On Monday morning, I rose early and walked the length of Centennial Street past the still-closed shops and Taste of Destiny, where people were lining up for their coffee fix. When I reached the end of the commercial part of town, I looped around the block and made my way back home. I wandered up the path, enjoying the signs of life in the garden, then stopped abruptly, stumbling to catch myself before I tripped and hit the ground.

Written across the cottage door in bright red lettering was a single word.

Whore.

My hand flew to my mouth, and I choked out a sob.

Someone must have done that while I’d been out for my walk because it sure as hell hadn’t been there when I’d locked up. A chill crept over me, and I looked around, realizing they could still be here. I hadn’t been gone for long. Half an hour, at most. What if they were watching me right now?

Cicadas chirped. Birds cheeped. Flowers swayed in the breeze. And all of it took on a sinister tone. I felt as though the world was closing in on me. Splotches appeared in front of my eyes, and I clutched at my throat. Somehow, I’d forgotten to breathe.

I sucked in a lungful of oxygen. Then another.

I looked around. Nobody was here. At least, no one that I could see. But I didn’t trust that. I rushed to the other cottage and hammered on the door. It opened a moment later.

“Hey, whoa, whoa—what’s up?” Blair asked as I fell against his chest. His arms curled around me.

“We need to call the police,” I gasped. “He was here.”

“He, who?” His eyes darkened. “The stalker?”

I nodded frantically. “I think so. He… I…” I tugged his hand. “I’ll show you.”

He let me lead him to the door, calling back over his shoulder, “Tyler! Get your ass out of bed!”

I dragged him to the other cottage’s front porch and held his arm as he swore a blue streak. He reached toward the red lettering, but I snatched his hand away.

“Don’t touch it. The police might be able to use it for evidence.”

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t think.” He leaned close and inhaled. “It’s spray paint. Looks like it’s still wet.”

“They were right here,” I whispered. Right here. In Destiny Falls.

“It still could be someone paid to do it,” Blair pointed out.

I nodded, but I was beginning to get the feeling that we were denying the obvious. It made more sense to acknowledge the fact that my stalker was most likely somewhere nearby.

And why hadn’t the alarm gone off? Or did the ones Liam had set up only get triggered if someone actually entered the building?

“Holy crap,” Tyler said, arriving behind us, tugging a sweater over his bare torso. “Are you okay?”