Chapter 21
Alice
This morning starts wrong when my car pulls to the right as I’m driving to work. By the time I get to the first stop sign, I can tell something’s definitely off. The steering feels weird and there’s a flapping sound coming from the front.
I pull over to the side of the road and get out to look. My front right tire is completely flat.
Great. Just great. Of course this would happen today, when I’m already running behind and can’t afford any more stress.
I’m standing there staring at the tire when I remember Sawyer telling me to call if I need anything. I pull out my phone and text him, adjusting my glasses nervously as I type.
Me: Hey I have a flat tire on Maple Street. Any chance you’re working today?
His response comes quickly.
Sawyer: On my way.
Ten minutes later, Sawyer’s patrol car pulls up behind me, hazards flashing.
“Everything okay?” he asks, getting out.
“I have a flat and no clue how to change it.” I push my glasses up my nose, feeling helpless and annoyed with myself for not learning something so basic.
“Let me take a look.” He walks around to examine the tire. “Yeah, it’s completely flat. When’s the last time you checked your spare?”
“Um… Never?”
He pops the trunk and starts pulling out the jack and spare tire. “Good news is your spare looks fine. Bad news is you’re going to be late for work.”
“I’ll call Nora and let her know.” I pull out my phone while Sawyer gets the jack set up.
“Alice? Where are you?” Nora answers on the second ring.
“I have a flat so I’m probably going to be late.”
“Take your time. Megan can cover for you until you get here.”
I hang up and watch Sawyer work. He’s loosening the lug nuts, sleeves rolled up, completely focused on the task. There’s something reassuring about having someone who actually knows what they’re doing handle this. Someone I can rely on.
He lifts the car with the jack and starts removing the flat tire. That’s when he stops.
“Ali, come here for a second.”
Something in his voice makes me nervous. It’s too careful, too controlled. “What?”
"Did you know this was on your car?" He's crouched down by the wheel, pointing at something small and black attached behind the tire.
I lean down to look, adjusting my glasses to see better. "What is it?"
"GPS tracker." His voice is calm, but his jaw is tight. "Someone's been tracking your movements."
The world tilts. I have to grab the car to steady myself.
Sawyer carefully removes the small device and holds it up. “It’s magnetic. Easy to attach, designed to be hidden. Hard to spot unless you’re looking for it.”
I stare at the tracker in his hand. It’s smaller than I expected, just a little black box that’s been following me everywhere I go. Every coffee run, every trip to the store, every moment I thought I was free.
“How long do you think it’s been there?”
“Hard to say. Could be weeks, could be months.” He stands up, still holding the device.
"Could the flat tire be..." I can't finish the sentence. Can't say it out loud.
But Sawyer understands. “I don't know. Maybe. I'll check it more carefully back at the station. Do you know who would want to track your location?”
The answer is obvious. Saying it out loud makes it real.
Lance.
It makes sense now.
But I'm not ready for that conversation yet. "I'm not sure." But suddenly everything makes sense. How he's able to show up wherever I am. All those times I thought I was being paranoid, thought I was imagining things. I wasn't crazy after all.
Sawyer nods grimly. “These things are easy to place. Takes about ten seconds if you know where to put it. Could’ve been while you were at work, at home, anywhere you parked for more than a minute.”
The thought makes me feel sick. All this time, I thought I was safe. I thought moving to Pine Hollows meant Lance couldn’t find me. But he’s been watching every move I make.
That time I thought I saw his truck outside the grocery store. I told myself I was being paranoid.
I wasn't paranoid. He was really there.
“What do I do?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
“Well first, we finish changing your tire. But then we need to talk about filing a report.”
“A report?”
“Alicat, this is stalking. Someone tracking your location without your consent is illegal.”
My hands start shaking, and I adjust my glasses again. “Won’t people think I’m just being crazy?”
“No.” Sawyer’s voice is firm, certain. “This isn’t overreacting. This is someone violating your privacy and potentially putting you in danger. There’s no telling what he’s planning to do with this information.”
He turns back to the tire, working quickly to get the spare on. I stand there holding the tracker, feeling violated. Every trip to the grocery store. Every visit to Madison's. Every moment I thought I was alone.
He was watching. Always watching.
“There,” Sawyer says, lowering the jack. “That should get you to work and back. You’ll need to get a new tire soon though.”
“Thank you.” My voice sounds small, defeated.
I meet his eyes, and there's something steady there. Safe.
“This isn’t your fault. You understand that, right?”
I nod, even though part of me wonders what I did to deserve this. What I did wrong.
Nothing. The answer is nothing. This is all Lance.
“We’re going to handle this. But I need you to be completely honest with me about what’s been going on. Can you do that?”
“Yeah.” The words feel like a promise I'm not sure I can keep, but I want to try.
“Good.” He takes the tracker from my hands. “I’m going to keep this as evidence. Don’t go anywhere alone for a little while, okay? Call me if you need anything. Even if it seems small or stupid. I mean it.”
"Thank you. For believing me. For not thinking I'm crazy."
“Of course.”
Hearing someone say it out loud—someone who isn't telling me I'm overreacting—makes something in my chest loosen.
As I drive to work with the spare tire, my mind is racing. Lance has been tracking me. He knows everywhere I go, everyone I see. The library, the coffee shop, probably even when I go to Madison’s house.
Everything makes sense now. How he knew to show up at the library. How my mother found me at Cozy Cup. Lance told her exactly where I'd be because he'd been watching the tracker. How he knew about my grandmother's house. The black SUV following me.
All of it. He orchestrated all of it.
He’s been watching me this whole time, collecting information, and I had no idea.
But now we have evidence. Real, physical proof that I’m not imagining things.
Maybe this nightmare is finally going to end.