Page 12 of Beneath the Scars

She sighs and holds out the card to me. "Yes. No. I don't know. And if we're talking about personal business, you might as well call me Lillian."

Taking the card from her, I keep eye contact waiting for her to continue explaining.

"It's only been a few days, and it's probably nothing, but this latestgiftis a little too creepy."

"Gifts?" I ask, my eyes finally moving down to the card. It's your usual gift shop deal. The front has two puppies cuddled together with a bunch of hearts floating over their heads. Turning it over shows there's nothing on the back, either.

"Yeah. Three nights ago, the first came—a box with goodies to enjoy while watching one of my favorite television shows. Yesterday, I got a bunch of flowers delivered to the morgue, but I only got them when I came this morning. And the card was delivered shortly before you showed up."

Her voice shakes, and she hesitates between sentences as if questioning herself.

Then I open up the card and read what's inside.

No wonder the woman is creeped out.

Chapter Ten

Dearest Lillian.

I hope you have been enjoying your gifts. It is the least I could do because the beauty of your face is a gift to the world. I’ve enjoyed watching you from afar and getting to know you.

How the shadows caress your face while you sleep and how your eyes light up after your first cup of coffee in the morning is breathtaking.

My yearning to touch you and feel the soft tresses of your hair between my fingers grow each day, but now is not our time.

But soon I'll be ready to reveal myself to you.

I am waiting for our time, in eager anticipation.

Until then, know I'll be watching.

Yours always,

xo

Chapter Eleven

Lillian

Idon'tevenknowwhy I'm telling Agent Scott about the stalker. I don't even know if it can be called a stalker. It might just be a secret admirer.

Secret admirers don't watch you sleep. Secret admirerscan'twatch you sleep.Becky's voice admonishes me.

I know this. As much as I know, it's not Becky's voice in my head but merely my subconscious telling me stuff I already know and refuse to admit.

I was going to tell Jayne about the stuff I'd been getting and how creeped out I was by it during lunch tomorrow, but then Agent Scott showed up. Jayne is definitely proving to be pragmatic, logical, and helpful, but an FBI agent certainly knows more about my options and what I can do.

By the way, his jaw ticks, and his brows furrow when he reads the note, so it's clear I have something to worry about.

"You say this started three days ago?" he asks me, his eyes trained on me again.

"Yeah. The first day we met." He flinches at the reminder of our less-than-pleasant meeting.

"Did that gift come with a note too?"

"Uh-huh," I responded, reflecting on the box I'd received. I might still have the note. I'm not sure if I threw it out with the box or not. I can check when I get home today." Although I am not excited at the idea of going home, suddenly, the small apartment I've called home for the last decade doesn't feel all that safe anymore.

How would the stalker even be able to watch me sleep? I know I closed all my curtains at night. A shiver runs down my spine, and no amount of shaking it off helps me feel reassured.

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