Page 55 of Stalked

She’d dropped the coffee cups, but it didn’t look like she was cut or burned.

“Are you all right?” he asked again. “I don’t see any cuts.”

When he looked up and saw her face, his concern came rushing back. She stood devoid of all color, fists pressed to the sides of her head. She was looking at him, trying to say something.

Glass be damned, he walked all the way to her.

“What, sweetheart? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?” He put his hand on her belly. She lowered her hands and he looked down to see her pointing to something on the floor.

“It’s him,” she whispered. “I know it’s him. He found me.”

It was a letter. Steve muttered the foulest expletive he knew. How the hell had the Watcher found them here? Ignoring the ache in his arm, Steve reached down and scooped Rosalyn up and carried her over to the stairs.

“Stay right here, okay?”

She nodded, but he wasn’t sure she was processing anything he said. She just stared at the envelope on the ground, face ashen.

Steve got his weapon and did a sweep of the house to make sure no one had entered unawares, then called Derek.

“My house has been compromised,” Steve said before Derek could even get a greeting in.

Derek’s expletive matched Steve’s.

“There’s a letter here on my floor. Has been slid under the door. The house is secure now.” Steve looked over to where Rosalyn sat huddled on the stairs, arms around her knees, rocking herself back and forth. “Who was on patrol last night?”

“Wilson. I’ll call you back in two minutes.” Derek disconnected the call.

Steve wanted to go over and open the letter. Read it. But more than that he wanted the forensics team to be able to get off any possible information. He walked over to stand by Rosalyn, rubbing her hair gently. He wished he could pick her up and carry her away but knew they had to deal with this while they could.

True to his word, Derek called back in a little over a minute. His voice was grim. “Wilson hasn’t reported in for the last three hours and is not answering his phone now.”

“Damn it.” That was not a good sign.

“You should have agents at your door in three to four minutes. Liam is on his way, ETA ten minutes. I called Brandon and Andrea too. I figured Andrea might be good for Rosalyn.”

“Thanks, Derek.”

He could hear Derek’s muted talking to someone before he came back on the line. “Molly and I are coming too. She wants to check out the scene herself. She says not to touch anything.”

“Okay.”

“Just hold tight, boss. We’re on our way.”

* * *

THIRTYMINUTESLATERhis house was a circus.

He’d gotten Rosalyn back upstairs before anyone arrived. Helped her wash off the coffee that had spilled on her legs and they both got dressed.

She still hadn’t said much. Still had no color in her face. But she was holding it together. That was all he could ask for.

Agent Wilson was dead. Had been shot at close range in his car. Initial estimates put his death at around 3:00 a.m.

Molly Humphries-Waterman and her forensic lab team were doing their job all over his front porch, Agent Wilson’s car and around the letter itself.

When Brandon and Andrea got there, Steve sent her straight up to his room to where Rosalyn still sat on the bed.

The rest of his inner team—Derek, Jon, Liam and Brandon—were with Steve in the kitchen. Those were the men he trusted most in the world.

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