“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 breakin.”
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?”
I gave a lopsided shrug. “Hank was giving me a WTF look. I don’t blame him. It all sounds highly suspect.”
“Fuck Hank. He’s an idiot. And when I get my hands on whoever is messing with you, I’m seriously going to fucking kill him. But that’s something we’ll talk about later.”
My head shot up and I gaped at him. His reaction shocked me, all things considered.
Reece stood. “I don’t want you staying here.”
The idea of staying here, especially right now, was something I also did not want to do.
“I’m also going to need to take your phone in to see if we can get prints off it that aren’t mine, yours, or Hank’s. Nick hasn’t touched it, right?”
I shook my head. Tonight had been a blur. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you have an extra phone you can switch service to in the meanwhile?”
“Yeah. I have an older one.”
“Good. Why don’t you pack up some stuff,” he said, stepping around the couch. “I’ll take you to my place. I still got a couple of hours left on my shift, but at least you’ll be able to get some sleep.”
I was back to thinking I was hallucinating things.
When I didn’t move, Reece continued. “That works out perfectly. I need you to talk to Colton. He can come by my place. He’s been investigating what’s been happening around here. That’s why I had to go let out his dog Tuesday morning.”
It struck me then, the conversation between Brock and Jax. “The girl who works at Brock’s training place?”
Reece eyes narrowed on me. “You heard?”
“Yeah, Brock was in the bar. He said . . .” I shivered. “He said she was really messed up. Was she . . . ?” I couldn’t even bring myself to say it.
Cop Face appeared. All emotion gone. “I can’t go into details. Not because I don’t trust that you’d keep it quiet, but it’s out of respect for the vic. But we’re pretty sure all the attacks recently are linked. The violence has been escalating.”
“To what?” I whispered.
His gaze held mine. “It’s been physical—worse than you can imagine.”