by Kat Mizera
According to Shannon’s mother, she didn’t have a car. The school where she worked was about six blocks away, and I headed in that direction. There was a bakery up ahead and I couldn’t help but go in, smiling at the pleasant-faced woman behind the counter.
“Good morning,” I told her in German. I ordered coffee and indulged in a pastry, taking both to go as I continued down the street. It was chilly this morning and the coffee felt good in my hands.
Shannon’s mother said she usually left for work about seven thirty, and it was just seven now, so I planned to be settled somewhere I could watch her approach the school. It would hopefully also allow me to see if anyone was following her. I hoped not, but that’s why I was here, after all. If I could get rid of the guy, or at least find out what was going on and turn him over to the police, maybe I wouldn’t have to talk to Shannon at all. I could update Mrs. Barrow and go back to Limaj without aggravating any of my virtual scars.
That was laughable. I’d be able to stay away from her about as well as I’d been able to ignore her mother’s plea for help. Samantha Barrow wouldn’t have called me if she hadn’t thought Shannon’s fears were legitimate, and I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. Not on my watch.
I found the school and checked out possible vantage points across the street. There was an office building that would have been perfect had it not been locked up tight. I could’ve gotten in, of course, but this wasn’t an official mission and I needed to be discreet until I knew what was going on.
I was about to cross the street when I saw her. She was walking briskly, her calf-length maroon coat pulled tight around her. Her hair was in a loose braid down her back and she wasn’t wearing glasses, which made me smile. She was as beautiful as I remembered, a decade older but as sweet as ever. She smiled at someone she passed on the street, and it lit up her whole face. When she paused to pet a dog that ran toward her, my gut clenched a little as I fought off the urge to call her name. It was disconcerting that she still had the same effect on me she’d had the night I met her. I was usually better than this. What was it about this woman?
She spoke to a few people as she walked up the steps to the school, and then she disappeared inside and out of sight. I scanned the street and there didn’t appear to be anyone watching or following her, though I wouldn’t be able to see them if they were indoors somewhere looking through a window. Well, that answered my first question. Now it was time to get to work.
I went back to my hotel, changed into generic clothes that would make me look like a repairman of some kind, picked up a few supplies and headed back to her apartment building. I got in quickly and easily, which was good for me but bad for her, and got a feel for the place, the basic layout and how she lived. Her apartment was a little harder to get into since she had multiple locks, but it didn’t take that long.
The place was definitely a woman’s apartment, filled with bright colors, plants, and feminine touches. There were red and pink throw pillows on the couch, a turquoise afghan hanging over what looked like an antique rocking chair, and white lacy curtains on the windows. I did a sweep, checking for bugs or anything out of the ordinary, and got out without drawing any attention to myself. I tended to do things like this at night, but Shannon would be home at night and I had to do it now.
I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon scouring over every aspect of Shannon’s life. Her social media pages, phone records, email, bills, everything. Samantha had given me a ton of information and Chains had done a good job running her name through every system he had access to. She wasn’t a criminal and didn’t have a record, so I focused instead on her daily life, spending habits, and social life. I felt a little guilty about invading her privacy like this, but that was the only way to get some insight on what might be going on. Of course, I wouldn’t deny I was curious.
She didn’t post a lot, mostly when she traveled, but her Instagram feed had a spattering of fun photos of her with some of the people in her life. Skiing in Switzerland with friends, shopping in New York with her mother, biking in a vineyard somewhere in France. She seemed happy and healthy, though her posts were few and far between and she seemed to spend most of her time with the same few people.
I dug into her ex-husband next. Douglas Maynard was a thirty-five-year-old Washington, D.C., attorney. His wedding just last month to another lawyer at his firm was all over the gossip pages and I scowled as I scrolled through the photos. He was dorky-looking while his new wife was extremely attractive. Not prettier than Shannon, of course, but one of those women who had every hair in place and had her makeup spray-painted on. She was pretty, but she didn’t hold a candle to Shannon in my opinion.
I was probably happier than I should have been that Shannon was single, but I needed to see what there was to see with her ex. There were quite a few references to their divorce but the details were sketchy. Someone had cheated, but D.C. gossip columnists didn’t call either of them out specifically. My gut told me it hadn’t been Shannon.
Nothing raised any red flags, though, so I logged off my laptop and grabbed my coat. I wanted to be outside the school when Shannon left, just to get a feel for her routine. I was doing what I was trained to do, but there was a part of me that desperately wanted to just look at her, lose myself in a wonderful fantasy about the one who got away. Hell, she’d never been mine, but for several hours one night I’d pretended she was. Somehow, the idea had dug itself into my psyche and never let go. I wasn’t usually such a romantic. In fact, I’d never been a romantic, so this pull to Shannon didn’t make a lot of sense.
I picked up my pace and tried to focus. I needed to find out what was going on, not lose myself in memories. And the sooner I did it, the sooner I’d get back to the real world that didn’t include a blonde with big blue eyes.
Chapter Four
Shannon
My mother talked me into sleeping at a hotel for one night, allowing me to get a great night of sleep. I was in a better mood now and determined to either get to the bottom of whatever was going on or get out of my own head. I was going to buy a nanny cam of some kind as soon as I got off work today, and either prove there was something going on or figure out why I was freaking myself out. Douglas had done a number on my self-esteem, but I’d never been the melodramatic type and this was getting ridiculous. I was Wayne Barrow’s daughter, dammit, and it was time to take control of the situation. If I was having hallucinations or anxiety attacks or some other mental issue, I would get help. The problem with that was, I didn’t think I was crazy. It felt like it sometimes lately, but I was too sane and rational in trying to sort out the situation, so it didn’t make a lot of sense.
“Have a good day,” the man at the front desk told me as I brushed past him on my way out.
“You too!” I called back.
It was a dreary day, cold and overcast, much like my mood yesterday. I wasn’t as depressed today, but melancholy had set in instead. I knew what I’d been seeing, but there was no proof and I felt a little silly. Maybe I should report what was going on. It was just so hard. I liked my life here; I had a handful of friends and a good job, so I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize either of those by being the American who brought trouble to the neighborhood.
I shook off the negative thoughts and found a taxi instead of walking, even though it wasn’t very far. I had the driver go around the block and drop me off on the far side of the school. Then I doubled back and came up the street along the side. Changing up my routine would confuse anyone watching me and it helped my mood to feel like I was being proactive.
“How are you?” My friend and coworker, Sandra Barnes, joined me as I walked to the teachers’ lounge to get some coffee.
“Well-rested,” I told her.
“I’m glad you stayed at a hotel last night. You needed it.”
“Also the room service and the porn channels,” I joked.
She laughed. “There is no shortage of men interested in taking you out. Porn
shouldn’t be necessary.”
I shrugged. “I’m still a little gun-shy from my divorce. And until I figure out why things keep moving in my apartment, I’m not in a position to trust anyone.”
“Makes sense.” Sandra poured herself a cup of coffee. “Well, anyway, I’m off to what promises to be a very exciting history department meeting.” She rolled her eyes.
“Better you than me!” I called after her, chuckling. I didn’t mind staff meetings. It was a good way to keep up with what was going on within my department and all the students in the school. We taught kindergarten through high school, so we had a wide range of students and most classrooms included multiple ages and grade levels. I taught British literature and English at the high school level, which meant grades nine through twelve, and I had students anywhere from fourteen to eighteen years old. I thought it was fun, but Sandra said she missed teaching in the U.S., that things weren’t regulated enough here. Personally, I was good with less regulation and no standardized tests other than voluntary SAT and ACT testing for those that wanted to go to American universities, but not everyone agreed with me. To each his own, right?
On the way home, I stopped at a computer store and spent an hour choosing the right system. I told the owner I thought my maid was stealing from me, since I was still a little self-conscious about admitting I might have a stalker but wasn’t sure. He was knowledgeable and extremely helpful in showing me how to set up and use the system. I left feeling a lot better about everything. Hopefully, within the next few days, I’d have answers. Of course, I wasn’t sure what I’d do if there actually was a stalker and I caught him. Going to the police would mean doing all the things I’d wanted to avoid, which left me with a dilemma.
I needed answers, but I didn’t want to bring trouble to Mrs. Winkelhofer or my job, and a stalker wasn’t the kind of thing you could cover up. Would there be a trial? Arrests? Was it someone I knew? There were a million questions and I would only drive myself crazy trying to figure it out, so I took a deep breath and forced myself to take things one step at a time. Until I had answers, everything else was speculation and that didn’t do anything for me.
Chapter Five
Ace
I watched Shannon’s building until midnight and finally called it a night. I didn’t know how long I was going to keep this up and part of me just wanted to knock on her door and announce myself. Mrs. Barrow had suggested it, but I told her I wanted to stay in hiding for now. It would be easier for me to spot someone doing something they shouldn’t be if no one could connect Shannon and me. She’d agreed for now, but I didn’t know how long I could stand it. I would do whatever I had to if it meant keeping Shannon safe, but as of now, I didn’t know that she wasn’t.
I got back to my hotel and stretched out on the bed, hands behind my head. I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere, so maybe it was time to talk to her. If it was her imagination, or if she was dealing with a mental health situation, I wanted to help. Even if she hadn’t truly been in danger, I still cared about her and didn’t like the idea of her living in fear. The fact that there was no threat didn’t matter if she was having some kind of nervous breakdown, and maybe she needed to get back to the U.S. for treatment.
Deep down, I didn’t believe that. Anything was possible, but I just didn’t get that vibe from what I’d seen so far. Something was going on, whether it was one of her students playing tricks on her or her ex-husband trying to get back at her or something else I hadn’t yet stumbled onto. It was early days, but I had to wrap this up and get back to Limaj. Even though the idea of seeing Shannon again was exciting, I needed to get to the bottom of this. Director Dickhead would be in touch any day now and I had to give him some kind of update or my ass would be called back to his office again. The last thing I wanted was to go back to D.C., so even though I wasn’t thrilled about breaking into Shannon’s apartment again, that was the plan for tomorrow. I needed to be thorough this time and go through every drawer, cabinet and piece of paper. There had to be a clue somewhere and I was going to find it.
Getting into her apartment the second time was ridiculously easy and I made a note to give her some pointers once this situation was under control. I didn’t turn on any lights, but used the flashlight feature on my phone to find my way around.
The windows were locked up tight and I went over every possible entrance until I was sure she was relatively safe. I searched every inch of the place, starting in the bedroom and going through her drawers, clothes and bathroom with a fine-tooth comb. I felt equal parts professional and creepy. At least I hesitated before opening her underwear drawer. I didn’t want to be this intimate with her without her permission, but the current situation called for my skills as a spy, not my feelings as a man.
And her underwear definitely roused my feelings as a man. Everything was pretty, a nice combination of thongs and bikini panties, in different colors, though she leaned more towards nude and black. There were a handful of bra and panty sets that she kept together in little cubbies she had in the drawer and for a moment, I puzzled over them. Did women really compartmentalize their underwear drawers? I threw mine in one drawer with my socks and didn’t fold my boxers at all. It was a mess I dug through every time I needed something. I was more efficient when traveling, using packing cubes because I didn’t have time to dick around with that kind of thing when I was on a mission, but Shannon’s setup was curious to me. I reached out to touch a lacy piece of cloth and almost smacked myself as I jerked back to reality.
What the fuck? Why the hell was I thinking about how she stored her panties? I wasn’t a pervert and, dammit, the fact that I jerked off to memories of our kiss had nothing to do with what I was doing now.
Liar.
I almost laughed at the subconscious thought that whipped through me because I was a damn liar. Rooting through her drawers gave me a ton of pleasure, added inspiration to upcoming fantasies, and made me want to wait for her to get home and announce myself.
Dumbass.
I took a breath and finished going through all her drawers without further distraction. There were no hidden compartments, envelopes or wads of cash that might send up a warning. There hadn’t been anything unusual in the cannisters in her kitchen, the books on her shelves were actual books and not decoys used for storing important documents or items, or even her freezer was devoid of any red flags. Everything in her bathroom appeared to be just what it was supposed to be. Nothing was hidden behind paintings or picture frames, and I was running out of both time and patience.
I checked under the bed, mattress and throw rug. Nothing. This was getting tedious now that I’d forced my amorous thoughts away. I was just about to give up when I noticed a slight variation in the compartments of her wooden headboard. It had sliding doors, which she used to hide a handful of personal items like nasal spray and tissues, but as I glanced under the bed again, I saw that there was something attached to the bottom of the compartment. I felt around and finally found a latch. Huh. She’d attached a completely separate box, with a trick door, to the bottom side of her headboard. Anyone who wasn’t a spy and trained to find anomalies wouldn’t have caught it.
I snapped it open and two thick binders fell out. I blinked and stood up, holding them carefully. I opened the first page and grimaced. Sweet Jesus, I was definitely going to hell.
This was her diary.
Chapter Six
Shannon
I was on pins and needles all through my morning classes. I didn’t dare check the nanny cam website while I had students in the room because I didn’t trust myself not to shriek like a madwoman if I actually saw something, but it was all I thought about. By the time I got to my planning period at ten o’clock, I was a nervous wreck. I opened my laptop and clicked on the site. It took a few minutes to connect, but then my living room flashed onto the screen. And there was a man on my couch.
Reading my fucking diary.
My heart nearly pounded out of my chest as I stared at the screen.
I hadn’t been imagining it. Someone was literally in my apartment. I should call the police. Or Mrs. Winkelhofer. My mother.
Fuck me loud!
I needed to do something but didn’t know what.
The police. Definitely the police.
But then the man in my apartment looked up and the hand that had been reaching for my phone froze in midair.
It couldn’t be.
I squinted, cocking my head and leaning closer, as if that would somehow make the picture clearer.
My heart was hammering against my ribcage, my breath caught in my throat.
The man looked very familiar. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, but it looked like…Ace Ross? How was that possible? What in the ever-loving fuck would Ace Ross be doing in my apartment? He was my stalker? It made no sense, and I stared at the screen a long time. Maybe it wasn’t him. It had been ten years, after all, and I’d only spent a significant amount of time with him that one night. This guy was older and more…rugged. It was hard to be sure, though, and I needed to be positive because this was baffling.
I stared at the screen through my entire break, watching the man in my apartment reading my diary. I kept it hidden in a little compartment I’d discovered beneath my headboard because Mrs. Winkelhofer and Sandra sometimes watered my plants for me when I traveled, and I hadn’t wanted them to potentially find it. Not that I thought they would go looking, but I had all my hopes and dreams and fantasies in there, and now someone had read them. My face flamed at the thought of Ace reading my sexual fantasies. Granted, they were probably pretty tame compared to other women, but they were still mine, and not for anyone else’s eyes.
I got angrier and angrier as I watched him, and I blew out a breath, trying to decide what to do.