It's the last one that stands out to me the most. He knows who I am. He knows it was me behind the break ins, the stalking, the cameras and everything in between. He knows and he still wants me there. No, want is an understatement. My chest tightens and my spine goes rigid when I think about how someone tried to hurt him once. Those cookies weren't an accident. They wanted him dead and they'd try again. They won't succeed if I can help it.
Me staying away was more likely going to land him six feet under in front of a fancy plot in my brother's backyard, and if this is all to get to me then I need to be the one they reach first. I will be.
A bright light catches my attention as I'm pulling up to my house. I jump out of the truck as soon as I kill my engine. Glass shatters and a loud popping sound echoes around me that has me hauling ass toward Patrick's house. It feels like forever before I finally reach the front door, my heart pounding hard against my chest. The door is locked when I twist the knob and I slam my body hard against it, snatching my gun out of the back of my pants to shoot at the hinges. The door flies open when I shove at it again, and I run to where smoke is rising from. It’s coming from the kitchen floor,and I search for the fire extinguisher, wondering why the smoke detector hasn’t gone off.
He’s a heavy sleeper; I’ve noticed that first-hand. Patrick was right about me watching him every night, not only on camera but through the windows he leaves open for me too. I saw him shoving open all the blinds before our private chat. “Patrick,” I shout. “Where are you?”
After swinging open every cabinet, I finally find what I’m looking for and spray the fire. I grab a towel lying under some drying dishes and use it in conjunction with the fire extinguisher, smothering and stomping out the flames. A light flickers on and Patrick looks taken aback, holding his hand to his chest. “What the hell is going on?”
“There was a fire in your kitchen.”
His eyes are as big as saucers. “What? How?”
“No idea. Do you happen to have an angry ex boyfriend? Or like to fall asleep while candles are lit?”
With a bewildered expression, he shakes his head. “No. No one knows I’m here and I prefer incense but am completely out.”
“You should call the police and file a report.”
“I . . . Yeah, the police.” He’s so shaken up, grabbing onto the counter and staring past me. “I meant to do that earlier when I got that package.”
“What package?”
“Are you really here or is this some smoke hallucination? Did you really come back?”
“Patty, focus. What package, baby?”
His lips purse, chest muscles jumping. “I…someone mailed me a severed body part today. I…I thought maybe it got sent to the wrong address, and then I thought about calling 911 but…but…what if that leads to more body parts showing up?”
My jaw tightens. “Call them now. Tell them about everything.”
“The cookies too?”
My lips shift from side to side. “No. Not the cookies. Just the package and what's happening now. Hurry,” I shout. “I’ll be searching the perimeter while you do. In case it wasn't an accident. Never can be too careful.”
Throwing himself forward, he grabs at my arm. “No. Don’t leave me here alone.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right outside.” I grab his chin, looking deep into those piercing blues. “I need to make sure no one else is out there.”
“Okay.” He sniffs, rubbing his tired eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to nap this long. I must have slept through my alarm.”
“Something tells me you could be hogtied and hung upside down and stay sleeping.”
He rolls his eyes. “I'm not that bad.
“Hmm. We'll have to put that to the test tomorrow,” I say, rushing away before he has a chance to respond with that mouth of his gaping.
Walking out the door isn’t easy, not when he’s also shaking with fear, and not the kind he gladly welcomes either. The sooner I do a quick check around the house, the sooner I can get back to him. When I return, he’s laying the phone on the counter, staring at the blank screen.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. They’re on their way to take a report and do a walk through the house.”
“Good. I’ll wait with you.” I reach for his arm and he doesn’t pull away or jerk again. He throws himself against my chest, wrapping his arms around me, and I hold him back, rubbing his shoulder.
“You’re not going to go back home, are you?”
“I am, but not until the cops leave.” He stiffens in my arms. “But you’re coming with me.”