Fall With Me

by J. Lynn

  None of this was important.

  “I checked the apartment out,” Nick said. “The window in the extra bedroom was open.”

  I gasped. “What?”

  “I think that’s how someone got into your house. Odd thing is, though, I didn’t see the screen.”

  “I don’t . . . I don’t have a screen in the window right now.” I watched Hank leave the room. “It was damaged a few months ago and the landlord was getting it repaired.” My breath hitched. “The person . . . they came in through the window? Oh God..”

  Hank did a quick search that lasted all of a minute tops before returning to the living room. “What’s going on, Roxy?”

  Sitting back down on the couch wrapped in a blanket burrito, I told Hankie Hank about the picture. His face was impressively blank as he made his request. “Can I see your phone?”

  I handed it over, and when I looked down at my hand, the phone had left thin indentations in my palms. “You have to go into the pictures.”

  Nick sat on the arm of the couch. He was silent, but I appreciated his presence and that I wasn’t alone dealing with this.

  It pierced me in the chest when I thought that a few days ago I could’ve called Reece. Hell, even during the eleven months we hadn’t been nice to each other, I probably wouldn’t have hesitated to call him, and I believed without a doubt that Reece would be here.

  The dark blue uniform stretched across his shoulders as Hank took a look at my phone, blond brows raised. He glanced up at me. “And this was on your phone when you woke up?” When I nodded, he looked at the photo again. “There was no way this happened before tonight?”

  I shook my head. “No. And when I woke up, my screen was still lit up. It was just taken.”

  “Is there anyone who could’ve done this as a joke? Has access to your apartment?”

  “Only my family has keys to my place and they wouldn’t do this. Besides, the window was open in my other room. Obviously if someone had keys, why would they do that?”

  “People do stupid shit all the time, Roxy. Shit that makes no sense,” Hank explained.

  Nick leaned forward. “Tell Hank what you told me was also happening.”

  When Hank’s hazel eyes settled on me, I suddenly felt wary of what I was saying. It was like he was looking at me with suspicion, but doubt clouded his gaze. I started to tell him, but a knock at the door caused me to jump.

  “Expecting anyone?” Hank asked.

  Nick stood, but when I shook my head, the officer motioned for him to stay back. I was surprised when Nick listened, and even more shocked when he moved to sit next to me.

  “You hanging in there?” he asked in a low voice.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” My gaze flicked to where Hank was. From where I sat, I could see who it was when the door opened.

  It was James and what’s his name—­Kip. My upstairs neighbors. “We saw the police lights,” James said as he strained to see over Hank. “We wanted to make sure Roxy was okay.”

  The fact they got up at this time in the morning to check on me made me want to hug both of them.

  “Everything’s fine,” Hank advised. “But I need both of you to go back to your residences. If we need anything, we know where to find you.”

  James didn’t budge. “Roxy’s okay, right?”

  “Yes. I’m okay.” I raised my voice to make sure both guys could hear me, and I hated the way my voice shook. I hated being afraid like this. “Everything’s okay.”

  Hank managed to usher them out of the doorway, but he didn’t close the door as I expected. Instead, he stepped aside and said, “I got the call handled, bud.”

  My heart nearly leapt out of my chest as another police officer strode into my apartment. Except it wasn’t just any officer.

  It was Reece.

  Maybe I was hallucinating, and all of this was a nightmare.

  Reece stalked into my apartment like he belonged here. Without responding to Hank, he gave Nick a cursory glance as he entered the living room. “What in the hell is going on?”

  Beyond the ability of forming a response, I stared up at him.

  Hank sighed as he closed the front door. “We got a call—­”

  “I heard the call go through,” Reece cut him off. His eyes were the darkest shade of blue. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard the address for a possible break-­in, because all I could think was if it really was your house, you wouldn’t just call the police.” He thumped his hand off his chest, above the badge. “You’d call me.”

  My jaw unhinged. Okay. I was seriously hallucinating this.

  “Thought you had Fridays off?” Nick commented dryly.

  “I’m covering a shift tonight.” Those midnight-­blue eyes cut to him. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  Nick leaned back, tossing an arm over the back of the couch. “She called me.”

  Reece narrowed his gaze on said arm behind me. “Did she?”

  Hank cleared his throat. “The window was open in the extra bedroom, and she says there’s a picture of her taken while she was sleeping.”

  The way he said it, with a touch of derision, snapped me out of my stupor. “That is what happened.”

  Reece cocked his head to the side as his broad shoulders stiffened. “What?”

  “Someone took a picture of her with her phone while she was sleeping,” Nick repeated, and it became obvious that Reece hadn’t heard that part of the call.

  Had Reece just heard my address called out and rushed over here? I didn’t even know what to think of that.

  He extended his hand to Hank. “Let me see it.” The phone was handed over and then Reece cursed under his breath. “The window in the room was open?”

  Hank nodded. “If it was locked, I have no idea how it would’ve gotten open. Glass wasn’t broken.” He looked at me. “I’m assuming you normally lock your windows. If not, you might want to start doing that.”

  “I lock my windows.” My fingers tightened on the edge of the blanket. “I always lock my windows.”

  Everyone in the room exchanged doubtful looks, which I understood given the current situation. “Wait,” I said, scooting forward so that my feet touched the floor. “What are you doing here, Reece?”

  A muscle popped in his jaw. “I cannot even believe you’d even ask that question. Well, you know what, I’m not that surprised.”

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  His eyes glittered as he stared down at me. “You’re seriously going to ask why I’m here?”

  I came off the couch, dropping the blanket and going toe to toe with him, which meant I was at eye level with his chest, but whatever. “Yeah, I’m going to ask that question and if you’re surprised by that question then you’re an idiot!”

  “An idiot?” The large hand wrapped around my phone rose, and he pointed toward my bedroom. “You left your bedroom window unlocked knowing that there is someone in these counties—­”

  “I didn’t leave my windows unlocked! Just like I didn’t call you to come over!”

  He lowered his chin, his eyes never leaving mine. “We’ll talk about this later, Roxy.”

  Every emotion inside me boiled up and spilled over. “This is crazy,” I said, my hands clenching into fists. “You’ve been ignoring me for days. And you—­you lied to me.”

  Reece drew back, flinching.

  Heedless of the fact we had an audience, I didn’t stop and I knew I should’ve. This was no one’s business and my voice was cracking on every other word, but how dare he stand here and act like he had a right to be here. “You lied too, Reece. You told me everything would be okay and that you’d call me. Yeah, well, call me an idiot, but the last I checked, you didn’t do that and things aren’t okay. ‘Oh, let’s do lunch.’ Blah! You didn’t even text me back, you rat bastard.”

 
“Oh, wow, this is going in a direction I so did not expect,” murmured Nick.

  “Didn’t text you back?” Reece’s eyes widened. “I texted you back on Thursday. I told you in that text—­” He cut himself off. “I texted you.”

  Stunned that he would tell such a bald-­faced lie, I laughed harshly. “No, you didn’t.”

  Hank glanced between the two of us as he shuffled his weight from one foot to the next. “Uh, guys, I think we need to get back—­”

  “Bullshit, Roxy,” Reece snapped. “I did text you back.”

  I folded my arms. “Then your text just magically disappeared. Whatever. Don’t you have another call to head to? I think Hank has this handled. Isn’t that right, Hank?”

  Hank raised his hands as if he was saying he wanted no part in this. A lot of help there.

  “I can’t believe this.” Reece reached into his back pocket with his other hand and pulled out his phone. After tapping the screen, he flipped his phone around. “Look at it,” he said, and when I started to look away, he stepped closer. “Look at my phone, Roxy.”

  Blowing out a rough breath, I reluctantly did as he asked—­well, commanded. I gave his phone a quick glance and opened my mouth, ready to fire off something smartass, when I smacked my mouth shut.

  What the . . . ?

  I snatched the phone out of his hand, holding it close to my face so I could make out the words and time.

  Hey, let’s reschedule lunch for Sunday. We can talk then.

  The text was time-­marked. It showed delivered; probably no longer than ten minutes after I’d sent the text, while I had to have been in the shower. I stared at the text, half expecting it to vanish as a figment of my imagination.

  “I swear,” I whispered, looking up at him. “I never saw that text. I know it says delivered, but I never saw it.”

  Reece held my gaze for a long moment. “I thought you were pissed that I was rescheduling.” He gently pried his phone loose from my grip. “And that’s why you didn’t text back. And just so you know, I was planning on showing up here on Sunday, text or no text.”

  “Could someone have deleted the text before you saw it?” Nick suggested.

  Cold air whirled down my spine and the tiny hairs along the back of my neck stood. This . . . this was crazy creepy.

  “Who would break into the house to just delete a text?” Hank asked, crossing his arms. “Not to mention, get in the house at the right moment to delete a text and only delete one from Reece? I’m not trying to be a jackass, but the likelihood of that happening is slim.”

  I know it sounded crazy, but that was what had to have happened. I didn’t see that text. If I had, I would’ve responded and that text would’ve saved some of the heartache. Not all of it, but some. Though, right now, I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he had texted me and he had planned on seeing me. None of that seemed to matter in this moment.

  Tension had crept over Reece’s striking face as he looked down at my cell phone. His knuckles were bleached white from his tight grip.

  “That’s not the only weird thing,” Nick said, drawing Reece’s unnerving stare. “Tell him what you were telling me.”

  I sat down on the edge of the couch, beyond unsettled. “A ­couple of weeks ago I came home from work and the dishwasher was running. I hadn’t scheduled it to run. Honestly, I don’t even know how to do that.”

  Hank arched a brow.

  “Keep talking,” Reece said quietly.

  It wasn’t easy, because I knew how insane all of this sounded. “One morning, I woke up and found the remote in the fridge. I thought maybe I’d done that without remembering, but I’ve never done anything like that before. Then there was the toilet seat thing . . .” As I spoke, Reece’s empty hand curled into a fist. “I hadn’t done that. I’m pretty sure of that. Then there was this other time when a new canvas had been hung on my easel. Little things like that—­things I couldn’t be sure if I’d done or not. I really thought my place might be haunted. I told my mom and Katie.” A short laugh escaped me. “I know that sounds stupid, but then . . .”

  I’d never seen Reece as still as he was, standing in front of me or his arresting face so hard, as if every feature had been carved out of marble. “Then what?”

  The tips of my ears burned. This was the last thing I wanted to mention in front of Hank and Nick. “The really creepy thing—­like as creepy as my picture being taken while I’m sleeping—­happened a ­couple of days ago. Tuesday morning,” I added, and Reece’s gaze sharpened as his chest rose. “I was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.”

  “I remember that,” he said.

  Okay. Well, I guessed we weren’t hiding anything at this point. “A pair . . .” I swallowed as the burn traveled across my cheeks. “A pair of my undies was stuffed in the utensils cubby. And yeah, I didn’t do that.”

  “Jesus,” muttered Nick as he stood, scrubbing his hand through his hair. He glanced back at the kitchen, his lip curling like he was personally disgusted by the dishwasher.

  Hank didn’t say anything. He just stared at me with what had to be a “what the fuck” expression if I’d ever seen one.

  But it was Reece who caught and held my attention. He was as still as a statue as he continued to stare down at me. “Why didn’t you say anything?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  My shoulders suddenly sagged as a wave of exhaustion rolled over me. “We were talking about . . . other stuff at that moment and I didn’t . . .” I trailed off, shaking my head.

  I knew the exact moment he realized the meaning of that. Blood pinked the hollow of his cheeks. That flush of anger was actually kind of scary, and if I hadn’t known deep down that it wasn’t directed at me, I would’ve been a wee bit frightened of him. A myriad of raw-­looking emotions flickered across his face. “I was here and . . .” He didn’t finish that line of thought. He turned toward the other officer. “I got this call, Hank.”

  “But—­”

  “I got this call,” he reiterated, voice hard enough to send a shiver across my skin.

  Hank stared at him a moment and then rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” Hitting a button on his shoulder radio, he said “I’m ten–eight. Unit Three-­oh-­one is handling the possible break-­in.”

  There was a static-­filled response I barely heard, and then Hank showed himself out. Nick remained standing by the recliner. He raised a hand, rubbing his jaw. “You’re okay?”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted Nick to leave, because that meant it would just be me and Reece, but I knew Nick had to, as exhausted as I was. I nodded. “Thank you for coming up. I owe you.”

  Reece cast his gaze to the window, his jaw working.

  “You don’t owe me anything.” Nick glanced at Reece. His eyes narrowed. “You sure you’re good here now?”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, my thoughts in a thousand different places.

  Nick stopped at the door. The grin on his face warned trouble. “By the way, loved the bows on your panties.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  Reece’s jaw became so hard I thought it would snap off as he watched Nick saunter out the door. Then it was just us. He stood with his back to me for several seconds and then wheeled around. Walking over to the couch, he sat on the edge of the coffee table, directly in front of me. “Are you okay?”

  Yes. No. Maybe? I had no idea. I was feeling way too much. Scared wasn’t even the right word for how I felt. Someone had been in here—­repeatedly. I felt . . . I felt violated, like all my walls had been stripped away from my home, and I felt stupid that I’d chalked up all the weird happenings as something supernatural. Then again, why would anyone jump to the conclusion that someone was breaking into the house just to mess with things inside of it?

  I shuddered as it really hit home. Someone had been in my apartment. Someone had been in here many times, even
while I was here. The residual fear peaked once more. How in the hell would I feel safe in this house again? Having that taken from me angered me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  “I don’t know what to feel,” I said finally, leaning back against the cushion.

  He rested his arms on his bent knees as he let out a weary-­sounding sigh. My gaze flicked up, collided with his and held. In a second, the shields dropped, and I sucked in an unsteady breath. He looked conflicted—­torn. As if he was experiencing the same wild range of emotions that I was.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this stuff was happening?” he asked.

  I ducked my chin, shrugging. “I honestly thought my place was haunted. I mean, why would I think someone was breaking in just to move stuff around and do weird things like that? And some of the stuff I could’ve been responsible for without realizing or forgetting about it, like the dishwasher, the remote—­stuff like that.”

  “Did you stick your own panties in the dishwasher?”

  “No.” I made a face.

  “Then you knew it couldn’t be you, babe.” He straightened, looking around the house. “When was the last time before you found them in there that you were using the dishwasher?”

  I knew what he was thinking. “I hadn’t checked the dishwasher Monday.”

  “But you were home all day, right?”

  Nodding, I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around my knees. He didn’t need to say it out loud. I knew what he was thinking. Tonight wasn’t the first time the person had gotten into my apartment while I slept. It was the only plausible explanation. Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead against my knees. My voice sounded incredibly small when I spoke. “Why would someone do this?”

  “To mess with your head, Roxy. These kinds of things, what was being done around here, were minor enough that it wigged you out and you questioned it, but most importantly, you questioned yourself. Which meant you didn’t tell anyone. You kept it to yourself.” There was a pause. “Fuck, Roxy, I wish I knew. There was no reason for you to deal with this alone.”

  “You believe me?” I asked. My voice was muffled by my legs.

  “Why in the hell wouldn’t I believe you?”