However, he’s holding a package.
My nerves skitter in that familiar way. But it can’t be what I’m thinking. It’s too soon. Way too soon. And I’ve never received a package at work.
Those packages have always shown up at home.
“Angelika Wilks?” he reads from the label, his voice boyishly young, then looks at us. At me in particular.
I want to tell him he has the wrong name. But there’s no way to run. No way to hide.
Eric and Sean’s gazes bore into me. I fake a smile. “Right here,” I manage, despite a dry throat and mouth.
“If I could just get your signature…” The courier shows me a phone screen.
“I didn’t order anything,” I say feebly. Take the package back, please. But I know what happens if I refuse it. I tried that once and it didn’t end well.
“It’s a gift. Says right here on the label.” His smile says I’m a lucky girl. If only he knew.
“Right.” I try to smile back, sign with my index finger and take the package.
“Have a great day!” The delivery guy leaves.
Eric waits until he’s gone. “A gift, eh?” he says, leaning forward.
Sean cranes his neck. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” I glance down at the cardboard box. The sender’s address is the familiar PO box. It’s a legit one, too. I sent a letter there once saying, “Don’t send me anything ever again,” and the response was immediate.
You don’t get to tell me what to do, sister. Well, “sister” isn’t exactly right, is it? Slut is much more accurate. Cheap whore.
“Well, open it up,” Eric says. “Let’s see what you got from your secret admirer.”
“I don’t have a secret admirer.” My voice is shaky, but Eric and Sean don’t seem to notice.
“I don’t know about that. Never seen a girl get a present at work before,” Eric says.
“Me either,” Sean says. He’s frowning slightly, which is odd. He’s not the one getting stalked by a monster.
I can’t open it because I have no idea what terrible thing it might contain. I want to tell them so, but the words stick in my throat. The last time somebody felt sorry for me and tried to help, he was run over by a truck. A terrible tragedy, everyone whispered, but I knew it wasn’t some accidental hit-and-run.
Roy is a sociopath. A highly functioning, highly intelligent sociopath. And God only knows what’s in the package. He’s sent me unspeakable things over the years. Sometimes it makes me question if he installed a hidden camera in my home so he could savor my reaction. He’d love that.
I glance up at the ceiling to the café’s security camera. I doubt Roy’s hacked into it, but then, he could be watching from outside. So many cars…so many people. He could be out there. Or he could’ve sent somebody in to record my reaction. I glance around at our customers, hating the rising feeling of anxiety within me.
Eric hands me a box cutter. “Here you go. Come on.”
He isn’t going to give up. I place the box cutter on the counter and push the box to him. “You do it.”
His eyes widen, but he seems intrigued. “You sure?”
“Very.”
If Roy sent something disgusting, Eric can see it and deal with it.
“Well.” Eric cocks his head in a little why not gesture. “If you insist…”
For such an oblivious troll, he’s pretty careful, pushing the blade just deep enough to cut the tape without damaging anything inside the box. He runs the blade down, then flips the top and pulls away a mass of gray and purple tissue paper.
“Huh?” He pulls something out of the package. “What the hell? This doesn’t even look new.” He turns to Sean. “Can you buy used underwear?”
My face flames at the sight of the pale beige bra in his hands. It isn’t just any bra, but my favorite, one I washed two days ago and dried and put away in my dresser.
The blood seems to drain from my head, and I have to put a hand on the counter. My whole body starts to tremble.
Roy’s been in my home. My new home. He went through my stuff and took the bra.
And I had no clue.
He could’ve hidden in my place and pounced last night. And instead of asking Tolyan for help like I should have, I was worried about what he was doing at that Owen guy’s house. And today I kept thinking about whether he killed the man instead of doing what I should’ve done.
I’m worried about a potential monster who hasn’t done anything to harm me, when a real monster that’s been toying with me for the last eight years was in my home. Maybe I’m afraid that I’d be putting myself at the tender mercies of Tolyan, who might well turn out to be a bigger and meaner monster than Roy. But shouldn’t I focus on dealing with the ticking time bomb in front of me rather than a suitcase several feet away that may or may not be dangerous?
Panicked urgency swells, so big and so fast that I struggle to drag in air. I need to ask Tolyan for help now. For all I know, Roy could still be in L.A. When things get personal—like his going through my stuff—he usually comes himself and makes sure I know he’s been there, even though we don’t see each other face to face. When it’s about just intimidating me or hurting people around me, he sends someone.
I have to convince Tolyan to help me before anything else happens. And I have to make my case fast because Roy already knows where I live and where I work.
But how do I find Tolyan? He didn’t come to the jogging trail. He might not return to the café either, especially when he finds our coffee disgusting enough to toss without taking a sip.
Time to move my ass. Now!
I snatch the bra from Sean’s hand and throw it back into the package, then tuck the small box under my arm. “I gotta go.”
“Hey! You still have an hour left,” Eric says, glancing at his watch.
“Yeah, but I have to go.”
He frowns. “This isn’t cool.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I really have to deal with this first.” I heft the box. “Consider it your penance for forcing me to open it at work.” Not that I would’ve felt better if I waited. But at least I wouldn’t feel this intense pressure to leave early.
“I didn’t make you open it!”
“You’re the one who was holding the box cutter.” I go to the back, pull the apron over my head and grab my purse from the locker.
Then I’m out the door, head swiveling as I exit onto the gray street. So many people. So many cars. Roy could be anywhere, watching. Or one of people who work for him. It doesn’t matter who’s doing the watching because Roy’s the one in charge.
My breathing roughens. Goosebumps break out over my skin despite the warm air.
Safety. I need safety.
Tolyan.
But where can I find him? So many office buildings. Which one is his? I gotta reach him before Roy grabs me. I run a rough hand over my face as I struggle to breathe through the swelling panic.
Come on, Angelika. Think! Which way did he go this morning?
He went left. But this is Los Angeles. There are tons of buildings in every direction. I don’t have the time to check every single one, assuming security would even let me. On top of that, it might alert Roy that I’m up to something, if he’s having me watched.