Chapter 13
Knox
The evening passed in a blur of planning and preparation. By the time we locked up the shop and headed back to Sloane’s house, the moon was high in the sky.
“I need to do a security check before we settle in,” I said as we pulled into her driveway. “Standard protocol.”
“Of course.” Sloane climbed out of the Jeep, stretching her arms over her head. The movement pulled her shirt tight across her chest, and I forced myself to look away.
I’d done a thorough check this morning and again this afternoon. Every window, every door, the alarm system, the camera feeds. Everything had been secure when we left. But something nagged at me as I approached the house, a feeling I’d learned not to ignore in combat zones.
The front door was locked. The alarm still armed. I disengaged it and stepped inside, immediately scanning the space.
Nothing appeared to be disturbed. The furniture was exactly as we’d left it. No signs of forced entry or any intrusion. But my instincts were screaming.
“Stay here,” I told Sloane, pulling out my phone. “I’m going to check upstairs.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Maybe nothing. Probably nothing. Just let me look around.”
I moved through the house methodically, clearing each room. Sloane’s bedroom first. Then the guest rooms and bathrooms. Everything appeared normal until I reached the hallway window overlooking the side yard.
The window was wide open.
I stared at it, my heart rate kicking up. I’d checked this window in the morning. I was certain of it.
Even if I was wrong, and I hadn’t remembered to check the lock, I wouldn’t have left it wide open.
Which meant someone had been inside the house.
And they wanted us to know.
I pulled out my phone and took photos of the window, the latch, the sill. No obvious signs of tampering, but that didn’t mean anything. A professional could get in and out without leaving evidence.
“Knox?” Sloane’s voice carried up the stairs, tight with worry.
I raced back to her, drawn by the fear in her voice. “Here.”
Sloane stood frozen in the living room without looking in my direction as I approached. Instead, she stared at the coffee table.
“What’s wrong?” I moved to her side, then followed her line of sight.
A single shell sat centered on the arrangement of books. Small, brown and white, perfectly placed.
“That wasn’t there this morning,” she whispered.
My muscles locked, ready for an attack, though it was only us and this small shell. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” Her voice shook. “That shell is new.”
I pulled out my phone, photographed it without touching it. The scotch bonnet was common on our beaches. Tourists collected them by the dozen. But this wasn’t a tourist souvenir. This was a message.
“Someone was here. In my home.” Sloane swallowed, turning in a small circle, eyes searching everything in sight, as if he might still be here.
“He could’ve touched anything. Done anything, and he left this.
” Her gaze snapped up to meet mine. “He wanted us to find it. He wanted us to know he was here.”
I dipped my chin in confirmation as she echoed my thought upstairs.
I tugged her away from the table and the shell representing everything I’d failed to protect her from. “The hall window was open upstairs. I know I locked it this morning.” I pulled up Nash’s number on my phone. “I’m calling the sheriff. Now.”
Sloane
Knox had his phone to his ear in an instant. “Yeah, we need you at Sloane’s place.” He paused. “Someone was in the house.”
I sank onto the couch, legs suddenly unreliable. My gaze jumped to the windows and doorways, then always back to the coffee table. To that perfect little shell centered on my books like a calling card.
He’d been here. In my home. Walking through my rooms. Touching my things.
He’d been upstairs. Opened the hallway window. Is that how he got inside? Was he in my bedroom? Had he stood over my bed imagining—
My stomach lurched.
“Hey.” Knox crouched in front of me, his large hands bracketing my knees. “I’m right here. Nash is on his way.”
“We were out looking for him, and he was right here.” My voice came out thin. Distant.
“I know.”
“Is he watching us now? Laughing. Enjoying this?”
“Don’t.” Knox’s jaw was tight, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. “Don’t do that to yourself. We don’t know, but we will find out. And I won’t leave your side.”
Tears slipped over my cheeks unbidden.
Knox’s hands tightened on my knees. “Sloane.”
I dragged my gaze to his and nodded.
Then, Knox pulled me forward into his arms, and I went easily, gladly. I buried my face in the curve of his neck and tried to breathe through the panic clawing up my throat.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m not letting him near you again.”
I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him.
But the shell on my coffee table warned me otherwise.
Sheriff Sullivan arrived fifteen minutes later with a deputy and a crime scene tech. I watched from the deck while they photographed the shell, dusted for prints, examined the window.
Knox stood beside me, close enough that our arms touched. He hadn’t left my side since I’d sat down.
“Sloane.” The sheriff moved in our direction, expression grave. “I need to ask you some questions.”
“Okay.”
“When’s the last time you’re certain that shell wasn’t there?”
“This afternoon.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “I walked through the rooms with Knox while he checked all the locks before we left. It wasn’t there.”
“And the window upstairs?”
I looked to Knox for this one.
He caught my gaze and answered. “This morning before we left. It was locked.”
The sheriff made notes. “No signs of forced entry on the window or any of the doors.”
“None,” Knox answered again.
“Which means either he’s skilled at bypassing locks, or—”
“Or what?” Knox’s voice was hard.
I looked from him to the sheriff, unsure what wasn’t being said.
“Or he has a key.”
My lips parted as I processed the horrifying possibility.
“I don’t think so,” I said, finally. “I have the only keys. My parents have a set, but they’re in Charleston. Marissa has a set for emergencies, but she would’ve told me if she lost it.”
“We’ll touch base with her to be certain.” He made another note. “What about contractors? Property management. Other family members or employees. Anyone who might’ve had access?”
I shook my head. “My parents had the locks changed after construction.” But even as I said it, doubt crept in. It wasn’t as if they’d made the changes themselves. They would’ve hired that work out. How many people had been through this house then? How many workers, vendors, inspectors?
“We’ll check with your parents about who had access during the build,” Nash said. “In the meantime, I’m recommending you change all the locks as soon as possible.”
“On it,” Knox said.
The sheriff studied us both. “Knox, can I talk to you for a minute?”
They moved to the far end of the room, voices low. I couldn’t hear what the sheriff was saying, but I saw Knox’s expression darken. Saw his hands curl into fists at his sides.
When they finished, Sheriff Sullivan returned to say goodbye. “We’re going to find this guy, Sloane. I promise.”
After the local lawmen left, the house felt too big. Too empty despite Knox’s presence. As if someone could be hiding anywhere unnoticed. We locked ourselves inside and settled in the kitchen.
“What did the sheriff say to you privately?” I asked.
“He suggested a security upgrade. Archer and Colton will take care of that. I’ve already reached out. They’re designing a plan. Once they figure it out, they’ll place orders for materials tonight, then come over to begin setup in the morning.”
“That’s fast. Good.”
“It’s possible they won’t be able to get their hands on everything they want with such little notice.
Some things might require a trip to the mainland, but we’ll know more when they get here.
” Knox’s voice was rough. “I don’t like any of this.
This guy is escalating fast, and that’s serious cause for concern. ”
I turned and leaned against the countertop for support. “Yeah.”
“Following you on the trail was his MO. The attack at your party, on your property, was a significant move away from his chosen protocol. Now this? Breaking into your home while we were away? Making sure we knew. To say he’s getting bolder doesn’t cover it.”
I folded my arms across my chest, rubbing my palms against my biceps to erase the goosebumps rising there.
Knox blew out a long, labored breath, but his blue eyes held mine. “I don’t know what the missing hikers went through before they disappeared, or if they experienced anything like this, but it seems to me this guy is obsessed with you. That scares the hell out of me.”
I swallowed hard. Seeing the worry and fear in Knox’s eyes sent shocks of terror through my core. “You’re saying that your presence won’t deter him like I’d hoped,” I said. “And that he’s not going to stop until he has me.”
The words hung between us, ugly and true.
“I think he’s proven that my presence isn’t a deterrent, but I won’t let him get to you,” Knox said. The intensity in his voice and gaze made my breath catch.
“You can’t promise that.”
“Watch me.”
The goosebumps returned. If I could read minds, based on Knox’s stance and expression, I’d say this wasn’t just professional protection anymore. This was personal.
My phone buzzed, and I jumped. Still edgy from my attack. Still in shock from the day’s events. My mother’s name lit the screen.
I showed Knox, then answered. If I didn’t, she’d just keep calling.
I’d forgotten to check in today. Mom had only asked for a daily text, but I’d been busy, my mind on everything else, and she was sure to be pissed.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, trying and failing to sound as if my life wasn’t in the crosshairs of a killer.
“Care to explain why I’m hearing from the club president that you’re dating some local boy and there’s been another attack? Two very big things I should’ve heard directly from you.”