Page 28 of Pulse
Her brows pull together. “Did he come in while you were gone?”
“He says he didn’t. And I don’t think he would’ve.”
“And you’re sure they didn’t just slide?”
“Yes. I keep them in a certain spot, and if they slid, the ones around them would have to move. They’ll be in the opposite upper corner of the fridge. Someone is moving them.”
She takes a deep breath. “Could it be Freddy?”
Fuck.
“Did you give him a key to your house?” she asks carefully.
“Yeah. I did. I mean, I got it back, but he could’ve made a copy of it.”
“Who else could it be?”
I sigh, partially relieved there’s a logical answer—and partially sick from it, too. “No one. It has to be him. He’s been texting and calling me every day, wanting another chance. Or he wants to come by and look for his sunglasses, or he thinks he left his gold chain here. Maybe he’s just trying to intimidate me or make me think I need him.”
Morgan looks around, then swipes the bottle of wine off the counter. “I’m bringing this. You’re going to get your stuff for work tomorrow and stay the night at my house.”
“That’s not necessary.”
She laughs. “Oh,it is. If Freddy’s coming in here, you don’t know what he could do. You broke up with the guy because he was doing cocaine in your bathroom.”
Fair point.
“Stay the night with me,” Morgan says. “Tomorrow, you can call a locksmith and get your locks changed. Have Burt keep a lookout. See if you can file a police report to have it on record.”
I nod.
My adrenaline begins to subside, and rational thought takes back over. While creepy and wrong on all levels, it’s just Freddy being a dick. He’s moving my magnets to bother me.
I bite my lip.
What if it’s not just moving my magnets …
My stomach churns as I fight myself not to go there.
“Come on,” Morgan says. “Let’s get your stuff and get out of here.”
“Okay.”
I take a step when my phone vibrates. There are several missed texts spanning the last twenty minutes. I groan, hoping to hell it’s not Freddy blowing me up. I’m not sure I can handle that right now.
Troy: It would be more fun if I knew your endgame.
Troy: I take it you disagree.
Troy: Are you okay?
Troy: Dahlia?
Troy: I know I’m not entitled to a response within a certain timeframe, but just let me know you’re okay.
Troy: For fuck’s sake.
“Who is that?” Morgan has the baseball bat I keep by the door angled over her shoulder.
