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Trenton lost the thread a little. “Wait, so you haven’t seen this stalker at all?”
“Not in person. They’ve been leaving me things. First it was a letter stuck to my dressing room at a concert. It wasn’t inside the room, and said some of the typical things about how amazing my music was. I thought it was a little weird, but nice, too. So much fan interaction is crazy social media posts nowadays, so it felt more personable.”
“But you started to receive more?”
“At every concert, actually. I started finding things inside my dressing rooms, even my suites at hotels. Not always letters. Sometimes, things from my songs, like that one about the apple? There was a whole basket of them on my bed, with red ribbons that matched my song from a couple of albums ago.”
“Are you certain the hotel didn’t set that up? Or your manager?” Trenton started typing up some notes in a document. “I don’t see how a random fan could get a key to your hotel without that being traced.”
“I don’t either, but I’ve checked with everyone, and no one seems to know anything.”
“They could be lying if they realized you didn’t end up liking it.” Trenton added a note about checking into hotel security. “Do you have a timeline, with places, that I could see?”
“Not for the first ones, but I made my manager keep track after that. I’ll have him send it over.”
“Okay, thanks. I’m sure we’ll be able to explain it.” Trenton straightened, thinking about it. “How do you even know all the gifts are from the same person? Couldn’t it be from different fans?”
Damon paused. “The gifts all have a tag, signed the same as the letters. ‘Your Match.’ Weird, right? Normally the fans go on about being my biggest fan.”
“That does sound odd enough to be a specific person.” Trenton frowned again. “This falls more under criminal than legal, so I might bring Malcolm in since he has contacts in law enforcement.”
“That’s fine. Just don’t mention it to Blake yet. He can’t keep anything quiet.” Damon sighed.
Trenton knew that was true, and he felt a smidge of alarm. He’d forgotten that when he’d confided in Blake just before Celia blew up at him that night.
“I really appreciate this, Trent. It’s been freaking me out a little.”
“You know I’m always here when you need something.” Some of Trenton’s tension faded with the familiarity of helping someone else. He’d been too focused on himself lately.
“I just felt bad about the timing. It was the anniversary yesterday, wasn’t it? How are you doing?”
A ringing filled Trenton’s ears at the reminder. A reminder he’d never needed before. Not when Emily had made him promise. He’d never forget her. Only, apparently, he had. “I forgot about that,” he mumbled, stumbling back to a chair to close his eyes against the sudden dizziness.
The silence drew out on the phone until Damon cleared his throat. “Well, that’s okay. I mean, you’re always thinking about Emily, and I’m sure she knows that.”
The soothing words didn’t seep inside. Trenton didn’t believe in the afterlife. Emily hadn’t either. That’s why being forgotten had terrified her. He had promised.
“Trent?” Damon’s voice barely registered in his ear. “You okay?”
He had done so well. She might not have been in his thoughts during every moment, but at least every day. Except for lately. Trenton had been selfishly thinking about himself. And trying to block out thoughts of Celia, without success. He’d thought about Celia but not his wife on the anniversary of his wife’s death.
His eyes closed. “I’ve got to go, Damon.”
“Trent, I don’t think—”
But he hung up, holding down the button to turn off his phone. He shoved himself to his feet, moving into the kitchen as if weighed down by his failure. He took the wedding picture of him and Emily off the fridge, staring at it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His legs didn’t feel capable of holding him, so he slid down to sit on the tile. That dizziness returned, making his wife’s image blur. Trenton closed his eyes, not able to face her.
Chapter 35
Celianoddedatthecustomer, adding their empty plate to her stack before heading back to the kitchen. Ever since she’d cried the other day, she’d been feeling somehow lighter. Even the counselor had noticed.
She still thought she had some crazy in her blood, but maybe she’d figured out how to keep it buried and didn’t have to worry as much.
When Celia returned from the kitchen, she was startled to see Erin rush through the front door. She hurried over to meet her cousin’s friend. “Is Katie all right?”
Erin patted her absently on the head, holding her phone to her other ear with her hand. “Yeah, she’s good, chick. No worries there.”
The woman had started doing things like that. Celia felt warmth flow through her along with a bit of annoyance. Erin treated her like a kid, and Celia thought the way the woman smiled at her meant she did it on purpose.
