My phone was sitting on the nightstand, and I rolled over and grabbed it, opening it to my emails. I found the one Mallory sent and played the clip over and over again. There had to be something, anything, I could use.

I kept watching until my eyes stung. I rubbed at them lazily, trying to clear the hazy vision. The answer had to be there.

On my tenth watch through, my eyes started to hurt, and I felt a headache inching its way in. I was about to close out the video when a small pop of red caught my eye.

I’d seen it in every play through. I thought it was just a zipper or design on the stalker’s black jacket, but this time, I saw it, the way it dangled and moved, like it was hanging out of the pocket, not attached to it.

It was so subtle. I rewound the video to make sure I hadn’t imagine it.

Again, I watched the small red speck dangle. There was no denying it: a keychain hung, barely visible, out of his pocket.

I shot out of the bed, finding slippers and a bathrobe and tying it around myself. This couldn’t wait; my mind would never let me rest until I let him know. I’d raced out of there less than a day before, and it was eating at me.

Alonzo and Birdie shifted to settle in the center of my bed without me in the way to stop them.

“I’ll be back,” I assured them before leaving the room and finding the keys to the car I kept parked nearby for rare occasions.

10. Stone

10

STONE

The loudest thud woke me from my sleep.

I jolted upright and hopped out of bed. I quietly pulled open the nightstand drawer and pulled out the gun I kept stashed inside.

I held it in front of me, slowly walking through the room, careful not to make more noise than necessary. No noise followed the thud, but it was loud enough and close enough for me to know it came from inside.

I kept close to the wall, exiting the bedroom and making my way down the short hall to the stairs.

My footsteps felt deadly loud in the quiet of the night, and I sucked in a breath as a floorboard beneath me let out the deepest creak. My body tensed, every single hair on my arm standing.

Rustling sounds carried up the stairs, and I paused to listen. It was too far away; I couldn’t make out anything distinct beyond movement in what sounded like the dining room.

Was I being robbed?