Page 9 of Shadowing Her Stalker

“It’s the fastest way. With all the apps we rely on and location-based services, we make it too easy,” Wyatt said with a grim scowl. “But I can help you. Let me help you.”

Cara Beckett scooted out from behind the desk to join Trooper Masterson in the doorway. She eyed the uniformed man for a long moment, then turned to Wyatt, taking in his flat-front khakis and checked button-down shirt.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, then slipped past the trooper to head back to his desk.

Wyatt and Masterson exchanged a nod-shrug combo before the older man turned away.

The second they were gone, he unboxed the phone and powered it up. The greeting screen appeared, and a smirk twisted his lips as he zipped through the multistep setup, denying the palm-sized supercomputer access to any of Cara Beckett’s information. As he continued to delete applications, deny access and ignore dire warnings, he murmured a steady stream of mumbles. “No. Nope. Bye now. Can’t accept. Decline. Nope. Nuh-uh,” he muttered to himself.

Once he’d pared the smartphone down to its minimal functions, he sat back, satisfied with his work. Reaching for his own phone, he dialed the number displayed in the settings. Cara’s phone sprang to life. He declined the call, then saved his contact information in her empty contact list.

He’d have to go over a list of dos, don’ts, and never-evers with her. Surely she’d see the reasoning behind it all. She had to. He’d make her see. Somehow, he had to make Cara Beckett understand if she wanted to get her life back, she’d have to do so without the help of the LYYF app in the short term.

Chapter Three

Cara sat on the rock-hard sofa of the condo Zarah had secured for her and stared down at the phone Special Agent Wyatt Dawson had programmed for her. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d held a device set up to have so little function in the modern world. Cara took him up on his offer to drive her to the short-term rental. She was still reeling from the events of the day and found she was more than willing to let someone else take over.

As if defying the man with the gun and taking a leap toward freedom had depleted all her decision-making capabilities.

Agent Dawson, Wyatt, had insisted on walking her to the door. He actually groaned when he spotted the bags waiting for her on the unit’s welcome mat. “Who is this Zarah person?” he’d asked as he helped her carry the haul inside.

“Zarah Parvich is my assistant. Virtual assistant. She works out of her home in the San Fernando Valley.”

“She’s definitely on the ball.”

“I’d be lost without her.”

Wyatt set the bags on the condo’s kitchen island, then launched into a lengthy spiel on smartphone safety. Then he proceeded to check and double-check the settings on her new device. By the time he was finished, she was looking at a phone she could only use as, well, a phone.

“I programmed my number in as well as the numbers for Masterson and the CCD extension,” he said as she continued to stare at the unadorned wallpaper on the screen. “I’ve also set it to decline any unknown callers. I’d recommend you refrain from adding more contacts. Any call coming to this new number will go straight to voicemail.”

No apps. No email. No turning the cellular signal on unless she intended to make a call, and then she was to remember to switch it off the minute she hung up. She had a new phone number, one she’d have to use to call Zarah and communicate verbally if she was getting the gist of Agent Dawson’s instructions.

“Assume everything is compromised,” he told her. “For the time being, write things down.”

He gestured to the spiral-bound notebook Zarah had shipped with the bags of food, toiletries and a wardrobe of leggings, T-shirts and zippered hoodies. Zarah knew Cara well enough to include a journal. Cara was a big fan of journaling and often encouraged others to dump their concerns onto the page.

She tried not to think about the notebook tucked into her carry-on bag. All her innermost thoughts and worries were riding around with a kidnapper. Possibly fodder for ongoing stalking.

“Do you think it would be okay to connect to the Wi-Fi here?” Wyatt nodded slowly, and Cara could practically feel the tug of his reluctance. “What?”

“I downloaded a more secure browser. It’s the one with the fireball icon. Use it instead of the default.” He went on, rambling about how Wi-Fi connections in public spaces where log-in was not required would be best from a security standpoint. He mentioned fast-food restaurants, coffee shops or stores, but cautioned her against attempting to log into any of her social media accounts. “Oh, and be sure to clear your cache when you’re done.”

She nodded. “Thank you. I will.”

Wyatt clapped his hands together, then rubbed his palms. “Okay, then. You’ll be all right here?”

His obvious reluctance to leave her alone in this strange place touched her. “I will be.”

He walked to the window and peered down into the complex’s parking area. “It’s a weeknight, so there shouldn’t be much trouble.”

“I’ll call if there are any issues.” Wyatt scraped his palms down his pants as he turned back. He looked...nervous. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing. Uh—” he flashed a weak smile “—I, um, I wanted to say... You should know...”

When he petered out without actually saying a damn thing, she set the stripped-down phone aside and rose to her feet. “I should know what?”

He shook his head, holding up his hands in futile surrender. “Nothing bad. I was only... I use your app.”

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