“I was right to worry, wasn’t I? You look scared.”

Of course I’m scared! I wanted to scream. Someone has been stalking me and I’m afraid it’s you!

“I heard someone in here,” I finally said.

His eyes widened. “What? Here? Audrey, why are you still here?”

“The police came and said no one was here. They said I was safe.” I cleared my throat and watched him carefully as I spoke. “But now I wonder if maybe they missed something. Maybe there’s another entrance. After all, you got in.”

He blinked. “I told you, the front door was open. You don’t really think … Christ, Audrey. I know you’re still mad at me, but there’s no way you think I would break into Cat’s apartment to see you, right?”

I couldn’t answer. I focused instead on the Whole Foods bag at his feet, one of Nick’s bad jokes from my first date with Max coming back to me: Watch out for bags of zip ties and collections of sharp instruments.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Oh,” he said, brightening. “I almost forgot. I brought you something.”

With a flourish, he pulled out a bouquet of fat orange roses. My blood turned to ice and I stumbled backward.

“Why did you bring me those?”

“I thought you’d like them,” he said, looking hurt. “I made a mistake, and I know it. I want to make it up to you.”

“No,” I said, voice trembling. “Why did you bring me those? Why did you bring me orange flowers?”

“Because orange is your favorite color.”

“But how do you know that? I never told you that.”

“Sure you did.”

“No,” I objected, although suddenly I wasn’t certain. We’d spent so many hours talking about so many things—it was possible I had mentioned my favorite color. But I couldn’t ignore the coincidence between these flowers and the orange bouquet tied to my gate. I’d found that months ago, long before I met Max … but around the time the strange photos on his computer must have been taken.

“Baby, come on. This is ridiculous. Here, I’ll go put these flowers in water.”

“You’re lying,” I blurted. “You’re lying about that, and you’re lying about those photos.”

He froze, his face an unreadable mask. “What?”

“I searched online for them. They’re not there, Max. I don’t think they ever were. And you know what? I’ve thought about it, and even if you had come across them on some random website, why would you download them? I could see one or two, maybe, as evidence or something, but all of them? There must have been thousands.”

He swallowed audibly. “I love you.”

“You took them, didn’t you? You took those photos.”

It was no longer a question in my mind, but I was still surprised when he whispered, “Yes.”

“Jesus,” I murmured, staggering. “I don’t understand. But how … ? Why?”

“Because I love you,” he said, his voice plaintive and his eyes going liquid. “I’ve loved you for more than eight years, Audrey.”