Page 44 of Shadowing Her Stalker

She nodded, the tip of her tongue pressed against her top lip as she blinked rapidly, clearly trying to get her emotions under control before she spoke. He squeezed her shoulder, then stepped away, giving her space. “Hey, yeah, we’re actually on another call. Can I call you back? I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.”

“Of course. Call me if there’s anything you need me to do. I don’t mind driving down there,” Zarah offered.

“I appreciate the offer. I’ll let you know when I’ve wrapped my head around it all.”

Wyatt waved his arm to get her attention and when she looked over at him, he mouthed, “How did she know?”

“Yeah, um, Z? Did someone call you or something? I mean, how did you find out?”

She darted a glance at Wyatt and he gave an exaggerated nod. She’d hit exactly the right note of vague but focused calm. It wasn’t until he saw her take a slow, deep inhale that he realized it was because she was using the same voice she used for meditations on the app.

“Find out? The news. It’s all over the news,” she cried. Then she caught herself. “Oh, wait. It’s probably not making the local news there, is it?”

Cara pulled a face, then shook her head as she wrapped up the conversation with promises to call back.

Wyatt pulled up the browser on his phone and typed “Cara Beckett house fire” into the search engine. Within seconds he had all the information he needed. Without a word, she took the phone from his hand, her lips parting in shock as she took in the photos of what used to be her picture-perfect home.

Wyatt stared too. Though he had been the one to deem the posts a credible threat, he hadn’t truly believed someone had done the deed. But they had. Whoever they were. They set fire to her house. The house he’d looked up on a popular real estate site the night before. To a guy from the mid-South, the California cottage looked high-end. Sleek, clean lines. Solid surfaces. It looked like it was built to withstand anything Mother Nature could throw at it.

Too bad there was no way to guard against the darker side of human nature.

Beside him Cara emitted a guttural groan.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, knowing the words to be wholly inadequate.

“I have to...” She fumbled with her phone. “I’m calling Zarah back.”

He reached for her hand, but he wasn’t sure if he was trying to stop her or steady her. “Hang on a second.”

“I can’t. I can’t hang on,” she insisted, her voice rising with agitation. “I have to get back.” Zarah must have answered because Cara snapped into planning mode. “I have to get back. Can you book me a flight?”

Wyatt had no idea what Zarah’s response was, but he started shaking his head. “No. You can’t.”

“I’m a couple hours from Little Rock, so I’d need a flight tonight,” she continued, undeterred.

“Not a good idea,” Wyatt insisted. He reached for her elbow, but she spun out of his grasp.

“Maybe look at flights out of Springfield, Missouri. Or the regional airport in northwest Arkansas?” she persisted. “Or even Memphis.”

“Cara, it’s not safe for you to go home right now,” he said, raising his voice in a vain attempt to break through her stubborn streak.

She spun on him, her eyes bright with fear and fire. “It’s not safe here, either.”

He stepped closer to her, hoping to force her to back off from a bad plan. “You know it’s better here than there. No one knows where to find you here. And even if they did, they’d have to go through me to get to you.”

Their gazes clashed and locked. She lowered the phone from her ear, and for a split second he thought maybe he’d gotten through to her. But rather than pressing the button to end the call, she switched the audio to speaker.

“I can get you out of Little Rock after seven tonight. You’d connect through Dallas and get into LAX a bit after midnight,” Zarah reported.

Cara continued to drill holes into him with her laser-like focus. For a hot second, he fooled himself into thinking she was coming around to seeing things his way.

Lifting the phone close to her lips, she looked him dead in the eye and said, “Book it.”

She ended the call, then stepped calmly around him and stalked back to her room.

“Cara,” he called, whirling on his heel. “I know those photos are awful, but you have to think this through.”

But he was speaking to an empty hallway. He skidded to a halt in his sock feet, gripping the frame of her bedroom door to slow his momentum. She was riffling through one of the plastic bags of clothes.

---