Page 36 of Pulse
Ford’s brows arch. “How long has this been going on?”
“I’m not sure,” Dahlia says. “A few weeks, I think.”
“Did we change her locks?” Ford asks me. “Sweep her place for surveillance equipment?”
“Dahlia didn’t tell me until this morning,” I say.
Lincoln flinches.
“I called the police and then stayed the night at a friend’s,” she says. “This morning, a locksmith’s going to my house. My neighbor Burt is going to meet them there.”
“Do you have any idea who was breaking in?” Ford asks.
I hold up a hand. “We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.”
Ford’s face sobers.
“She received an email this morning,” I say.
“What kind of an email?” Ford asks.
I glance down at Dahlia. She’s wary. Without thinking, I again place my hand on the small of her back. Just like before, she immediately relaxes a little.
I don’t know what to think about this discovery—or if I want to think about it. Ever.
Dahlia turns back to Ford. “The email said that I should run or die.” She shudders against my palm. “It had pictures attached that show me at different places over the past month or so.”
Lincoln sets his mug on the table.
“I’m not sure what to do,” she says, glancing at the three of us. “It said not to tell the authorities or whoever it is will kill me. I think that’s what it meant. And I don’t think it’s a joke because of the pictures.” She tries to smile. “What am I supposed to do? Leave? Never come back? Do I walk around for the rest of my life knowing someone is out there …watching me?”
Ford stands, straightening his tie. “Don’t panic.”
“Troy said I could, and I’m teetering on the edge. It might be a relief to spiral into the abyss.”
Ford looks at me, and I shrug.
“I was kidding,” Dahlia says. “Can you guys not take a joke?”
“Do you have any thoughts on who might be behind this?” Ford asks, refocusing. “Is there anyone upset with you? Anyone who would want to hurt you?”
“I have an ex-boyfriend, Freddy. We broke up because he has a drug problem. Something I didn’t put together until it was too late.”
“Has he been coming around? Calling?” Ford asks, jotting notes on a pad of paper. “Threatening you?”
“Yes. Not really threatening me, just saying he can’t live without me. I thought it was probably him breaking into my house. But I doubt he’d threaten to kill me. We weren’tthatserious.”
I clear my throat. “Whoever was breaking into the house was also involved in the pictures. One photo was of her in her bathroom.”
Dahlia’s jaw drops. “I didn’t think of that.”
“All right. I’ll have additional questions, but for now, let’s get a plan together,” Ford says.
I start to speak, but Dahlia cuts me off.
“No. Ford, no.” She shakes her head adamantly. “You do not have to do this.”
“Do what, exactly?” he asks.
