Chapter 4 #2
"There's more," Mason says grimly. "Dad didn't want to show you, but I think you need to see everything."
He takes the phone back, opening another folder. This time, the images make my blood run cold. My parents' house. Aunt Brittany's salon. The Grim Sinners' compound. And properties I recognize from family vacations, our cabin in Colorado, and the beach house in Florida that belongs to my uncle.
"He's been watching all of us," I realize, horror spreading through me. "Not just me. Our whole family."
"That's not all," Mason continues, scrolling to show me one final image. "We found this taped to the dashboard."
It's a map of the United States, with red X's marked across various locations.
I recognize them immediately. It includes every property owned by the Bennett family, including some I'd forgotten about.
Lines connect the marks in a pattern that makes no sense to me but clearly meant something to the stalker.
"It's like he's searching for something," Greyson says, studying the map over my shoulder. "Methodically checking locations connected to your family, and there is a bunch circled that doesn’t have an X yet.
"But what?" I ask, my mind racing. "We don't have anything worth this kind of…
obsession. And what about Diane?" I ask, fear for my friend suddenly overwhelming me.
"If he's obsessed with both of us, she could be in danger. I haven’t talked to her since before I left LA.
" Questions continue to swirl in my head.
"Did you find anything else? Any ID, any clue who this guy is? "
Mason hesitates, exchanging another look with Greyson. "Nothing concrete. But there was something… odd. There were clippings in the back seat, it’s almost like court documents. We are trying to tape them back together.
"I need to call Diane," I say, pushing past my brother and striding toward the kitchen where I'd left my phone. My hands tremble as I scroll through my contacts. "If he's watching both of us, she needs to know."
Greyson follows me, his presence solid and reassuring at my back. "Put it on speaker."
I nod, tapping Diane's contact and hitting the speaker icon. The phone rings three times before her familiar voice answers, slightly groggy with sleep.
"Livie? It's, like, six in the morning here. Is everything okay?"
"No, it's not," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Diane, do you remember the guy who was stalking me in LA? He followed me home to Blackridge."
"What?" She sounds instantly alert. "Oh my God, are you safe?"
"I'm okay, but we found his car, and there were pictures, Diane. Dozens of them. Of me, of my family's properties, and… of you. You're in most of them."
The line goes silent for so long, I wonder if we've lost connection.
"Diane?"
Her voice, when she finally speaks, is barely above a whisper. "I was afraid of this."
"What do you mean?" I ask, my stomach dropping. "Did you know about this?"
Mason and Greyson exchange concerned glances as Diane takes a shaky breath.
"I didn't know he was stalking us, not exactly, but… I think I know who he is. And why he's after us." She pauses. "Or rather, why he's after me."
I grip the counter for support. "Tell me."
"Remember that client I had? The one with the anger issues who only wanted me to do his hair?"
"Richard something? The finance guy?"
"Richard Keller," she confirms. "He started coming in more frequently about three months ago, always insisting on the last appointment of the day."
My skin prickles with unease. "I remember. He gave me the creeps."
"He… he would talk while I worked on him. At first, it was just venting about his wife, normal stuff. But then it got darker. He started telling me things, Livie. Horrible things."
Greyson moves closer, his hand settling on my lower back.
"What kind of things?" I press.
"He told me he kept his wife locked in their basement for a week when she tried to leave him." Diane's voice breaks. "He bragged about it, like it was something to be proud of. And there were others before her—women he'd hurt, controlled, terrorized."
"Jesus Christ," Mason mutters.
"I didn't know what to do," Diane continues.
"I was scared if I confronted him or reported him, he might come after me.
So, I started recording our sessions on my phone.
I have hours of him confessing to abuse, assault, even…
" She falters. "…even talking about a woman who 'disappeared' after threatening to expose him. "
Her words hang heavy in the air.
"Why didn't you go to the police?" I ask, trying to keep the accusation from my voice.
"I did, eventually. About six weeks ago.
But they said without physical evidence, it was just hearsay.
That's when I hired a private investigator to look into his past. He found three ex-girlfriends who had restraining orders against Richard, and one who had mysteriously withdrawn assault charges after receiving a large sum of money. "
I run a hand through my hair, trying to process this information. "So, what happened? How did he find out you were gathering evidence?"
"I don't know for sure," Diane admits. "But two days after I met with the PI, Richard canceled his standing appointment. Then the flowers started arriving at the salon. For both of us."
"Both of us? But why me? I barely spoke to the guy."
There's another long pause before Diane answers. "Because you were there, Livie. You overheard some of our conversations. And…" She takes a deep breath. "I kept the recordings, the PI's reports, everything in a flash drive that I hid."
"Where?" I ask, though I'm starting to piece it together.
"In the back of the framed photo of us at Venice Beach. The one on the bookshelf in our apartment." Her voice is small now, guilty. "I'm so sorry, Livie. I never thought he'd come after you. I just needed somewhere safe to keep it, somewhere he wouldn't look."
The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. "So, all this time, he wasn't stalking me because of some twisted obsession. He was looking for evidence that could put him in prison?"
"I think so," Diane says. "When you suddenly moved back home, he must have panicked, thinking you took the flash drive with you."
"Which explains the map," Mason interjects. "He's been searching every property connected to our family, looking for that evidence."
I close my eyes, remembering the strange car I'd spotted outside my parents' house that first night home. "He's been watching me since I arrived. Waiting for an opportunity."
"Livie, I'm so, so sorry," Diane says, her voice thick with tears. "I never meant to put you in danger. I just wanted to stop him before he hurt someone else."
Greyson's hand tightens on my waist. "We need that flash drive," he says, loud enough for Diane to hear. "It's the only way to end this."
"It's still in the apartment, as far as I know," Diane says. "I haven't touched the frame since I hid it there. I will go right now and grab it.”
"Do it," I say firmly. "And, Diane? Stay somewhere safe until this is over. If he can't find the evidence here, he might go back to LA, back to you."
"I will," she promises. "And, Livie? I really am sorry."
After we hang up, I lean heavily against the counter, emotions swirling through me—relief at finally understanding what's happening, anger at being dragged into this nightmare unwittingly, fear for what might happen next.
"So, we know who he is now," Mason muses, already typing on his phone. "Richard Keller, finance guy from LA."
"I'll call Dad," I say, reaching for my phone again. "He needs to know."
Greyson's hand covers mine, stopping me. "Wait." His voice is tight with rage. "Before you call anyone else, we need to decide how to handle this."
"What do you mean?" I look up at him, confused. "We go to the police and tell them everything Diane told us."
"And what if they don't act quickly enough?" His blue eyes are cold, calculating. "This man followed you across state lines, Livie. He's been stalking you, stalking your family. He's dangerous and desperate."
I understand what he's suggesting, and a chill runs down my spine. "Greyson, we can't just—"
"We will do whatever is necessary to keep you safe," he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That's all that matters to me."
Mason nods in agreement, his expression mirroring Greyson's deadly resolve. "He threatened one of our own. Club rules apply."
The weight of their words settles over me. This is the reality of the world I was born into, the world I tried to leave behind in LA. Justice delivered not by courts and laws, but by men who make their own rules, who protect their own at any cost.
And now, standing in Greyson's kitchen with my brother and the man who's claimed me as his, I have to decide. Do I embrace that world again, with all its darkness and all its protection? Or do I insist on doing things the "right" way, even if it means putting myself and others at risk?
As if reading my thoughts, Greyson cups my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. "This isn't a choice between right and wrong, Livie. It's a choice between safe and sorry. And I won't be sorry when it comes to your life."
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. "Let me call my dad first," I say finally. "Let's hear what he thinks."
Greyson nods, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Fair enough."
As I dial my father's number, I can't shake the feeling that whatever happens next will change everything—not just for Richard Keller, but for me. For the woman I thought I'd become in LA, and the woman I might need to be now that I'm home.
I’m not going to allow a wife-beating motherfucker to take the enjoyment out of my life.
It’s time for some fun.