Page 68 of Before We Fall

“I said I could have sworn I heard fear—”

“Not that part. You said the moment he saw me come in the room.”

“Oh, I just meant… wait, no,” I mumble, shaking my head, trying to remember the conversation. “Ben, he said that. When you came in the room, Greg actually said, Iseehim coming!He could see us.Do you think he was looking in the window?” I ask excitedly. I turn my head to look up at Ben and he’s already shaking his head no.

“There’s no way, Junie. I had that place swarming with cops.

“Then how? Crap, maybe he just meant—”

“Cameras,” Ben says, and my blood runs cold.

“What?”

“That picture of us on the porch,” he says. “It’s been bothering me ever since I saw it. He had to get too close to see it. It was almost as if he was directly behind us.”

“There’s no way that could be possible,” I murmur, praying I’m right.

“Maybe not physically, we would have heard him. But you remember a while back when your porch light was broken? What if the bastard installed a camera there,” he growls, and he reaches over and grabs his cellphone.

“You think he has cameras in my house?” I ask, unable to keep the disgust out of my voice. The thought of him watching me all this time… of him watching me and Ben…”

“I’d bet my life on it. Get dressed, Baby.”

“Lodge? I need you to get Danny and Brent over to Junie’s. I know it’s your night off, but I need you there too. Junie and I are on our way. I’ll explain when we get there. Just make sure they’re there,” he orders, as I jump into my pants and start searching for my bra.

Ben gets up and starts getting dressed too. I don’t know what all this means, but I pray to God it means that it will be over soon, and Greg will be locked up in the looney bin where he belongs.

Ben

“That’s all of them except the one we found in the bedroom ceiling fan, Ben,” Danny says, retrieving the last one out of Junie’s motherfucking bathroom.

I look at the cameras—there are seven in all, including the one I instructed them to keep intact. Seven cameras, spying on my woman at all hours of the day and night. Seven cameras aimed at her as she walked around naked, showered, as I fucked her… Seven cameras invading her privacy and violating her.

Motherfucker. I’m so fucking tired of Junie having things taken away from her. It’s not enough that Atticus and his damn cohorts tried to rape her mouth, or that she apparently lived with a psycho for years, now her privacy has been ripped from her. Plus, a home that she once loved, will never feel safe again. I’m going to kill him. When I get my hands on him, I’m going to fucking kill him.

“Ben?” Junie murmurs, her voice shaky, and when I look up into her face, I can see the tears that she’s bravely trying to hide.

“It’s almost over, Junie,” I promise her, and she shakes her head no.

“He won’t stop,” she says, and she sounds defeated. “He never knew when to stop.”

“He’ll stop, Baby, because I’m going to fucking kill him,” I promise her, and I’m not just saying that. I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.

I stomp over to the phone that Junie has hanging on the wall. The counter under it has a notepad and pen that she always keeps there. I write two words. They’re the only two I need.

“Kingston? What are you doing?”

“I’m setting my trap,” I tell Lodge, talking freely, because we’ve determined the cameras don’t have audio—just video, but then, that’s all the bastard needed. “Junie, Baby, give me your cell.”

“My cell?” she asks, confused, but she’s already handing it over to me. I kiss her briefly on the forehead, breathing in her scent and using that to try and calm me. It doesn’t help a lot, but maybe a little. I just need to hold my calm long enough to draw the bastard out. That’s it.

“You’re going to get him to give himself away,” Lodge says, satisfaction in his voice and when I look at him, I can tell he approves of my plan.

“Danny, call them. Get a trace going the minute the fucking call connects.”

“You got it,” he says, already getting started.

I give him a couple of minutes and when he nods at me, I go to the camera that’s been disconnected from the ceiling fan except for the power wire. It’s hanging haphazardly, swinging back and forth. I hold up my sign up to the lens. A simple handwritten sign with just two words.

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