He gave a slight nod of his head. “I mean, those things would be easily forgotten—”
“Not for me, they weren’t.”
“Butyou seem pretty convinced that wasn’t the case.”
“Because it wasn’t.”
“And you know this how?”
“I had safeguards in place. Not that the detectives believed that, either.”
What they hadn’t understood—what they couldn’tpossiblycomprehend—was the level of importance Cera felt when it came to keeping everything in its exact, precise place. Not because she was naturally anal retentive or suffered from OCD. No, her control when it came to the items she’d owned had been solely about her safety.
After all she’d survived, it was her number one priority.
“I couldn’t afford an alarm system, but after the phone calls and notes began, I created various fail-safes to alert me of possible danger.”
If she got home from work or running errands and discovered something wasn’t exactly as she’d left it—a picture frame had been shifted, a vase the slightest off-center, her remote in a different spot than where she kept it, etc.— she would know someone had been there.
The only problem with the plan was her inability to convince others of its validity. And with no evidence of forced entry at any of the break-ins’ locations, it was proving to be an impossible feat.
“Well, after what I saw upstairs, I’d say the cops here have no choice but to believe you now.”
Right on cue, a black, unmarked car turned into the motel’s lot. Lights of blue and white flashed back and forth across the windshield’s brow, as well as across the grill, between the vehicle’s bright headlights.
Three patrol units pulled in shortly after.
Cera crossed her arms at her front, the tip of her right foot bouncing nervously as she waited. Her stomach churned, her nerve endings on fire with anxiety as she prayed Ivan and his cop friends would truly be able to help.
Only one way to find out.
As usual, her inner voice was right. The only way to know for sure would be to go through it all over again.
So she’d play along. Start to finish, Cera would go through the whole thing all over again. She’d divulge everything the psycho bastard stalking her had done up to this point and let them take pictures of her ransacked room.
But if it didn’t work, if Ivan or his detective friend told her there was nothing, they could do…
I’ll have no choice but to leave again.
With only the clothes on her back and fifty dollars to her name.
4
Ivan stoodnext to Declan and listened while Cera went through everything she’d shared with him prior to the detective’s arrival. Sliding his fists into the satin lining of his pockets, he watched the intriguing woman closely for the slightest sign of deception.
So far, he’d seen none. Her answers were clean and concise. Her story hadn’t changed even once. And when she’d answered his and Dec’s questions, Cera maintained eye contact like a pro.
But it was still early in this new game to make the official call. And if P.I. work had taught him anything these last few years, it was that some of the prettiest, most convincing displays of innocence could sometimes conceal a mountain of lies.
From what he’d seen so far, Ivan’s gut said the mysterious brunette was telling the truth about the stalker. After all, the notes she’d shown him, coupled with the destruction in her room, sure seemed to support her claims.
Still, Ivan made it a practice to look at every angle before making his final judgement. And something told him Cera Davidson was hiding all kinds of angles.
Ones he couldn’t wait to uncover.
Right on cue, his mind’s eye filled with the unexpected image of the two of them together. Him. Her. Their naked, intertwined bodies hidden beneath the covers as they kissed and licked and touched…
Put it back in your pants, asshole. Cera needs your help, not your greedy dick!