Page 17 of Shadowing Her Stalker

“Made you famous.”

“It made me known in certain circles,” she corrected. “Anyway, my point is, there have always been people who believed I didn’t deserve what I had. They let their feelings be known on forums and chat rooms, then when the app itself became geared more toward interaction, direct messages. So, you see, it’s hard to pinpoint a time when the harassment started, because it’s been happening all along.”

Wyatt hummed his understanding. The tech world was still disproportionately male, and some quarters were openly hostile to female interlopers. “What was your first hint it was going beyond the usual?”

“I started getting more direct messages on the app and on social media.”

“What kind of DMs?”

“The usual. Name-calling. People saying I’m nothing but a parasite. No talent. Ugly. Commentary on my body, my voice, the way I breathe,” she said tiredly.

“The way you breathe is a lifesaver for some people.” The words were out of his mouth before he could vet them. Mortified, he kept his gaze locked on the series of curves ahead of them.

“I tell myself it is,” she said quietly. “But some days it’s easier to believe the bad over the good.”

He knew the feeling too well. “I understand.”

“I didn’t start to get worried until the texts began.”

“I imagine those were more of the same?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “But coming directly to my phone, they felt more...menacing.”

“What did you do?”

“I sent them to Tom. He’s always up for solving a mystery. In this case it wasn’t much of a challenge for him. A simple search showed my name popping up in various forums. The next thing I knew, we found my cell number along with my home address, as well as several personal email addresses posted.” He sensed her looking at him and turned. “The one I used last night was not one of them.”

“So someone is actively monitoring your internet usage,” he concluded, meeting her gaze.

She heaved a weary sigh as she smoothed her eyebrows with her thumb and middle finger. “I need to text Zarah and tell her I’ve checked out of the rental.”

He nodded. “Use my phone.” As if on cue, his phone rang. The display showed the caller to be Trooper Masterson. He hesitated for a moment before answering, but at Cara’s questioning look, accepted the call.

“This is Dawson. We’re hands-free,” he announced, wanting to give the other man fair warning.

“Dawson. Is Ms. Beckett with you?” Masterson asked.

“Yes,” Wyatt said.

“I’m here,” Cara answered at the same time.

“Ms. Beckett, I wanted to let you know your rental car has been recovered,” the trooper informed her.

“It has?”

“Where?” Wyatt asked, stepping over her words in turn.

“It was found in section 104 of the parking deck at the airport,” the older man replied.

“Section 104,” Cara murmured.

“Anything recovered?” Wyatt pressed.

“We have a team going over it now, but it appears most of your belongings were left intact. There was a large leather bag with your wallet, phone and other personal items on the front floorboard, and a travel bag in the back seat.”

He let off the gas and coasted toward the shoulder of the road, tires crunching on loose gravel as he slowed to a stop. A car whizzed past. Seconds passed before a speeding tanker truck left them rocking in its wake. He and Cara shared a glance.

“Any cash or credit cards in the wallet?” Wyatt asked.

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