Ivan turned the bag sideways, tilting his head as he attempted to read one of the notes through the plastic. The sound of faint sirens traveled through the evening air.
“The ones from before I moved here are in a smaller bag inside this one,” Cera informed him. “Those were already tested for prints, and I didn’t want any of the magnetic powder to transfer to the others. Not that I expect the others I’ve gotten since those to have any prints, either.”
“What makes you say that?” Those blue eyes found hers once more.
“Because this guy’s smart,” she declared.Really freaking smart.“The cops in Durango had nothing to go on, so their hands were tied. Same with Colorado Springs PD.”
“Colorado Springs…” He held her gaze. “That where you lived before here?”
Cera nodded. “I moved to Denver three months ago. And honestly, the first few weeks here were great. I found a decent apartment I could afford”—barely—“and job waiting tables at that popular wing place on East 36th.”
“What happened after the first few weeks?”
“Same as always. More texts. Phone calls. Notes. And now this.” Self-pity seeped into her veins, but she refused to let it show. Not now. Not in front of Ivan.
“You said he’s called you. The cops ever run a trace on your phone?”
“Colorado Springs PD tried, but they said the guy was using a drop phone. The detective assigned my case there said that unless my stalker was sitting still when he calls, the cell towers wouldn’t be able to pinpoint his exact location. They were only ever able to narrow it down to a generalized area with more than a thirty-block radius.”
Far too great a size for most departments to handle. Ironically, the very thing that made it impossible for the cops to find her stalker had prompted Cera to get her very own untraceable phone.
If his prevented her from tracing him, the same would be true in reverse. Or so she’d believed. Except…
He keeps finding me. I don’t know how the hell he keeps finding me.
The creep was always one step ahead. Every. Freaking. Time.
“He’s escalating,” she told Ivan with confidence. “He’s been in my previous homes before, but he’s never…”
Emotion clogged her throat, stealing the rest of her intended words. She’d been about to say the man who’d been making her life miserable had never shown any physical signs of violence before.
Illegally entered her last two apartments and her room here, yes. Touched things and moved them around, sure. But never something like this.
“The cops didn’t believe me, though. Back in Durango, and even the CSPD…they all thought I was making it up.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.” Nerves had her feet shuffling from side-to-side. “I think they believed the notes and texts were real. At first, anyway.”
“And the break-ins?”
Those sirens grew louder.
“There was no sign of forced entry. Nothing broken or vandalized in any way. There wasn’t anything obvious to the police, but I saw it.”
“Tell me what you saw.”
Cera stared back at him. With her chin high and her eyes locked with his, she tightened her gut and told him the truth.
“Some of my things had been moved. Nothing super noticeable, and sometimes not at all. But it didn’t matter. I could always tell when he’d been there.”
Steeling herself for the same disbelief and misguided sympathy she’d received from those other departments, Cera held her breath and waited.
Ivan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he seemed to be taking a moment to process all she’d shared. When he did open his mouth to speak, there wasn’t even the slightest hint of judgement or disbelief. Only genuine curiosity.
“What makes you think the detectives with those other departments didn’t believe you?”
“They all but said it.” She could still feel the sting from their condescending musings. “I must have forgotten I’d moved the vase from the counter to the end table.” Just one example. “I must have unintentionally switched up my picture frames the last time I dusted, but then forgot. People misplace their T.V. remotes all the time, right? So surely that had to be it.”