Chapter 9
Nine
“There’s so little here.” Discouraged, Paisley dropped her copy of the thin file Joel had sent and rubbed at the headache beginning to bloom.
“There’s more here than you think. And your own pictures and notes will help make up for the theft of the original packages.” Ty’s hand settled on her nape and began to knead.
Paisley couldn’t stop the quiet sound of relief or the way her body automatically leaned into his touch. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and she caught the shared glances between the rest of his friends scattered around Harrison and Ivy’s living room for this sitrep meeting.
Last night had changed everything. They’d both stopped fighting the pull between them.
She’d worried he’d be uncomfortable about it around the others, but it was as if a switch had been flipped, setting him to Boyfriend Mode.
It was weird and wonderful and clearly out of character for him based on how everyone kept staring.
This was her Ty, and they were just going to have to get used to it.
For once, Sebastian kept his mouth shut, but he did offer her a thumbs up when Ty appeared not to be looking. Even as Paisley’s lips twitched, Ty flipped him off and continued to massage her neck and shoulders.
“Children,” Ivy warned.
“Awww, look at you, practicing your mom voice,” Paisley teased.
“These three clowns give me plenty of opportunity.” She spread a look between the three men.
“Anyway, Ty’s right. There’s enough here to help us build a timeline.
Once we have that, we’ll look at what else was going on in your life at the time to see if we can map what might have sparked the changes. ”
Wielding a dry erase marker on the massive whiteboard Paisley knew she used for book plotting, Ivy made notes. Together, they slowly, painstakingly reconstructed the entire thing, with notes about each contact. By the time they’d finished, it was easy to see the progression delineated.
Ty added the last one to a digital map on his computer. “There were different postmarks on all of them. Each one is within about an hour’s drive of Nashville proper, so it seems likely that whoever’s doing the sending lives or works within or close to that radius.”
Ivy studied the whiteboard. “Everything kept a degree of separation until a little over two weeks ago. That’s when things got more direct. What was going on two-and-half weeks ago?”
Paisley considered. “Nothing unusual, other than your wedding. But I don’t see what that would have to do with anything.”
“Not just the wedding,” Ty said. “Me. You left the reception with me.”
And she’d taken him home with her.
“The first direct-to-your-house package showed up the following Monday,” Ivy continued. “The first one with no note, like maybe it wasn’t thought out but reactionary.”
“Like maybe someone was jealous?” Harrison put in.
“It seems like a reasonable argument that the person behind this is, if not definitely male, probably interested,” Laurel added. “Ty would represent a threat in that case.”
Paisley frowned. “I have a hard time imagining a guy doing the rest of this.”
“The other day, when you saw the collar, you said ‘he’. ‘He followed me.’ Why?”
“It wasn’t a conscious choice of pronoun. I guess I don’t tend to see women as a threat. And we thought, before that, that it was likely a fan. Or…I did. Detective Fisher ran with that theory.”
“You have male fans,” Ty pointed out.
She thought of those well-worn copies of her books back at his place. “Yeah, I suppose I do. Though it’s definitely not the majority.”
“You should check out our guest list and the registry book from the wedding,” Harrison suggested. “Not everybody signed it, and we can’t account for all of the plus ones, but maybe you’ll recognize somebody’s name.”
“We should also cross reference those names with the people on her mailing list and those who follow her on social media,” Ivy said.
They collectively split up the task and began combing through.
Paisley started with the guest book Harrison brought.
After all her years in Nashville, she recognized a lot of names, but no one she had a particular connection to.
Laurel picked out four women who definitely subscribed to Paisley’s newsletter, and Ivy found a couple more who might follow her on social media.
None seemed like viable candidates for her stalker.
“What about pictures?” Sebastian asked. “That photographer was all over the place, snapping pictures of everybody. Maybe Paisley will see someone she recognizes.”
“We just got the gallery of proofs back.” Harrison retrieved a sleek little MacBook and logged into the photographer’s website.
Paisley scrolled through the online gallery, feeling a bittersweet mix of joy and yearning as she checked out the play-by-play of Ivy and Harrison’s big day.
They’d looked so blissfully happy and perfect together.
They were blissfully happy and perfect together, building the life and the future they wanted.
She was still too scared to let herself dream of that.
It had been so many years since she’d allowed herself to want that kind of a future.
After all the disappointments and failures, it had seemed safer to tuck those desires away and enjoy what was right in front of her.
And she did enjoy the heady bliss of a new relationship.
But it had been a long time since she could fully throw herself headlong into the pursuit of romance.
Maybe because she was more battered and bruised than she wanted to admit from all the deliberate attempts to fall in love.
Love wasn’t a thing to be forced, like a flower bulb in winter.
As she saw her own face on the screen, turned up to Ty’s while they danced, she couldn’t help thinking that love bloomed where it was planted…and hers had been planted for this man when they were only sixteen.
“What about that guy?” Ty asked.
Pulled out of her thoughts, Paisley looked to where he pointed.
In the periphery of the shot, the man who’d hit on her at the reception glared in their direction.
“He looks mad enough to spit nails. But I’d never met him before that night.
I never even got his name. He was too busy offering up bad pickup lines, and then you gallantly rode to my rescue. ”
“He was hitting on virtually anything with a skirt and getting shot down at every turn. I watched him working the room before he got to you.”
“Why did you intervene? You didn’t know it was me.”
“He had you cornered, and I know a predator when I see one.”
Ivy leaned over the back of the couch to look at the screen.
“Oh, that’s Glen Bartlett. He’s a distant cousin who is a pox on womankind.
We didn’t actually invite him, but my great aunt brought him anyway as her plus one and chauffeur.
I think she was under the delusion that he might meet a nice girl.
She keeps thinking it will settle him down, but he’s not the type to be capable of love, let alone change for it. ”
“We’ll add him to the list of people to follow up on.”
Paisley scrolled through the rest of the pictures. As before, she knew quite a few people, but none who seemed a decent candidate for a stalker.
Ty set the laptop on the coffee table. “So, for this theory to hold, either someone at the wedding we aren’t aware of saw us together or someone saw us together at some point after.”
“You’re suggesting I was being followed even then?” The idea had gooseflesh rising on Paisley’s arms.
“Maybe. Or there might be some other trigger for the shift that we haven’t thought of yet.”
“Thinking back over the past few months, have there been points where you were uneasy? Where you felt like there were eyes on you or that something wasn’t right?” Ivy asked.
“Plenty. But I just thought I was being paranoid after being mugged.”
“It could be that. Or it could be that you’re picking up on more than you’re aware of.
The fact is, whoever is behind this is watching you in some form or fashion.
On social media. Through your books. They’ve done enough digging to uncover your home address.
That might have been by looking through records, or it might have been by tailing you.
You’ve had public appearances, book signings.
It wouldn’t be that hard to stick around and follow you home. ”
“If you’re trying to scare me further, you’re doing a damned good job of it.”
Ty squeezed her shoulders. “Nobody’s getting to you here. And I’m not so sure it’s someone random. Did Fisher ever look at your exes?”
Paisley wasn’t keen on talking about her past dating history with Ty. “No reason to, we thought. I parted on good terms with most of them.”
He grunted a noncommittal noise. “I think it’s worth looking at. These are guys who do know you on a certain level. Or thought they did. That’s something of a gift of yours.”
“What is?”
“Making people think they’re closer to you than they are. You’re so warm and friendly, and you really listen to people. That kind of attention is…intoxicating. You remember what it was like in high school, how many people thought you were their bestie.”
“So now it’s a problem that I’m nice to people?”
“No. Not at all. I’m just saying that someone could have misinterpreted that behavior, maybe thought your relationship was more serious than it was. Can you make a list tracing back your relationship history?”
“Why?”
“These gifts show an inherent base-level knowledge of you. Stands to reason somebody who’s jealous of you being involved with someone might have enjoyed the privilege himself and want that back.”
“Then why not just ask me?”
“Maybe you said no. Or maybe it was a long game that I screwed up. Either way, I think the list could be useful.”
Paisley could see his point, but she didn’t like it. “How far back am I supposed to go?”
“Is it that long a list in total?”