Chapter 11 #2
Faith took a breath, organizing her thoughts.
“It started about six weeks ago. Before Halloween. I found a note under my windshield wiper after a meeting downtown. Then he called into my show—claiming to be in love with me, saying he’d been watching me.
After that, gifts started appearing. A book of poetry in Boston, roses in Chicago, another bracelet in New York. ”
“Hotel rooms?” Jake’s voice sharpened. “How did he get into your hotel rooms?”
“Most likely he tipped hotel staff to make the delivery,” Faith said quietly, not looking at him. “The gifts were always placed carefully—on the bed, on the desk. Not forced entry. The notes said he’d be waiting when I got home. He knew about my house, made references to it during the call.”
Webb’s pen scratched across the paper. “You reported this to hotel security?”
“And to the Hollow Elm police. Officer O’Malley took the report.”
“I’ll follow up with him.” Webb made another note. “What else?”
Faith’s hands twisted in her lap. “You should also talk to my producer, Lucy Potter. She handles all the fan mail and keeps copies of anything concerning. She’s seen this pattern before with other callers.”
“God, Faith.” Jake’s control finally snapped.
His chair scraped against the floor as he shot to his feet.
He stalked to the window, his shoulders rigid, one hand raking through his hair while the other pressed flat against the glass.
When he spoke, his voice was carefully controlled, but Faith could see the muscle jumping in his jaw.
“Someone’s been stalking you for weeks, and you didn’t think to mention it?”
“I handled it?—”
“You handled it?” He spun around, his face incredulous. “How exactly did you handle it? By ignoring it and hoping it would go away?”
“I reported it to the police?—”
“After he stalked you across the country! What if he’d been there when you walked into that hotel room? What if—” He stopped, running his hands through his hair. “God, Faith, what if I hadn’t been here tonight and you’d gone into the trailer?”
The question hung in the air like smoke. Webb cleared his throat pointedly.
“If I could have the items you received,” he said, “it would help with the investigation.”
Faith’s face fell. “They were all in the trailer. Everything—the notes, the charm bracelet, the cards. I kept it all together in a folder.” She looked stricken. “It’s all gone now except for the diamond bracelet he left me in New York. I can give you that.”
Webb’s expression remained professionally neutral, but she caught the flicker of concern in his eyes. “Dr. Hartwell, in your professional opinion, how would you classify this individual’s behavior?”
The question caught her off guard. “I…escalating. The gifts, the calls, now this. He’s not just watching anymore. He’s acting.”
“Acting how?”
“Eliminating perceived threats,” she said quietly, the words chilling her even as she spoke them. “The trailer was Jake’s. It was in my driveway, a visible sign that another man was in my life.”
Jake went very still by the window. “You think he did this because of me?”
“I think,” Faith said carefully, “that obsessive personalities often view relationships as obstacles to be removed.”
Webb nodded grimly. “I’ll need a complete list of everywhere you’ve been, everyone you’ve spoken to. Work colleagues, neighbors, service people. Anyone who might have had access to your schedule or personal information.”
“Of course.”
“And I’m recommending you consider staying elsewhere until we can apprehend this individual.”
“No.” Faith’s response was immediate and firm. “I won’t be driven from my home.”
“Faith—” Jake started.
“No,” she repeated, steel creeping into her voice. “I’ve spent too many years letting fear control my choices. I won’t do it anymore.”
Webb studied her face, then nodded slowly. “All right. But I want security measures in place. Cameras, motion sensors, the works. And I want someone with you at all times.”
“I’ll stay,” Jake said quietly.
Faith’s heart clenched at the offer, even as she shook her head. “You don’t have to?—”
“I’m staying, Faith.” His voice brooked no argument. “We’ll figure out the rest later.”
After Webb left with his evidence bags and promises to increase patrols, Faith and Jake stood in the sudden quiet of her kitchen. The clock on the wall chimed four, and exhaustion pulled at her shoulders.
“You should try to get some sleep,” Jake said, not looking at her.
“Jake—”
“Not tonight, Faith.” He headed toward his truck. “I’ll grab a blanket from the truck and find a room to sleep in.”
She watched him return with a thick blanket from his truck, then disappear into what would eventually be the living room. The sound of him settling on the bare floor echoed through the house.
Faith remained in the kitchen, sitting at her grandmother’s table, pulling her sweater tighter around her. Outside, the last of the fire trucks pulled away, leaving only the acrid smell of smoke and the hollow ache of lost trust.
She’d protected herself for so long, built walls so high, that she’d forgotten how to let someone else share the burden. Now those walls might have cost her the only man she’d ever truly loved.
And somewhere out there, in the darkness beyond her broken windows, someone was watching. Waiting. Planning his next move.
The thought should have terrified her. Instead, Faith felt something harder, sharper settling in her chest.
Let him come. She was done running.