Page 96 of Cornered

She hooked a right around a corn dog stand and came to an abrupt stop. An ice machine blocked her from escaping and forced her to face Trevor again.

“Look, Lahela”—he began backing her into the tight space—“I know you want to talk about—”

Whatever Trevor was about to say was cut off with a yelp when a hand yanked him backward. The sudden movement sent Trevor’s bright pink drink flying out of his hand and across the grass. Briggs had Trevor’s shirt twisted in his hand and the darkest look she’d ever seen locked on Trevor.

“What’re you doing, man?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Briggs growled. His gaze shifted to Lahela, searching hers. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes.”

The commotion had garnered some attention, and Lahela recognized one of Trevor’s friends—she couldn’t remember his name—walking over. Was he drunk too? Would he try to start a fight with Briggs?

Lahela stepped forward. “I’m okay, Briggs.” She put a handon his arm, and the touch was enough to make her believe her own words. “Let him go.”

“Yeah,” Trevor seethed. “Let me go.”

“Wait.” Lahela eyed him. “Where’s your cell phone?”

Trevor smiled at Briggs like he’d won. “In my back pocket.”

“Let me see it.”

Trevor reached around, retrieved his phone, and handed it to Lahela. She held the phone up to his face so it would unlock and then opened his messages.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Trevor grabbed for his phone, but Briggs blocked him. “You can’t go through my messages.”

A quick glimpse and Lahela didn’t see what she was looking for. She wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or bothered by the fact that Trevor hadn’t sent her the message with the photos.

“What’s going on over here?” Trevor’s friend arrived.

Lahela reached for Briggs’s arm. “Let him go.”

“I think I might escort him to the PD for a little chat.”

“For what?” Trevor nearly screeched. “I didn’t do anything, just ask her.”

Briggs’s gaze slid to hers again, and she gave a subtle shake of her head.

“He’s just drunk, man. Had a bad week.” The friend took Trevor by the arm. “I’ll take him home.”

Trevor did look a little different, but she couldn’t quite identify what it was. Whatever had turned him into this must’ve been bad. Regardless, it wasn’t her place to figure it out, because she had basically eliminated the only person who she’d thought might be behind the calls and texts. And that meant there was someone else—watching.

EIGHT

AS BRIGGSDROVEaway from the police department, his knuckles tightened over the steering wheel. Lahela had filed another report and that should’ve made him feel better, but he was still reeling over what happened.

He’d seen Lahela with her students and decided to grab a stupid bag of kettle corn, thinking maybe they could linger a little longer in the park. He wasn’t ready for their day to end just yet, but when he’d turned around, she was gone. The panic set in, and he had discarded their snacks in search of where she went. Motion from the corner of his eye had him turning to find her being backed into a corner. Even from a distance, he identified the alarm in her expression, and his fists were ready for a fight. “You’re sure it’s not him?”

“I looked at his phone, Briggs.” She ran her hands down her jeans. “I didn’t see any messages to my number.”

“He might’ve used a different phone.”

“Officer Sandberg said they’ll talk to Trevor.” She exhaled. “But unless there’s some kind of evidence...”

“There’s not a lot we can do.”

Briggs wanted to be upset with the officer’s response, but how could he? Hadn’t he said similar things to other victims of stalking who made reports? He’d encouraged them to filean Order of Protection, but even if a judge were to grant them that piece of paper, it wasn’t enough to stop someone who was obsessed.

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