Chapter Ten #3
“I have a stalker,” he blurted. “Maybe. Probably. The cops think I’m making it up, which is fair because I don’t have evidence, just a feeling and some notes that could be from anyone, really, and I’m probably wasting your time—”
“Need to ask you some questions first. Get a full picture of what’s happening.” Colton pulled out his phone, swiping through screens.
That line hit Flynn’s nervous system like a stun grenade because it was the first truly serious response he’d received about the stalking.
“Right now?” He glanced toward the front of the store, where customers might wander in at any moment, overhearing what he wanted to bury and forget existed.
Malcolm, his boss, was supposed to be here an hour ago but had texted something about a dental emergency.
Which meant Flynn was alone, responsible for the entire disaster of a bookstore.
More like the entire disaster of my life.
“Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be?”
“Just work.” Flynn gestured vaguely at the surrounding books. “Apparently, I’m the only one here until three, when my coworker shows up. Assuming she shows up. Fifty-fifty odds on a good day.”
Today did not feel like a good day.
“We can do it here,” Zack suggested. “If someone comes in, Colton can pause and you can help them.”
Zack was about the most helpful person alive. It seemed Flynn’s newfound family had a lot of quirks. Was murder a quirk? “Fire away, inspector cop.”
“Start with the notes.” Colton’s thumbs moved across his phone screen, presumably taking notes. “What did they say exactly?”
“The first one said, ‘I see you,’” Flynn said in a ghoulish voice.
At least he’d refrained from maniacally laughing.
Growth. “Second one was ‘You can’t hide.’ Been hiding my entire life.
“Third one got creative with ‘I know where you live,’ which, yeah, obviously, since the note was on my apartment door. After that they got more frequent. ‘You’re mine.’ ‘Soon.’ ‘Beautiful when you sleep.’”
That last one made Zack go pale. “When you sleep? Someone’s been in your apartment?”
“I don’t know.” Admitting it out loud made Flynn’s skin crawl. “I never found evidence of a break-in. No signs of forced entry, nothing missing or out of place. But that note appeared taped to my bathroom mirror one morning, and I know it wasn’t there when I went to bed.”
Colton’s expression darkened. “You change your locks after that?”
Flynn looked at Colton like the guy was daft.
“No, I made him a key so he wouldn’t damage the door.
” Flynn rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger.
“Landlord wasn’t happy about it, but I did it anyway.
” Flynn’ spread his arms while shaking his head.
“Lot of good it did! Notes kept showing up.”
Fuck, Flynn was actually losing his mind. Could stabby genes pass to a half-sibling?
Thanks, deployed soldier/spy/amnesic father. First debt then possible insanity genes. Or was it the other way around?
“Where else have you found them?” Colton asked. The guy missed his calling as a detective. Flynn was secretly impressed by the guy’s perceptiveness. Not even the cops had asked Flynn such detailed or thorough questions.
Which made Colton someone to avoid if any murderous genes manifested in Flynn. It would suck getting arrested by his half-brother’s muscly boyfriend. Would definitely make visiting hours awkward.
“Car windshield. Locker at the gym, which I stopped going to after that. One was tucked into a library book I checked out.” The memory made his stomach turn.
“That one freaked me out the most, honestly. Like, how did they know which book I was going to pick? Were they watching me in the library? Following me through the stacks?”
“Probably.” Colton’s bluntness should have been alarming, but somehow it felt better than false reassurance. “What about phone calls? Texts? Online contact?”
“Nothing. Just the physical notes.” Flynn paused, thinking. “Although my Instagram got some weird DMs a few weeks ago. Anonymous account, no profile picture. Messages were vague but creepy. ‘Saw you today,’ that kind of thing. I blocked them, but new accounts kept popping up saying similar stuff.”
“Still have those messages?”
“Screenshots, yeah. Saved them just in case.” In case of what, Flynn hadn’t been sure at the time. Now he was grateful for the paranoia that had made him document everything.
Colton nodded, still typing. “Good. Send those to me when we’re done here. What about your daily routine? You follow the same patterns? Same route to work, same grocery store, same coffee shop?”
“Mostly?” Flynn tried to map out his usual week. “I mean, I work here six days a week. Live about ten minutes away, same route there and back. Get groceries at the SaveMart on Fifth. Sometimes grab coffee at Pearls and Swirls next door before my shift.”
“So, someone watching you would know exactly where to find you at any given time.”
Holy fuck. Flynn had never thought of that.
Some creep could clock his habits any day of the week.
He seriously needed to get a life to become less predictable.
Or…or what? Hide like an actual shut-in?
As afraid as Flynn was, no psycho was going to take over his life.
Work was the one thing that kept him sane.
And after learning his family history, his sanity was more important than ever. Flynn was highly allergic to metal bars and jumpsuits. So not fashionable, especially on his skinny frame. He’d look like a deflated orange.
“I never thought about it like that. Just seemed like normal life stuff.” Flynn was going to be sick.
“It is normal,” Zack interjected. “Most people have routines. You can’t blame yourself for living your life.”
“I don’t blame myself,” Flynn said, hand on hip.
“I’m not actually a slut. That was…anyway.
” He frowned, forgetting what he was saying.
Oh yeah. “I’ve done nothing to warrant a creep targeting me, unless ‘routine’ is some kind of kink for them.
” Now he wished he would’ve joined a pottery club.
He could’ve had gloppy art around his house instead of some weirdo’s obsession.
“Any recent changes?” Colton asked. “New people in your life? Breakups? Job changes? Anything that might have triggered someone’s attention?”
“Not really.” Flynn’s life was depressingly stable or used to be. “I’ve worked here for three years. Haven’t dated anyone in over a year. Don’t really have friends, just acquaintances. The most interesting thing that’s happened recently is finding out I have a half-brother.”
He gestured at Zack, like Colton needed visual conformation of who Flynn was referring to.
Guess the self-help lady isn’t bringing any wine. Flynn would’ve chugged the bottle like he was at a frat party.
“What about enemies?” Colton pressed. “Anyone who might have a grudge against you?”
“Who would have a grudge against me? I’m the least threatening person alive.” Flynn spread his arms. “I work at a bookstore and kill houseplants. Not exactly villain origin story material.”
“You’d be surprised what sets people off.” Colton’s tone suggested he’d seen plenty of evidence to support that statement. “Ex-boyfriends? Former friends? Anyone you had a falling out with?”
Flynn thought back through his social life, which was more like a pitstop than a journey.
“My last boyfriend, Mario, ended things on friendly terms. We just weren’t compatible.
That was fourteen months ago, and I haven’t heard from him since.
Before that, there was Andrew, but he got a job offer in a different state, conveniently forgetting I existed. ”
“Show me the notes.” Colton was still tapping his phone screen.
Flynn was dying to peak, to see whether he was really taking notes or scrolling through social media.
Colton looked like the type to leave life-lesson comments, even with those videos of women throwing hands. Flynn was weirdly obsessed with them.
“I don’t have them with me.” Why would Flynn carry them around? A reminder someone was finally paying attention to him? He wasn’t that desperate. Yet. “They’re at my apartment. Filed under ‘evidence the police ignore.’”
“What’s your home address?” Colton asked before Flynn had finished talking, making him wonder if the guy was this no-nonsense in every aspect of his life.
Flynn’s gaze slid toward Zack before quickly darting away. That’s none of your business, perv.
Mortified at his thoughts, Flynn rattled it off before thinking how dumb that probably was. Giving his address to some muscly guy he’d just met felt like the opening scene of a murder documentary his future self would regret.
Stop being so dramatic.
Colton finally tucked his phone into his pocket. “I’m sending Malik to do a sweep of your place, check for entry points in your apartment. Zavier will be by in the morning.”
Everything was happening so fast, making Flynn dizzy. “Who are Malik and Zavier and why is one of them sweeping my house?” He needed protection, not cleaning a services.
“Malik lives with us,” Zack said, as if that explained anything. “I have no idea who Zavier is.”
“A former employee.” Colton explained, focusing his full attention on Flynn. “Your new bodyguard.”
A bodyguard made the danger real.
No more downplaying.
No more “maybe I’m overreacting.”
No more pretending this was a mild inconvenience.
* * * *
“Keys. Wallet. Phone. Sanity.” Flynn was ready to head to work.
The morning sunlight was bright as shit through his living room window.
Flynn grabbed his sunglasses off the kitchen counter and slid them on.
“Now I’m ready to slay, bitches,” he said to his wilting houseplants.
“You guys just need fresh air. I’ll set ya’ll in the window when I get home. ”