nothing new develops in my case.No new murders. There was no sign of him at all. I don’t know why, but it makes me more uneasy than if there were another murder. I can’t explain it, but I feel like he is watching me, but he’s blending in even though my routine stays the same. James says it is best to keep things status quo until we know more about what is going on. He believes that the killer might be following me and wants to maintain as much control as we can over my routine for now.He suggested that I continue my regular daily activities as if nothing has changed to avoid alerting the killer or giving away any information that could potentially put me in danger. While waiting for him to make a mistake and get caught is frustrating, I understand the importance of being cautious, especially with lives on the line.
Everything remains monotonous—a waiting game.
Work.
Home.
Nightmares.
Wake early.
Repeat.
Everett, Sarah, and James alternate shifts as myprotection. Some days, I don’t even notice they are there. It isn’t until I search for them that I see them lingering nearby. It is weird having people around all the time, especially at my house. I made the decision to live in solitude because it made me feel safe, but having trained agents who could literally save my life wasn’t a bad touch.
When I went to work, they were there.
When I ate and slept, they were there.
When I went to the grocery store, they were there.
I know they would probably just say it was their job, but the three of them made an effort to connect with me and ask me questions about my life before my trauma, and it felt nice to have some normalcy,fake or not.I honestly can’t recall the last time someone was interested in who I was. So, I took advantage of the human contact, and as the days passed, James started opening up to me about his life.
He told me about his younger sister, Amelia, and how he had practically raised her. Their dad split when he was young, and their mother was an alcoholic and is in prison right now. After high school, he joined the Navy and became a Navy Seal. He spent ten years in the service before getting out and becoming an agent.
I enjoyed hearing him talk about his friends in the Navy and the shenanigans they would get into after they got home from deployments. I listened intently as he spoke about the lives he saved and the lives he took in the name of freedom. He felt like his job became less about saving people and more of a political chess game, where the lives of his team were expendable, and there was no accountability of the suits above him. I listened when he told me how deeply he was affected each time he had to bury one of his teammates—hisbrothers.He made the difficult decision to walk away and join the agency after eight years of being a Navy Seal.
But his demons haunted him too.
I knew well enough that a job like that never leaves you. He, too, carried burdens no one else understood, and as silly as it may seem, I felt a connection with him. A connection between his trauma and mine. Although vastly different traumatic situations, we were damaged, nonetheless.
I felt safe with him.
